museman

who is going to be our next president?

A woman.

Who is she?

Who cares, but if you insist, let me tell you her name, Pratiba Patil.

What makes her the best candidate?

She is a woman ofcourse.

What does she do?

What do you mean what does she do? She is  a SHE dammit and by the way, she is the governor of rajastan right now.

I came back home to see a new face on television. She is our 'almost new president', every news channel was screaming.But after going through what our newschannels reported about BOb Woolmers death or about our new cricket coach, i hardly believe what i hear.

I have been vaguely following the presidential elections right from the time Abdul Kalams name was thought of for a second term to the time some twenty four hour news channels kept themselves busy suggesting and discussing Amitabh Bachhans name.Things couldn't have been triviliased furthur  i thought. Pranab Mukherjee, Vajpayee, Shivraj Patil, Bhairov Singh Shekavat came and went. And then,  Sonia Gandhi, who is fast turning out to be a taut script writer comes out with a master stroke. She plays, "lets have a woman president". Or maybe  it was the Left who first started the game.

I fall in to familiar territory here. Taking an anti woman stance again, amounting to being branded as a typical male or better still, an MCP. Let me state my case neverthless.

I have no problem with a woman becoming the president of India. Infact i would welcome that. But that must be out of merit. If we picked up the best  candidate for the post and she happens to be a woman by any chance, lets go with it and have our first lady president.

But it sounds crass to start searching for a woman president and then zero in on someone just because she is a woman. And Pratiba patil,our 'almost president of India' tells to media, "I am greatful to madam Sonia and the UPA". Doesn't go well with the image of the president. The president should command utmost respect of the nation. He, sorry...she should not be condescending towards any political party or to any person. Majority of the people outside Rajastan might not be recognising our new president. I am sure the MTV youth would be least bothered about the whole issue anyway.

Besides, the president is like the match referee, he must command utmost respect but hardly has any job to do.

If she is becoming the president because she is the best suited person in the country for the post then god bless her. Instead, if she is becoming the president just because she is a woman, god save our country.

Tailpiece: i somehow doubt that she is the presidential candidate just because she is a woman. In that case, i have a better candidate in mind. Smriti Irani. She is jobless anyway and just in case she is too young for the post, we  can easily and gracefully age-brush her up in two episodes flat. Four segments will be very happy.
1.Saas-Bahu followers, they will have their icon as the president.
2.newschannels. They will have a glamorous president.
3&4. UPA and Left. They will have a woman president!!

Current Mood: Amazed
Current Music: Metro

Rohit and Preethi. Came in their lives the beautiful ugly time that every love stuck pair have to experience. Parting. The fangs of fate, upon them, they were sitting in the park, for the one last time, of course, last time for an year at least. Rohit was going to America for his masters. Preethi was going to Mumbai, to start working for an Indian MNC. Yeah, you read it right; after all, we only have Indian MNCs in India! Their favorite love spot was now the venue for their separation.

 

Preethi: So, Rohit duhling, go...go to America...earn dollars letch at the white chicks and...

 

Rohit: And?

 

Preethi: Forget me.

 

Rohit: Why do you talk like that Preethi? Especially on this day? Why will I forget you?

 

Preethi :( with a ping of angst in her voice) Ahahaha....you are a letch and a flirt Rohit.. I      know that....didn’t you say, ‘what a figure' when that b*&^% passed by?

 

Rohit: Which b*&^%? And why do you talk so crassly?

 

Preethi: That bitch who was wearing that flimsy outfit in fabmall?

 

Rohit: Oh that girl!! But she really had a good figure. Why do you have to be so jealous? If you want such a figure too, you will have to slog too

 

Preethi: (Pulls herself away from Rohit and sits at a distance) Shameless fellow, I am feeling insecure here and you. you talk like that....

 

Rohit: Tension nakko le merii jaan...when i saw you for the first time, I would have told a hundred friends of mine how great you look.

 

Preethi: (lights up suddenly) Really?

 

Rohit: yeah.

 

Preethi: Do I really have a great figure? You think I look good.

 

Rohit: Of course you used to look good. In those days.

 

(Preethi misses the point, having already levitated by five meters, continues..)

 

Preethi: What did they say about me?

 

Rohit: Why do you care? Is it not enough that you look good to me? hein?

 

Preethi: Now, who is feeling insecure? Tell me?

 

Rohit: Hmm....agreed, both of us are very possessive. But...why don't you trust me? Why should I run against a firang when I have you?

 

Preethi: I don't know... I can't trust you. You are a shameless flirt. And those white chicks, they are shameless too.

 

Rohit:  Aahh...what should I do to convince you that I love you?

 

Preethi: I don't deny that you love me, but i can't trust you. That's all. Period.

 

Rohit: As if I can trust you. You are as much a flirt as I am.

 

Preethi: I asked you first. You tell me. Why should I trust you?

 

Rohit: Because I like you. :-(

 

Preethi: That's all?

 

Rohit: Abba... because I like you more than I like anything else in the world.. Because you are my life....because I can not live with out you.

 

Preethi: That's all?

 

Rohit: What else do you want to listen? I am no poet to sugar coat you with sweet nothings everyday.

 

Preethi: Ok ok, ab jyaada bhaav mat khao.

 

Rohit: Now, you tell me... why do you like me?

 

Preethi: Who told you I like you?

 

Rohit: Oh yeah?

 

Preethi: Then what? You were dreaming or what?

 

Rohit: Chalo then, no use sitting here and talking in this pathetic park. I am leaving. Bye... (gets up and walks...albeit slowly...as  if waiting for someone to stop him.)

 

Preethi: yeah...Yeah...chalo bye.

 

Rohit walks a little further, turns back, comes and sits down. with a shrinken face.

 

Rohit: You don't even pamper me. :-(

 

Preethi: Oh!! Mere shona.. Come here. I don't like you Rohit... it's just that I love you.

 

Rohit: Aaah...now I am feeling me better. Hold me tighter.

 

Preethi leaves him immediately

 

Preethi: You are a pervert. You don't deserve me. Go and find a white chick for yourself.

 

Rohit: Hmm...yeah..that is what I am thinking. Shall I look for an Indian gori or go for a thoroughbred American?

 

Preethi: I will kill you even if you look at a mannequin in USA.

 

Rohit: If you like me so much, why don't you say that to me. Sweet nothings? Just to pamper me.

 

Preethi: Hellooo!! Listen, neither do I like you...nor do i love you.

 

Rohit: Will you marry me?

 

Preethi: Why?

 

Rohit: What why?

 

Preethi: Why should i marry you? Tell me?

 

Rohit: Because we like each other.

 

Preethi: I like Hrithik Roshan too.

 

Rohit: Argh...

 

Preethi: Ok baba... I will marry you. Happy?

 

Rohit: Really?

 

Preethi: But only if you want to marry me.

 

Rohit: That’s the problem. We are not very sure about our feelings for each other. The only thing that matters to us is that we meet, talk a little, laugh a little, cuddle a little and go home. There is no emotion involved.

 

Preethi: Oh! That is the thing... there is no emotion involved. That is only from your side. Emotion was always there from my side. Now i understand. There is no emotion from your side.

 

Rohit: Will you marry me?

 

Preethi: I would like to, but...

 

Rohit: What 'but'?

 

Preethi: What if my parents say no?

 

Rohit: What if your parents say yes?

 

Preethi: What if I say no?

 

Rohit: AArghhhh.... I should never have told you that I love you. You girls...the moment a guy gives in, you tho become heartless.

 

Preethi: yeah.. It easy for you to say all kinds of things. It’s only an MCP who can call a girl heartless.

 

Rohit: Forget about all that naa... why drag whole world into our private affair. (Rohit bends down on his knees and says...)One last time, will you marry me?

 

Preethi: Three conditions.

 

Rohit: I am ready for thirty conditions. Just tell me.

 

Preethi: One. We will always speak truth with each other.

 

Rohit: But I never lied to you.

 

Preethi: Another lie. Just because I never pin-point, don't think I can't figure out when you lie. Never lie with your doctor or lawyer. And girl friend too, I may add.

 

Rohit: Ok. Agreed. What next?

 

Preethi: NO matter what happens, our primary relationship will be, "we are best friends". All this love-shove is a complicated thing. First and foremost we are good friends. Ok?

