MountView

Randomness..

2010-11-21T03:06:00.000-08:00

I] Random Encounters

28-Sep-2010: Being bashful!

In an ATR flight from Hyderabad to Pune, I was idling away my time staring into a book and I just happened to smile at Melissa, the air hostess, who was almost done explaining the sleepy passengers the safety regulations of the small aircraft. As Melissa made her way to her seat she commented: “You have a very cute smile…oh…I bet you get that very often!” Lack of sleep and the caffeinated mind told me that my repartee should be “Oh yeah I do have a cute smile….but I do not have beautiful women like you say that often.” However what I actually said was “thank you”, blushed, smiled some more and went back to staring at the banal words in the book!

02 and 03 Oct 2010-Barter of Hope and a Strange Encounter:

On the Saturday of 02-Oct-2010, I met a very vibrant and a highly self motivated person who has managed to fight a lot of adversities-personal and pecuniary to come a long way ahead in life. I spent an afternoon talking to her, exchanging ideas and philosophizing over the clichés of life. Soaking in the vicarious pleasures of her experiences, I felt really motivated and hopeful- motivated because she is one of the few people who actually believes that obstacles are only opportunities and there is always a way over them. An ordinary person with ordinary problems of money and social shackles- she has managed to make things work the way she wanted them to be…hats-off to this woman…she has a long road of success waiting for her to walk on!

The Strange Encounter:

On Sunday, 03-Oct-2010, I met up Rahul and Lydia at Marine Drive and by almost late evening they were on the train back home and I was still staring at the waves crashing in on the boulders on the shore and the brightly lit skyline of Mumbai. Finally when I realized that it was too late and I was feeling a bit salty, I started walking towards Churchgate station so that I could take a cab to CST. On the short walk till Churchgate, I bumped into a man who started talking to me in an incoherent language. After ignoring him for a few seconds I went back to him to understand what he was trying to convey and when I eventually did, I was shocked. His incoherent language was the language that a pimp uses. The conversation that followed was:

Incoherent Stranger (who was very clear in his speech now): Kya aap ko do-teen ghante ka program banana hai?

Me: Huh!!??

I S: School girl, Chinese, Nepali, Foreigner…Jo bhi chaiye mil jayegi…

I start to walk away…

I S: Arre Sahab…dekh to lo….mazaa aa jayega!

Still shocked at being approached by a pimp, I start waking towards the station; however I was also smiling to myself thinking that it was just too obvious for a stranger to read the thoughts about my sex starved status!

After this strange and rather funny encounter what followed completes the second half of the story on “Barter of Hope”. I reached Churchgate station and sat in a cab, but once again I realized that my mouth was not listening to my mind and instead of asking the cab driver to take me to CST, I asked him to take me to Mulund (home). Expensive, but comfortable- I thought, and anyway I was too stressed to bother with tickets and the train commute. (I am just being a spoilt corporate guy here, I guess).

The second I shut the door of the cab, I sighed and started to enjoy the humid and the cool South Mumbai breeze. However my sigh came out as a tiny shriek and that caught the cab driver’s attention. The following conversation happened:

(Most of the dialogues have been translated into English for the ease of writing)

Cab driver: Saab, What happened… are you tensed?

Me: yup…that’s right

Cab driver: haan…you are right…now-a-days everyone is tensed…money, job, family…there are undue pressures everywhere…anyway my name is Hari Prasad…how much money will you give me for the fare till Mulund?

Me: Huh...aren’t we going by the meter…

HP: Nahi…I won’t get a fare back…

Me: ok…you tell me how much should I give you...I will agree if it is reasonable…

HP: Saab, whatever you think is reasonable…pay me…normally the fare is somewhere around 500…

Me: uhh…ok…500 is good…

(After a few minutes of silence I realize that suddenly I am in “let’s talk” phase of mind)

Me: So Hari Prasad, you are from Mumbai….?

HP: Haan Saab….I stay in Wadala…I have been driving the taxi for the past three years…

Me: Oh that’s nice...how old are you…

HP: 26 years…

Me: Oh…you are quite young…How come you are driving a taxi…didn’t you think of pursuing education…

HP: Saab, what do I tell you…it wasn’t that I always wanted to be a cab driver…my circumstances have led me to what I am…

Me: What happened… tell me about it…

HP: I was born in the slums of Wadala and I have grown up in the same place…my father did put me in school…however I was not a very good student…and thus I could not complete my education and after failing in the 10 standard exams…I quit studying…my father was not too happy about it…

Me: What did you do after that?

HP: I started doing odd jobs after that…however not concentrating on anything seriously… I was not bringing much money home anyway…but what I feel sad about is that I started hanging out with the bad people of the basti…

A couple of my good friends went on to complete college and they are now in good jobs…selling insurance, working in hotels…they are leading a good life…am jealous of them…

However the people who I was hanging out…we didn’t do much…and slowly we formed a gang of our own…and people stated referring to me as “bhai”…

Me (shocked): Are you serious…you don’t look like a bhai (given the fact that Hari Prasad was quite a lanky chap)…

HP (smiling): Haan Saab…those were the days… (He got lost in thought for probably a couple of minutes thinking about his infamous past)

Me: So…then what happened?

HP: My circumstances started becoming worse…and they hit rock bottom when three years ago I was admitted to the hospital…I was stabbed in the stomach with a sword…

Me (extremely shocked): Kya baat kar rahe ho?????

HP: Haan Saab…if you think I am making up this story… then have a look at this…

Hari Prasad lifted his shirt and showed me huge and an ugly scar that was running from his navel till the side of his stomach.

Me: How did you land up with this?

HP: Yeh…this was done by Ahmed… a person form the basti who I could not make friends with and for some reason he has always been jealous of me…

Me: Why was he jealous of you?

HP: Family and upbringing…we are poor…but I was lucky to have good family…my father has worked extremely hard to bring me up…he has instilled good values in me…however Ahmed… he does not have a father…it is a known fact in the basti that he is a bastard…his mother has probably slept with many men…I do not like talking bad about his mother…but given these facts you can understand what kind of childhood and upbringing he must have gone through…he was always on the look out to hurt me…and one day we had a very bad argument…the argument turned very dirty…and we had started abusing each other’s family…after the argument finally ended…I went back home to get some rest…

While I was in the house…my father had gone to the market to get some groceries…he was on a cycle…and while he was returning…he fell down and hurt his leg…he fractured his ankle…and he had gone to the nearby clinic to have it plastered…I came to know about this and I left the house to see him in the clinic…however as I left my house…a couple of my friends came an told me that Ahmed was on his way to harm me…I didn’t bother…I was ready to take on that bastard…would have even killed him that day….however fate had it otherwise…as I was on the way to the clinic Ahmed came running towards me in the galli…and I was taken by surprise that he was carrying a sword with him….he just came rushing towards and without saying a single word, he lifted the sword and pierced it through my stomach…I do not remember much after that…all I remember is screams…a lot of blood all around me…when I regained my consciousness I was in the hospital…I clearly remember the face of the doctor who was speaking to me…and I also remember the disappointed and the sad face of my 73 year old father…

Later I learnt that I had to undergo a major operation…which lasted for 08 hours…the situation was exactly the way they show in the movies…the doctors had given up the hopes on me…it was finally a doctor who was called from Bombay Hospital who had to be brought in to fix the mess on my body…the doctor told me that the sleeping medicine…the one that they normally give before the operation…was not effective on me…I had to be given three times the normal dose of that medicine…that is how aggressive and garam my blood was….but all’s well that ends well…after my discharge from the hospital I decided that I will lead a good life and give up all my bad ways…I could not tolerate the look of disappointment in my father’s eyes…I had worked in a garage before…and I spoke to the owner and got him to get me a taxi and that is what I have been doing since the past three years…driving a taxi on the streets of Mumbai…tying to get rid of my past…but Saab…I tell you one thing…the moment I get an opportunity, which will be quite soon, main Ahmed ka game karne wala hoon!

Me (still trying to digest the truth of the story that I had heard): Game karne wala hoon…you are going to murder Ahmed (I could not believe that I was saying those words to a real person in a real life scenario)

HP: Haan Saab…that bastard deserves the punishment…now-a-days when we cross our paths…uske gaand mein dum nahi hai to look me in the eyes….I have moved on but he is where he supposed to be- in the dumps…but still I will avenge him for sure…it has been three years…I am married now and also have a daughter….but am still on a look out for a ghoda so that I am able to put all the bullets into him…

ME (confirming that Hari Prasad was not drunk and he was serious about the murder plan): You have a daughter!!!…how old is she?

HP: She is 18 months old….

Me: Tell me honestly, Hari Prasad, what will you gain from murdering Ahmed?

HP: Satisfaction…that I taught that Muslim bastard a lesson…I will be at peace…

Me (completely ignoring the racist remark): Are you sure you will be at peace….Hari Prasad…look at the circumstances now that you are in…you are married…you have an infant to take care of…what do you think happens after you have murdered Ahmed…you will be walking Scot free in the basti…Hari Prasad you will be in jail…will you be at peace behind bars…will you be at peace knowing that your daughter will grow up never knowing what a father is….will you be at peace knowing that you have brought yourself satisfaction but your father has gained only more humiliation from your revenge…your ambition of revenge is not something to be proud of…the next time you see Ahmed in the galli…trying not to look at him and don’t think about what he did to you…that will make you move towards your path of revenge…rather think about your daughter’s face…think about the time that she smiles holding your hand…think about your father’s old age…your wife…

HP: Lekin….it is so difficult to forgive him…he is a part of a curse that has come into our society…he is nothing but a Muslim motherfucker…

Me: Hari Prasad...listen to me…there are two things that I want to tell you…first…Ahmed may be bad person…he may have done bad things to you…but that does not make all Muslims bad…there are lot of very good natured and highly educated Muslims in our society as well…people may be good or bad…what makes them good or bad is their actions and not their religion (I felt like Rizvan Khan’s mother from My Name is Khan here)…you and me both of us know that just as there are bad Muslims there are bad Hindus as well….so stop blaming Ahmed being a Muslim for your issues…and secondly about forgiveness…yeah probably it is difficult…but as I told you need to focus on your marriage and your daughter…you are driving a taxi…yes probably it is a small job if you compare it to your friends’ insurance selling job….but do the job honestly…good things will come your way…Ahmed was a bad incident of your past…he will get punished for his deeds…the punishment may take time…but it will happen…keep in mind “Karmanye vadhi karaste mafaleshu kadachan”…this is a quote from Bhagvad Gita…do you know what it means…

HP: Haan...I know...I should keep doing my work and not be bothered about the circumstances…you are right…I think I will let go of hatred towards Ahmed…I will definitely try…

Me: Keep doing good work…and doing it honestly….

HP: Saab…what is your name?

Me (Laughing): Do you want to know my name or my religion…anyway my name is Ronak…

HP: Are you a Brahmin?

Me: No…why do you ask

HP: Because Saab, you were able to quote Gita…

Me: I can quote Gita not because I am a Brahmin…because I am educated…Hari Prasad…forget about what Ahmed has done to you…work hard so that you can give your daughter a good educated life…

(The journey to Mulund had come to an end. I gave directions to Hari Prasad to my home. I finally got out of the cab, paid Hari Prasad the 500 rupees)

Me: Hari Prasad….we have met for the first time…but do remember my words…do not spoil your life by going after a revenge that is uncalled for…

HP: Thank you Saab…no one has ever spoken to me the way you have spoken to me today…I will always remember your words…I do not feel like stopping our conversation here…I wish to hear more from you…

Me (being melodramatic): If destiny has it, we will surely meet…take care…

As I was walking towards the elevator of my building, I was still trying to fathom the whole experience. Was Hari Prasad actually planning to murder a person? Will my philosophical/spiritual/melodramatic discourse actually put an end to the hatred in him? Was I able to make Hari Prasad a hopeful man? I will never know.

Story of India-Untold, Still!

2010-11-20T04:22:00.000-08:00

Over her thousands of years of existence, India has evolved from being a beautiful maiden, a glorious woman, a ravaged mistress and eventually a hurt and an indifferent Mother to a billion indolent children. After living out each phase of her life, natural or forced, she grew as a nation. Changes that were brought about by the various people were easily accepted by her. The acceptance came in because she believed that the winds of change were for the better. But today the winds have stopped blowing over her and she can only see the dark clouds of apathy scattered all over.
The birth of the Indus Valley civilization led to the flourishing settlements at Mohenjo- Daro and Harappa. These civilizations introduced the world to a beautiful maiden called India. The prosperity of the then Bronze Age resulted in a community of people who were basking in the glory of increasing trade, arts and a new sense of civilized culture. The maiden was enjoying her days of serenity and calm.
Geographic changes and the Aryan invasion gradually put an end to the carefree days of the maiden. Just as a teenager would take to adulthood, India entered the threshold of maturity. The growth through the Vedic era brought not only the foundation of Hinduism to her soul but also the plethora of various cultures. Languages and dialects came into existence and spread across the cultural heartland. The spread of the cultures among the population sowed the seeds of fraternity, diversity and serenity albeit with a sense of merriment in the soul of the social India. India had matured into a beautiful woman whose voluptuousness was defined by her social, cultural and erudite inhabitants. If Northern India flourished under the Guptas, then Southern India prospered under the Chalukyas and the Cholas.
The folklores of a beautiful India had successfully seduced the Mughals and in no time the Mughal Empire had ravaged the Indian soul and put an end to the Golden Age of India. A woman was ravaged; and this left a huge devastating experience on her. The invasion by the Mughals was only the beginning of the many more devastations that she would have to bear in the future. However the Mughals knew how to protect the beauty of their mistress and they treated her well. The Mughals brought along with them the enormous influences of the Persian culture in the form of striking literary, artistic and architectural results. India instead of transforming into a rigid and a hurt woman grew as a liberal, open and a resilient person. The Classic Period of the Mughals saw the growing intimacy between the resident Indian soul and the attractive yet ambitious strategies of the Persian rulers. Her values had transmogrified into a mishmash of Hindu, Muslim, Sikh and Buddhist values but she was happy as the Mughals promised her a brilliant future.
The established British East India Company could not tolerate this growing intimacy and jealously crept in. The thoughts of jealousy soon translated into vicious actions and these cruel doings saw the British violate the sacred Indi
(End of this essay)

This essay was born on 26-Jan-2010…it was supposed to be some sort of an ode to the country on the occasion of the 60th Republic Day…a song of history, praise and displeasure…what if India took up the form of a woman...what would her feelings towards her off springs be…her equations with all the different men (read: empires/dynasties) that wanted to win her over be…however it had to be culminated inappropriately as the thought process put in place got polluted. The concept of projecting India, my Motherland, as a woman through different eras of her life got perverted. Descriptions about her innocence, gloriousness, attraction, strength, lessons and progeny had to be put to an end. The Mother soon became just another woman that I started to imagine and began to relate her in a way I shouldn’t have. This, I believe, is quintessentially the curse of a hyperactive imagination…and am overpowered to end my thought process on this subject for now!

