I spent the morning today at a clinic amongst the not so healthy. I hate hospitals. It’s a place where they touch you, poke you, prick you, grope you, pinch you,– and none of it in a good way. They put things on your body, in your body, smear you with gooey stuff and scare you with big needles. The amount of blood that I have given today is sufficient to bring the roseate glow back on Kareena Kapoor’s emaciated face. And the amount of needless waiting I had to do – well Aadi story 4,5 and 6 could have been easily completed.
While waiting in the waiting room (ironical naa..what could be a better name for the waiting room?) I was thinking (in the order listed below):
Thought No. 1. I am glad I am not a doctor. Otherwise I would never have gotten to see anyone looking nice ever at work. Even pretty people make for ugly patients. Have you ever seen anyone look breathtaking in jaundice? Or heard someone say "that measles really does wonders for your skin."
Thought No. 2. How shallow is thought no. 1! I should work on my SQ (spirituality quotient - learn some basic acronymns, man.)
Thought No. 3. Isn’t beauty just skin deep? I mean look at me. My liver must be glowing and the natural pulchritude of my small intestine is sufficient to inspire the Ghalib hidden deep in you.
Thought No. 4. The person next to me is coughing non stop. I think I should move. But where to? There is a seat empty next to the poster boy of idiocy. (Why do I call him that? Look at what he is wearing. T shirt with a message. What irritates me more than people wearing t shirt with a message are people wearing t shirts with a message that is long, written in small font, and not even funny) But he looks apparently okay. And he is alone. Now I have the entire works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle donning my library. So I can do a Holmes and you can be my Watson. The guy is alone. So he must be the patient and not a tag-along. He is looking visibly okay. I mean with that face thats the best he can manage. (Shallow Surabhi, Bad Surabhi) So there are no apparent signs of diseases- big or small. But he is here. Laws of physics prove that. In a hospital. So ..do you see where I am going with this dear Watson..he must be suffering from some deadly contagious silent types disease that spreads if you sit next to him. I weigh the two sitting options and decide to stay put.
Thought No. 5. So in 5 minutes, I have realised I am not only shallow but also discriminatory against people with not so funny messages on their t-shirts and no apparent signs of sickness.
Thought No. 6. Crap its 11 am. I am hungry. Damn you idiots get this queue moving.
Break—go for my ECG--It is my first ever! Feels like an accomplishment!
Thoughts continue as now I am waiting for the radiology people to get (off their ass would be inappropriate for the under 18 readership of this blog. Hence I will not write that.) their act together.
Thought No. 7. I am hungry. Why aren’t there good breakfast places in this town?
Thought No. 8. My hand hurts. I think about the time that big, huge, gigantic, gargantuan, enormous (GMAT 750 = good vocabulary) needle pierced my skin. I had missed someone then. It is kinda lonesome when you have to sit thorugh a blood test alone. I mean koi toh hona chahiye who would tell you- “Sab theek hai. Its fine. Just a small prick. You are doing well.” I miss my family then. I have always been scared of needles and during all my needle piercing times mum or dad have been around me. And dad always says while patting my head “brave girl, brave girl”.
Thought No. 9: I miss my Ops teacher. (Thats not oops but Ops (with a capital O) i.e. Operations Management.) He could have fixed the bottlenecks of this place and we could have done a case study on the same.
Thought no. 10: Interrupted when the auntie sitting next to me suddenly turned and asked: So where do you stay? I want to say why, whats it to you. But instead give her my complete mailing address including the major landmark. Near Hotel Katriya. She listens intently and then expects me to return the favor. I decide not to. She moves away and accosts the uncle sitting at the extreme right row 2.
The radiology people get into action. After I yell at (in the order) the girl in the white coat (looks the assistant to assistant types), the technician who came to ask what the matter was, the front office executive who was passing by and made the mistake of stopping and two other patients who wouldn't shut up and were distracting the 'white coat wearing assistant to asst. looks wali' girl from listening to my litany of complaints. So ten minutes of yelling later, with my reputation as a patient patient (irony again) completely ruined I get ushered into the ultrasound chamber.
Now I must confess, through out this stupid health checkup so far I had kept telling myself - How needless this is. I mean waste of money really. These tests are all normal. I am not finding out anything new.