 

Rohit: This is perfectly agreeable to me. Infact, this is what was on my mind. :-)

 

Preethi: Great...at least we seem to agree on one thing.

 

Rohit: (with a sarcastic tone) And what’s the third one?

 

Preethi: The moment either of us strays, our relationship is over. No intimacy with any other guy or girl from now on.

 

Rohit: This is not fair Preethi. You are putting unnecessary allegations on me. Why would I ever seek intimacy with a guy? Did I ever project myself like that?

 

Preethi: Aargh...you duffer...I was referring to me when I said 'guy’. Can’t you see, all the three rules refer to both of us? I am so fair to you and you un necessarily say that I am..I am what did you say? Yeah...a heartless woman.

 

Rohit: Ok ok...sorry baba....I am really sorry. But why the third clause. Infact, we were never even intimate with each other. Why would I be intimate with another girl?

 

Preethi: Ahahhaha....abbo...you want to eat your cake and deny it too? What do you think all this smooching and cuddling and hugging is? Hein? Is it not physical intimacy?

 

 

Rohit: Only this much and you call it intimacy? And you think I will ever go near any other women?

 

Preethi: Of course you have all the traits of going towards another woman. And those white chicks, I am sure they will hover around you. And I don't blame them either. You are so good looking naa (playfully ruffles his hair, and then suddenly gives him light pat on the head and says...) And mind you, this third rule is very important. You have to be honest with it. If either one of us strays...our relationship is over.

 

Rohit: Acchaa baba...I understand. You don't have to stress on it so many times. I understand. Tell me this, when will we have children? You need a baby boy or a baby girl?

 

Preethi: You guys naa....I have remotely said yes to a possibility of marriage and you start thinking about children, hein? Tell me honestly, will you marry me...

 

 

(And so... the saga continued. the saga of their endless quarells, petty and insignificant alright but quarells nevertheless.  Will their lives be as close as the P and R of their names or will their lives entangle and encircle with a Question in between? Did they marry each other? Only time can tell. A long time that is... two years. Rohit in America, Preethi in India.)

Current Mood: Thoughtful
Current Music: Alvida (metro)

Why isn't museman blogging these days? Where is museman these days? What has happened to museman? Museman writes so well, i miss his articles. When will he write again? Somebody tell him to post something.....

Naah...these are not the rumblings of the nation. With due intelligence and common sense, i would have to admit that apart from me, hardly anybody would have noticed that i haven't blogged for some time now. infact, a majority, well, let me say, 99% of the people who have read the first paragraph would have exclaimed, who is museman?

NBut then again, what is life without a little bit of self-indulgence and narcissm. Thankyou for allowing me to indulge myself. And let us carry on. Why hasn't museman blogged of late? Quite a simple and pathetic answer. Sheer laziness. The muse though, has been there. I had been willing to write a lot. But never got down to writing. Say for instance, thre are some half written fiction pieces and havent-started-writing non-fiction pieces.

Although, one piece, 'What kind of a writer am i?' is one piece i have half-written many a times in the last two weeks. And each of those efforts has been a revelation for me. Although the original intention was to write a lenghty, boring thesis kind of a piece on the topic, i have resolved to just finish it off with some random, short pointwise observations.
1) I seem to write about mundane things of life
2) I seem to write about personal anecdotes, although there seems to be a strict line ( of how personal i get with my blogs )    which i never seem to cross.
3) I seem to write only about the bourgeious ( acceptable enough, i have no idea how a rich psyche works )
4) I seem to like political satires.
5) I seem to like about the marginalised sections of the societies. No, no i am not mentioning about homosexuals/gays/lesbians ( although, i believe mentioning the second and third variants through obliques was a redentant exercise). Infact, they seem to be the cream of the society right now, its hip to be gay you know, and yes, i am not talking about happy-gay kinda thing. When i say, the marginalised strata... i meant, let me quote examples, lefties, nocturnal creatures, nightmare dreamers,man-fridays in motels and all.
6) I seem to love writing ficiton pieces which are nothing but dialogues between two pieces.
7) I seem to love it when people comment on my blog, to the extent that i sometimes am condescending towards the commentors.
8) Although rarely, i can be brutally honest, as i was with my 6th point,as a benchmark, i seem to write with a lot of restraint.
9) Just to reiterate my 8th point, i write with a lot of restraint.
10)I seem to love travelling and writing about places i have visited.
11) I  have a very very very bad habit of leaving stories unfinished. The 'Have Fun' series is a classic example.
12) I seem to have no taste for naming my blogs appropriately. Ask the fullhyd editor. He/She has changed the title of my blo g everytime it has been featured on hotblog. And yes, i love it when my blog is the hotblog.
13) I seem to write because, i seem to like what i write. I seem to get a lot of happiness when i revist the archives of my blog.
14) Just because i am putting in an unnecessary 14th point, don't assume that i am superstitious. I am not!

THE fourteen points enumerated, although i am sure there could just have been 13 points, never mind, let me continue.
It could have be a trifle little irritating to see so many 'seem's in the points. But just to put forth that Psychoanalysis is my latest fixation. I was just wondering that it is possible that whatever i thought about myself is all bullshit according to my own innerself and some psychoanalysist might actually tell me why i am what i am.Having written all this crap, let me finish now, I promise i will come back with a normal piece next time. Whenever it is. By the way, two beautiful and articulate blogs you might like to read-

aaaalu.blogspot.com
esotericpandora.blogspot.com

Will add more blogs to the list in the near future.

By the way, this article in its entireity was written in notepad. Thus bringing to light, my expertise with the english spelling.

Tailpiece: What if 'What kind of a writer am i' is a short answer question?  Ans:  An irregular writer.

Current Mood: Cheerful
Current Music: eenaade

I have embarked upon the biggest challenge of my life. A war which I have waged many a times only to return vanquished. The challenge to get up early in the morning. I have tried this one many a times. Always failed. Let’s discuss the issue at hand before we could move on to analyze my perceived solution for the same.

 

I am a perennial nocturnal animal. My mom putforths a splendid root cause analysis to this peculiar problem of mine. She tells me, as a kid, I was quite chubby and cute (ahem, information sourced from mommy, discretion advised), so I was the darling of the neighborhood. People used to take me home to play with and by the time I was returned to my home, it would be around 11-11:30 in the night. So, right from 6 months old, I had gotten into a routine of sleeping late.

 

 

 

As a kindergarten student, I used to go to nursery while I was still sleeping. School started at 8:55, and I used to wake up at 8 am (1st attempt) 8:10(2nd attempt) and 8:20(first thrashing of the day). Junior college started at 10 am, I would wake up at 9 am. It is a norm and defacto standard to miss the first two classes in engineering, so I started getting up at 10 am.

 

Its not like I was a recalcitrant kid who was unwilling to reform. I did try my best. I used to go to tuitions in the mornings. In tenth, I went to maths tuitions at 6:30 in the morning. It’s a different matter that the one and only strong reason to persist with the tuition was the hot steaming 75np chai we used to drink on the way to the classes. In plus 2 too... I used to wake up at 5:30 in the morning to attend the 6'oclock physics tuition. The strong reason to persist with this tuition? I got a 21/60 in plus one physics.

But these innovative practices of forcing me to wake up early in the morning were rendered useless by the fact that I used to sleep from 7:30 through 8:30 after I was back to home. other schemes included forcing friends to come early to the cricket ground to play. The group would disintegrate after the enthu filled first week. The main reason attributed being that the initiator himself was conspicuous by his absence on the field.

 

My father played his part in trying to mend my ways. Ploys included chiding me sarcastically before my friends. My friends would come home to meet me around 10 am in holidays and my father would say, “If you want to meet Raghu, come after 6 pm. He has a tendency to confuse am with pm. He is awake only when the whole world is asleep." Mommy though, was a regular, defacto indulgent mother. I would get hot tiffin no matter when I woke up.

 

I also followed the other schemes used to get up early assiduously. The regular fair like alarm clocks, multiple alarm clocks, cell phones and stuff. Nothing works. I have resolved to the fact that I am just not made to get early in the day. And this dictum is my guiding light:  The world is ignorant. It sleeps when it is not feeling sleepy and gets up when it is actually feeling sleepy. I beat the path and sleep and get up as is dictated by my whim of the day.