Afterthought:
As diversity becomes the norm and everyone willing to butcher their Mother, it is ironical that apathy is the only emotion that arises in our hearts. This woman who once had the power to give away greatness has been reduced to a starving destitute…yet everyone wants to bite into the minimal amount of meat of prominence…if we do not feed her with our love…the future generations will have nothing left for inheritance….

The Meaning of Ladakh

2010-07-04T07:50:00.000-07:00

* I would sincerely like to express my gratitude to Vinod Sreedhar who made the entire experience to Ladakh possible. It was only because of his efforts that I was able to come in touch with so many beautiful and warm people. Responsible and eco-friendly traveling was the message that he wants to put across and the message was rightly conveyed via this Journey.*

I was finally able to catch up on my sleep for the past four days in Mumbai; although my eyes still see the “Lamdon” school sign on the brown mountains of Leh every morning I wake up here. Ironically, as I am catching up on my sleep, I realize that I am distancing myself from the world of dreams that I was a part of for the past eighteen days. Thus, I have been assured that Ladakh is one of the most beautiful and serene places on this planet.
The four arduous days that it took to reach Leh from Mumbai were completely worth the time. Not only did these four days help to break the ice in the group of fifteen motley people, but they also made me observe things that would make for interesting story telling sessions back home in Mumbai.
Initially, I had thought that I would be getting lot of time for introspection in the fresh air of the Himalayas. But the concept of Journeys with Meaning had something else to offer apart from my personal time of introspection.
To begin with the imagery of Ladakh was spell-binding. The brown barren mountains in the foreground and the bright blue skies as the backdrop were therapeutic enough to purge my mind of thinking. After a long period, my mind was experiencing clarity in the form of nothingness. This emptiness of the mind was occasionally interrupted by random creative thoughts; although these too would just fade away just as the shadows on the mountains would.
The primary emotions that I came across in Ladakh were love and insignificance. It was love- love for everyone and everything. I guess that would be the only emotion anyone would experience in a place as divine and pure as Ladakh. The other emotion of insignificance is also something that one would one would feel in this region of vast diverse landscapes.
The one aspect of the landscape that I am still to get over is the blueness of the sky. “Feeling blue” is a phrase that is associated with sorrow or depression. However after taking in the magnificent blue sky of Ladakh, the phrase will be used as an expression of happiness and peace, at least in my dictionary. The sight of the blue skies with the floating white clouds casting their playful shadows over the rough and the rugged brown terrain will be etched in the memoirs of Ladakh forever.
The endless walking/trekking expeditions in Leh, Hemis national park, Yangthang, Hemishukapchen and Pan Gong not only brought me closer the Ladakhi landscapes, the Ladakhi culture, the Ladakhi history, her warm people but it also provided a better understanding of myself through the divinity and the sanctity of the surroundings.
The nights in Ladakh are the medium by which you can look at billions of stars and take a glimpse of the Milky Way as well. However brighter than the stars were the philosophical discourses and the conversations underneath them. People pour their hearts out and that would probably be the most honest conversations ever. Pauses in these conversations come by only when the people involved want to hear what the mountains, earth, wind and the skies have to speak as well.
The people in Ladakh personify trust, warmth, beauty and simplicity. The nature of the people is antagonist to the weather of the place. The weather was cold, barren and even heartless at times; but the nature of the Ladakhi people always managed to put a smile on such a milieu.
The following people will always be remembered fondly by me:
1. The entire group of Journeys with Meaning
2. Stanzin and his family, Rahul, Bobby, Lakpa, Tashi
3. Quinchuk- The guide on the trek for three days
4. Mr. Namgyal and his family at Hemishukapchen
5. People at Women’s Alliance of Ladakh (Ben, Debbie), Leh Nutrition Project (Mr. Norphel- Artificial Glacier’s Project), SECMOL (Becky and her team)
6. Strangers greeting you with Julley

The interactions with the innovative minds in Ladakh provided a completely different perspective to the way of living. I was surprised to notice that the best of the minds in the society would want to come to a place as inaccessible as Ladakh and showcase their intellectual strengths for the betterment of region. The causes and the issues were basic and localized to the region. However the solutions and the lessons to be learnt were universal and applicable to all beings on this planet. The lessons learnt were about sustainability. If we have to sustain our lives as human beings on this wonderful planet, we will have to strive to improvise our work and our culture. Our actions are directly related with the fate of our race and the destiny of this planet. Responsibility towards education, environment and sustainable lifestyle is the answer to majority of the issues that the world is currently facing. It is now time to implement some of these lessons in our daily lives.
Meaning of Ladakh- A land of peace and freedom where you are shackled by prayer flags carrying across the blessings, positive thoughts reverberating through the region, breathtaking beauty, warmth of the people, confluence of intellect and simplicity of life!
We all are one. We are one with each other, with the places that we reside in, with the places that we visit, with the flora and fauna, with the planet and obviously with the universe in whole. Our movements to any part of the planet result in leaving behind some evidences of our presence at these places. The evidences could be either the concrete evidences in the form of human activities or it could be a part of our soul that we leave behind. I believe that only certain places have the ability to make you leave behind a very large part of your soul behind. The part of the soul that is left behind continues its pursuit of the place in its own way. Physically one may be in any part of the universe, but there will always be a thread connecting your heart and the part of your soul that was left behind in that special place. I am still not sure whether I have left a part of my soul in Ladakh or I have just been able to re-connect with it once again; but Ladakh is a place where I can definitely say that I encountered truth, or was it God?

Paranoia or Pursuit of Happiness

2010-03-15T05:46:00.000-07:00

*Thoughts written here were being translated into words at 0130 hrs after a really high dose of caffeine*
In life, all things simple are the most difficult to comprehend. There is no novelty in this thought, but I’d like to carry it through the by lanes of my brain. Of all the simple things that the platter of life has to offer I would like to ponder on love. Love is an emotion, a religion, a state of mind, a matter of the heart. Love, I feel, is a beautiful, abstract yet tangible existence whose definition could fill up volumes of books but at the same time it can expressed through something as simple as a smile. Love exists in the entire spectrum of relationships- man and woman, parents and children, siblings, people and pets, man and his country, man and his possessions, man and his religion, man and life, man and his passions- and the list of the relationships does not end here. The expression of love would vary with the changing contexts.
Man has a basic instinct to be secure, to survive and exist peacefully which in other words would be to pursue happiness. A man falling in love with a woman is guided by attraction, a special bond, a need to settle down and procreate. The need for procreation arises from the belief the man will be able to reproduce the happiness, he feels, he has achieved. This process of creating happiness and love would remain the same for all the other relationships mentioned earlier. Love and happiness follow each other in a cyclic manner. A happy man is most likely to fall in love and a man in love is most likely to be happy. In most circumstances the concept of love and happiness is synonymous.
If love is a beautiful and a simple emotion and all living beings are born with the capability to express it, then why is it considered so complicated? I guess the answer is lack of reciprocation.
Love is as stubborn and innocent as a newborn child. It is always on a hunt for a complementary emotion. It is the expectation of reciprocation that complicates the emotion of love. A complicated emotion does not conclude with a successful pursuit of happiness. This theory of lack of reciprocation of love holds true for all the equations that exist in the universe. In cases where reciprocation (read: things to work out) is expected to come from inanimate objects (money, possessions, success in job, calling in life, hope to travel, world peace, etc), and it does not happen, it must be some kind of an occult system put in place by Nature/God to personify these inanimate objects and subsequently help them to disapprove the incoming emotions. The lack of reciprocation only makes you sad and at times hurtful.
Peace comes with acceptance. This is the only harsh lesson that man has to learn and use it to fight the complication.
These are all very often repeated thoughts and words, but for me the whole understanding of the process took time and it is only now that I have been able to give a framework to my thoughts.

The Dubai Diary (28-Feb-2010 till 02-Mar-2010)

2010-03-07T06:23:00.000-08:00

It is very difficult to put in words the limited but the wholesome experiences acquired in Dubai. A corporate meeting was the perfect red herring to have a two day holiday in the city of gold. Looking at the vastness of the desert land turning into the oasis of stunning buildings and modern infrastructure from 15000 feet was surreal. The first feel of Dubai at the airport was very windy and humid. I learnt that this kind of weather is very rare in the entire spectrum of the emirate’s climate. So I guess the city had just decided to greet her first time guest with a weather that was even unknown to her!
Settling down in the chauffeured transport from the airport, the first thing I took note was that Dubai was left hand drive and the roads had possibly all the expensive cars available from all around the world. By the time I checked in to my hotel for the day, I had almost got used to seeing a lot of males dressed in the traditional white robes with a black head ring ( I forgot the Arabic name for this attire though). After spending some refreshing moments in the hotel room, I was soon at the concierge racking my brains over the map of Dubai and trying to get the “Al-Whatever(s)” memorized.
I was very confused despite the excellent efforts of the concierge, so I just went by my instincts and I hopped into a taxi and headed straight to the Dubai Museum- getting a cultural head start would be a good idea! Commuting in Dubai by taxis is not a very smart idea as it does get a bit expensive- you are in the cab for 4-5 minutes and you shell out approximately 25 AED (Dirhams); however I did not have the luxury of time to get a bus/metro pass for the span of two days.
I feel that sitting in the front seat along with the driver is the perfect way to start a conversation and get to know the city from a tourist and a non- tourist perspective. * Most cab drivers in Dubai are Indians and Pakistanis… and if they are from Pakistan…for some reason every one of them is from Peshawar.*
Talking to the taxi drivers was quite enlightening as it was the fastest way to know the bourgeoisie of an opulent city. The fact that I could concur from the talks with the various taxi drivers was that the city of affluence has some really warm hearts running one of the efficient commute systems of the city. (Also after the many trips and conversations with the taxi drivers, I did get used to my salaam-alay-kum s and Khuda Hafiz s)
The trip to the Dubai Museum was very enriching as it gave me the feel of the evolution of the wonderful emirate. The museum traced back to the times of evolution of Dubai from being just another oasis to a trading port to the discovery of oil and to the stupendous progress that followed. Not only did I travel back in time at the museum, but also got a glimpse into some of the magnificent projects lined up for the future.
By the time I was done with the cultural introduction of the city, it was early evening and time for me to explore the city. My next adventure was a ride in one of the oldest transport systems still existent in the city- the Abra. The Abra is small boat that has been used since the times of the booming trade in the city. It was used to carry not only the goods but people as well across the creek that divides the city into two distinct areas. The ride in the Abra was quite cheap (only 01 AED one way) and very novel. The weather was just perfect (breezy, cloudy and less humid) to be out in the waters of the creek of Dubai. People on the Abra included tourists, daily wage workers and also the middle class professionals. The ports across the creeks where the Abras ferried were quite distinctly different from each other. On one hand you have a port which was just an extension of the promenade and lined up with great cafes and floating restaurants and on the other port, the place was something that seemed which had not changed for centuries. It had retained all its old world charm-a semi open market place with beautiful Arabic arches which sold everything from “I love Dubai” t-shirts to “antiques” ( probably one could just find the Magical Lamp with a genie inside). Strolling along this market was very strange and nice. After a 10 minute ferry ride, I arrived at the other side and went on exploring the place completely guided by my instinct-sometimes ending up at a towering fancy hotel, a mall sometime or just a public toilet. Most of the part of the exploration was, however, along the promenade appreciating the architectural (not being a pedantic here) differences in the city’s buildings and the culture around. Time just flew strolling around the long stretch of the creek- a very relaxing stroll… the weather and the active mind made perfect company for me.
The next couple of hours were spent in the comforts of the hotel room freshening up, working out at the gym and contemplating as to what should be next on the agenda. And then suddenly my eyes caught the sight of an advertisement on the back of the map-“The Big Bus is the only way to see Dubai….night tours on Wednesdays and Saturdays…Get your tickets NOW!!!” No second thoughts on this one and in less than an hour’s time I was sitting on the roof of a red colored open air tour bus with the wind slapping in the face. The commentator for the night was a chirpy 19 years old British girl who happened to know the facts and trivia about the city very well. The two and half hours tour took me all over the city- the museums, the mosques, the famous roads, the tallest buildings, the biggest hotels, the beaches, Gold Souk (they even have purple gold) the mansions of the Sheikhs, Palm Jumeirah and more…Half way through the tour something really unexpected happened…I experienced something that Dubai experiences only five times in a year-rain!! The windy weather culminated in a fantastic display of lightening against the background of the Dubai skyline and it was quite obvious that heavy showers followed the lightening. A look of disbelief, shock and excitement was seen on the faces of all the people on the streets. The traffic also went into a tizzy as the drainage in the city is not really equipped to handle heavy showers.* Sharjah- Dubai’s neighbor does not even have a drainage system in place!*. It was really a wet, cold and a happy experience- all thanks to Kathy who was keeping the spirits of everyone high with her bubbly banter!
After this joyful journey around the city the next biggest obstacle was getting a taxi and this was overcome after an arduous wait of 90 minutes. Once back in the hotel I placed all the wet money everywhere to let it dry off, ordered food and then hit the bed for a good night’s rest.
The following morning started of with a heavy breakfast and completing the task of changing hotels. The Grand Hyatt Dubai is a beautiful property and the hotel is laid out across keeping the theme of flowing water in place and thus anywhere in the hotel lobby or its campus one is able to hear the sound of flowing water. * The wings of the hotel are designed in such a way that the aerial view of the hotel reads “Dubai” in the Arabic text.*
I started my afternoon by visiting the malls of Dubai-first one being the Dubai Mall *world’s largest mall… it even has a large walk through aquarium and a skating rink* and then the Mall of the Emirates which has the Dancing Fountain and an indoor ski slope as its claim to fame. Later I decided to spend my late afternoon and evening on the Jumeirah Beach road. It is a beautiful stretch of road lined by villas, malls, clinics offering cosmetic treatments and open air cafes…and also the road runs along the Jumeirah beach. I started the exploration with a visit to the Jumeirah mosque (the only mosque in Dubai that allows non-Muslims to enter). However I was disappointed as the mosque had dedicated timings for non-Muslims to enter the mosque. I was just about to leave the mosque and then I heard the call of the mosque to the people to offer their prayers and I decided to hang around for some more time. People from all around the area and from all walks of life came to the mosque to say their prayers. I was not allowed to go in so I just sat on the stairs of the mosque and said my prayers. While sitting there I happened to notice the kind of silence and tranquility that had suddenly overcome the other busy looking block. The chirping of the birds was probably the only noise that could be heard. Forty five minutes or so later of praying and imbibing the serenity, I felt spiritually recharged and I took the road again and headed straight to the beach.
The beach seemed to have a culture of its own. White sand, clear waters, sun-bathers, exotic villas, children playing, joggers….this was the scene! I was quite astonished to see women in bikinis, although these women were Europeans/Americans, as I was of the opinion that the emirate would be a very conservative place. However I later learnt that the conservative culture is only followed by the natives and is not imposed on the outsiders. *The population of Dubai is 80% expatriate and only 20% native*.
Listening to the sound of the waves and staring into the vastness of the sea was quite soothing and a welcome break from the almost pretentious ostentation everywhere else. Full of content and warmth, I headed back to the hotel to be out again. However this time I was a colleague who wanted to go on a shopping spree in the “Mini India/Pakistan” market called Mina Bazaar. After three hours of going around the place we ended up with nothing in hand, umpteen taxi rides and a thorough understanding of the by lanes of Mina Bazaar.
The next two days were spent in the conference halls of the Grand Hyatt and the evening in the gymnasium; and this all I have to write about that! But the weekend spent in Dubai – a city that has to offer everything for everyone would sure be quite memorable.
I did not go dune riding, I did not see any belly dancers, I did not eat camel meat, I did not shop nor did I do any of the other things that are probably associated with Dubai… but I connected with Dubai in my own special way…I went around the city in the rain, I spoke to some really warm people, I saw some wonderful and attractive places, I collected interesting trivia about the city, I prayed at a beautiful and a peaceful mosque, I enjoyed watching the sea…to sum it up, I was glad that I got to spend time with myself in a place as superlative as Dubai!