You see I am the person who if she is made to buy a fire extinguisher will comeback and yell at the salesman after 6 months saying the extinguisher was a waste of money as there was no fire at my house. So if I have a fire extinguisher, it must come with occasional fires so that I can feel that it was money well spent. Bangs per buck or some marketing funda this is.
But this theory was severely tested today.
"Oh Oh", said my doctor lady.
I have always hated Oh Ohs. I mean one oh is fine. It can show surprise or acknowledgement; it can precede words like thanks or muck; and it can sometimes even cover the 'wow thats great' emotion. But Oh Ohs are never nice. I dont like Oh ohs. They have so far denoted things like : hate email inadvertently sent to boss, the sinking moment when you realise that you have missed the deadline by a mile and your appraisal is next week, when you criticise your coworker's wife's food and he is standing right next to you; when India drops a catch, when you burn your fingers making roti and when ..Well you get the idea, don't you, dear Watson.
So imagine my consternation (another big word, time to brag about CBSE education) when the lady incharge said it looking at my glowing liver, wonderful intestines and what not.
'Whats wrong'
'Hmm'
'Whats wrong? Really tell me.' (I was about to add- 'I can take it'. But then thought it would be too melodramatic.)
'Well..' (interruption arrives in form of the girl in white lab coat (the asst. to asst. type look wali))
The two talk in Telgu and the lab girl gives me a reaasuring smile.
Friends, that positively freaked me. If you have been ever yelled by Surabhi K esp. when she is hungry, irritated and had a serious blood loss you know you are not in a position to smile for atleast the next 2 hours. Infact, even by the end of the day, all you will manage would be one of those 'small barely-there' smiles, that suggest- Oh another day got over. (See I used oh again. Not oh-oh), and which can be easily dismissed by not so astute an observer as nervous twitching of the lips.
But this girl right after 10 minutes of my giving her a piece of my mind - on how this muck all place should actually be run and how she should treat patients as human beings & not animals kept in the waiting zoo and how she should get the place clean and organised and contact my Ops professor- seems to be overflowing with milk of human kindness and smiling at me with eyes that say "Oh you are so young for this. Have faith. Whatever happens, happens for the best. Btw update your will."
I persist with 'whats wrong' line of questioning. But they decide to wait till I have some family members with me before they break the news. She didnt actually say that. She said, we will tell you in the report. But you know we Holmes types always get to the truth.
So with that freaky episode my day at ERTYU clinic ended. Well atleast the first part. But today has been a roller coaster day. And this was actually the good part. For the bad part, let me have some food, finish my V. and then we will talk.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Oye its friday! Psych
Okay okay so no more stories. Stop with the hate mail already! I had no idea so many people in my life were literary critics. To A, all I can say is "sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me." I say this while silently wiping the tears that are swelling up. So sadly my dear trusted reader I bid adieu to the magical world of story telling and move back to familiar grounds of commenting on life and the many (I wanted to type : morons. masti mein yaar. I will use mammals instead) mammals (Insider workplace joke hai. You had to be there.) who grace it.
But as my swan song, here is the last story telling post. Its more on the sublime genre and definitely nuttier than my other posts. So don't say I didn't warn you. I apologise in advance. Not that I really care:)
The story begins.
“Standing alone bare, broken, I longed for a dark crevice to hide my shame, to sink deep in some abyss, maybe a bottom less pit. To disappear from his presence. His wrath or disenchantment : I know not what I fear more. Long after my time has passed I stand there. Acknowledged are the squandered minutes and the unholy hours. The frittered time stung like a bee. The promises made at the onset came back as a long forgotten dream that was always there in my subconscience. Drunk on the necatar of life - the good I could do; how as eager as a child was I to start on my own solitude. And then somehow in the journey that lasted but a second in the temporal plane, I lost sight of you and my own self. Interspersed among fleeting pleasures, golden moments all leading to hell, the darkest days that were but a test; were a few precious seconds spent within my own self. I silently bow my head, naked as I stand. Forgiveness I seek nought as my tongue wont take my side. Shameful and sorrowful at all the oportunities lost, I repent and beg to be sent back – for a chance that I know I wont get. The dice has been cast.”