 

The latest idea I am implementing to try and curb my late raising habit? I have joined a health club to GYM and Swim. Although museman must coyly admit that the real reason is to curb and retrace the prosperity posture of a white collared working professional. A small untuckable paunch!

 

Tailpiece: What’s my idea of an utopian society?  A society where there are no alarm clock manufacturers. A society in which you can go to sleep without having any deadlines to wake up to. A society which is active in the PM hours.

 

Current Mood: Dumb
Current Music: yamma-yamma

My life has taken a revolutionary turn in the last one year. I never thought I would be so fortunate as to get to know Amitabh Bachans family personally. . Now, I know them so closely, I can tell you where they are, at any point of the day. I can tell you the the name of the next endorsement Amitabh is going to take up. Sauna Slim belt or some variant of it. Back support or something you can call it. I think I also know the personal priest of Amitabh personally.

 

Sarcasm apart, what has gone wrong with our news channels? Why is it that I hate to watch news channels now? And I am sure I am not the only one. I was a normal kid. I never watched news. Then came adolescence and came star plus. So, it was from 9 to 10 that me and my father used to juggle between Star news and regional news. Then came Star News and 24 hour news channels. They were ok in the starting. But now, I guess they are far more unethical than our politicians. With time, I am sure, news channels will make it to the top 5 list of 'We Hate'.

 

I guess we are willingly being fed bullshit in the name of news. Who cares if Amitabh and his family went to Benares for a prayer. The news channels played it live, all through the night. And guess what, I did watch it once in a while. Compulsion it was. Every news channel was playing it.  I had no other choice. On Jan 1st, Mallika was on stage in Mumbai or Delhi, I don't remember, and the the whole nation danced away to the TV footage. Some poor hapless lecturer slaps (allegedly) a student and she finds her place on national television.

 

Almost everyone has a special program on crime reportage now. From local news channels to the national ones. Please watch these programs, you will find the most colorful anchors for these programs. 'Crime Watch' anyone?

 

There is only a subtle difference between the original and the Pastiche. Say, Rang De Basanti was a good movie. Girls in some city staging a dharna against cell phones being banned in college is pathetic. National channels, making thirty minutes news about it, apart from being appalling, has also sadly become the norm of the day.

 

 

I honestly don't know why I don't like it when these news channels air

news based on the Mannu sharma case. I guess Ram Jetmalani put my thoughts aptly in words when he spoke to IBN 7, with the chip of a girl, as he so rightly puts it,  But I don’t know about this. The media made too much about it. They were as commercial as possible when it came to reporting that particular case. If you don’t want to be too explicit with your views, just air the most flagrant, baseless and explicit views of viewers, sorry, citizen journalists on air. I seriously look forward to a day when someone puts a petition against SMSes being aired on national television. The flavour of the season seems to be activism journalism, whatever that means.

 

There was a time when the press was supposed to be unbiased. There job was to report news. Not to pass judgements. Opinions, if any, were limited  to the editorial page or very subtley put forward. Now, it is all gone. We have in place, an in-your-face kind of journalism. The kinds of which Arnab Goswami and Karan Thappar seem to employ in their candid one-to-one interviews. I don't think it’s a good sign and neither do I like it. Let me substantiate my case. There have been numerous instances in the recent past when the news channels have done the  most atrocious things in the name of presenting news.  Take the case of the Kiran Majumdar and Vasundhara Rajhe's liplock. One journalist kept asking the BJP MPs what they thought of  the pic and when they didnt make any comment,incited them to make some comment by stating that this was just what was depicted in 'FIRE' a movie which the BJP and the sangh parivar had strongly protested against. Later, it came to light that the liplock was the effect was the result of a crafty camera angle of a new age journalist. The news item was silently put under the carpet. Apology rendered if any, was not as visible as the fallacious report.

 

Greg Chappels statement about Indian MPs being paid to ask question was politically correct. The only reason why it became such a controversy was because of the hapless, reckless, irresponsible, jobless and lazy news channels who kept pestering the MPs to comment on the issue. People speak of congress party as being psychophansic. There is only one organization which can beat them to it in a subverted way. The print media. Just recollect how they rallied around Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, this is far more pathetic, their body guards. Musharraf was a better saleable star than sharukh untill the time he was in India.

 

And what was the breaking point for me? Star News cricket coverage, or alternately called ‘kuch tho sharam karo’ series. The laziest and cheapest bunch of all I would say.

 

I guess I will be so fed up with these news channels that I would rather watch Ekta Kapoor serials than the 24*7 infotainment channels.  Now, I understand there is only one recourse for me. I will go back to watching Doordarshan news or get hooked on to DD news. They know their job. Atleast for the time being that is.

 

Tailpiece:  Whats the best news channels around? All are equally pathetic, if you ask me. Instead watch the documentaries made on India on National Geographic and BBC. You will be spell bound. Especially the ones on the great Indian railways. I swelled with pride after watching that documentary. I am a railway man myself and it felt awesome. You watch it too. And yes, remember who recommended it to you. :-)

Current Mood: Dismissive
Current Music: fuzon

I ended my last post on a dramatic note. It sounded as if a thief had stolen my cycle and returned it back to its rightful owner after careful afterthought. Things though, were far more dramatic than this. It wasn't a thief who stole my cycle. It was infact, a constable!!

No, let’s get of the flight of dramatism and stick to facts. It wasn't a theft, it was a plain mistake. Galat Fehmi as you would say. We will get to the teh of story now.

 

The time frame would be 2000, when I was in my last year of junior college. We were getting some renovation done in our house. So, our house was a little more crowded than usual. The smells were good, with cement and paint all around.

 

I was just about to take my siesta. As a nocturnal animal, I treasure my siesta.  One of the guys came up and asked me for my cycle so that he could get some paints from the bazaar. I said, take it. And then, he asked me for the key. You might have heard of a master key which can open any lock. My cycle, on the contrary, had a master lock which could be opened by any key in the world. I didn’t want to discuss this intimate matter with my stranger. So I gave him the first key which I could lay my hands on and went back to my siesta.

 

I find it real hard to sleep in the nights. But in the afternoons and off late, when in the office, dozing off is mostly a cake walk for me. So, I slept for almost two hours. I woke up with a drowsy hangover and went outside my house. Only to find out that my cycle was not there in the verandah and instead was staring at me a Hercules.  It was one of those moments in which a thousand thoughts rush through your mind in a single second and the entire complex phenomenon untangle themselves. The picture was clear to me, our paintwallah had taken the cycle to the shop and while returning, instead of getting mine, brought back somebody else's. I looked for the paintwallah and asked him where my cycle was and he innocently replies that it is before my home. A helpless me, shouted at him and asked him where he bought the paint from. Main bazaar, where apparently the cycle got misplaced, was a five minute driv...sorry, ride. So, I asked him to hop along and went to the bazaar with the most drowsy and unkempt face possible.

 

 It was a miracle how I reached the paint shop in five minutes flat, especially so because it wasn't my cycle that I rode on, Sweat dripping down my forehead, I looked around with a vain hope that my cycle would still there be in the vicinity somewhere. The paintwallah meekly informed me that he hadn't locked my cycle, not that it matters but still. I enquired with the nearby shopkeepers if any one had complained about a lost cycle. There were no such complaints I was informed. So, I did the next best thing.

 

 

I asked the shopkeepers if they could keep the Hercules with them, and if anyone asks them about it, to drop in a call to my phone. Those were the days of landline phones. The shop keeper declined the offer quite curtly. As compensation though, he obliged to keep my phone number and agreed to inform me if anyone enquired about a lost cycle. On the way, I noticed that the exchanged Cycle, the Hercules, had a painted name on it which read, "N.C.Veeraiah, PC No.269." I gave the info to the shop keeper and told him as much that he might as well expect a constable at his shop, doing routine enquiry.

 

At one point, I was rather frightened, having allegedly stolen the cycle of a constable, under the possible case that the paintwallah had exchanged my cycle with the constable's and my own cycle, instead of falling into the hands of the constable, would have fallen in the hands of a third person. The fright aside, I was feeling betrayed. My cycle, whom I thought, would be with me till death do us apart, had left me in the lurch quite prematurely.