Que Sera Sera...

2010-03-06T02:57:00.000-08:00

* There was hope that was endeavored upon to bring about the much needed change that each one of us would like to see in the world around us. However something as abstract as destiny, financial security and social inhibitions won the battle against the concrete of determination and will. Probably now was not a good time to start marching in the direction of the winds of change....when... I do not know...but giving in to the future is the only path that I am certain of...scared of saying this but I hope that the hope in me rekindles once again...Que Sera Sera...*
A 10 year old idli vendor at Jogeshwari station is sobbing profusely because he is scared of the severe punishment that will be pelted at him by his “master” because the municipality fined him on that unfortunate day.
On a Sunday evening, there is a 6 year old girl on the Marine Drive promenade who is endeavoring to make a sale of at least one pencil with a glowing star at the non-lead end to the nonchalant pedestrians.
An advertisement on a television at CST showing a happy bunch of kids playing with paper boats in a beautiful town is being watched dreamily by an 8 year old whose hands, out of habit, are gesturing the commuters to put some money in them.
Examples like these are plenty but the common thread between these children and many more is their dreams. All children have an excellent imagination which gives rise to some powerful dreams that have the power to create magic in the world. However the only way that these thoughts and ambitions could be put in concrete is through the path of good education.
I would like to define education as a life long process that is much more than literacy; it is the will to learn life, and it goes hand in hand with the spirit of liberty and love. Education empowers an individual to not only dream but also to construct the roads to achieve them. Education gives the courage to bring about the change in the lives of individuals. Proper education imparted at the right phase in life can help revolutionize the gloomy lives of children like the ones described above. Education can help the idli vendor to understand that only he is the “master” of his life and nobody can violate his self respect and personal space. Education can teach the little girl the correct application of the pencil that she was selling which would eventually help her collect all the “glowing stars” that life has to offer. Education can give birth to the much needed confidence in the 8 year old beggar that could catapult him in the world of happiness that he dreams of.
I believe that by being a Teach for India fellow, I get the platform to bring about this transformation in the lives of the children and bring equity in the way education is imparted. Ignoring the straining situation of education in India is not going to help anyone and it is time to be accountable to bring about the change in the basic foundation of the society.
India is in her 63rd year of independence; however her citizens are not happy with the vices that are crippling her social stature. The strong “lack of equal education to all” pillar is supporting these vices. The pillar has to be eliminated today. The Teach for India fellowship is the perfect tool to abolish the bane of inequity of education.
Change always comes bearing gifts. And there is no better time than the next second to bring about the much needed winds of change in our society. It is time again to have a tryst with destiny to bring about the ray of hope amidst the dark clouds hovering above our society.
I see the fellowship as an opportunity for me to not only bring about the implementation of this reflection but also spend the next two years conceiving and accomplishing beneficial projects towards the cause of equal education in the under resourced schools of India. This fellowship with Teach for India will give the necessary pragmatic leverage to my thoughts and ensure actual fulfillment of the mission with concrete measures.

The Proposal...

2010-01-04T02:57:00.000-08:00

* I am not too sure whether this poem should be called 'The Proposal..." but I guess only time will tell...*

In this world of insignificance, it is only your laughter that makes my living worthwhile…
Your presence in my life is what I desire, what I pray for and what I dream of…
Assuage my desires, grant my prayers and fulfill my dreams …

Life is always beautiful when I look at her through your eyes…
You are the certainty in my ambiguous existence…
Give me the chance of a lifetime of bliss and conviction…

Your slightest touch gives birth to ripples of excitement…
Waves of peace follow the pleasure of your feel…
An opportunity to be a slave of your touch is what I ask for…

It is only the fathomless ocean that compares the depth of your thoughts…
Pristine, pure and magical when expressed with unspoken words...
Bestow on me an eternal and an endless conversation…

You, a giver of warmth, care and compassion…
It’s now time you should know what it feels to be treasured for and thus…
Accept me to love you for forever and thereafter…

Israel, Idiocy and Introspection...

2010-01-01T05:50:00.000-08:00

Israel Khan is a cab driver in Mumbai. On the outside he is a man who would just get lost in an ocean of people but if one were to delve deeper into the person, he is just not another cab driver. He is a man passionate about life. His raison de’tre in Mumbai is his dream of standing on the same pedestal as the King Khan. A struggling actor/singer, who is trying to follow his fervor for Bollywood, wants to be completely naïve to the competition around. He is naïve, not because he is ignorant; but, because he is a person who would be categorized as a hopeless romantic. A hopeless romantic whose only passion is simply pursuing his career in the acting/singing arena as that is what he has set his heart on. Contrary to the use of the adjective of ‘hopeless romantic’, Israel’s doctrine of life is- “Umeed hi to zindage ki neev hai.” (Hope is the foundation of life). The striking feature about Israel’s personality was the courage and the innocence with which he wanted to run after his heart’s success.
Fifteen minutes in to a conversation with him and one would think that the man is drunk; yes, the man is inebriated with the zest for life. The words fear, security and inhibition do not feature in his dictionary. He has studied the Islam literature and the knowledge is used to pen down some of the best poems and ghazals that I have heard. Israel is a dreamer –a dreamer who in spite of never fallen in love can express the emotion of love so well through his poems. After conversing with him about his written work and his ideologies, I was almost convinced that we had many cerebral similarities. The differences were that his expressions were in Urdu and mine in English and, the more obvious one that he was pursuing what he wanted to and my path of life was covered in gravel of confusion.
He is the person that each one of us wants to be or has forgotten to be. Israel is a refreshing soul to meet and also the one that leaves you with a lot to ponder on. May the blessings of his Ammi and Allah make him successful in his pursuit of happiness!
Strangers bonding over love, life and philosophy may sound outlandish. But my encounter with Israel Khan proved that such experiences do take place, however you should have the will to explore!
Idiocy is now being synonymously used for wisdom, thanks to the release of a movie that talks about how it is only the “idiots” of the society who do the wise thing of following their hearts. Honestly, there is nothing new about this lesson. There is nothing new because every one of us is aware of this teaching and each one of us is an idiot; but over the years of growing up we have only forgotten about it.
I quote Daniel Gottlieb:-“I think we’re born square and we die round.” The thought to understand is the simple fact that all children are blessed with uninhibited wisdom, but over the years the sharpness of this wisdom is lost. “Behti hawa sa tha woh…udti patang sa tha woh…” is the song that keeps playing in between during the movie. My interpretation of the song is that each one us is on the look out for the “wise child” inside each one us. People lose their innocence and along with it their wisdom as well. If every one knew how to reclaim this lost wisdom, there will be a huge population of “happy idiots” everywhere. The whole thought process comes down to the fundamental attribute of humaneness. The more human a person is, the more likely that person is going to be innocent and honest about his/her path of life. The irony, however, is that the questions revolving around this simple understanding has given birth to many restless souls.
As I write about this thought, I am taken back to the time when I was of the opinion that I have the capability to provide a platform to an entire population of people who have not yet reclaimed their wisdom . Below is the verbatim of the conversation that I had about this “wonderful idea” with a few close friends:
"There must be a lot of people like us (me) who have yet to decide what they want to do in life. If in some way I could give these people the chance and the platform to decide for themselves their calling in life and also at the same time monetize this concept.....seems like a great idea...the people I am talking about here are the people who have always been confused about their lives like us (me)....how would a person who is not focused about his life can provide a platform to the people like him or worse than him....what platform and space am i talking about...the platform will be that time and freedom will be given to these people to decide the course of their lives....so what they just come to this so called platform and while away their time...no…they will make themselves useful by volunteering for the NGO that will be set up...they will have some talent of their own…their knowledge and experience which can be channelized some where to good use...will all this be a counseling session...no i would like these people to be a part of the entire venture....the "i do not know what to do in life" people turn out to be smart ones...can be used for something good rather than they getting stuck with regular jobs....an entrepreneurial venture to make future entrepreneurs...how do we monetize this venture....do not exactly know...is this thing too far fetched…yeah it does seem like that....am i reading too many books on entrepreneurship...and just because i have nothing else to do i came with this thought....probably i need to focus on my current job...and let things be the way they are....or scratch my brains for more "ideas" like these....i feel there seem to be too many things to do in life...too little time...NGO...Grilleria...write a book…travel.....and at the same time feel good about life and enjoy the entire thing....i do not know what holds for any one of us in the future...but Inshallah they will sure be some exciting times...."
Introspection has its advantages and this time it has brought back the excitement that I was looking out for. The New Year, it seems, has taken over the role of the harbinger of good and fulfilling times!

Spilling the beans of Goa 09...

2009-11-05T00:55:00.000-08:00

Prologue:

“Goa…you ultimate seductress…you spare no one…
All souls find the peace that they seek in your arms…
Your caressing touch has soothed many a wounds….
Your smell attracts the festivities of life…
Making love to you is heaven…
You are an illusion…an oasis…a living dream!”