"Well, poorly said. I think you tried too hard. keep it simple next time. And I don't believe in God still. Please pass me my drink and take your religious mumbo jumbo and judgement day stories elsewhere"
The story ends.
But as my swan song, here is the last story telling post. Its more on the sublime genre and definitely nuttier than my other posts. So don't say I didn't warn you. I apologise in advance. Not that I really care:)
The story begins.
“Standing alone bare, broken, I longed for a dark crevice to hide my shame, to sink deep in some abyss, maybe a bottom less pit. To disappear from his presence. His wrath or disenchantment : I know not what I fear more. Long after my time has passed I stand there. Acknowledged are the squandered minutes and the unholy hours. The frittered time stung like a bee. The promises made at the onset came back as a long forgotten dream that was always there in my subconscience. Drunk on the necatar of life - the good I could do; how as eager as a child was I to start on my own solitude. And then somehow in the journey that lasted but a second in the temporal plane, I lost sight of you and my own self. Interspersed among fleeting pleasures, golden moments all leading to hell, the darkest days that were but a test; were a few precious seconds spent within my own self. I silently bow my head, naked as I stand. Forgiveness I seek nought as my tongue wont take my side. Shameful and sorrowful at all the oportunities lost, I repent and beg to be sent back – for a chance that I know I wont get. The dice has been cast.”
"Well, poorly said. I think you tried too hard. keep it simple next time. And I don't believe in God still. Please pass me my drink and take your religious mumbo jumbo and judgement day stories elsewhere"
The story ends.
Mashaallah (P.S. Title ka post se koi link nahin hai.)
Have you ever had one of those mornings where you get up and things suddenly feel fine? I mean you open your eyes, take a deep breath and sigh. You got the just the right amount of sleep. Not too little that makes you want to stay in bed just a little longer and not too much that always leaves a dull headache behind. Issues that had been gnawing at your soul (I have always wanted to use that phrase :) ) vanish. You can’t remember why the hell you were upset. I am such a kid. You chuckle to yourself.
You open your eyes and look around and spy your cell phone peeping from below the pillow. You check it and there it is- a missed call. To show that someone missed you while you were busy zzing away. You see the caller’s name and smile. The first item of the ‘To Do List for the Day’ is ready - 1. Return the call. Then you see your laptop and wonder if there is time to check your mail. You decide against it. Personal mails are best checked during office hours. You wonder still in bed what is it that you have to accomplish today. Any deadlines, any pressing issues? And your mind tells you –chill. Kuch nahin hai. The world is going to run just fine today without your help. You smile.
It’s a perfect day. You get up and open the windows. The cool breeze hits your face. Baarish ke chances hain. You smile. Birds are chirping at your window. You ignore the numerous pigeon droppings on the window sill and do not shoo them away. You feel kind and benevolent towards the whole world. Even your stupid maid who was absconding since yesterday. You had decided earlier that this time you are going to cut her pay. Maids should be more professional in their leave taking. Atleast 2 days advance notice toh dena chahiye. Such arguments vanish as you usher her in the house. She smiles back. And you swimming in the tide of human kindness ask her to make tea for two and help herself to the left over aloo parathas. The car cleaner has still not come today. But it is okay. You rationalize the poor man must have urgent issues that need more immediate handling and your car isn’t one of them. Don’t be too disappointed that he didn’t come. You tell yourself. I am certain he will come on pay day.
You read the newspaper i.e. the entertainment section. Having an MBA + a job means you can give the business section a miss. A nice picture of Akshay greets you. He is looking dapper in the black tux. One of the most good looking men in Bollywood now. You debate the merits of physique and face of some top Bolly stars and realize that Akshay’s claim to being one of the best is possibly true. You read about the lives of Kylie, Ashton, Aniston and MJ. Satisfied that all your friends are doing fine (as per The Hindu anyway and excluding MJ ofcourse ((may God bless his soul)) ) you keep the paper down. The maid is here with the tea. Amma main kal nahin aaongi. Gaon jaa rahi hoon. You appreciate her honesty and advance notice. Smile and take the cuppa. Tea is just right. It is an omen really. This has to be a perfect day.