 

I discussed this with my friends, ‘Enid Blyton’ brought up I may add, sensing an adventure in it, suggested I search for this N.C Veeraiah. So, we started off, going to every police station in the town, in search of a constable. The rules of the game had changed a little. An alleged abductor of a cycle, in search of the constable. At one point, I felt like a lamb in search of his butcher. But the grim hope that I may as well get back my Cycle, I prodded along. The encounters in the police station were quite amusing. An unarticulated me, would start off with bare facts, stating that I had lost my cycle and that I was looking for Veeraiah.

 

One constable suggested that why Veeraiah, even he can register a case and almost started the formalities for registering a case. I told him that Veeraiah had my cycle and that I just wanted the whereabouts of Veeraiah and had no intention of registering a case. We searched and enquired with every station in the town, not that there were many, One Town and Two town. A failed me, took back the Hercules to my home and explained matters to family. Instead of fuming, they just laughed at my predicament.

 

Friends who test rided the new Hercules told me I was lucky and that this Hercules was far better than my BSA Deluxe. I too resigned to this fate and compromised with the new situation and hoped that I would develop a new 'baraka' with this new acquisition of mine.

 

A month rolled on and I left my town for my studies. I get strange nightmares, an account of which you can as well read in an earlier post of mine. My dreams of those days were frequented by a nostalgic me, riding my BSA Deluxe and fuming Veeraiah. Two months passed and one fine day, I made a phone call to home, to ask for money or something, if I remember correctly, my mother informed, as a matter of fact, that my BSA Deluxe had come back home. To simply state that I was happy would be a gross understatement. I was thrilled to bits. No, even that was a understatement. It was the happiest moment of my life. A little closer but still not bang on. I knew it was going to happen. YES, now I am penning my thoughts on paper.

 

That, I guess it is the gist of the story. I always knew that I was going to get back my cycle. It was just a matter of time. I went back home next weekend, precisely to commune with my cycle again. And please don't believe me if I say that my turned his head, handle that is, and smiled at me when I saw him again. But he did all that and a lot more, let me assure you.

 

An ending is long overdue to this self-indulgent piece. And let’s do it. My mom informed me that one particular N.C. Veeraiah came home, informed that he was in possession of my cycle, and gave it back. I was also informed that he took Rs 200 as a cost incurred for all the repairs he done to my cycle. My cycle was in a better condition than it was before. Sometimes I wish he could speak, to tell me about all the ordeals he went through, to get back to his rightful master.

 

Tailpiece:  Where is my cycle right now? Well, it rests, disused, in home in Hyderabad currently. I used to boast with my friends that he/it will always be with me. Maybe twenty years down the line, it will rest in my palatial bungalow, as an antique piece, resting in a splendid patio shade, or better still, knowing my proficiency at financial planning, I would still need it to move around!

 

Current Mood: Happy
Current Music: norah jones

The Baraka of a bicycle.

 

The first question which needs to be answered is what exactly is baraka. Wikipedia will lead us to a movie by the same name. Although I haven't seen the movie, I do know about it. Baraka, we are told, means 'blessing' in many languages. Majority of the links will lead us to an American by the same name.  A little lesser know meaning though, summarizes a rather complex phenomenon. Say, this meaning of the word comes closest to the subject matter at hand- 'a spiritual power believed to be possessed by certain persons, objects, tombs, etc.’

 

 

Baraka is a complex phenomenon. All of us, in the course of our life,  get so attached to certain  inanimate objects which we own that we sometimes start believing that they have life. Say for instance, my mom used to tell me  a story about how my brother was so attached to a red towel as a kid that he would never eat his food without the towel in the vicinity. So, every time  we used to go on vacation to our native place, there used to be a  check list for  must-haves and the red towel used to top the priority list. I have known people who have used the same pen for decades. It is as if the pen becomes a living being with its own spirit. My father, for instance, has been using the same watch for almost 20 years now. Apparently, my grandfather gifted it to him. The Watch though, has rusted a little now, because of disuse, thanks to the advent of the cell phone.

 

 I plan to buy a bike in about two months. It’s a different matter that I have had this plan for almost an year now. But a poor financial planner that Museman is, the plan never got realised. Hefty losses and petty gains in the share market though, have been realised. Let’s chug along on to our bicycle now.

 

Moving on, just to reiterate that my Cycle is the only conveyance I have ever owned. In a small town like Guntakal, a cycle is more than enough to meet all our requirements. Let me put it this way, it would just take me 10 minutes to cycle to the farthest movie theatre! Quite clear that a bike would be a pure indulgence. My father bought us a bicycle while I was in 6th class and my brother in 7th.  In spite of our vehement protests, a foresighted dad bought us a BSA Deluxe instead of the BSA SLR that we wanted. So, it was with negative feelings that we welcomed our Cycle into our house. I had just about learnt to balance a cycle on a  friends BSA SLR. The cycle being rented in exchange for home made appams.

 

So, for the first two months or so, I was the pillion rider while my brother got to ride the cycle. I learnt cycling too, bolstered by the support extended by my brother and neighboring kids. First cross-legged ( for the want of a better expression, you would understand the expression if you learnt the cycle on a big cycle yourself, with the leg going beneath the bar on to the other peddle. ) and then, properly and royally seated on the seat.  I was an accident in motion while I was on cycle. Slowly, the half kilometer run to school from home became quite a distance. (Our school was just 500 meters away from my home. Infact, if I were tying my lace while the school bell began to ring, which I could hear from my home, I could still reach school on time ) So, I started to take my cycle to school. The first few days I parked my cycle in the parking area, I couldn’t listen to classes at all. My whole mind used to be occupied by thoughts of Cycle and its safety.

 

Once in a while, I used to take it to my tuitions as well. The tuition too, like school, was half a kilometer away. The first scare came when I left my cycle before the tutuion and came back home. Around 8 in the evening, I remembered that I had forgotten the cycle in the tutuion. Panicked and perspiring, I ran from home to tutuion, taking the shortcut, full of bushes, in a rush to reach the tutuion. I found my cycle there. All alone, in the middle of the road, waiting for his (like pulsar, my BSA Deluxe was definitely male) master.

 

I mean, there is no reason for my cycle to be loyal to me. I never took great care of him. No oiling. No changing of tubes, until absolutely required, no colorful embellishments, no brakes, nothing at all. Infact, no keys too...for a very long time.

 

Still, he was loyal to me. The foundations for my movie madness were laid quite early. And the partner in crime was my cycle. Me and my cycle would start from my home at 2:40 to catch the 2:45 matinee and almost always, I would reach the theatre on time to see the titles roll. The cycles stand fella, used to charge Rs 2 instead of the regular Re1. He knew my cycle had no key and it was a secret between the two of us. It had a lock though, but the lock needed no key to be opened. Just a push on the button and the lock would come open.

 

The second scare to my cycle came when an avuncular neighbor decided to teach me a lesson for my negligence. I had got used to parking my cycle outside my home, bluntly confident that no thief would ever place hands on my BSA Deluxe. So, unaware to me, my uncle took the keyless cycle and kept it in his home. Poor me, and my brother, searched for it for an hour and gave up hopes and returned home, hopeless. Then the uncle miraculously conjures the cycle out of his compound. Did i like the  magic? Far from it.

 

My faith in my cycle’s loyalty was reinstated.  It was always neglected.  Like i said before, not even a proper seat to boast of, no bell, no brakes, no lock, no oil, but it used to serve the purpose. I somehow had great faith in it. It never got punctured when i wanted it most. Unlike the complaints of friends who used to ride my cycle, it always used to give me a smooth ride.

 

Every time any of my friends used to take my cycle for a ride, they would invariably comment say something about how pathetically maintained my cycle was. And I used to joke with them that even if it were to stolen, the thief would come back and give it to me safely.  Miraculously, this statement of mine turned out to be prophetic.  We will discuss that in my next post, Lost and Found,

 

Tailpiece: The poets of the world put it very poetically, if you love her, leave her, if she comes back, she is yours... or something to that effect. Came true with my cycle. He came back, looking for his master. It is quite an interesting story actually, and museman promises he will be a littlel more regular with his posts this time around. : - )

 

 

Current Mood: Happy
Current Music: Strangers in the Night ( Frank Sinatra)

Love to Hate Haters!

 

Quite a paradoxical heading it was!! Like activists protesting on the streets over animal sacrifice coming home to the aroma of boneless chicken!

 

So, what is my take on it? Not that my take matters much but still.   my first reaction was that of shock, not that such a community exists but that it was hogging the limelight and was being featured prime time on  news channels!!