To write an ode to Goa is always difficult because every time there is a different personality of hers that you experience. It is also difficult because there are aspects of Goa that you feel physically and there are the other ones that touch your soul and the aspects that touch your soul are the ones that you crave for the rest of your life and are not easily expressed in words. It is better to express my voluble mind in words when the feel of the sand is still lingering. And I hope that I get an opportunity to write such beautiful memoirs soon…

Chapter 1: The Awesome Threesome…

Retrospectively, the travel in the 2320 hrs Konkan- Kanya from Dadar to Thivim was not a bad decision. The train journey was the beginning of a relationship called friendship between three good acquaintances, Dimple, Lydia and Ronak. The night started off slow but the stories veering of to anything from “honeymoon destinations” to “legalizing prostitution and drugs” made the conversation interesting for the people involved and scandalous and irritating for the fellow passengers. Stepping down at Thivim at noon, got the excitement up and running, and the remaining forty minutes to Baga in the hot, humid and fresh air seemed enjoyable. Photographs are clicked; Dimple, Lydia and Ronak realize that they are a photogenic trio and they make a good threesome (no pun intended...or well I could use the pun :) ) in all their photographs.
Ancora Resort is located and so is the wonderful person called Uma/Surya/Rama/Kanta- Kant. After tolerating Mr. Whatever-Kant for a while we go to our rooms and later head straight for brunch at Lime Light. Edwin does a great job of serving us some great cocktails (weren’t we pleased that it was “Happy Hours”) and delicious food…papad prawns, pork vindaloo and prawn curry... It must be really strange, but just with the first introduction to alcohol in Goa; the world is already spinning and lazy. We almost cancel off our plans of going to Panjim for a “lecture on clinical research”; but we realized that Lydia only pretends to be a devil; she has a conscience which cannot be silenced. She had promised her close friend, Jovi, and she will stick to it no matter what.
The decision making part was the easier part in the process of getting to Panjim as the more tedious part was the actual getting there ( damn only if I knew how to ride a bike!). Necessity is supposed to be the mother of invention; however the necessity of a cab or an auto rickshaw did not invent any smart thoughts in our brains. On the contrary it were the dumb gray cells that started to work and this led to a long walk in the humid afternoon before we got a transport for ourselves. The lecture, surprisingly, turned out to be quite a success story and we deserve a pat on our backs for that, what say Lydia?
The remainder of the evening is spent in the fun company of Jovi and Merci (I hope I got the name right!) at Hawai Beach Shack. The huge dampener for the evening was the humidity and we could all have done a lot better without it. Drinks, food and some catching up later we head back to Ancora Resort into the arms of Mr. Whatever Kant. A walk on the beach and loads of talking takes place before we go and stock on the liquor for the next day. Hunger strikes us; but hey hey hey…do not worry when there is 24 hour SUBWAY nearby. A salad and a mini-sub fill us up and we decide to greet Lydia’s friend Vijay. The humorous fact about the meeting with Vijay was that none of us understood what Vijay looks like as it was too dark to notice anything within the next three feet. After the short rendezvous with Vijay, we walk back to our room and continue the process of knowing each other. I must say that Dimple and Lydia are one of the most generous, the most beautiful, the warmest and the most huggable people I recently know of. Love you, guys!

Chapter 2: The Goa Groupies…

With a nice sleep and a supposedly exciting prank on our minds, we head to Sunset Cottage to enjoy our first decent breakfast in Goa. Chocolate pancakes, ham omelet and scrambled eggs give us enough time to chalk out our “dirty trick” to be played on Rahul, Salomi and Yash. A short walk on the beach takes our urge to dive in the sea to its peak; but we suppress it as it was time for the other groupies to join in. As fate and Rahul’s pragmatic mind would have it, the evil prank lost all its fizzle and what were left behind were tiny bubbles of frustration and sounds of laughter. We are filled by the horrific details of the train journey that the late comers had; can’t blame them if they have to see a shrink to cure their claustrophobia!
The Goa Groupies- Dimple, Lydia, Rahul, Ronak, Salomi and Yash, start their Goa adventure by welcoming the shots of tequila in their systems and it is understood that it is only fun times ahead. The sea beckons us again after lunch (butter chicken, roti and paneer something at Lime Light...Edwin was surely happy to find us there again!) and now there is no stopping back. The feel of the waves on the body is therapeutic and staring at the vast sea along with the cloudless blue sky is pure relaxation. The parasailing adventure sees Ronak and Salomi (“baby”) and Rahul and Yash pair up to enjoy one of the most brilliant views of Baga. (“…let us fly into the world of our dreams, just the way we are, forever and forever…” an afterthought)
A refreshing bath and a second ( and a third one for Yash and me) round of tequila later we are all stumbling and giggling on our way to Brittos for dinner ( chicken pasta, grilled chicken, paneer something and something more vegetarian…I am sorry that I do not recollect any of the vegetarian dishes ordered…). Rahul suddenly realizes that it is high time that he got high and thus more alcohol is procured to enjoy. It was quite hilarious and some what embarrassing to first ask for a full bottle of Jack Daniels and to replace it with a quarter of Royal Challenge considering that JD was really expensive. Soon we all go back to our rooms and more alcohol is bought by the “Santa Clause of alcohol” –Rahul. Shots are followed by an exciting session of confessions, exchange of stories and unusual stuff that need not go into print here. Rahul and Salomi decide to hit the bed to give their high state some rest. Lydia and I go out to the beach; I must confess that spending time with her under the moon lit night and having the most honest and a precious heart to heart talk with her has got me to appreciate her presence around even more. I believe that Dimple and Yash were singing the same song of appreciation for each other after their connecting conversation with each other. You never know what Goa can do for you!!
Shortly the five groupies (Salomi decided to stay in the bed) assembled at the beach for a while only to go back in and catch up on their sleep.
The beach, the smells, the sound of the waves, the pouring of the hearts and the magic of the Goan fairy did succeed to bring together six people under the banner of the Goa Groupies! We rock guys!!

Chapter 3: Driving Everywhere but Nowhere…

The morning started with only a couple of hours of sleep and a refreshing morning walk with Rahul. The sun is not hurting, the waves are clean and two guys are trying to find a mermaid in the waters of Baga! The early morning walk on the beach made us realize that the sea does not like dead animals as there were tens of them scattered all over the sand making the stench unbearable at times. The early morning walk comes to an end and the driving in Goa begins. It was very kind of Aashay to have his friend Nishant drop the car at Baga as Yash and I were too bored to make the journey from Baga to Panjim and back. The car is there but the one thing missing was fuel. I meant to say-Fuel for the car as well as for us. But as selfish as man can be, we first rush to Infantaria to have a disappointing breakfast and then the desperate search for petrol begins. Stopping all over at discrete places for petrol, we somehow manage to get to one petrol pump at Mapusa and make the car feel satiated. The return tickets are booked and the heat has every one of us cooked! Eventually the drive to Arambol begins late in the afternoon. The quaint and the bohemian Goan country side make the perfect scene for a pleasurable drive. Watching trees form arches, the chatter of the company and the high of the garam nicotine takes us all the way till Arambol. Coming to Arambol was coming back home. Many things were the way they are since ages, but many things have changed completely. The beach was still pristine and the waters as ever seducing (at times the sea decided to be angry and started slapping us). The lake had lost its charm and there was not enough time to touch base with the other familiar places at Arambol. I felt quite disheartened that we could not stop over at Morjeim…that would have been something to remember! I would also like to mention that Dimple and I had a great “bitching” session on our walk at Arambol. Don’t worry Dimps, no matter what, we are the coolest of the lot!
We all got back to our rooms and every one except the responsible driver of the day (Ronak) did not enjoy the shots of alcohol. After what seemed like a long while, we all started again to move to Curlies. We were all hoping that Curlies would turn out good as “I want to go to a night club” was the primary priority for Salomi (Yash, tu chalega na Tito’s mere saath). But lady luck wasn’t too kind with her and the last song had been played at Curlies a second before we reached there. So what if there is no party at Curlies…we all can eat…and we had one of the best omelet-pavs ever. The others decided that it is time that we should let Ronak have his share of the drinks and we all decided to head back to Baga. Songs were sung or hummed and we all realized that we had Lydia as a good singer amongst us.
Back on the beach (again Salomi preferred to sleep) at Baga, alcohol was gulped down rather too quickly. Rahul gave an astounding performance of “Jackva and Jillva” and had the audiences cry encore for him over and over. Before anyone realized where the time was flying, I had passed out on the cold sand of the beach, Rahul and Lydia were getting cozy and Dimple and Yash were in the waters having a wonderful conversation. After almost an hour, I woke up and I realize that I was freezing cold and I need to get some blood running. As I was trying to get my senses back, I understood that Yash and Dimple had already retired to the room and Rahul was trying to locate the joints that he had buried in the sand (he did manage to find them thirty minutes later…thanks dude!). Meanwhile, I also learn from Rahul that the seeds of an exciting love story, with Lydia and him being the protagonists, have been successfully sown. Good going guys…cheers…and I hope that you find what you seek- happiness! :) :)
It was tiring, it was hot, it was walking down memory lane, it was driving, it was being drunk, it was loads of talking, it was digging, it was waking up to hear some wonderful news and at the end of all, it was a very overwhelming experience….

Chapter 4: The Unusual Ruining…and Goodbyes…

After only an hour of sleep and with the alcohol still playing games with my mind, all I sense is absolute restlessness. This has to be brought under control. So the only thing that could have sorted this mindset was a long solitary walk on the beach. The sound of the Baga waves help to silence the waves of thoughts in my mind. After an hour and half of walking and talking, the catharsis of emotions is calmed down and I head back to the room. Rahul suggests that we have a pre-breakfast joint to “set the mood” for the day. That was a very wrong decision. The next “I do not know how many hours” were ruined for the entire group as I had slipped into a world of my own killing the plans for the day.
The “my world” was a very unusual place. There was no rationale behind my thought processes but each and every thought was worth putting down on paper… (How I wish I had a pen and a paper with me then…). There seemed to be no continuum between space and time. Time for me was rushing but simultaneously time was pausing (…the world around me is spinning that fast that it is making the time stop…). My body temperature was dropping and I thought that I was dead and waiting for my turn to get into heaven and that is why I am seeing my life in flashes. The realization of death was scary as I was contemplating a whole lot of things that I could have done only if I were alive. However even on my supposed death bed, I felt nice and warm from the inside, as I realized that I was being taken care of and being loved by some really beautiful people… (Thank you all for all the hugs, the palm and the sole rubs, the subway sandwich…Rahul for trying to talk some sense in me…)…I felt really protected and happy…not because of the psycho-influencing substance but because of the company that I was in……The psychedelic lights were like complete mental fireworks with a random pattern to them…..the bunch of ideas and stories that I could come up with was astonishing…( I really miss the pen and the paper…)….it was almost similar to an out of body experience with only the realization that I might/might not be dead….memories which have been locked at the back of your mind and the keys forgotten were opening up…inhibitions creeping in…feeling loved…it was happy but not relaxing…will I want to do this again…I do not know….
After the entire “Rocky was on a high” episode, we finally ventured out for the day to Fort Aguada…Yash finally found a rapport with the raging engine of the Santro… We said our goodbyes to the car…the girls decided to do shopping and the sleepy Ronak was more than willing to accompany them for their adventure…
Soon the groupies re-assembled and before even we could formally say goodbye to Goa, we were already on the bus taking us far away from this paradise…
Such were the adventures, the anecdotes, the stories and the emotions of a group of six people, who at the onset felt like a “motley crowd”, but eventually (just like always) had their souls amalgamated into one to enjoy the happiness that only Goa can offer….

Epilogue:

The stories of Goa cannot have a conclusion to them. People always leave a part of themselves behind in Goa, only to take a part of her back with them. The happiness that a person experiences in Goa cannot be defined, but it can be doubled every time it is shared.
Freedom and peace get new perspectives…hope is reinforced …the sun, the moon never look the same again…
I would like to end this narrative on few of the various notes of the mixed emotions that we sung together in Goa from 28 October 2009 till forever…a note of freedom, a note of friendship, a note of love, a note of excitement, a note of craziness and a note of hope…..

Good Evening...!

2009-10-19T04:52:00.000-07:00

As Mother plans to call us back to tuck us in our beds,
We take some time to bid farewell for the day to our peers,
So much play and laughter with our friends has made us long and tired!

The bobbing ripples give us a different hue,
Mischief that we do, has the vibrant fish looking out for cover,
Our friendship shines across just like our laughter!

Taking us to meet the never met before characters are our pebbly associates,
Intermingling with them has helped to unearth new routes,
The new paths have brought a radiant smile on the face of the mount of gravel!

The breeze has made us allies with the leaves and the blossoms,
The company of their colors is enough to make the entire day well spent,
The emanating fresh smells and their dance in the wind are only divine!

The soul mates of the flowers are also our new companions, the butterflies,
Their goodbyes to the petals is one of the most cheerful events of the day,
These happy winged friends are no less than the fairies of the bedtime stories!

As we make our journey back, we come across this human, and we ask:
“What is it that makes you smile so peacefully?”
“My dear sun rays, the content of listening about your adventures makes me smile!”

Apathy...

2009-08-10T03:46:00.000-07:00

26 February 2009 ( There is no specific reason for the delayed publishing of this blog....)
I am breathing, I can feel my pulses, I can experience the rush of thoughts circulating in my brain, I can see the varied colors of life revolving around me, and I can see the beauty of nature around me…but despite all these expressions of life there is one thing that troubles me the most is that I am unable to imbibe the joie de vivre from the outside to the inside. Everything and anything has stopped to influence me. Watching a movie on the slums of Mumbai or enjoying the breeze on the mountain during the evening hours or typing these thoughts or writing a report on my monitoring visit-all seem the same to me. These thoughts are leading me to the conclusion which starts of on a thought process of its own. The concluding thought process, which is an amalgamation of the following questions –
Whether I have stopped listening to my heart? Whether I have stopped looking at things differently? Whether I have stopped appreciating the ordinary miracles around me? Do people not matter to me anymore? Am I happy? What do I need to do to resurrect my soul? Is it because of my stressful work schedules that I am unable to concentrate on the real me? Will I ever be able to regain the touch with the unreal world? Why do all the positive thoughts about life from the past and the future seem irrelevant? Will I have to wait for eternity to find a “muse” that will keep me going for the rest of my life? Why do the dreams that were so accurately visualized in concrete seem hazy now? Why does even reading a book on finding the true meaning of life seem all Latin? Why does macabre and merry seem synonymous? Why do I feel left out? Why is the task of expressing these thoughts so important that I am putting in my business hours on this task? Why does the idea of breaking away from the world around me into my own bubble seem so onerous? Why do the noble thoughts of doing well for people of the society not seem exciting enough? If all the things mentioned above were the things that used to define and now I cannot relate to them, am I unsuccessful in defining my 26 years of existence? Am I too pretentious to accept the way I am? Am I just another egotistical individual? Have I been engulfed by complete indolence that I am unable to find answers to the questions that bother me?

I have always been on a look out for answers. To those unanswered questions I add some more questions. How does it matter and why should it matter?

The only time in the day when I feel alive is under the influence of the external motivating factors including caffeine, songs and people. I miss being alive. To be extremely honest I do not even remember the last time I was alive. If I have to strain my memories then the last time I was “alive” it was in April 2008:):).

