MELANCHOLIA

A collision leads to a transfer of momentum. My physics teacher must have said that a thousand times. I understood him the other day, sitting on a railway platform in a small village, the eternal backdrop of the recently glorified Indian nation. I was sitting there because I was scared to stay in this village till late in the night. It turns out; there are still places in this country where we have separate food joints for Hindus and Muslims. You see I am a Hindu, who was sporting a French beard, which somehow signified to the locals that I am a Muslim. I was scared what collision might happen in the neighborhood because of the confusion. I was scared because the scorn in the voice of the shopkeeper who had just stopped me a while ago when I was entering a food joint was so palpable, I could feel it almost as real as the clothes I was wearing. While getting into the restaurant, he had stopped me to shout, “ tumhe hindu restaurant jaana hai ya muslim.” Confused, I looked up and saw the name of the restaurant: “Maa Tarini Hindu Hotel.” That is when, fearing the transfer of momentum which may create a chaos if a collision happened on this account, I rushed to the railway station.

I was sitting on the station, waiting for my train, trying to get my thoughts away from my fears. A fast nonstop passenger was due to pass through track number three, before my train came on it, the village where I had just had my enlightening experience being too insignificant for the train to stop there. Another fast moving train, a “maal gaadi” filled to the brim of the coal rushed on to the platform on track number 4. Its speed was so great that it looked like a mad beast on a mission, roaring through the station. At the same time, the nonstop passenger rushed onto track number three. The collision between the air in the platform and the onrushing trains was so great, that I felt the platform itself shaking, the vibrations of air from one train to another moving my whole being. I am overwhelmed by the transfer of momentum that must have happened in that insignificant yet palpable air to make me feel what I was feeling. I looked at the people around me. Each one of us for those few instants at least had the same feelings, irrespective of our backgrounds, religions, occupations, economic status, we all felt shaken. And then we all lapsed into our own beings once again. The sole beggar at this time on the station, looking with a longing towards a group of people, half wasting their food, in an attempt to jump at it at the same time. Friends, having fun I guessed. The hawker readying his basket of local made delicacies, for the oncoming train, in hope to try and get into the sleeper or ac compartments, where at least some may buy his product, and he may go home with more than those very delicacies with him. The railway policeman, uninterested in whatever was happening around him, probably worried about some issues of his personal life. The “stallwala” fellow, beaming with a sense of pride, probably because he had managed to secure a stall on the station that was probably the singular biggest achievement by anyone in his family line. A procession of people, with a groom with his bride at the head, both of them oblivious to everything but each other. A smart man, wearing a tie, working with a calculator and a sheet of paper, hoping his boss won’t call before he finishes the report. Life for each one of us had taken different collisions, and thus momentum had taken each to it’s different course.

May be I was remembering my physics teacher too much that day.

For those few instants that those trains were passing in opposite directions on my two sides, I had many other souvenirs from the past coming before me. In each window of that passenger train, I could see someone or the other of my friends, from whom I was so far away. On the coal bearing beast’s sides, I saw memories of our family gatherings. I used to love being with my friends. On one window, I saw a picture of seven men, with their feet over a stone, assuming a mock oath. The fateful stone of bachelorhood we guys had called it. Ironically, it was the stone exactly in front of the girl’s hostel in college. On the next window, I see a huge group, playing cards on the roof of the library they had somehow managed to surmount. The pantry car passed, and on it’s windows was painted the DLP Canteen. I could almost smell the maggi and the aloo pyaz paranathas. On the other side, on the coal bearing steel, I saw a kite shaped like a rooster, soaring all alone, like a king in the sky, its string being passed amongst us brothers and our sister, on our rooftop. A party in our city’s “revolving restaurant”. The broken shards of the tube-light, which had suffered the misfortune of being in the way of our cricket ball. There were many more pictures, although how so many of them managed to come upon in those few instants is a credit to the pace at which the human brain can function. All that is so distant now. Somewhere a momentum shift had happened, taking everything so far away. I hope another shift happens soon, taking me back closer. I really hope so.

Sitting there, the word Melancholia came to my mind. A state of sadness, that’s how my friend had described it. The state that was this city, the states that were our different lives, the state that was the distance between me and my close ones. Melancholia. I doubt my physics teacher even knew this word, though I am sure he must have felt it. Each one of us has. Such is Life.

We win: Score- 50 to Nil

Its approximately 2:30 in the night. As a routine affair, a bus that had started from a small town known as pink city at 11:30 stopped at a midway on its route to the National capital. There were 36 people in that bus including the officials.