 

Thankfully though, the issue has died a slow death and nobody seems to be talking about it anymore.

 

I am not going to take a moral stand here. Whether it is morally right to form such a group or not, is an issue that I wouldn’t go into. My observation is that 'hate' is quite common these days. Hating America seems to be the in thing. Ask Arundhati if you have any doubt on this. And before Lage Raho Munnabhai hit the screen, hating Gandhiji was in too. It’s a different case that fashions change and Gandhigiri is the ‘in’ thing now.

 

When I look at these 'hate groups' I am not appalled, neither am I tempted to join them. Nor do they invoke anger in me. I am just apathetic to me. If we start reacting to every slurring remark of every psycho around, we wouldn’t have time for anything else. I would much rather remain apathetic to them.

 

Should the government ban it? NO. An emphatic no. Why?  I am sure such 'hate groups' will be present in large numbers. And I am sure there must be hate groups ranging from 'I hate Homework' to ' I hate America'.  It would look silly if India is the only one in the world who is worried with these things. Imagine our government hell bent on banning them( or.. selectively banning them )  and every other government of the world nonchalant about it. 

 

It would be repeating old embarrassing things. For instance, when the Vatican had no problem with 'The Da Vinci code', the Indian government or at least the local authorities wanted it to be banned. The first one to ban Salman Rushdie’s novel not an Islamist nation but India. Let’s not do it again. All these 'hate groups' will die their death anyway, more easily if they don't get  the undue publicity they are getting now.

 

Who is the biggest culprit in this affair? The journalists who make news out of this. Like the editor of Outlook says, a majority of sting operations are nothing but short cuts of lazy journos. The same applies to this.

 

All said and done, there is another thing that needs to be addressed. Why do people join such communities? Is it like only Psychopaths join these communities or normal people also join them? What drives them? What is the motivation factor?  Hmm...to each his own. Did yours truly join any of these communities anytime?  I was once tempted to join a 'I hate Ayn Rand' group. But having read only 200 pages of Fountainhead and three odd pages of 'The Anthem', and I am sure I will never ever read her again, I thought it wouldn’t be morally justified to join that group. Besides, I didn't want to commit a fashion faux paus. Beyond, I hate haters you see!

 

Tailpiece: Who will be the happiest person if these hate groups get banned? Balakrishna. If you are from Andhra and regularly receive forwarded mails, you will know what I mean. Poor man has had enough of them!

Current Mood: Gloomy
Current Music: none

I am just back from a visit to Cuttack. Yes, the town in which India plays a one day international once in a while. Reason? The travel bug has bitten me. I feel like traveling. I mean... any place would do. Under the pretext that Vijayadasami is celebrated on a grand scale in Cuttack, I dragged my room mate onto the bike and we were off to the new place. I had been to Cuttack, some one year back.... hmm yes, I have been in Bhubaneswar for an year now, and I was looking forward to going there again.

 

Cuttack was once the capital of Orissa. In the 50s that is.  Later, the capital was shifted to Bhubaneswar. Apparently, an overcrowded Cuttack couldn’t take up the burden of the capitalcy (the new word sounds cool :-) ) any more and handed over the responsibility to Bhubaneswar. And then, Bhubaneswar was nurtured as the capital city, a la Chandigarh. And the legend goes that Bhubaneswar has since then been a planned city.  I would say, Bhubaneswar is city which has been under planning since then.  A majority of the roads don't have street lights, there are bus shelters but the buses are conspicuous by their absence. I have been told by the locals that there used be local service once but thanks to mounting losses, the state government revoked the service. Not that I am complaining. There isn’t much of chaotic traffic around anyway, so the street lights to a certain extent are redundant, i understand they are essential but with a little bit of care, you can function and ply on the roads with out one. It’s a small city, no need of city buses anyway. Now that we have talked enough about Bhubaneswar, let’s go back to Cuttack.

 

Cuttack is a very old town. Almost thousand years they say. And once you step foot in the town, you are bound to get the old world feel.  As always, I was not at all prepared for the visit, we had been to the Barabati stadium in our visit, so visiting it again was ruled out. I had no intention of visiting the Barabati fort either. Our itinerary consisted of roaming the roads randomly, taking whichever direction that the breeze took us to. I have no idea about Bangalore or Hyderabad’s infrastructure crumbling because of excess population, but Cuttack I guess has already crumbled. The roads are too small and the swiftest mode of transport I guess would be to walk! Almost all the theatres were playing Oriya movies. 

 

The pandals for Durgashtami, to put it simply, were beautiful. Some depicted Shiva killing the demon while the others depicted Durga matha killing Mahishasura. I am quite week with my mythology and will have to read to find about the significance of Shiva being the statue in the pandals. 

 

With a bemused look, I asked a couple of the locals about the Kali Temple. I wasn’t even sure if there was any Kali temple of great importance which stood out from the others. I was directed to a place called Badam Badi, we never found the temple alright but we found a road which traversed the length of Mahanadi. It was around 5 in the evening, a golden sun casting its gold on to the river, we sped slowly by the road, it felt good, to put it simply, again.

 

It had been almost two hours since we had come to Cuttack, so we decided to go back to Bhubaneswar. On the way back, we chanced upon seeing the Ravenshaw College. I am proud of my engineering college; one of the reasons is that it is 26 years old now. And come to think of it, Ravenshaw College was established in 1878. Subash Chandra Bose studied in this college. As a matter of fact, Bose was born in Cuttack, And they do have a statue of Subash Chandra Bose in one of the four squares of Cuttack.

 

Once we crossed the Mahanadi, we were on NH5 again. Enroute, we stopped at Pahala. The rosgulla of Pahala is quite famous. Come to think of it, on an almost deserted NH5, you will see 25-30 shops selling Rosgulla. It is a special rosgulla, a little goldish in color and is served hot. History has it that before the Das family of Kolkata perfected the art, Orissa used to be the home of Rosgullas. Infact, Puri is reckoned as the birthplace of Rosgulla. One of the shops had a large billboard commemorating its 31st birthday, as they put it. The shops are more or less, just huts, Made of out of mud and thatched roofs. The cooking system, I don't think has changed from the days Rosgullas were first made, which I believe works to their advantage.  Its not that I have a sweet tooth or anythign, but i just wanted to try out the famous Pahala rosgulla. The rosgulla was priced at Rs 2 per piece. When I asked for two, he served three and told me, "three will cost Rs 5". I thought, they were dead cheap.

 

I asked the owner of the shop, that why he hadn't done anything to improve the state of his shop in the last 30 years. Maybe at least do away with the thatched roof and shift to a concrete building. He said," that we can do anytime, but then, you will have to shell out Rs 5 for each rosgulla instead. I guess we he had a point there. The rosgullas eaten, we rode back to Bhubaneswar. The whole escapade took us around 3 hours. A worthwhile journey, to put it simply!

 

Tailpiece: How were the Rosgullas? Well... I prefer my rosgullas served chilled. Just chilled....not canned though!

Current Mood: Bored
Current Music: None

Before we could proceed any further, I am tempted to ask, can we question the pope? As in, can we state that the pope went wrong this time? Or is it like....the popes word is gospel? I am of the opinion that even gospels can be questioned. Having said that let me continue with the post.

 

 As you might have guessed by now, my piece discusses the statement made by pope in a university in Germany. Thankfully, the issue hasn't got too much of mileage in the media and to be frank neither should I have been discussing it in my article. But it gave me just the appropriate reason to talk about what’s wrong with our religions. And I couldn’t let this opportunity go by.

 

To get into the details of the matter, in a university in Germany, while discoursing on faith and reason, and how they cannot be separated and are essential for ''that genuine dialogue of cultures and religions so urgently needed today.( I am still trying to understand what it means)", Pope Benedict quoted 14th century Byzantine Christian Emperor Manuel Paleologos II who said ,"Show me just what Mohammed brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached"

 

Of course, the reverend pope had made these comments in some context and they were not intended to offend the religious sentiments of any particular community. I would even get convinced if I were to listen to the diplomatic "putting-in-perspective" efforts made by bishops and other clergymen all around the world. But the fact remains that for the common man on the street, it does seem to be a very simple and clear statement whose intended meaning is all too clear to be missed. One has to understand that the common man is the only majority in the entire world. It was not the wisest of thing or the best of times to have made  slurring  remarks against any religion. Definitely not so for a religious head.