I know that this is some kind of a mental block that subconsciously I must have brought it on myself. It could just be a phase that could exemplify the Cancerian idiosyncrasy….I do not want to spend words here to diagnose my condition right now…..

Honesty is....

2009-06-22T09:29:00.000-07:00

Honesty is the best policy. We all have been taught this lesson from the times even before we stepped inside the premises of our schools. We have not only been taught this but also have been trained to be industrious about practicing this learning. Not only was the indolence towards this practice harshly punished, but also we were looked down upon.
Heavily fed and brought up on this nutritious, but a very basic, fact of life, now I am at crossroads of decisions because of this fact. I am not able to digest this fact after almost two decades of eating it. Why should the bug of indigestion hit the digestive systems of my mind when I am in the most comfortable phase of my life? It turns out that the apparent comfort was the mirage that everyone with a mindset like mine wants to seek in the desert of life.
I will start of by explaining the concept of “most comfortable phase” in the most honest way possible. I spent twelve years getting primary education followed by seven years of more education to get a dentist’s tag in front of my name. After this Herculean achievement I realize that- “Hey, I don’t even want to pursue dentistry anymore!” My parents said-“Okay, go ahead, do whatever you want to, but make sure you earn well.” Was this piece of lesson helping me make my decision? I have no answer for this question. The very thought of pursuing any further education was nipped in the bud because of the simple reason that I did not have any money to do that and well, my parents, did not want to finance any of that because they were planning their retirement soon and also I guess that enough was already spent on me. So one thing led to another and I end up in clinical research at a “big pharma company”. The job is good, the people are good, the pay, well, money can never be good- everything is smooth, in fact it is so smooth that I could get married!
The whole world sees me as the person who should not be bothered by anything currently. He is not doing dentistry, nice job and earning pretty good, traveling all over, staying at good hotels- ‘he must be happy’. And that is where my diagnosis lies- “must be’. It is an illusion. Probably I am the greediest person ever, that I am not even satisfied by what life has to offer. The world does not know that the amount of pretense that I have to face in one of the most regulated audited and so called altruistic jobs- Clinical Research. People only seem to be good; people only seem to be involved in the welfare of all the patients worldwide. But, hey who am I kidding. If I just ignore all this, the job is good; the future prospects are excellent and the money that I will pocket will be extremely great.
I would be playing the perfect “holier than thou” bastard right now if I say that I am the only blessed one with the powers of philanthropy. I like my life to be luxurious as well. I also dream of that pent house at Nepean Sea road or the Bentley or the frequent vacations to my own island. Honestly speaking, instead of these I dream of seeing the world and imbibing the different cultures, be a vagabond for a considerable amount of time. Live like a hippie and get stoned (?) at the all the beautiful places around the world. I do not dream of a settled life with wife and kids. I want to quit the pretentious job that I am doing currently and do all the things just described. Work for the people and mingle in their daily lives for sometime (I am not being the bastard when I say this), move on and see some different set of people. During all these adventures of the life meet the woman of my life and make love during the best moments of life. Open up that sandwich shop and put Grilleria on the world food map…concretize Peace and Love in Arambol…take time off to travel and write that book that I have been wanting to….Only if had the courage to be honest about these options….. What is it that is preventing me from doing all this?
Lessons learnt during childhood were not only about honesty but they were also about inhibitions…. “Don’t talk crazy”, “you have to be do something good in life”, “money is so important to live”, “you have to be well settled in life”. I am afraid to be honest about these thoughts to anyone around me, including myself. My friends must want to kill me for this is the only thing I keep talking about. My parents and my sister think that this is only a “crazy phase” of mine and I shall soon get out of it. Even if I do all that, it would be my parents who would be disheartened the most….Not many people in the world can understand me…. People everywhere think that I am the most sane person…it is an illusion. Lastly I would like to put down, honestly, my biggest fear- I may lose myself. I may lose my craziness. I may not be what I am. I could be married and have kids in the next seven years and do what every person is doing as a part of their daily chores. I may stop being honest and turn into a pretentious being…I will be doing well in life…I may have that penthouse, although somewhere in the suburbs…I may not drive a Bentley but a Skoda at least….not own an island but take a vacation to an exotic place every six months…..but then for all these illusions of happiness I will give up my honest self….the one who wanted to travel the world and write a book…live a life of aloofness for sometime in Ladakh…Peace and Love…Grilleria….all would have become a haze by then….It is becoming increasingly difficult for me to stay positive about the craziness that I so badly want to pursue….I can feel myself constantly being pulled into the world of sanity…To practice insanity along side the world where everything is predefined is not an option that I have thought about…but demarcating the two will not be an easy task…or feasible either…
I would want to conclude these often thought thoughts by saying that honesty is no more the best policy… Honesty is being crazy….Honesty is sometimes a delusion…..Honesty is acceptance.. Honesty would lose all its charm unless it is free of all the inhibitions that it is frequently overshadowed by…honesty is courage….courage to be honest, to accept honesty and practice it…all this is something that each one is aware of …but now it is being observed in a different perspective…

Smells, Sights, Sounds, Seasons and Solitude

2009-06-01T09:22:00.000-07:00

The faint smell of the wet earth from far-away that heralds the beginning of an exciting season of showers tickles not only my olfactory sense, but also the thought process that usually is the sole companion of a solitary soul. It has been a month of minimal work but I would not say that my mind has been idle all this time. Books that talk about wild adventures of dogs or about knight-errantry have kept the idleness at bay all through this time.

As I sit on the window pane in the middle of the almost dead night and contemplate on the mundaneness of life or my conjured endeavors to get some amount of excitement into it, my life starts rolling itself in front of me through the various smells and sights that had all been stored in the memory bank.

The smell of chlorine water of the swimming pool takes me back to the phase of my childhood where I was learning to swim. All I wanted during those days was to get out of the pool campus as soon as possible to avoid the harsh comments of my instructors. But I must applaud my mother for being adamant then about my swimming lessons which have been useful ever since.

The smell of medicines has always been an integral part of my memory probably from the day I was born. My father used to smell of medicines whenever he used to get home from his clinic. The frequent trips to his clinic during the school summer vacations and doing nothing there but sit on his “big chair” and doodle on the prescription pads came back to me. The compounder at the clinic was never satisfied pampering with some home made food. I had never thought that these “do nothing” trips would have such an impact on mind that they would show up after 15 years on a solitary contemplative night.

The smell of the dirty socks takes me back to my computer class in school. The school days were something I am not really proud of and also I would not want them to be a part of my active memory, but they form a large portion of memory none the less.

The smell of the earth that started this entire process helped me touch base with all the holidays in the mountains. I do not specifically remember the minute details of these holidays, but I must have surely enjoyed them as they were coming back to me on a happy note. The smell of the earth also brings back the times when I used to frequent the hills and talk to myself at lengths sitting amongst nature.

The smell of the masala chai comes along with the time spent in Dal Housie with Aniket. We had the one of the best chais till date there. The freshly showered trees, mountains, vacant streets, stray dogs and hot masala chai made for a perfect evening back then. It is dismal to accept that Aniket will not be around much to keep a tab on either his or my life.

The smell of the rotting fish brings back the sight of the smiling faces of all the people at House of Charity. The people housed there are going through a difficult patch of their lives, but one thing they will never forget is to give love without any expectations.

The smell of the sea has to do with the recent memories. These memories comprise of the “dreaming with your eyes open” sessions at Marine Drive, Carter Road, etc. with Rahul.

The smell of the cashew feni, hash in the air, perfumes is as fresh as the entire “finding happiness/peace and love” adventure in 2008. These smells remind me of that happiness is simple-a beach, the moon and the sound of the waves are all you need for a catharsis of divine emotions. The philosophizing session about “how inconsequential we are in this huge universe” with Sar is still so clear. These are things that I will never be able to let go of as a part of my soul is still going around Arambol. Happiness has found a new definition from then.

These thoughts are occasionally interrupted with some kind of a humming sound of machinery in the factory close by. This sound makes me feel so privileged. I feel privileged about the freedom and luxury that I enjoy. Freedom to think about my life in the middle of the night where as there are people who are working the night out to earn some bread.

The smell of the drains and the sewer that comes from a typical stray dog in Mumbai makes me smile. I smile at the thought of this smell because this smell comes from the only living being in my recent life who gives me hug for no reason whatsoever.

It feels good to know how the smells and the sounds have brought the seasons of my life back to me on this solitary night to provide me with the solace that one is on a look out for when he starts thinking too much by himself.

Rendezvous With Mumbai

2008-12-17T11:24:00.000-08:00

There was too much done and achieved on the Sunday of 14-Dec-2008 and it is now difficult to put all that experience in words. Challenges were faced, inhibitions were shed, friends were made, peace was felt and the freedom to change things around you was realized.

Random Acts of Kindness is an idea which is still trying to find its feet in Mumbai. Vinod Sreedhar is the hub for the RAK in Mumbai and has done a brilliant job in making people aware of its thought and rationale. A few emails were circulated amongst the group and almost 12-15 people turned up on the Sunday of 14-Dec-2008 at 5:00 pm on Marine Drive. The sun was setting and people were walking and Vinod was addressing the assembled members about the collective act of kindness that the group was supposed to do on that evening. It was a simple challenge that each one in the group was supposed to do- invite the people around you for a cup of chai and while sipping on the chai, you talk to them and get to know them. To sum up the activity in better words, it was: you meet strangers but after the meeting ensure that you leave as friends.

The RAK group collected on that evening consisted of Vinod, Sanjiv, Rahul, Dhvani, Urvi, Mithi, Puja, Deepa, Abhishek, Sandhya, Ajay, Sachi, Vishvajeet, Karen and me ( I hope I got all the names correct…I apologize if the names are incorrectly spelt or if I missed out somebody!) . The making of the placards was contributed by Dhvani and Sachi. The placards were really attractive and very well made. The chai was provided by a nice gentleman called Vikram Singh Gupta. He really did some good business on that evening!

The placards, the chai and the RAK group- everything was in place so what next?? “Hi Uncle, Hello aunty…..would you want to talk to us over a cup of chai…..namastey...kya aap hamare saath chai piyoge…..” and many more of these vocal invitations were sent across to the people around the Marine Drive promenade. We received strange glances which were as nonchalant as the attitude of the silent on-lookers. As time went by, our earnest endeavors to connect with strangers began to get their due notice. The right chords were struck and soon Mumbai started talking. The Mumbai that I am highlighting here is the stretched spectrum of people that one could possibly come across on an evening at Marine Drive. The friends that were made on that day comprised of people including Nandan from Tripura (a fantastic person…spoke to him for 90 minutes…psychology and philosophy and all…), Samir from Ratnagiri ( works at a BPO and is in love with Mumbai), a Parsi couple from Matunga (W) ( we have a common family friend!!), Anaida from Walkeshwar, Aditi ( a fellow dentist) and Grunum from Colaba, Tapas from Kolkata ( he was a on a look out for new friends for the past three months…and he bumped into us :)) , Mahesh and Sarang ( MBA students in Bandra) from Nagpur, Jijo ( we had a common friend!) from Nasik, a few Gujju aunties (who were completely angry and hurt about the events that shook Mumbai), Dhiraj from Church gate ( he was relieved after talking about the legal hassles he is currently facing over some land trouble in MP)………..these were the people that I interacted with. I believe the rest of the group also had an interesting time in knowing some of the other people they interacted with. I believe Deepa bumped into all the people who were out there to take their dogs out on a walk!

From the out of “towners” to the snooty South Mumbai residents, from the foreign nationals (who call Mumbai their home) to the Mumbai police who were on their duty on Marine Drive, from the corporate heads to the BMC sweepers, you and me…and lots more make Mumbai the city it has evolved into. We, from RAK, on that evening spoke to this Mumbai. We realized that this Mumbai has a different tune of its own.

Mumbai has a heart. Mumbai is not the ugly “make money, no matter what” monster. We had to go out there and talk to people over a cup of chai to make ourselves acquainted with this compassionate Mumbai. Were we successful? The answer is as positive as the new energy that has grasped our spirits after making friends with complete strangers. Mumbai is open to talk and make new friends so that they feel connected with each other. This human instinct of being connected with the society is the need of the hour in the difficult times that “terrorism” has brought on each one of us. We experimented with it and it was successful and the only task remains is to carry forward the small flame of humanity that was ignited on that evening. RAK is based on this concept of spreading random acts of kindness…it all boils to one thing…connect with the fellow humans around you…that is the only thing that is going to save the society and the world at large…..cheers to RAK and I am glad that I am now a part of this….

Ambivalence

2008-10-29T06:19:00.000-07:00

You meet people of all sorts throughout your life. Some of these people that you come across touch you in some or the other way and the others just form a part of your subconscious memory. This statement reminds me of the thought that formed the introduction of Albom’s book, “The Five People You Meet in Heaven”. But I did not want to write about the people I would want to meet in heaven. The reason that I commenced putting down this thought is that I just wanted to write, for no reason whatsoever, and the only thing that seemed most intriguing at this moment was the thought of people.

People have the ability to make you feel a lot of emotions. People make you feel loved, people make you sad, people make you jealous, people make you competitive, people make you lascivious, people make you happy but I think it is only nature that can give you peace. I could be wrong about this for the simple reason that I am still to find the one person in my life that can bring in certainty in my ambiguous universe. Probably that is how it feels to be in love-peaceful. Then just to take that thought forward I believe that the ultimate peace potion would be the concoction of nature and love with a dash of happy memories.