After a fairly routine break, 35 of us were back, one wasn't.
His companion was asked to call him. Within moments, amongst widespread confusion, the companion ran away, even leaving his shoes behind.

In the face of events that have happened in this region of the world in the past few months, this was a cause of worry. All the remaining 34 people got down.

They tried to check if anything is wrong, the didn't find any.

Now the big question, whether to get back on the bus and move on with our journey or not?

comes a voice..."Jo chk karna tha kar liya...baki bhagwaan apne saath hai"

34 passengers one by one...each of whom could have been terrorised, scared to death of coming anyway near that bus, climbed back in.

People of all religions, all castes, all sections of the society.

That is straight 34 goals in the match against terrorism. They fail their basic purpose. They cannot scare us. They cannot stop us from believing in our Gods.

BAM!! We are 34 - nil up!!!

There was one here, who was found smoking rite outside the bus. The people of the bus confront him politely that its 3rd of october 2008, which means u cant do that here. He understands and the fumes are gone.

We are progressing...they cant halt us...!!
We can think about our social progress even in such times...

BAM!!..that another 10 goals to them...

We are 44 - nil up!!!

There was a bunch of drunk kids at the end of the bus. Not one of the other passengers sought to voice his opinion that they were anything other than just that. A bunch of unruly kids.
They can't rid of our trust for our chidren.

BAM!!..that another 5!!

49 - nil up

For the remaining 2 hours of travel, not one accusatory glance. Rather, people look at each other and give that faint smile, which says...we still believe....
BAM BAM BAM..that's a big one..
We Win...50 - Nil...all the passengers reach safely and go to their homes...

Everyday, in every part of the country, we win many such matches against those who commit these acts of terror.

They coudn't stop life in any of our cities....mumbai, delhi, jaipur.....yes...unfortunately, the list is endless....but it talks of our grit..

They might scare us, they might kill some of our deared ones, and for them we shall grive, but they won't ever terrorise us...

We as a nation, will win every such duel.....always...
BAAAAAM!!!!!!

They call it history.

Warning: You may not like this.

I would like to mention that this is not an attempt at any sort of blasphemy. I just strive to bring forward a new view.

Once upon a time, long ago, there was a King, respected even by the Gods for his bravery. From his three queens, he had four sons. The eldest of his sons was a very harsh dictator and thus had to be sent to exile along with his brother. The dictator took his wife along to serve him in exile like a servant. In the same times, there was a supreme devotee of God, whos eldest son was blessed with extreme wealth, the younger ones each with extreme power, extreme comfort and extreme wisdom each. The eldest of his sons was too engrossed in his wealth to think about anything else. But his younger brother, blessed with extreme power, set forth with his brothers to rescue this women. He had her brought to his abode, by tricking the dicatator, following which a huge war was fought. Many sacrifices were made in this war, the blessed fighter lost his brothers in it, but at the end of it, the dictator was vanquished, and to this day we celebrate this event as the biggest festival of our relegion.

And the story goes on.....

We all know Valmiki's version of Ramayana. Let us for a while imagine that there was a scribe in Ravana's court too, which is a safe enough assumption.
Now, what if Ravana would have won that war, on that titsy bitsy chance, and thus it would have been our assumed Scribes Ramayana or probably Ravanayana that we might have been brought up to respect. It would have gone something like what goes above if not very different...

The point I am trying to make is this:

Lord Rama was a Great King and Worrior as our history says. incidentally he was also the winner of the War.

Lord Krishna is known to be the greatest of all times. He himself too was a part of the winning sides. Even the loosers names were changed in the modern version to "Du----" from "Su----". (Duryodhan from Suyodhan). I am pretty sure all of will agree no mother would have named her son like that.

Cut to modern history: The allies were good and hitler was a dictator: Incidentally, He lost.

In the cold war, the US was the liberal, the russians facist: Co-incidentially they too lost.

In India: The british rule was hell, and what our fighters got us today is better. Again, the british arent ruling us anymore anyway.

Take any war, somehow history tells us that the Good side won. Always.
My 23 years have taught me differently.

Thus, though they do call it history, it seems more like moral science to me for obvious reasons, and if not, probably in history, The good is synonymous with The mighty.

Mumbai!!....Love it...hate it!!

The Manhattan of the east, some call it. Probably a couple of decades later...Manhattan would be called the Mumbai of the West....

LOVE IT: There are a lot of reasons why one ought to love this city. The beaches, the monuments, the corporate towers, the ever famous cuff parade, the seemingly unending list of delicacies from the Dabeli to the specials at the restrobars, the host of eating joints, the pace of life, the cars, the bikes, the money....oh...what not...