You get ready for office. There is a tune in your head that doesn’t make much sense. Dum dum dum da da da dum dee da dum dum or was it da da dum dee da dadum de da da or something like that. Nice tune. I could have been a musician. You realize. But oh well that ship has sailed. You see the time: 9.45am. Can make it to office by 10. Excellent attendance record. You smile. Pick the keys up, pack your tiffin and lock your door. In the elevator you tell yourself that you must blog about this perfect morning. And you do.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Aadi- Story 3
Settled finally. Its been 2 years since I last travelled by 3rd A.C. And nothing it seems has changed. I have already lost my temper thrice - the autowala, coolie and the nameless passenger at the door who refused to move - in that order. Yes, you may call me a little hotheaded. I hate paying for some thing than what its actually worth. These coolies and autowals feel they can take me for a ride just because I look the type who travels by air. I know paying Rs. 50 more doesn't make me any poorer but then its the whole dishonesty of the affair that irritates me. And I also hate indecisiveness. Decide what you want to do. Get in the damn compartment or get out. But no! People persist in standing at the door looking for god knows what and coolly ignoring poeple who are trying to get in.
Anyway, now I am here. The luggage is secured and the laptop is out. Three presentations I have to check and also if possible catch up on Taleb's new book which is just out. You know, famous first lines have always fascinated me. Remember that one: of all the ginjoints in all the world she... Yes Casablanca. Thats what I thought when I saw her. That and also she still travels with too much luggage. Now where are we going to fit these 5 bags. Why can't women travel light? I see she is alone. She hasn't looked in my direction yet.
I straighten up. Prop up my legs so that the Coolie can put madam's bags everywhere. She is looking nice. Yellow churidar, white kurti and a duppatta thats covering her head. Big white bag. I see she's still into her pearl earrings. Slim and young. Infact younger than I remember her. Thank you Bhaiyaa she said. And hands over a hundred. Still used english with people who dont understand it. I smile to myself. Some things never change. While she is doing this I try figure where will she be seated. 7 is my seat no. Her's is...aah 11. In the middle. Dont think madam is going to like that.
"Excuse me can I please have the window seat." I chuckle. She still stresses on the please. Some people never grow up. Now what is that poor man going to do. I can see his dilemma. Noone wants to sit in the middle and yet he doesn't want to refuse a pretty lady. Hmm. He is getting up. I think the fact that she does'nt look married did the trick. That and the smile that followed the please. She still hasn't looked at my direction. What should I do? Should I first say hello? Seems like the decent thing to do. I mean I was the one who always told her to keep it normal.
Yeah, thats right. I should say hello first. Not sure when should I say it. She is sitting down. About to look up. Nows the time."Hello Sumi, How are you, fancy seeing you here." Damn the cell had to ring right now. Neha's call. Damn. I caught her reaction though. She looked up surprised. I guess the familarity with which I addressed her caught her unawares. Or was it me? She looked at me and smiled. Not the big smile you give a long lost friend but a rather quiet civil smile you reserve for an acquaintance. Is it my imagination or did the smile not reach her eyes? "hello, yea. Haan paunch gaya. Nahin koi problem nahin hui. Haan theek hai. hmm. Chalo phir phone karta hoon paunch kar. bye "
"Sorry sumi. Ghar se tha" (shit shouldn't have said that. I dont know why I felt guilty talking to my own wife right now.)
"Its okay. I am fine. How are you?"
"Oh good. i am working with HSBC now. (She doesn't look at all interested. So I refrain from giving details.) Where are you working these days? In touch with anyone? " (was about to say missed you at the last reunion but then decided against it.)
"Thats nice. I am with an NGO now. We are into healths services. I dont think I am in touch with anyone. Didn't go for the reunion too."
"Okay" (Shes started to look out the window. So I decide to give the conversation a rest.)
She looks a little sad or is it my imagination. Why does this woman always make me feel so guilty! I mean hundreds of people have broken relationships. But she just didn't take the breakup like a man. I mean leaving her was the hardest thing not because I loved her which I didn't but because she just was so heart broken about it. I never thought it was possible to love me so much and with such a single minded dedication.