Away from all these thoughts on peace and love (I must add that after the brief rendezvous with hippiedom in Goa, my thoughts are constantly revolving around “peace and love”) there are the people who are disturbed and restless. These people that I am talking about are the people that you meet in your everyday life. The people include: the sweating people fighting for space in the local trains of Mumbai, the people who pick up a fight with the BEST conductor for a change of four rupees, the harrowed looking rickshaw driver who takes you from your home to the station, the scared cab driver from Jaunpur, UP who ferries you from CST to Cuffe Parade, the waiter at the café who is cursing you behind your back because you did not leave him a good tip, the woman sitting next to you in the office cubicle who has to not only keep up with the deadlines from work but also do all the home chores or else receive flak from her in-laws, the cops who try their best to manage the traffic at all the major junctions in the city along with curbing the crime rate but also provide for their family from the humble monthly wages that they receive, the person sitting next to you at the airport and ferociously typing something on his laptop and at the same time balancing the phone and the cheese sandwich, the politician, from whichever party, who is trying to put himself on a pedestal just before the elections and at the same time will stoop really low to even instigating the killing of innocent people, the killed person’s family for whom their only source of hope and dreams is vanished, the daily wage workers who are employed by the BMC to repair the roads and the sewers, toil in the sun all day to get run over by some rich person’s BMW in the night, the rich people manipulating the lives of themselves and the ones around them………………………………………………………………..

The dotted line is for the other billion categories of people who have not been mentioned here. The thought that I want to highlight here is that there are people who are running towards their goals (read: more money, fame power) but do not realize that all this is not going to be a part of their “last breath flashes”. I may sound very ascetic now, but these are my thoughts and I cannot possibly ignore them. Do these people who manage to achieve everything in their lives, happy? Are they peaceful?

From the kind of the people that have been mentioned above, I believe that not a single of them seemed at peace or happy. Probably the magical peace potion is the answer to all their worries.

I would like to conclude this thought process on the note of my ambition of “Peace and Love”. If by some stroke of luck and focus, I am able to set up an NGO of my own which will be called Peace and Love, I promise that the NGO will work towards providing “the potion” to all the people. The world all over needs love and love would come from peace or vice versa….there are minds like me out there thinking the same thought but are not oriented together currently….once that happens…action on those….Inshallah dreams will come true….paradise everywhere…blooming hearts….Amen to that!

PS: If all that was said does happen, what next after Utopia? What will keep us going?

Something to Satisfy My Conscience...

2008-10-17T07:28:00.000-07:00

On 16th October 2008, at Jogeshwari railway station I come across a 10-11 year old boy who is also a 'idli-chutney' vendor. What caught my attention towards him was his sobbing.
Me: "kya hua...kyon ro raha hai....?"
Kid: "Muncipalty ne fine maara (sobs)....seth bahut maarega abhi ( more sobs)...."
Me: " arre...tu kyon tension leta hai...seth ko bol na ki aisa aisa hua..."
Kid: ......( no answer anly more tears)....
Me ( who was now almost ready to pay him the money): " fine kitna tha....?"
Kid ( staring straight into my eyes): "...seth maarega... (loud sobbing)...."
Me ( half hearted talk now as my train was almost on the platform): " life mein itna tension mat le...kuch nahi hoga ..."

After saying this I put an arm over his shoulder, a light squeeze and then run off to catch my train.

Did I do the right thing? Should I have coaxed him more to tell me how much the fine was, so i could have paid that off? Were my words empty? Did he understand what I was trying to tell him? If I would have paid the money, then would he have turned into a confident individual in the future ( this is a vague thought)? Did I pursue him enough?

I could not give answers to any of these questions.

The following mail was written to Children Walking Tall, a Goa based NGO who serve the needs of the street children. While writing this the thought of the "Kid" was playing in my mind.

Dear People from Children Walking Tall/ The Mango House,

I regularly read the newsletters that I receive from you. The work that is done by the members of Children Walking Tall for the kids is really overwhelming and praise worthy. As my thoughts move in the direction of appreciating the efforts that go in taking care of The Mango House, also at the same time I feel envious of the fact that I cannot be a part of the activities that are working for the benefit of The Mango House.

I know that I can remotely be part of the entire scene by probably donating a certain amount of money towards the organization; but it is reasons known to me that I am not comfortable with that kind of contribution. I want to be an active volunteer for your organization, come down there at Mapusa and interact with the kids there but it is the social rat race in Mumbai that is shackling me from acting on my thoughts.

You must be thinking that as to why this person, who is not doing much or not even planning to do much in the near future, writing to us about his thoughts. I am writing this because by doing this activity I want to a part of The Mango House albeit a very passive one, but none the less a part of the spirit of Children Walking Tall.

It is a promise I've made to my conscience that someday I will actively volunteer for Children Walking Tall to help spread a smile on the faces of the children. But till that time Children Walking Tall/The Mango House will always be in my thoughts and my prayers.

I apologize to you if in some way by writing down my thoughts to you I have come across as a "selfish" individual and thus agonized you.

Keep up with the selfless work that is done by you..... not only does it help the children be happy but it also puts a smile on my face....

Peace and love,
Ronak

P.S: Believe me I am not selfish nor a person who talks big and does nothing!

My Simple Wish....

2008-09-29T07:49:00.001-07:00

There is something that each one of us running after in our lives. Wishes, dreams ambitions whatever you may want to term it as, they all somehow imply the same thing. Usually these are in a very prospective time frame. These are things that you want to happen in future. When circumstances start to slip out of your control or to just put it simply when circumstances get desperate you want the things to happen instantly, no matter what be the consequences. Last evening I was desperate. I did not want a billion dollars. I did not want a good life. I did not want world peace. I did not want to be “free”. I did not want emancipation of troubled souls in the world. I did not want to escape to my happy place. All I wanted last evening was some warmth. I wanted the warmth of a hug.

A hug wouldn’t have given me the answers to my troubles, but would have given me the courage to face them. The warmth that a hug would have given me would have helped to wipe out the cold grief that had enveloped my heart. Probably grief is a harsh word, but then depression becomes too generic for the usage here. The reason for the sorrow is unknown. Loneliness, too many thoughts on life or just the news; it could have been anything.

Now suddenly my thoughts have hit a road block and I am unable to put down anything. I never got that hug last evening. A wish is just lost somewhere in the ether now, probably just like many others. Where do these wishes go? Is there some sadist who enjoys collecting these and preventing them to complete their course? I wish I knew the answer to that one……

Written Thinking....

2008-09-01T09:27:00.000-07:00

Sufi music and a cup of masala chai can really uplift my mood which was dampened by the throbbing pain and the bitter after taste of the medicines. Add to this a regular flow of breeze which can completely transfer me to my world of poetry and creativity; although the poetry seems lost when I try to put it down in words. I am eagerly waiting for the day when I will be able to find the flow of words needed for my poem to find its course to paper.

Creativity, here for me, is defined by my ability to think as I believe that my creativity lies not in writing but thinking. People and places that I like are brought closer to me by thinking. Thinking helps me to get the suppressed feelings out in the open and writing them down only is the mode by which I create memories about the same. Thinking gives me the freedom to build bizarre characters that are otherwise mundane in this mortal reality. I will attribute this sudden splurge of creativity to the doctor’s advice of “complete bed rest” as the 76 hours of sleeping has rested my working mind and the creative mind has woken up. To keep me company through these somniferous hours was Mitch Albom and his The Five People You Meet in Heaven. A different vision of Heaven is put forth in this book. To summarize, heaven is the place where you start making sense of your life on earth and that is the only way to find peace. Heaven is different for each individual but still all our lives are intersected by one way or other. A very intriguing thought that will keep me busy for days to come.

The creativity pangs gave rise to my dream of writing a book. I do have a story in my mind. The story seems incomplete and cannot be completely visualized. The story is currently been seen as the pre-release rushes of a movie, seeing which you do get a general over view but have no clue about the characters or the flow of the theme. It has become important for me to give this story a serious thought flow and sculpt it with words before it becomes just another passing thought or worse-a regret.

Went to House of charity…saw that it was being brought down by an developer…have never before stood up to anything so take this up as the challenge that destiny has written for me…to see to it that all the children get a place they can always call their home…search for them......some are in mental institutions…some have gone back to their unhappy lives….the nuns from Italy are nowhere to be found…loved these children and gave them a whole lot of their lives so much sacrifice….where would they be….getting all the children back to safety…union with the nuns…a place to stay forever without any bothers???? Nothing could be better that Peace and Love in Goa…… and that is what the book will be called Peace and Love……

Experience and a lot of information with some serious dedication and patience can help this story see the light of the day as a book.

A paragliding instructor…..in some beautiful mountains somewhere in North India…a girl who encounters a serious accident during the lessons…love strikes…hospitalization…a week…pouring of hearts…innocent….honest….girl dies….melancholy prevails….

This is another story that I happened to visualize in one of my restless sleeps in the recent weeks. Have no clue about how, what or why but felt like making a memory of it before it fades off.

“You meet a person after a long time. You have always claimed to have known the person really well. You have always liked the person a lot before. But in this meeting you feel that there are in so many ways that you have not got a chance to know the person. The beauty of the person still needs to be explored. You start getting attracted to the person. The mysterious side of the person is suddenly kept before you. The eyes tell you a lot but at the same time do not want to reveal a single word. A different kind of bond seems to arise. Makes you crazy…makes you confused….but makes you happy. Will this happiness last only till the time the mystery is unsolved…answers to this are a different story altogether….lets see what the future holds…”

Enough said for today. I think it is time for me to get back to get some quiet time with Miles Davis. Eyes will be shut. Mind will be working. Heart will be beating. Prayers will be said. Thoughts will be pouring and Jazz will be heard….nice times are here….. :)

My Thoughts Find the Words...Finally...

2008-06-08T09:52:00.000-07:00

It was a promise I had made that the next time I write something I am supposed to continue with my “theories”, but the last six months have been so eventful that the theories have just vanished in one of the by lanes of my brain.

From probably the only spine chilling winter that I have experienced in Mumbai to one of the most grueling summers to the fresh spells of monsoons, it seems that the seasons have just flown by in the past half an year. Before I begin my rendezvous with writing again I thank the nature’s showers for rekindling this spark of creativity within me. So here goes my story about the past six months.

As I told earlier a lot has happened over the past months, right from starting off with a new career to running around naked on a secluded beach. Life has completed changed, both from the outside as well as inside.

Starting with the external changes, the biggest change that I would like to acknowledge and feel great about is my weight loss. A couple of battles have been won for this but the war still awaits me. The next thing that I would like to highlight would be the corporate world that I was engulfed in, for the time that went by. I would like to keep this on my outside and not let it mingle with my inside for the simple reason that it is too pretentious to let it get imbibed in me.

There are two things which have given the maximum momentum to the changes, that I perceive have taken place in and around me. They are GOA and PEOPLE. The topic of people has always given me a lot to contemplate on. The people now I am mentioning range from selfish (corporate world spoils everyone) to the free spirits (hippies in Goa and obviously Sar and me…) to the angels that I came across at the House of Charity
(Renu {Someday you will find a way out of your boredom}, Ajay, Jaya, Charles, Moses, Pravin {tell me your thoughts...I too want to laugh with you}, Lazarus, Rajesh {thank you for all the hugs}, Sister Dorothy, Sister Paula, Sister Anna Maria)…thank you all for sharing your world with me…thank you Aniket for introducing all these wonderful people to me… :) :)

Have heard it a zillion times about how addictive the thought of Goa is, but now that I am experiencing it myself, I am lost for words to express the feeling about Goa. The days spent in Goa (specifically Arambhol) were like a dream. A happy dream. A dream that you want to see every single night or even every day perhaps.

It was only this time that Goa showed me its seductive persona which has bowled over all the free spirits from all over the world. The attractive Goa is not only about the secluded beaches or the wildness in the air or the rave parties or smoking hash but also about the people and the culture they breed. It is all about peace and love (Read: hippiedom) that keeps pulling you back. I’ll put down a certain random things that will remain etched in my mind for a long time to come:

The drive from Arambhol to Palolem
Hill Top rave party
Vita, Mr. Kinski, Phil and the quest for hash
The smell of cashew Feni
Smoking of charas (and the talks that followed…:) script writing seems so easy)
Skinny dipping (Agonda and obviously the midnight dip at Arambhol)
The banyan, the Baba
Fucking hell (Sorry Madame it was not intentional…peace and love to you)
Dogs can be rude too…:)
Banana milk shake...the best hang over antidote…proved once again
Kunal (even this guy was just like us…free) and the tattoo
The 1230-0100 a.m…. walk on Arambhol……a dream I long to see again….. :)
The lazy hours spent doing nothing in the Arambhol lake
Vodka Melon and the round of hash that followed with the motley -est people…
‘Sulphur’ bath (multani mitti)
A pair of ‘haawt’ topless lesbians (at least one of them was…:) ) in a lip lock
The smell of the lady (marijuana mixed with some fantastic perfume) , riding a bike, in the middle of the night….
Peace and love…( A new dream that needs to be put in concrete, literally, someday….)
Most importantly that this Goa escapade wouldn’t have been the same if it was not for Sar….thanks dude… :)

It seems so strange that everything else that happened in the past months is so insignificant when compared to the experience of Goa. Let me correct myself, not an experience of Goa but the experience of finding the free spirit in myself.

I would just like to sign off on a very high note…a note of optimism….a note of dreams…a note of magic…a note of happy weather…a note of adventure…a note of longing….a note of imagination…a note of freedom…a note of peace…a note of love…:) :) :) :) :)

Theories- The First Part

2007-12-30T03:22:00.000-08:00

There have been some contemplative fireworks in my mind for the past couple of weeks and I would like to acknowledge caffeine and Saurabh for their contributions. Accordingly I have come with a few theories (not calling them hypotheses since I have already proved them in front of a fictional scientific committee) which I would like to put them on paper before I forget what were they all about.

1) Peter Pan can have sex too!!