HATE IT: For the murder of humanity. The sheer number of humans in the city has made the essence of being human insignificant. The value of being a Homo Sapien is non- existent in this city.

People who love Mumbai, talk about the life in society, about living with people always around you. I say, yes we love to have people around us, but so bloody many of them??.....

They talk about the great money that comes with life in mumbai, i ask them, can they buy a home with it??..how many of them live in small room, in a dingy colony...how many travel on the overstuffed local they call their lifeline??...

Yes, it is the city of dreams, miracles happen here, but the thing is...to lead a happy life in a city like this, what u need is nothing short of a miracle neway...

"Geeta Saar"

Monday, that dreaded time of the week had arrived again, and here i was, up late because of a headache and heading for office at lunch, cowering from the upcoming review. I ask a cab wala, "worli chaloge", and he says something in the native marathi out of which i can only comprehend his denial citing that there is a lot of traffic on that route today. Aghast. i look up to the auto wala who had just come out of my compound, and i as him a similar question. HE says, " haanji bilkul chalenge", and thus starts an interesting encounter. Melodramatic all of us Indians are, and no less was my friend the autowala, an old chap of something close to 60, started by asking me why did the cab wala refuse to take me on my course, which, in my innocent unawareness, i recited to him.

"Jhooth bolta hai , babuji". lambe raste se leke jaana chahta tha. Meri jagah koi aur hota to abhi pakka aapko lamba rasta chala deta." Followed by an immensely long lecture on why one should only take this route and not the other and how any body else in town would have taken me for a ride and parted me of a lot of extra cash. Here is an extract from the enlightening chat that followed.
" Bhaiya, student ho aapko sachi baat batata hun, GEETA SAAR main likha hai, kisi ka bhala na kar sako to kisi ka bura bhi na karo.
Upar wala chahe to har kisi ke khane ka intezaam kar deta hai, isliye paap ki bhi kabhi nahi khani chahiye........kabhi bhi nahi..., bagwaan ke likhe ke aage kuch nahi hota...aur aakhri main usi ko jawaab dena hai.....bla bla bla..interspersed with a lot of shloks"...... As a kid unaware of the intricacies of the geeta, i thoroughly enjoyed the conversation, contemplating the mundaneness of the daily life.

We reached my destination in some time, and i read the meter, and realized that i need to pay him 35 rs. With a little slight wink on my face, and a little mallice in my m ind, i asked him, " Bhaiya, Kitna Hua". The reply comes, bhaiya bahar se aaye student ho , " Aisa karo 45 Rs. dedo. ". Unseemingly, the smile on my face broadened, with the thought. " 10 rs. for a gyan of the Geeta Saar, and a minor addition to it, Yahan pe kisi pe bharosa mat karna." With that, I hand him a 50 ka note.

Icing on the cake, he replies bhaiya, teen rupye lelo, chutte nahi hain. I reply, Bhaiya, upar wala bhi dekh raha hai meter main 35 hain, apna "saar" use bhi sunana. And walk off. A loss of little cash, but worth the knowledge and the look on his face.

Forward and Backward

From School to Computer Science Engineer to a Mark – Ops manager, in a short span of years, life sure seems to have moved a lot forward, and well, let’s be honest, I am glad about it. But the thing that really makes me glad is that as life has moved forward, my bench in class has moved backward.

From the typical nerd in school who could not think beyond algebraic formulas and the various forces acting on a body in free fall, and to whom matters of the heart meant being elated to the extent of jumping in front of the class and humiliating himself because he had scored a hundred in a maths test, to a guy who is despised by all his teachers in an MBA institute (Yes, that very famous illusive eureka, that most kids today dream about but don’t know shit as to what it actually means) because they know wherever the seat me in the class, the distance of the bench from the teacher not withstanding, I shall exercise my birthright of sleeping profoundly in their faces and react weirdly if they even think of disturbing me. Well, I sure have come a long way, and that’s just a little part of the story.

I came into the untowardly world of the “Tenthies” in the fortunate year of 2001 and was thrust upon with the burden of my first ever board exams. To be honest with u people, my parents luckily weren’t as pressing as those of some of the less lucky kids in my class, and the only thing I had been asked to achieve was to get enough marks so that all subject options are open for me to choose from. Trust me, being from the state of Rajasthan where anything below 90 is considered ordinary at best, (for a fact, for consecutive 7 years now, that very state has had the maximum selections in JEE) my parents gave me a treat (which according to somebody was the epitome of weirdness) for my 87 as I had overshot my measly target of 80 by 7 PER CENT. But then, that doesn’t exactly imply that I was a cool chap in school who didn’t give a damn to studies.