Anyway what is done is done. We both have moved on. Or atleast I have. Relocated to a new metro. Have a wife and a family. I try not to compare the two Neha and Sumi. Both are two different people. Different backgrounds. But yes Neha doesn't worship the ground I walk on and that to be honest is how I prefer it.
I remember Sumi and her temper, her passion, her refusal to take no for an answer, the way she always waited for me for lunch, her tantrums, her habit of cupping my face with her hands and calling me baby. I hated that. I remember the times we shared. Good times. But I never held on to them. Did she? Is she happy now? Did she get over her childish childlike refusal to accept the inevitable? Then there were the 6 torturous months post breakup. I don't know why did I hang around for her? 6 months is a long time for counselling. in her defence she didnt call me often. but somehow I felt responsible and hence came the "Are you okay?" phone calls. Just that abandoning her didn't seem like the civil thing to do and also I never knew what she would have done if I wasn't there then.
Still 6 months and then one day I just lost my temper again. "Will you just get over this woman? Its not like we are Romeo and Juliet! I don't love you. I don't want a future together. Its not like this is forced. I want it to be like this." She had looked up from my shoulder where she was resting her head said nothing. Next day I knew I had lost her. Things weren't the same again. And its a testament to how bad things were with me that I liked it that way. We just stopped talking. And then she went away. 6 years back.
Now she sits in front of me pretending I dont exist. No its not even that. She isn't ignoring me. Thrice our eyes have met and shes given me a half smile. Come on Sumi. You couldn't have forgotten all those times. They meant too much to you. Or did you? Or is this reaction the proof that you are still not over the damn relationship? What is it?
At 9 people ate dinner. The train didnot have a pantry car. She was carrying her own tiffin. I hadn't anticipated the no pantry car scenario and so wondered what to do. There were no major stations coming till noon tomorrow. And street food has never gone down well with my stomach. I could share her tifffin. Just like old times. But then I decided to do the next best thing. Got my trusted packet out and went outside to have a smoke. She sat through the next 2 hours in front of me making small conversations with everyone. She didnt give way too much information about herself. Then everyone went to bed. I couldn't sleep well. It was around 4 that I finally managed to doze off. When I woke up at 7 she was gone. Just like that. No good byes. I kept lying down. If you have ever travelled by 3rd ac you would know why. You cant sit up in the bottom berth till the person above you decides to lower his berth. Finally the person in the middle berth decided it was time to wake up. As I got up and stretched I saw a polythene packet on my seat. I opened it. Inside was a tiffin and some tissues and a note that said - Breakfast.
Anyway, now I am here. The luggage is secured and the laptop is out. Three presentations I have to check and also if possible catch up on Taleb's new book which is just out. You know, famous first lines have always fascinated me. Remember that one: of all the ginjoints in all the world she... Yes Casablanca. Thats what I thought when I saw her. That and also she still travels with too much luggage. Now where are we going to fit these 5 bags. Why can't women travel light? I see she is alone. She hasn't looked in my direction yet.
I straighten up. Prop up my legs so that the Coolie can put madam's bags everywhere. She is looking nice. Yellow churidar, white kurti and a duppatta thats covering her head. Big white bag. I see she's still into her pearl earrings. Slim and young. Infact younger than I remember her. Thank you Bhaiyaa she said. And hands over a hundred. Still used english with people who dont understand it. I smile to myself. Some things never change. While she is doing this I try figure where will she be seated. 7 is my seat no. Her's is...aah 11. In the middle. Dont think madam is going to like that.
"Excuse me can I please have the window seat." I chuckle. She still stresses on the please. Some people never grow up. Now what is that poor man going to do. I can see his dilemma. Noone wants to sit in the middle and yet he doesn't want to refuse a pretty lady. Hmm. He is getting up. I think the fact that she does'nt look married did the trick. That and the smile that followed the please. She still hasn't looked at my direction. What should I do? Should I first say hello? Seems like the decent thing to do. I mean I was the one who always told her to keep it normal.