 

In this context, I guess it makes sense for me to discuss something which I have always pondered upon.  What is wrong with our religions? Hmm...I can see some frowned faces hear and there. I agree its not the best of topics to discuss. I agree I am not the most knowledge person on religion. Maybe I have got it all wrong.  I understand my knowledge is limited and may as well count to a drop in the ocean. But that makes my opinion all the more important. Because my perception is that of the common man. Who, as I have stated already, is the biggest and only majority in the world. So, what’s wrong with our religions?

 

Lets start with Christianism.  Purely for reasons alphabetical. The conversion zeal. 'Let’s improve the count' seems to be an important parameter in christianism. What purpose it is going to serve is beyond my comprehension.

 

Hinduism. Aaah....the cast system. Maybe they served some purpose when they were created. But it just has to be done away with. Even scores of superstitions which have stemmed out of the religion can be obliterated.

 

Islam.  The status of woman. There is a lot of improvement which can be brought about. The conservatism can be done away with too.

 

I guess the biggest problem comes when we start wearing our religion on our sleeves. The best thing that could happen to the world is when people understand the presence of religion in our life and confine it to a certain extent. The moment we step out of our homes, we can as well leave our religion in the closet and just become humans. If we can stop attaching tags to ourselves w.r.t our religion, we can start seeing others and forget what religion they belong to.

 

In a broader sense, all religions in the world teach only three things.

 

1) Do good.

2) Don't do bad.

3) Stick to non-violence. Don't harm anyone.

 

This is the true essence of any religion in the world. The sad part is that we seem to forget these three things and get entangeled in a myriad of other things which just don't matter.

 

My belief is that religion has a very minimal role to play in any ones life. It must be able to show us the right path. If we can differentiate between good and bad, then why does it matter which religion we belong to!

 

Tailpiece: A universal problem with the way religions are being perceived today seems to be the attitude which is more or less akin to this: “We are the only religion. We have no branches".  Here’s museman curtailing his post with the hope of seeing a world which gives minimal importance to religion. A world which has learnt to coexist with its multi-religions. In that respect, maybe there is something we can learn from the coalitions of the UPAs and NDAs!!

Current Mood: Thoughtful
Current Music: Romeo and Juliet-dire straits

I agree it wasn’t the best of times to go to kolkata. Ganguly had been left out of the team yet again and there was every reason to believe that kolkatans would have been an angry lot at that moment. Still, personal compulsions dictated that I be in Kolkata this Thursday (sept 8 )

 

I am a very poor traveler. For one, I always book my tickets one day prior to traveling, and for second, I have no idea whatsoever about the places that I am going to visit. I had an open itinerary. I even had plans to go to Darjeeling from Kolkata. Thought of going to canning as well. But… everything was depended on whimsical me. 

 

Before I left for Kolkata, I asked a bengali friend as to what to see.  And he told me, “Look boss, I can make an itinerary for an year if you want. It all depends on how much time you have.” So, I settled for a small list of things to see.

 

The moment I came out of the station, at a distance of around 200 metres, I could see a bridge. And I panicked. I was in the same dilemma as I was in, when I stood before Charminar for the first time. Was it the Charminar? This time, my thoughts were “Is it THE Howrah bridge or just another bridge on the Hoogly? The bridge looked so small and I had always thought of Howrah Bridge as this majestic structure, something like the Sydney Bridge. And it is always embarrassing to ask someone about the whereabouts of a famous structure when you are just before it. Imagine standing before Taj and asking the guy beside you, “ Bhai sahib, yeh Taj Mahal kidhar hai?”.I would die of shame. So, I decided to live in ignorance and moved on with  my business. The business complete, I was back in the heart of kolkata by 11 am. The idea was to go to Victoria Memorial.

 

Before I could move further, I have to talk about the experience of riding in the wooden buses of Kolkata. It wasn’t the most comfortable or ergonomic of rides but it was a joy nevertheless. It did give me quite a view of the city. I saw the chaotic traffic. The regal trams, who seemed to own the Kolkata streets, chugged along at a leisurely pace in the midst of the road. A very different view from what I had expected. I thought Trams were just like the trains except that they ply inside the heart of the city. Here, the trams were coexisting with other modes of transport, the common road being used by…well… Trams, taxis, buses and an occasional two-wheeler. Yes, an occasional two-wheeler. I guess there are fewer bikes in Kolkata than in any other city I have seen. Either they are too affluent and always travel by cars/taxis or they are spoilt for choice when it comes to transport that no average kolkatan ever needs to buy a two-wheeler. I could see scores of people bathing by the road. That was one conspicuous aspect, another was the sheer magnitude of population. There were people everywhere. No wonder Kolkata has the highest density of population. Coming from Hyderabad, I would have to say that a majority of the roads were quite tiny in width. Atleast the roads that I had plied on.

 

And yes, a special mention has to be made about the greenery around. There were vast grounds everywhere. They call it some maidan, the name I am unable to recollect. And the race course as well. Huge amount of empty real estate in the heart of the city!  God bless the communist government. The grounds wouldn’t have survived under any other rule.

Coming back to Victoria Memorial, to put it simply, it was awe-inspiring and majestic. A scorching sun at the top didn’t help matters much but nevertheless it was a great sight to behold. By all means, it was the most beautiful piece of architecture I had seen in my life.  In more ways than one it fulfilled my reasons for coming to kolkata. To get glimpses of our imperial past. I got to know a little about the history of the city thanks to the museum. I am not too much of a museum person. I just sped past the museum perfunctorily and was out of the memorial hall in 60 minutes. There were vast stretches of lawns outside the building. The park/lawns were like any other in India. Frequented in pairs, a hangout place for manifestation of love for each other in ways not so subtle! They don’t have to worry though. The keepers of our countries culture, or so they think, the saffron brigade scarcely have a chance to gain power in the Bengal land.

 

Bhelpuri eaten, with a scorching sun over the head and tired feet beneath, I made my way to my next destination. Nandan theatre. I was told it was a state-run theatre. And this somehow piqued my interest to watch a movie in it. Nandan I was playing a bengali movie. So, I watched a Hindi movie in Nandan II. Some documentary it was. Seven Islands, an interesting take on mumbais  legacy and chronicled the lives of the common man in Mumbai. It was good to say the least. Lets not discuss it any further. We have kolkata to talk about. Nandan II contrary to my expectations was a small theatre where the movie was played using a DVD drive, projected on to the screen using an LCD! Reminded me of small cinema halls in my own home town, although there is a sea difference in the movies which are played in these theatres. Nandan-II, I am told, plays art movies which appeal to the intellectuals, the theatres in my hometown specialized in playing porn movies to packed houses! 

 

Done with the movie, I was all ready to use the Metro service of Kolkata. An old dream was going to get fulfilled. Ever since seeing Sharmila Tagore and the rest in a doordarshan national integrity song traveling by the Metro, I always wanted to travel by it myself. Kolkata has two sides to it. The old kolkata, the one rooted in tradition, the other, the youthful kolkata, the MTV youth. You can see them both. Just get  inside the Metro, it is MTV youth, get out of Metro, and you are back to the old world.

 

Why did I take the Metro? The intention was to get down in Mahatma Gandhi Road and go to College Street.  So, I got down in M.G Road, ate some fabulous panipuri…. I will have to take recourse here. Just like every city has its unique culture, they also have their unique panipuri. The kolkata one was by far the tastiest. If you are in Hyderabad and want to try out a kolkata style panipuri, go to the fellow who sells one panipuri per rupee and is stationed in the middle of badi chowdi lane near Koti. The panipuri done, I glanced sideways and I saw the famous rikshaw wallah. Balraj Sahni immediately came to mind. It was a moral dilemma. To or not to. I just couldn’t think myself sitting on a rikshaw while the rikshawallah pulled the rikshaw with his hands and ran the course of the road. I admit that was the lesser of the fears. I also feared that somewhere in the middle of the raod, the rikshawallah will not be able to hold the weight anymore, that he will leave the rikshaw, that I will fall backward and that some tram will come and crush me to chutney. I seriously feared that. To add to my fear, the guy looked very fragile. I took the risk anyway and it turned out to be one of the most memorable rides of my life. On two counts, the guy took me to College Street through some interior gullys of kolkata which were very narrow and as much colorful. I have always loved the bylanes. They have a charm and life of their own. Second, it was a moving experience to watch the man pull the rikshaw on a busy road. I had read they had been banned. The implementation isn’t there I presume.