Let me help you understand this, the education cycle, at least in my times, went like this. There was the jovial kid phase where one was ignorant to all worldly influences and would only follow their own hearts and dreams and would secretly call themselves the ace sportsman, super pilots of UFOS (that’s particularly true for me) or what not. Only thing that truly mattered in those times was that how many “Tazos” I had?

The above mentioned phase lasts until your parents are bitten by the BUG. The BUG is the phenomena wherein some bitchy distant aunt of yours would come and tell your mother about her neighbour’s brother’s sister and law’s uncle’s grandson who had gotten into one of the IITs a couple of years ago and had now got a job in some company you couldn’t pronounce properly and who were paying him a blasphemous amount of money and sending him to some God forsaken lands your aunt would always refer to as “PHOOREEN”.

When the BUG bites, GOD help u. In my case, he did. He turned me into a NERD, what with being the oldest son in the family, the obedient one of sorts, a little (very to be honest) dumb. Perfect nerd material so to say. So began my journey forward into life, from the first bench engrossed deep into trigonometric ratios as opposed to the back bencher friends devoted to Books( I m not talking about the good ones :P), movies, cars and the girls college right behind our class window.

Anyhow, as life moves forward, so do I, move backward. I think it was almost the end of the fateful year of 2002 when the next development in the cycle happened. I had been working my ass off for more than a year and half now for that charisma called the IIT – JEE, when I realized what the hell, I could have had so much more fun for these two years, and so I moved towards the benches at the back. This is the beginning of the Rebellious Kid phase. But old habits die hard, and so by the time I graduated yet again with a 87 percent (I think the work I put in for 2 years payed off here) and also got into an NIT (luckily not an IIT) and somehow earned the approval of all the aunts and the uncles to be a decent child. Unknown to the elder generation, beneath the calm demeanour, I had developed into a complete brat, and that was unleashed when I reached my college.

Imagine this. A kid, who is a giant for all practical purposes, 6 feet 2, 44 Inch broad, weighing close to 90 Kilos, wearing a round grey hat, black leather jacket that’s extremely wide, carrying a long steel chain around his arm, looking for a fight almost every other second, mouthing abusive superlatives like helping verbs. I guess you get the idea. Scared anyone??

I had a couple of fights soon into my first year, and soon realized this ain’t working out. And the nerd that I used to be, I finally settled into the next stage. The GEEK stage. Studious, nice fun loving energetic enthusiastic guy, always pretending to not care about studies, still working hard for it and getting good marks, known around college, into college activities, a typical middle bencher. Not disliked by all my teachers, barring a few AD- HOCS, (yes, those cranky headed freaks you suddenly seem to realize are teachers rather than students of some weird local college), and cruising along in some of the happiest years of my life. Yes, I had definitely moved backward from the nerd. Be careful, don’t be mistaken, this is still part of the rebellious phase, or should I now call it the independence phase. This is the phase when a kid starts moving out of the shadow of his parents and what some people coming into his own. The relationships formed with friends, seniors, juniors and even teachers at this level last forever, because these are the ones you value a lot. Also, you miss the place almost as much as you missed your school when you left it or even more.

Before I move forward, I would like to draw your attention to two very important facts. One, if you ever get a chance to be an engineer, don’t leave it. Those four years are the golden years of ones life. Studies are only restricted to exam nights, that too if you want good grades. If all you want is a degree, boy a boy, trust me, heaven shall descend to your abode. Secondly, since I am talking about the rebel phase, I would like to motivate you to rebel against that idiot called Arjun Singh, who ironically, being as inhuman that he is, has been given the charge of the Human Resource Ministry in our Gods own beloved Country (I call our country God’s beloved, because that’s the last hope we have. Only God can save us from the wrath of Maniacs like the aforementioned fellow). What he has basically done is that he has divided our student population into three types, Namely the OBC s, the ABM s, and the pretty much helpless kids like us. ABM here stands for Admitted By Merit. Thus after those who get into great colleges courtesy Mr. Arjun Singh, and those who are studious and intelligent enough to get in by our own merit, are left people like us (if you fall into any of the first two categories, how come you are still reading this) who as a fact actually drive this nation as most of the first category are incapable of doing so and most of the second kinds go out of this nation. On a more serious note, although I said only God can save us from this wrath, he can only help us if we do something about it ourselves. Here is a call to the fabled youth of this nation to take up this challenge.