* Before I start with this theory, this is to inform that the name of this theory does not have anything to do with proving Peter Pan’s sexual abilities*

Imagination should run wild and completely liberated; else it shouldn’t be called imagination. So what are imagination, Peter Pan and sex doing in the same neighborhood (thoughts)? Nothing much; it was just that they were all there and it’s only now that they have come face to face with one another.

The theory kicks off from the very same foundation stone called “calling”. I may not be the “one” who has found his true “calling” or might have never responded to it. I would like to coin a term for this condition- ‘Professional Dyslexia’. Here enters imagination as it helps me to tackle various career options and the one that suits me is lifestyle tourism. A fantastic way to live as it involves travel, meeting people and imbibing their culture and the best part of it is not worrying about being the lead of the rat race. Anyway am currently not writing about my “calling”. This imaginary job would have the same effect of happiness on me as, say, colors would have on an eight year old. Thus comes in to picture Peter Pan. Whenever I am on my “job” I am being a child who does not have to worry about the adult world. I would never want to grow up. If Peter Pan can be happy in Neverland by not growing up so can I. The drastic difference here would be that I do not reside in Neverland, so even against my wishes I have to face the real world.

The later half of the theory wants to over rule the age old notion of sex not being innocent. When I say ‘innocent sex’ it simply means that sex is as pleasurable and as innocent as eating ice-cream. If man is not in the innocent category, then I am quite sure that most of us would agree that dolphins (they enjoy sex, just like us) look innocent enough or for that matter even dogs. To summarize this thought I would just say that sex need not be associated with children; but the way a toddler gains pleasure from say observing a passing butterfly the same can be obtained from sex (very relative, here). So it’s not necessary to be a celibate if you would want to remain a child for the rest of your life.

I do not see the world in the same way as somebody else does; I do not want to run the rat race and win a trophy; I want to believe that I will never grow up and yet be happy; I also do not want to lose out on the basic pleasures (sex) that adulthood has to offer—here I would like to clarify that it is not my fault that puberty hit me and came along the hormones that cannot be suppressed; I want to be free to do whatever my hear t says even if it means lifestyle tourism and writing related travelogues; I want to be Peter Pan who can also have sex!!

Childhood- An Emotional Turmoil?

2007-11-11T04:39:00.000-08:00

I read this in a book called The Kite Runner: “There are lots of children in Afghanistan, but there is no childhood.” The author of the book is a man named Khaled Housseini, who is an Afghan who has taken political asylum in USA and is residing there for the past 25 years. He is not alone. There are many like him, who, at that time of political upheaval in the late 70’s, could afford to travel across continents to the new world. The rest who could not, were left behind. First they cursed the invading Russians and then the Taliban. The Taliban were first welcomed and thanked since they were thought to be saviors. It was only a matter of time before the innocent folk realized that the Taliban were not the face of Allah but the rebirth of the Satan himself.

Everyone today knows about the barbaric ways of the Taliban. Everyone condemns their ways and everyone prays for the emancipation of the Afghans. But what you feel for the tortured is different from what it feels to be tortured. And if you happen to be a child in this macabre heaven, the wounds do not have the power to heal. Innocence has a way of inflicting guilt upon itself. In a beautiful and serene place like Afghanistan, you imagine the kids to run about and do mischief in the lush green parks and fields but what you get in the real world is this innocence getting raped of their childhood. Rules and restrictions imposed by the so called “messengers of Allah” have restrained the free spirit and imagination of the children. These rules also apply to the adults but it becomes extremely difficult to make the naïve minds understand the implications and complications of the evil forces of Taliban. At the tender age of 8-10 years when you are physically, emotionally and sexually abused, nothing and not even God can make you see the good side of life. The sweet singing of birds has been replaced by the bombing of the shells; your mother’s lullaby has turned into sorrowful screams, you don’t have a father around to take care of you, you do not know what it is to play with other kids, you have lost the sense of speech due to fear and shock, you are shaking with trepidation when you walk in your neighborhood and you are even afraid to go off to sleep because of the nightmares that will haunt you throughout. Is this what Allah had wished for when He gave them the gift of life?

What I gather from the principles of the Taliban is that they are doing the job of spreading the message of Allah so that they could secure a place in heaven. But the one thing I do not understand is by destroying the very presence of Allah and heaven on earth, how can they be sure of a seat in a heaven elsewhere?

Same is the condition with all other war torn regions including Kashmir and Palestinian territories. The continent of Africa which is struck by poverty and civil war for decades, has a different tale but with the same moral of tortured childhood. If Kashmir, Palestine or Africa seems far fetched, then the scenes of 5-6 year olds begging (again in the name of God) at the traffic signals in cities like Mumbai would be examples closer to home. I feel that these kids also meet with the same fate as the children in Kashmir but sans the gun firing and the continuous bombing. They too loose their freedom.

God, I feel, is discriminating His children by giving some child all the world’s happiness and on the other hand He takes away the soul of a child from some place else. Why?

What people around do not understand is that by crushing the love, innocence and the imagination in the souls of today’s children we are not winning the present but defeating our tomorrow, the essence of mankind. From now on, I have decided to say a prayer for all these children. Inshallah, there will be peace someday.

Randomization!!!

2007-09-02T13:09:00.000-07:00

It’s 3^rd September’07 and the time on my desk top is 12:37 am. Why am I stating the date and the time? I am clueless on that one. If I am in a condition that wouldn’t in any way define or give reason to my actions or thoughts then I would term that condition as “sleepiness”. Considering that even in this state of indolence I am taking pains to write about the random things that are happening around me/with me or that have occurred over the past few days I hope that I will have a few dedicated readers on my blog who will appreciate the efforts. Here when I talk about ‘randomization’ I do not intend to rule out any bias or variable in my experiments with thoughts. Randomization here is for the ocean of random thoughts that have struck me at the hour when I should be in bed counting the number of random sheep! And anyway, so long as there are thoughts there has to be bias, variables, procedures and interventions related to the research of thought process. What is the whole point behind this “research of thought process”? The answer- “A dentist who is working for five days a week and is also taking extra weekend courses on clinical research must not let his creativity get affected by these things.” My brains may not be working in the peak condition right now because all the blood is flowing to my eyelids and making them heavier by the second. But to put down a list of all my random thoughts is primary objective and I shall achieve that. So here goes:-

“When will they ever learn…when will they ever learn..!”…these lines of a song are being dedicated to two kinds of people right now. The first kinds are the people who call themselves “servants of the society” a.k.a the politicians. How can these people have powers to decide the future of our country with no basic understanding of what is wrong or right for the society. The 123 agreement may or may not be signed, but the trust that the common man had invested in these netas has been signed off for sure. Hyderabad blasts, Mumbai blasts, Delhi blasts, J& K blasts…lot of more cities and states available in India ..please feel welcome to do your thing, Mr. Terrorist…the government is busy turning the place in to Shanghai anyway..a lot of things need to be “cleared off “ before that. The second kinds are the people who can be shameless and conscience crippled for every phase of their life. Forget strangers, mothers should start protecting their kids from “friends” like these.

Salman Khan hunts down innocent bucks, he gets arrested, he is tried, he is convicted, he goes to jail, he gets bail, he drinks alcohol, he drives, he runs over innocent pedestrians, he gets off the legal shackles, he is again tried for buck hunting, he gets convicted, he gets bail and then he declares-“I have full faith in the Indian judiciary system.” I don’t, Mr. Khan.

Never drink an espresso before you go for work…you might end up talking nonsense and having vague thoughts about colleagues who are married and pregnant.

From my experience of giving almost empty advices to a friend of mine over “girl-issues”, I have realized one thing that my friend is a moron and he doesn’t understand the definition of self-respect.

All the romances that have been read or heard of till now, I rate the romance of Veer- Zara as the best one. Thank you, Mr. Yash Chopra for bringing their love story to celluloid.

Cetrizine causes heavy drowsiness and should never be taken hours before working out at the gym.

Chak-De is a wonderful film, thanks to which the Indians have started winning in hockey and football and losing on the cricket field. ICL issue is just a huge hype which will die down in a few months time.

I really need to take time off, go on a vacation, trek in the Himalayas and have fun…kya pata kal ho naa ho..too much of a SRK over dose for the night…

Might as well sleep off and I am sure that I won’t be counting any more of the random sheep!

A Story Untold...

2007-03-31T02:49:00.000-07:00

I don’t know whether it happens to all of you out there, but it does happen to me quite often. I am not talking about seeing dead people or about having premonition of the things that will occur in the future. The vision that I am trying to emphasize here is the dream that one dreams, but when you wake up from your slumber the dream is no longer hazy but is so limpid that you want to believe it. I am just lucky enough that I have started dreaming again because even if they are bizarre they leave you with a thought for the next entire day. I would too like to describe a story that I happen to unveil from the innermost corridors of my mind.

A rich widow, an unsuccessful writer and a crippled horse- these are the characters around whom my story revolves. Couldn’t figure out the names of the initial characters but the horse was named “Jack Daniels” by his master. As uncanny as the name may sound stranger are the proceedings ahead.

The rich widow, as of now let’s just address her as Mrs.X was the typical middle-aged woman who had lost her husband to a plane crash and now was spending her time and her money on champagne, caviar and celebrations about nothing. Life seemed completely meaningless and futile. Assuming the responsibility of handling the multi-billion business seemed like a Herculean and a daunting task for her, so that was better taken care off by her a trusted associate. This at least ensured that the caviar and the white truffles were always in stock for her lavish Page Three extravaganzas. She may have lost the much needed track of her life but she knew what she wanted. A higher and a much wanted cause were awaiting her in the upcoming time.

The second character that I shall be referring to as Mr. A was a passionate writer, a dreamer and a person who could just shuffle between the world of reality and his own thought bubble. The only thing that bothered him from completely living in reality was the harsh behaviour of the publication houses that refused to give any credit for his works. His work was good. He knew that and he believed in that but the other people thought otherwise. Most of the people he knew including his family had ostracized him. He had regained his sanity only because of a few close friends and an occasional smoke of marijuana. His life seemed empty but he continued writing for he knew that somebody will appreciate his work sometime. A higher and a much wanted cause were awaiting him in the upcoming time.

Jack Daniels was the stable’s most favorite and cared for horse. Although wasn’t a complete adult as yet, but still was a beautiful and a strong brown stud. Everybody liked him but everybody also knew that Jack Daniels did not like to be sympathized with. Sympathy because of a freak but a tragic fire accident that hit the stables a few years ago which made him lose a limb. The rest of the horses were safely taken away but unfortunately that night Jack Daniels was on medication that had sent him in deep sleep which resulted in a difficult task of rescuing him. He was rescued but his hind-limb was caught between two burnt and fallen poles and thus had to be sacrificed later due to gangrene. A crippled horse is of no value to a stable owner for whom his horses are his money, but Jack Daniels wasn’t put to sleep or thrown out because the owner didn’t have the heart to do so. As his limb was amputated so was his dream of ever running for his master for the derby race was sacrificed too. Jack Daniels knew that his master loved him but he felt like a burden to the stable. A limping horse can be of no use to anybody. He thought that nobody would appreciate his purpose of existence. But still he continued to live albeit filled with loads of sorrow. A higher and a much wanted cause were awaiting him in the upcoming time.

So what is it that brought these three distinct souls together?

Didn’t get to know because I woke up, but one thing is for sure, soon I’ll be getting back on this one to complete the union of these three characters!

I Am Back!

2007-03-15T01:13:00.000-07:00

It’s a busy life. Everybody knows it and everybody is living it. People have the knowledge that they have to take time out from this chaos and reward themselves with time for themselves. I have understood this dogma really well and finally am dedicating myself to something that I have loved from the beginning-writing. A lot of things have passed through the complex by lanes of my mind from the last time I wrote something credible. So here I am back to the promise that will be respected and never broken at least till the time a writer’s block hits me again.

Deadlines are coming up. Work needs to be done and not just done it has to be done in haste. This is what I have learnt in the past few months. Not that I didn’t know of this before but when you realize this in the harsh way you tend to digest it quicker and not burp about it. From the safe cocoon of your thoughts and convictions the outside world seems to be quite inviting and rosy, but it is only when you actually step out and interact with the big rats that you smell the stench and feel the heat of the “big, bad world”. As though if this wasn’t bad enough, the worse is the trail of mental distress and emotional turmoil that follows and believe me you happen to leave some of this everywhere. From your talks, your sleep, and your body language and even to your dreams (which I should term as nightmares now) the serpent of stress stings you every time. It is time to fight back now. No more letting the stress and work deadlines affect my writing, a new promise is made and regular updates of the blog are on the way. Look out world, I am back.

A Simple Life

2007-01-28T02:24:00.000-08:00

Let the title not mislead your thoughts because I don’t have the mental capabilities to waste words on Paris Hilton! The simple life what I am talking about is the magic that life creates by its sheer simplicity. This can be exemplified by the presence of nature and the inhabitants of Mother Nature. Man, unfortunately, has opted out of this clan and has decided to lock horns with her instead and has been successful on giving birth to complete annihilation. The destruction is evident not only through the “progress” that we have been able to achieve but the worm of catastrophe has found itself into the hearts of the human race as well. And this is what is going to be the raison d’etre for the ultimate downfall of all of us. As the war of supremacy continues throughout centuries it will be just a matter of time before the doomsday clock will strike midnight. Cupidity has raised its ugly head and enslaved the entire race. To lead in the rat race of nincompoops has suddenly become the motive of every single soul. But as we are running ahead to keep up the pace, on the way we are missing out on the simpler things that we are being offered.

The instinct of love is slowly vanishing. People are becoming selfish. So is love.