Yeah, thats right. I should say hello first. Not sure when should I say it. She is sitting down. About to look up. Nows the time."Hello Sumi, How are you, fancy seeing you here." Damn the cell had to ring right now. Neha's call. Damn. I caught her reaction though. She looked up surprised. I guess the familarity with which I addressed her caught her unawares. Or was it me? She looked at me and smiled. Not the big smile you give a long lost friend but a rather quiet civil smile you reserve for an acquaintance. Is it my imagination or did the smile not reach her eyes? "hello, yea. Haan paunch gaya. Nahin koi problem nahin hui. Haan theek hai. hmm. Chalo phir phone karta hoon paunch kar. bye "
"Sorry sumi. Ghar se tha" (shit shouldn't have said that. I dont know why I felt guilty talking to my own wife right now.)
"Its okay. I am fine. How are you?"
"Oh good. i am working with HSBC now. (She doesn't look at all interested. So I refrain from giving details.) Where are you working these days? In touch with anyone? " (was about to say missed you at the last reunion but then decided against it.)
"Thats nice. I am with an NGO now. We are into healths services. I dont think I am in touch with anyone. Didn't go for the reunion too."
"Okay" (Shes started to look out the window. So I decide to give the conversation a rest.)
She looks a little sad or is it my imagination. Why does this woman always make me feel so guilty! I mean hundreds of people have broken relationships. But she just didn't take the breakup like a man. I mean leaving her was the hardest thing not because I loved her which I didn't but because she just was so heart broken about it. I never thought it was possible to love me so much and with such a single minded dedication.
Anyway what is done is done. We both have moved on. Or atleast I have. Relocated to a new metro. Have a wife and a family. I try not to compare the two Neha and Sumi. Both are two different people. Different backgrounds. But yes Neha doesn't worship the ground I walk on and that to be honest is how I prefer it.
I remember Sumi and her temper, her passion, her refusal to take no for an answer, the way she always waited for me for lunch, her tantrums, her habit of cupping my face with her hands and calling me baby. I hated that. I remember the times we shared. Good times. But I never held on to them. Did she? Is she happy now? Did she get over her childish childlike refusal to accept the inevitable? Then there were the 6 torturous months post breakup. I don't know why did I hang around for her? 6 months is a long time for counselling. in her defence she didnt call me often. but somehow I felt responsible and hence came the "Are you okay?" phone calls. Just that abandoning her didn't seem like the civil thing to do and also I never knew what she would have done if I wasn't there then.
Still 6 months and then one day I just lost my temper again. "Will you just get over this woman? Its not like we are Romeo and Juliet! I don't love you. I don't want a future together. Its not like this is forced. I want it to be like this." She had looked up from my shoulder where she was resting her head said nothing. Next day I knew I had lost her. Things weren't the same again. And its a testament to how bad things were with me that I liked it that way. We just stopped talking. And then she went away. 6 years back.
Now she sits in front of me pretending I dont exist. No its not even that. She isn't ignoring me. Thrice our eyes have met and shes given me a half smile. Come on Sumi. You couldn't have forgotten all those times. They meant too much to you. Or did you? Or is this reaction the proof that you are still not over the damn relationship? What is it?
At 9 people ate dinner. The train didnot have a pantry car. She was carrying her own tiffin. I hadn't anticipated the no pantry car scenario and so wondered what to do. There were no major stations coming till noon tomorrow. And street food has never gone down well with my stomach. I could share her tifffin. Just like old times. But then I decided to do the next best thing. Got my trusted packet out and went outside to have a smoke. She sat through the next 2 hours in front of me making small conversations with everyone. She didnt give way too much information about herself. Then everyone went to bed. I couldn't sleep well. It was around 4 that I finally managed to doze off. When I woke up at 7 she was gone. Just like that. No good byes. I kept lying down. If you have ever travelled by 3rd ac you would know why. You cant sit up in the bottom berth till the person above you decides to lower his berth. Finally the person in the middle berth decided it was time to wake up. As I got up and stretched I saw a polythene packet on my seat. I opened it. Inside was a tiffin and some tissues and a note that said - Breakfast.