Anyhow, moving forward into my journey backward, I graduated again with a degree saying something like 87 % (Some consistency right? Don’t be baffled, getting marks in a grading point based engineering college is almost as easy as eating pie, or even more may be.) And from there I came here, to My MBA College. And I can proudly say, I have now moved the farthest possible from the front bench, being a consistent pain in the neck of my teachers, and committing quite a few acts I wouldn’t mention but what I would mention is that life is the best here, and if you do not believe me, you should look at the competition some of us have for acquiring those. It really doesn’t matter how much you scored in that nth quiz you took, in the end, only thing that matters is the person you are. Be yourself, sit back and live life. Hail Backbenchers!!

Life is an ice-cream, have it, before it melts!!

Beyond

I often sit and wonder, because thats what headcases like me generally do.and thus...in continuation of my mundane insanity, i am at it again.....

There are so many things i have always wanted to rite about ...but somehow i never get around to doing it....probably becoz i m such a "lazybum" as someone would say...who cares..right??...

i know i have titled this one "Beyond"..and by now( if u r still reading that is)..u r wondering that what the hell is this actually about....

well....when i was giving my CAT...ya i sought to bell it too...like many other rats in the race...i had always wondered..what would it be like beyond graduation...how would life be?..i mean all the general stuff....and more...

the thing is....technically i have been in "The Beyond" for around 7 to 8 months now....so i thot may be i wud look at all the things that have happened in the Beyond......

So basically after my engineering was over....i went home for a gud summer vacation after a looong time.....put on some weight..became a little more lazy( if thats possible)...basically...,my dream sabbatical....keep ur ass put in front of the tv all day with loads of gud food served to u...n when u do manage to get around....well..u still get good food!!...

nehow...after that...i landed at this place...IMT.......and the first five days were one hell of an experience...it was the so called orientation...

basically an excuse for the seniors to enjoy at our expense...thats just a mild way of putting it...they called it the PDP(Personality Development Program)..bullshit!!

so we were supposed to wake up early..go for yoga sessions( i hated the first one so much i bunked all the rest of them)..and nehow...who wants to be put into all imaginable and some unimaginable weird positions early morning...if u cud spend the same time comfortably sleeping in ur bed......but u know..thats easier said than done....those seniors would screw my case royal in the evenings for doing so...but i guess running around the field shouting unheard off obsceneties...was definately better than waking up early.....

i always thot the teachers were a part of the conspiracy...
coz they would keep us up all day listening to their crap which most of them themselves cudnt bear!!..whatever....5 days were over...the ordeal ended with a cultural function...i was a part of it too...but thats another story....

nehow...amidst all this chaos... i had also managed to make a few friends....one of them happens to be my rommie and is after my ass right now that i have an exam tomorrow morning and i shud study...so ill continue this later...for now...bbyees...

Nostalgia

never goes away does it!!.....
when u r walkin by a garden...u see somebody and have a fleeting impression of a friend waving at u...and the next moment, the impression may b gone...but it does leave u with a faint smile....
Its not been long..as in...i just left college some 3 months ago...(GOD..3 months!!)...n i m still in college technically albeit a diffeent one..but the thing is....in some way or the other...it just stays,...
since i m in a college..i m around so many people...n since this is mba....probably i shud have moved on...but the harder i try..the tougher it seems to be...the people out there were in a very unique way..my folks...my own in a manner...to them i was able to attribute something of myself...
may be these things cant b put into words...but as i m trying to gain a footing here...the remorse of loosing mine there...n the fear..that even if i make one here...20 months hence, again i shall have to depart...sometimes draws me into that solitary state..n then only words i can think of are
If Only
if only u had a pause button in life...life cud have been so much happier!!

The New Teacher

The reputation preceeds the man....
for years we had heard the dreaded name from our seniors which itself seemed to instill some kind of fear in their eyes...
they reffered to him as the supply king....that was scary..
and along with that..they provided us with ill tidings....
that he will be back....
that reminded me of gandalf ....though sauron is dead..but evil will raise its head again...phew....
the man is now here....there have been just a few encounters....
but all marked by a dreadful silence...i wonder...is this the silence before the storm..
cause the signs are there......he is stern, strict , demanding......unrelenting...the front benchers may think he is dedicated..to us last benchers...that is a huge pain.......
to me it seems he has a date with a blackboard each time he comes into the classroom...
the monotonity in the ambience is just unbearable....
though there is some respite in the fact that if u r seated in a gud enuf position...he does not seem to notice if u doze off......
strike 1