 

And so, I was in the famous college street now. The biggest second hand market in the world. You will get spoilt for choice here. I spent nearly two hours…. Just roaming around. Ahhh yes, I also saw presidency college. Home to some of the best intellect of Kolkata. Not to forgot, I frequented 15, Bankimchandra Street. People know it better as Coffee House. The culture of the Calcutta people spread itself before me inside the coffee shop. The crowd was a mix of every combination that you could think of. Two ladies, in their 40’s were discussing something very animatedly. A batch of college students were involved in light banter. There was a gang with bearded people, probably talking of some revolutionary ideas. There was another group, with two old men, two middle aged men and three young people. And yes, it wasn’t like some the old were preaching and the young were listening. They were talking on equal terms. On the second floor, couples were involved in intimate talk. I ordered for a coffee. The coffee was good. Was bitter to start with and sweetened up as I went along sipping it.  Can not compare it with the coffee of Chennai though.  While in college street, I also tried the famous Calcutta paan. It was good. Better than all Calcutta paans I have had until now.

 

I walked to the Metro station again to go to kalighat.  On way I could see a flock of sheep crossing the road. The sheep had vermillion and kumkum marks on them. Well fed and quite rotund in built. Poor things, were happily crossing the road, unaware of that these were the last days of their lives. I got down in Kalighat, one of the 51 shaktipeets.  I am not a religion person but I do bow my head before god when I am in a temple. Three things stood out for me. The colorful arcardes that led me to the temple, the slippery floor and the nagging pujaris.  Nagging Pujaris have become a national phenomenon now. I had seen it in Puri too. The next jaunt was to esplanade. The name sounded exotic. The place though, except for its regal buildings,was regular fare of malls. I had no intention to go to salt lake or any other posh area of Kolkata. It held no interest for me. It was the older parts of the city that I was interested in. Having spent an hour in Esplanade, I started back to Howrah station. On way back, I encountered Howarah bridge again. This time I read Rabindra setu engraved on the bridge which only added to my confusion.  

 

My interaction with the local people was quite limited to talking to street vendors and metro ticket booking officials. One conversation was interesting though, someone asked me for some directions inside the metro. With whatever hindi I could put together I said I knew no bengali. And he immediately asks me, “ Oh…aap south Indian ho kya?” Maybe it is the moustache which immediately gives away my southindianness or maybe it is my hindi. You can place me in a jiffy.

 

In one of my earlier columns I had stated that Chennai was hot in more ways than one. The bongs girls, they are definitely hot. And they are cool as well. But they are so cute that it overshadows everything else. They were cute, affable and adorable.

 

I did have momentary thoughts of staying back in kolkata and visit canning the next day. But I could see that I had started to like the city.  Another day’s stay would  amount to welcoming pangs of separation when I left it. I wanted to leave the city before I fell in love with it! Quite poetic you would say? But…. How can one escape poetry when one is in kolkata?

 

Tailpiece: I think I have found the traveler inside me. And this shoe string budgeted trip to kolkata was like a preparatory journey for bigger and longer things to come.  I am sure I will go back to kolkata someday. To stay there for a longer time. To sink in the spirit of the city.

 

Current Mood: Happy
Current Music: ab na jaa-euphoria

The long pending seminal piece on left handers. Their troubles, tribulations and triumphs- I do fear that it is going to be a self indulgent piece. Let me continue nevertheless.

 

 

I go against nature to a certain extent. I am a left-hander that is. I am an antithesis to all established norms in the world. My earliest memory of being left-handed is that of sitting before the TV, just back from school for lunch break, eating my lunch and my mother asks me, “Use your right hand to eat food beta." And I, with a perplexed look, ask her, "Which one is the right mummy?" This was our daily conversation. My mother, she gave up after some days. The solution?  This is expected out of every indulgent mommy of India-she fed me with her fingers. This went on for quite sometime, the timelines I won't discuss. There was a friend of mine in engineering though, who used to eat with his left hand and would stand out in any crowd!

 

So, the earliest memory divulged, let me discuss other things. I don't know why I became a left-hander. Maybe it runs in the family. My grandmother, she does all household chores with her left-hand. Whether she writes with her left-hand or right-hand is anybodies guess. I have never seen her write anything and as such I could never figure out. One of my cousin proclaims he is ambidextrous. He does all things with his left-hand, shaving included. But, writes with his right-hand. And rivals Gandhiji when it comes to handwriting. A good enough reason for me to question his ambidextrous claims. I attribute his bad handwriting for the bad choice of the hand. Family apart, if I were to believe scientific claims, maybe I am left handed because my right brain dominates the left one!

 

 

What if you are a left-hander?  Ahh...this is an interesting question to answer.

I don't remember being forced by any of my elementary school teachers forcing me to use my right hand. Maybe I never used to write! I have no idea. In that case, I was lucky. I do know of many people who were forced to use right hands when their natural hand was the left one.  I never faced any problem. Although, when I reflect back now, English is prejudiced towards right-handers (rightly so, I don’t complain) Just observe the way ones hand moves when one writes. For a right hander, the hand moves away from the body which makes it easier. For us lefties, the hand comes inside and it becomes quite clumsy. But we have adapted though. I for one, used to put my book at a tilted angle. When I look at my notebooks of 6th and 7th classes, I notice that my letters used to be italicized to the left. Can't achieve a right inclination. No way.  When I used to write exams, the invigilators used to give me suspicious looks, thanks to my inclined books. The suspicion was unjustified until I was in school and perfectly justified in my engineering days!!

 

That is one thing. I do experience lots of problems while I use instruments. Be it a simple scissors or screwguages, balance machines, screwdrivers, vehicles, brakes, everything has been designed for the convenience for right-handers. We were hit hard. Do I have regrets? Well...no, we have adopted through our indigenous ways. It’s a difficult task for a lefty to tie a tie. I for one don't know about it. I never tie my own tie. I let close friends do it for me. I somehow fear that I try it myself, I will strangle myself to death someday. Lefties are banned from playing polo. Those are all acceptable things. Somehow, i don't have any regrets.

 

On a historical level, all asuras in Ramayana and Satans in Christian philosophy have been depicted as left-handers. There are instances of ghoary treatment being meted upon left-handers in Africa. I myself have seen many parents/teachers force small my-kind-of children to use their right hands while they were natural lefties. Whenever i give money to anyone with my left-hand, I am subtly asked to use the right hand to make payments. The priests frown when I cut open the coconut using my left-hand. The back-pocket of my pant, my shirt pocket are all in the wrong places.

 

Until now, I have discussed the tribulations of being a lefty in a world which was seemingly designed for righties. That’s the flip side. The picture is not all dark though. Why...we can boast a day dedicated to us. August 13. Right handers don't enjoy such luxury. We seem to be more graceful ones when it comes to sports. A Brian Lara in full form is such a treat to look at! No right hander can match that grace. And I am not saying this because I am a lefty. I for one always got to open the innings in my school/college cricket team. We needed a left/right combination. Those were the days of Sachin/Sourav. I was the only recourse. Somehow, I don't know why, and I won't question it either, left-handers have always been perceived as smarter, talented and creative. Something to do with the right brain being responsible for music, arts and creativity. On that superior note, I draw this piece to a close!

 

 

Tailpiece: Left handers are rare in themselves, but a left-handed girl is almost a blue moon. I sometimes wonder why. Maybe because moms are more careful and insisting in converting their natural lefty daughters to right handers. I don't know. My advice-Let them be the way they are. At least they will end up having a better hand writing if nothing more, and not to forget the prejudice of us lefties being creative, talented and geniuses!!

Current Mood: Happy
Current Music: woh lamhe!

Yes, I know. I understand. There is every reason why you should be angry with me. I left you at a very inappropriate moment last time. But.... what to do...I was in a state of shock then and have been quite busy then on. Be a little considerate to the narrator.