TV suxx Part 2
Yea I am still on it - the rant that is. You would be to if..wait yeh AajTak par kya aa raha hai. Mahishasur ka atyachar. Religious photos ke peeche actual real images play ho rahi hain. Kya idea hai sirjee. Aur phir yeh music. Lagta hai Anu Malik saheb inspired mood mein compose kar rahe hain. Next headline: Kanha ke viruddh kanss ka shadyantra. Woh mathura etc ke real images ke saath abb koi TV serial ki images bhi aa gayi hain. Hey bhagwan. Now this dame in the studio is talking about Radha and now some female is singing some random song and we are told there is a kund which was made from radha ka kangan. All this time pictures are changing as if in a slide show with "whoosh" sound everytime.
((If I do something rash, and my body is found facing the TV and if AT is the channel playing please ensure that the case is filed under murder due to abject torture)) Where the muck is that remote!!! Oh under the chair. hehe wait..rather than entertain blasphemous thoughts (which I do a lot with amaazing regularity) let me just change the channel. Oye Fox History. Good. I let out a deep sigh and go back to writing about reality shows. That's where we had left remember.
Reality shows: Agar aapko pata karna hai kitne stars abb faltu hain..just check out the judges name of any reality shows. I mean its an easy way to make money when someone is not employing you. Just go, sit, smile and come back. You don't have to say anything intellligent. Really nothing. I mean Sonali Bendre on music. Thats like me judging Real Madrid and its player acquisition strategy. You dont have to look nice even. I dont mean the fat err no corpulently challenged Bendre babe I was actually thinking about Anu Malik and the entire judge's panel of Sa ra ga ma (they deleted the pa. Women domination bhaiyya! Ma hai pa nahin. Jai Ho.) I mean please mujhe koi reality show ka judge bana de. Wait don't I do that everyday. Isnt world a reality show. Deep. Hmm. Just that no one pays me though.
Anyhoo contestants of reality shows. The kids reality shows disturb me the most. You have to be total jackass of a parent to subject your child to that. I mean as if the humiliation of having you as a parent was not enough you put him on the stage to be judged by moronic judges and hundreds of idiots who are dumb enough to watch the shows. It is traumatic to be judged and to fail in front of others. Grown ups are not able to handle public failures. (eg Susan Boyle) Why the muck would you subject a child to it!
Then comes the hotties or the wannabe hotties. The splitsvilla-size 0-brain activity negative contestants. I dont mind Tanay doing anything with his life. But yes after watching splittsvilla I have instructed my lawyers to amend the will. Bebo, you wont be getting a penny if you ever feature on any reality show ever. This threat would work a lot more if I had some real money. But oh well. I will deny him my newly purchased sofa and Samsung ka chota TV. Also (it just occured to me) I will publish all your naked bachpan ki pics on facebook. (just have to call my lawyers and get this line added. BRB)
Kya ladkiyaan hain. Kya galiyan deti hain. Dare I confess that it was in college that I got to know what MC/BC meant. And the guys. Man, really are guys this dumb? And can someone please tell the HMTs that nothing is a bigger put off than hearing someone who cant say 3 sentences in English put on a American accent and then try to talk.
Limka ka advt aara ha hai. I like this one. Par let me tell you when I got my Limca nothing happened. The guy standing behind me didnot magically create water or look that good and nor was that song playing when I drank my magical potion. Nothing happened. I waited for 3 minutes after finishing my drink in the hope maybe thoda late reaction ho jaye. But nothing.
Aur haan contestants jo celebrity hain. Celebrity reality shows. Ek baar maine papa ke saath Big Boss ka episode dekha. He didnt know any contestant not even one. Arrey unko chodo jab woh Sambhavna aayi toh even i didnt know. I told my dad she is a big actress down south. he he. For those of you who do not know what I am talking about give your self a hug.
Btw let me confess I did catch 2 episodes of Jhalak Dikhla jaa and hoped Bhaichung would win. So not all reality shows are unwatchable.