Unconditional love may be a clichéd term, but nobody seems to understand it or even if they do nobody has the courage and the perseverance to act upon it. Animals and children are the only one that I feel know, understand and sincerely nurture this emotion. The rest of the examples that I know of have been portrayed only on the celluloid. David, from A.I., is the most glorified example. It is only about animal and children that I can speak of because it is only they who project innocence. And in children it is only till the time they are in infancy stages that the innocence shines which after a period is taken over by conceit and avarice. What is the factor that separates humans from animals? Some say a developed brain or coming to think of it could be an underdeveloped heart. Try looking into the eyes of a dog, any dog, and then you will come to know how it is to look at innocence. I think intelligence and greed go hand in hand. Love doesn’t need the requisite of being smart. It may be blind, deaf, dumb or even non-existent but it is by far the most divine, pure and simple emotion. As a friend of mine once told that it is the most frequently used emotion by all but without understanding it. Love is the only factor need to live a simple life. Love unconditionally everyone around you. Tough, but possible. Expectations kill. So no conditions or contracts have to be read before emoting love. Wonderful yet simple. So wishing you all a simple life.

HAPPY ENDING

2007-01-10T06:42:00.000-08:00

Happy Ending

Do you believe in “happy endings”? This was the question put forth by a character in a movie to her friend. Her friend just looked around, saw his pregnant wife, smiled and answered affirmative. How sweet! But here I agree with Don that sweet mush is diabetic. That should truly put me in the class of people who always have envied the happy endings in the movies. Envied, disagreed or purely bored. These are only movie fantasies which do sell like hot pancakes among the masses. But running equally well are tragic epics like Romeo and Juliet, Titanic, etc that completely insult the need for happy endings.

Happy endings signify optimism, dreams, trust, confidence, utopia, angels, innocence and fantasy. Reality as we all know is not exactly a concoction with the above mentioned as the prime ingredients. So reality never has happy endings??? Nobody can say so. Everybody has their own opinions on this. Optimism and skepticism go hand in hand to maintain the poise and lead to the path of development, flying towards the stars or digging the ground for worms, what say Mr.Bachchan? I earnestly pray that India does have her share of a happy ending sometime in the future. If endings were made to be satisfying and happy that would surely put a certain someone called “Bad” out of the picture. No bad, only happy. Only joy, no sorrow. Boring!

Ask a friend of mine who recently broke off with his girlfriend, and you will get an answer as to why suddenly he has no place for happiness right now. But relationships, I presume, are meant to be like that; fun, laughter and great when they last but once it’s called off life comes back to where she was-in the bitchy tales of the unloved. It becomes very difficult to get people like my friend in these situations back to the sane world. The continuity of the dream world and reality has been shattered and they have to cope with the ugly face of the reality.

Happy endings don’t come along just like that, they have to earned, worked for and only then relished. Nothing comes easy here. But there everything is just a wink away. You may call it anything you might want to- happy place, utopia, escapists’ haven etc but it is the place which everybody wants to get it off their minds and into concrete. These places irrespective of who the people are or what their thoughts are, their hearts have come up with these imaginary fragments which surely are beautiful. It is just a matter of time and trust amongst all of us the dreamers have to come together to let our dreams flow from the labyrinths of our minds into the world around us so as to have what else, but ‘Happy Endings’.

As John Lennon said:-Imagine…..you may say I am a dreamer…..someday you’ll join us…….. Signing off on a very positive ‘note’. :)

Time to create history again!!

2006-12-16T06:13:00.001-08:00

Dear Mr. Chief Minister/ Mr. Prime Minister/ Mr. President/Any Answerable Authority,
Being a concerned citizen of this beloved nation called India, there are a number of questions that are running in my mind which have to be answered. Not knowing whom should I ask, I had no choice but address this letter to you. The very first query that pops in my mind is-WHY SHOULD I BE PATRIOTIC TOWARDS THIS COUNTRY? You might be able to deliver some “culturally rich” answers to this, but that doesn’t assuage me in any way. What I am looking for is some pragmatic solutions to all my doubts. Patriotism and love for one’s country or motherland comes only if the homeland is doing something good for the social welfare of all her citizens, but here I see nothing of that sort happening. What do we get in return for the taxes that we pay- farmers’ suicides, crater full of roads, a state consulate in the capital worth Rs.50 crores (which we didn’t even ask for it), unemployment, corruption, political scandals, lawlessness etc?
The situation is such that even if we as citizens try to get involved in these matters, we too shall get torn in between the vicious circle of all the banes that the country is facing today. “Ask not what the country can do for you, but ask what you can do for your country” quoted the famous American president J.F.Kennedy. I agree to this statement completely but this statement comes from the leader of a nation who is taking care of all the needs of their citizens. Needs which include education, medical facilities, energy supply, food and life security; thus the citizens too feel to give it back to their nation in many ways. Unlike the situation here where the government run schools and hospital are in such a pitiable condition that people like me and you would not even think of associating ourselves to them. The education here has become a luxury which is enjoyed by the super rich or the reserved category. Where do the middle class go? They are just running helter-skelter to save themselves from the troubles of getting themselves ground in this system. The medical facilities too speak the same language, language of inadequacy. On one hand you want to make rural internship compulsory to serve the villages but who takes care of the medical facilities of the interns themselves in the far flung villages? The way of lifestyle between the urban and rural India is too different to make rural internship compulsory for urban doctors.
The government wants to ape the developed cities from all over the world but at least start off with basic amenities. Energy. Why does the city that dreams to be the best investment and financial capital have to face power cuts in form of load shedding? Why does the nation’s capital have to go without power for hours together? Why does the majority of the rural India think that power-supply is a luxury?
Why don’t the policy makers who have been elected by the citizens and for the citizens behave in the same way? Why is that nobody is paying heed to the very basics here in our nation? The security of life of the average man here too is not taken care of; the minute the religious sentiments of a certain segment are insulted they go on a public property destruction spree with the law enforcers being mute spectators. Why?
The property that is being destroyed belongs to the nation, their nation, so are they too not patriotic towards their motherland? In this entire mess of systems, red-tape, controversies, destruction, inadequate infrastructure, improper medical and educational facilities, population boom it is the common middle class man that suffers the most. And how does he take care of his problems- the old just sit back and wait for their days to end, the youth pick up loans and move out of the country to greener pastures. And it is after all this that the government blames the trend of “brain drain” that is causing the country’s downfall.
Sir, a sincere request to you, please help us help you and our motherland. We the common man are as helpless as the situation in our homeland. Don’t make us leave this country that we have called home for so long. Aren’t the reasons mentioned here enough to justify the thinning of the patriotic feelings towards my country? We have a beautiful country, we have beautiful people then why is it that the society we live is turning ugly? I say it is time again to substantially redeem our pledge, our tryst with destiny, to find utterance and rekindle the soul of our nation for freedom. It is time for service and dedication to India and her people. Sir it is time to make history again!

Some People, WEIRD!!

2006-12-13T03:53:00.000-08:00

Recently came across a mail in my inbox categorizing people distinctly under three headings. The headings were “Reason”, “Season” and “Lifetime” each conveying the meaning on its own-people that you either meet for a reason or for a season or for a lifetime. But I did find this classification incomplete for the simple criteria that people that you come across in your life are more complex than stated before. This list doesn’t have place to fit in the people you despise or for that matter people you haven’t met but still admire them! This e-mail got me thinking on the type of people that I have come across in my span of 23 years and some months. People as mentioned and as obvious can come in all forms of family, friends, relatives, acquaintances, teachers and a host of other relations which is one’s personal perspective.
Of all the afore mentioned list of people in my life I think it is the friends category that takes up the maximum amount of your time and energies (given the fact that I am still single!). But yet this really nice and innocent looking category can too have its fair share of troubles…and no I am not talking of the fights or altercations between friends, but the way these people are always treading upon the thin line between acquaintanceship and friendship. That’s the toughest test of all—who should I call my friend and who becomes my acquaintance? It can get really confusing and frustrating to trust somebody. And also what levels of trusting makes some person your friend. The person who you think is trustworthy enough of your friendship and camaraderie may be talking obscene things behind your back and you might never even come to know of this! Disgusting!
Instances that everybody must have come across must be the time when a certain somebody who used to be your very good friend has recently turned into just another casual “someone I know”. So does that mean jumping the line is really that easy? Life is as composite as the mingled pathways of the thoughts that go into birth of these relationships. A very popular saying says that “If you lie with the dogs you rise with the fleas”. But how are you supposed to differentiate between the two? Experience seems to be the only right solution to this query .The downfall to this answer could be bad etches in your mind but at least one would have learnt one’s lesson. And my experience teaches me that the best way to keep these people at bay is to put them under a different category. A category which I choose to call- WEIRD.
P.s: Thoughts expressed here are quite confusing and ‘weird’ but that is how my state of mind was while putting this down.

Miracles Do Take Place!

2006-11-25T06:24:00.000-08:00

A Simple Miracle
A lesson that I have learnt recently is that turning twenty-three does not necessarily make one wise enough to take on the world or understand the protocol of the society. The twenty-three year old that I am talking about here is myself. The last five years that have been spent toiling really hard to earn myself an “oh-so coveted” degree of being a dentist does not imply that I am a sane individual. The underlying cause of my “insanity” lies in the cloud of confusion which has stormed into all of the room meant for rational thinking. But these are thoughts and I don’t know of any person who can control the flow the innumerable thoughts entering their minds—a la “dimaag mein solid chemical locha”. This did teach me a few things about chemistry and the most important one was that the chemical turmoil caused in your mental labyrinth does not agree to let go of you. Being a very normal human being it then became quite essential for me to hunt down a sensible solution to the grave problem that I was facing….but did I mention what my problem was? The strenuous situation may be easy for many and difficult for the rest and the situation is – WHAT NEXT? The question is strictly pertaining to the life that I will be starting afresh with a graduate certificate under my belt, but then suddenly I realize that there is no freshness in the new life. What I foresee in my life is boredom and monotony associated with my future clinical life wholly and solely related with dentistry. It may be a field which is high on money but I am the kinds who would like to go in for some job satisfaction too. A thousand queries with absolutely no answers was driving me and my friends crazy (friends because they were the ones who had to take on the responsibility of listening to my repetitive balderdash). Struggling with lots of things including the big challenge to prepare for the post-graduate entrance examinations due in a short period, my mind was dying, I was dying.
Enough is enough I decided. Since nothing was getting to think me straight the only thing that deemed feasible then was some desperate divine intervention. So packed in a few stuff and hopped onto the bus for Shirdi. Thought even if God wouldn’t be able to help me out then at least some fresh Maharashtrian country-side would. Finally after eight hours of bus journey and a short walk led me to the doorstep of the temple in Shirdi. Bought a few floral and sweet goodies for Baba and with the tray I too stood in the really long and serpentine queue. Then just like an unsuspected lightening would struck someone, I too was struck but with a thought that said-“Wow, you are not the only one expecting a miracle in your life…there are millions looking out for God’s special blessing!” The thought was good enough to keep my mind away from the wait needed to get me Baba’s ‘darshan’. It was philosophical and a contemplative series of fireworks on display in my mind and simultaneously my heart too. Both were on a fantastic debate on life and it was great to listen to them both voicing out their opinions. Then just as how quick that lightening thought had struck me, something else struck my vision now later finding its course to my heart. The sight was of seven or eight year old boy suffering from mental and physical retardation trying to make his way, with help from his father, through the ocean of people around him. The kid had a very nonchalant but a lost and a dreamy look ignorant about the stream of people flowing by him and while his father was helping him walk and at the same time trying control his drooling. This sight completely anesthetized my mind, my heart and me I in whole. I couldn’t think, I was just out right numb. Later as I surged ahead in the queue, I saw a very beautiful face of a three/four year old girl smiling at me; I smiled back only later to realize that the girl was suffering from Down’s syndrome. I just moved ahead finally getting the ‘darshan’. But quite surprisingly, in spite of the troubled mind that I possessed I did not know what am I supposed to ask from Baba-a miracle? I was clueless. So I just bowed before Him and left the temple premises to later find myself on the bus home.
As I looked outside the window, to gaze at the passing rural life soaking in the evening sun, the picture of the three year old smiling at me and the seven year old boy and his father trying to make their way through the people kept flashing. I was completely overwhelmed. Tears began to roll down my cheeks. They weren’t tears of sympathy for the children but tears of sympathy for me. Me, because I had just realized that I had been extremely selfish. God had been kind to me from the very beginning, giving me a life that would surely be called luxurious but still I was unsatisfied, still asking for a miracle to take place in my life.
A miracle did take place in my life; the miraculous sight of the children who no matter what they were going through did keep up smiling and irrespective of their situation did managed to fight their adversities. I was changed. Change in the sense that no more cursing the life I was living and the thought that keeps me going is that just like me there are millions on the look out for a miracle to take place in their lives and then there are the ones who themselves are the miracles in life. Simple miracles. Special miracles. Thank you God.

My first!!!

2006-11-24T04:20:00.000-08:00

Yeah..me getting in to "blogging" too..but right now a bit too tired and that's why putting up my previous works which weren't blogged...my own thoughts ----poetically speaking...starting off with my first poem called "When She Smiles.."..a poem which talks about how a beautiful and a dreamy smile of a girl can manage to make a person, a self confessed personification of boredom,(that would be yours truly!) to pick up the pen and come up with this poetry....straight from the heart!!!!
When She Smiles...
When she smiles..
Heavens open up their doors,
Flowers bloom to catch her glimpse,
Goodness spreads in galore!

When she smiles..
The world stops where it is,
The sun of the eve ceases to dim,
Gather all angels to see a sight
That they'd never want to miss!

When she smiles..
The problems of the world seem petty,
The toughest of all seem to melt down,
Peace,innocence and love start filling up eternity!

When she smiles..
Old mysteries are revealed and new ones emerge,
The best of all poets get a writers' block,
Dreams are rekindled which were once submerged!

When she smiles..
The universe understands the definition of beauty,
Men start treading upon the radical path,
"Live and let live" becomes their only duty!

When she smiles..
People start talking the language of love,
Reminds you the mischief of a naive pup,
Makes you feel as light as a feather of a dove!