Where did we stop last time...eh? Oh yeah, Harini..ok...Priya, she was laughing. Like a hyenah. She laughed and laughed. I don't blame her .The way I reacted to her holding my hand.. I did cut a funny figure. I was in a rage. I looked all around for a crew to drop down any moment. With a bakra cap in hand. They didn't turn up which made me all the more angry. There was no explanation left.Rational or otherwise. I got up to leave. She held my hand again. And with a straight face, she said, "I am sorry". And then, she started to laugh again.

Look, if it was a joke, it was in bad taste.

I said I am sorry. Really. Sorry. Just that, I couldn't let the moment go.

What moment are you talking about?

Your face, when I asked, temple or registration office? Gawd, were you shocked.

Go to hell.

Listen Pawan, there aint a better hell than earth. We are all in hell. Ask me to go somewhere else.

Philosophy and you...don't go well. Why did you do that?

Sorry. Lets make friends. Now that I know you better, I won't play those practical pranks on you anymore. Promise.

How do you assume you know me. You don't even know my name.

Haha. Weak memory. I know your name silly. Pawan?

Ok. But don't play those kind of pranks anymore.

Alright. No more pranks, I will just stick to puzzles and sudoku. Lets play sudoku. I have three sudoku puzzles. Easy or tuff?

What's Sudoku?

God! You are so uncool. You don't know sudoku?

Its you who is uncool. You don't talk normal, do you?

Ok. Lets skip sudoku too. We will venture into questions. Tell me, how do you make out a blind man in a nude beach?

What?

That was a question. Answer it. How do you make out a blind man in a nude beach?

I don't know.

Come on pawan, be a sport. Try...you can answer it.

I don't know.

It is not hard.

Doesn't matter if it is not hard but I can't answer it. Talk normal or leave me alone. Please..

That was the answer Pawan.

What was the answer?

'It is not hard'. You spoilt the joke. :-( Never mind, it wasn’t original anyway!

It took me two minutes to get the joke. And then I laughed. She said,

Thank god. You laughed.Finally. Have been trying to make you happy for 14 days now.

I didn’t get you.

Never mind. Tell me about yourself. What do you do? I am engineering student. Final year.

Me? I am done with college. Whiling away time. Shall we talk about other things?

Yes. Now, don't be shocked. My name is Harini.

But...

Yeah..i said my name was Priya. I lied. That was just to make the script work.

What script?

Never mind. So, what do you plan to do in future.

I will tell you when the future is past us. But tell me, do we know each other? Your face seems a little familiar.

Ahh....now you remember eh? I was the girl who was sitting two tables away from you on that day.

Which day?

The day you split with your ex?

How do you know?

Hmm...I was staring at you that day. Intently. Ogling you can say. The girl that you came with, she noticed it. She thought you were looking at me too. And she created a scene and left. Listen, I am sorry I was the reason for your split. But, why would you want to be with someone who is so very possessive. I think it was for the good of you that you split with her. You have to thank me for that.

Thats alright. We were not too keen on each other in the first place. But....why were you ogling at me?

I don't know. I liked you the moment I saw you.

(She was blushing. I guess it works both ways. At 22 when a girl is forcefully single, every other guy looks like Hrithik maybe. It is just a speculation though. Otherwise, I can't explain her liking me.)

Oh yeah! Let me confess. I didn't notice you that day in the coffee shop. But the moment I saw you here by the corn seller, I was smitten. I think it was the curly locks which did it for me.

This much is what I am willing to disclose. We spoke a lot after that. She started acting normal. Our mutual liking disclosed, we were like any regular crush pair. Updated each other with our lives happenings. And we giggled and blushed. For no reason. We exchanged smses and missed calls. Its been a week now. We are thickest of friends, hopefuls of more than freindship. Something interesting happened today. The corn seller was just about to close shop and was broiling his special corn for his son. Harini, unaware of the ritual, asked him for it. I said to Harini, " No Harini, thats not for sale. He doesn't sell the last corn of the day".

The corn seller intervenes,gives the corn to Harini and tells her, " rakh lo, aapke naye zindagi kii shuruvat ke kushi mein".He put on his rucksack and left for the day. Me and Harini? We started to cross the road, to get into the coffee shop!

 

Current Mood: Happy
Current Music: hmm...none

Let me put it real short. Today is left handers day!! Needless to say, museman is a proud left hander. Will write a seminal piece soon, talking about the troubles,turbulations and triumphs of being a lefty.

Tailpiece: Here's wishing self and all the lefties of the world a happy left handers day. The rest, tuff luck buddies.

Current Mood: Happy
Current Music: jag ja-omkara

Where do you want to go today?  Microsoft used to ask us once.  As if they had the power and technology to take us anywhere! I do agree they have revolutionized the way we conduct our day to day affairs. If not for them, and their fraternity, we would still be blissfully receiving snail mails from near and dears. They were not called Snail mails in those days. They used to take one weeks time to reach destination. No wonder they are called snail mails now!

 

Let’s not discuss that anymore. This post of mine is not a technology-basher. Far from it. I was sitting in the library today. And a colleague of mine was looking at something on wikimapia. 

 

Looking for the office eh? 

 

No. Looking for my home.

 

In Hyderabad?

 

No. In Vajrakarur.

 

WHAT?

 

Yes. See, this is my home.

 

(And I peeped onto the screen with disbelief. If it were to be just a little clearer, I could have seen my colleagues’ family members! )

 

Can I see Guntakal?

 

What boss! If you can see Vajrakarur, of course you can see Guntakal. I will show you wait.

 

Let me explain things here. You must have known about Google earth. Google software you can use to see satellite pictures of places. It was confined to big cities like Delhi/Mumbai and others.  I had seen my Hyderabad residence in that. Some 6 months back. It had given me a strange sensation. Goose bumps and all. That was it. I forgot about it. Until today.  Never knew something called wikimapia.com existed.  So much for being an IT professional. :-( Anyway, that's about it. Wikimapia is a site which gives us the most exhaustive map of the world, if I can put it that way.

 

My colleague helped me locate Guntakal, my hometown, on wikimapia. Thus began an emotional journey for me.

 

I started going, at the speed of light, towards my hometown. Towards my home.  I have no words to describe what I felt at that moment. Can't explain how clear the pictures were! I was awestruck.

 

Back to roots. Back to where I belong. 

 

I alighted at the station. From Bhubaneswar to Guntakal in one minute flat. And then traversed, with my mouse, on the roads of Guntakal, and yes, there were landmarks assisting me everywhere. Rectangular boxes, with their 'show info' told me where I was!  From station, over the white bridge, I kept scrolling, until I came to the church.

 

Ah yes, Bholu the guard, (Guntakal is railway town, and Bholu is the mascot commemorating 150 years of Indian Railways) was waiting to assist me further.  I took a right turn, kept going straight, on the left I could see the Railway club, on the right were the Officers quarters. A little scroll more and I could see my father's office. I knew I was just about to reach home!!

 

Did I feel happy? I was overwhelmed. Over a distance, at the right corner of the window, I could see my school. The 'show info' box read, “This is the best school in town, because I studied here-Ganesh."  Ahh..., the brat, Ganesh was my classmate in school. He is Chennai now. Been a long time since I spoke to him.

 

I rushed back to the main road. Had to go to home soon. And then, from nowhere, the 'show info' box popped up -

"Raghu Vamsi's house"

 

I cried out loud. It was a cross between a smile and a laugh. The whole library suddenly became silent, for a change, and looked at me. I said a sorry and got back to the screen.

 

Ganesh had marked my home. I look into the 'Show Info' box and it reads, “One of my best friend's house-Ganesh".

 

 I was in my town for an hour, Looked into every nook and corner. I visited the bridge on which I was introduced to the world of panipuri. To Geetha/SLV theatres, the culprits behind my movie addiction.  To my school, to the library that I used to go to, the playgrounds. to Gandhi Chowk, to Gopal Medical Store, everything is same. They are all there.

 

And yes, I also went to Iddgah ground (the ground by the mosque). Had only heard about it until I was in Guntakal. Never knew to the route to go to it. I saw it today, on the outskirts of the town. Will go to it when I set foot in Guntakal again.

 

Need I say anything more!  It takes years for technology to seep through to towns from cities. And another generation to percolate to villages. Google did that in a jiffy!

 

 

Tailpiece: My home has a new address now- Coordinates: 15°10'30"N   77°22'34"E.

 

Google, I doff my hat.

 

 

Current Mood: Amazed
Current Music: The Corrs