Reality shows encourage begging. I mean haven't you noticed hum log kitni asaani se (besharmi se) sabse maangte rehte hai. Padosi's se sugar, professors se marks, friends se paise, bhagwan se secret wishes, girl friends se sorry, readers se comments (wink wink). I think this tendency is getting out of hand. And since most people know my response to such begging people have stopped it in front of me. Now they just take what they want without asking. That explains why the three apologies that I have been waiting for, for over a month haven't come. These reality shows make it okay to beg : Please please humein aapke votes ki bahut zaroorat hai. please vote kariye. please mobile phone utha kar mera code dial kariye. Please. Bhangwan ke naam pe dede baba. (okay last line mera improvization tha)
And finally, the last rant para on RS. Thats reality shows. (no other elaboration of RS ;) ) Kabhi results episode dekna. Kya setting hoti hai. Kya tension. Aaj kiska sapna khatam hone jaa raha hai. kiski kismet ka faisla aapne kara hai. Kaun abb hamare beech nahin hoga. Kaun hamse juda ho ke jaa raha hai. Kise abb producer's ka check nahin milega aur kiski biwi ghar par aaj pitai karegi. Batate hain. Break ke baad.
((If I do something rash, and my body is found facing the TV and if AT is the channel playing please ensure that the case is filed under murder due to abject torture)) Where the muck is that remote!!! Oh under the chair. hehe wait..rather than entertain blasphemous thoughts (which I do a lot with amaazing regularity) let me just change the channel. Oye Fox History. Good. I let out a deep sigh and go back to writing about reality shows. That's where we had left remember.
Reality shows: Agar aapko pata karna hai kitne stars abb faltu hain..just check out the judges name of any reality shows. I mean its an easy way to make money when someone is not employing you. Just go, sit, smile and come back. You don't have to say anything intellligent. Really nothing. I mean Sonali Bendre on music. Thats like me judging Real Madrid and its player acquisition strategy. You dont have to look nice even. I dont mean the fat err no corpulently challenged Bendre babe I was actually thinking about Anu Malik and the entire judge's panel of Sa ra ga ma (they deleted the pa. Women domination bhaiyya! Ma hai pa nahin. Jai Ho.) I mean please mujhe koi reality show ka judge bana de. Wait don't I do that everyday. Isnt world a reality show. Deep. Hmm. Just that no one pays me though.
Anyhoo contestants of reality shows. The kids reality shows disturb me the most. You have to be total jackass of a parent to subject your child to that. I mean as if the humiliation of having you as a parent was not enough you put him on the stage to be judged by moronic judges and hundreds of idiots who are dumb enough to watch the shows. It is traumatic to be judged and to fail in front of others. Grown ups are not able to handle public failures. (eg Susan Boyle) Why the muck would you subject a child to it!
Then comes the hotties or the wannabe hotties. The splitsvilla-size 0-brain activity negative contestants. I dont mind Tanay doing anything with his life. But yes after watching splittsvilla I have instructed my lawyers to amend the will. Bebo, you wont be getting a penny if you ever feature on any reality show ever. This threat would work a lot more if I had some real money. But oh well. I will deny him my newly purchased sofa and Samsung ka chota TV. Also (it just occured to me) I will publish all your naked bachpan ki pics on facebook. (just have to call my lawyers and get this line added. BRB)
Kya ladkiyaan hain. Kya galiyan deti hain. Dare I confess that it was in college that I got to know what MC/BC meant. And the guys. Man, really are guys this dumb? And can someone please tell the HMTs that nothing is a bigger put off than hearing someone who cant say 3 sentences in English put on a American accent and then try to talk.
Limka ka advt aara ha hai. I like this one. Par let me tell you when I got my Limca nothing happened. The guy standing behind me didnot magically create water or look that good and nor was that song playing when I drank my magical potion. Nothing happened. I waited for 3 minutes after finishing my drink in the hope maybe thoda late reaction ho jaye. But nothing.
Aur haan contestants jo celebrity hain. Celebrity reality shows. Ek baar maine papa ke saath Big Boss ka episode dekha. He didnt know any contestant not even one. Arrey unko chodo jab woh Sambhavna aayi toh even i didnt know. I told my dad she is a big actress down south. he he. For those of you who do not know what I am talking about give your self a hug.
Btw let me confess I did catch 2 episodes of Jhalak Dikhla jaa and hoped Bhaichung would win. So not all reality shows are unwatchable.
Reality shows encourage begging. I mean haven't you noticed hum log kitni asaani se (besharmi se) sabse maangte rehte hai. Padosi's se sugar, professors se marks, friends se paise, bhagwan se secret wishes, girl friends se sorry, readers se comments (wink wink). I think this tendency is getting out of hand. And since most people know my response to such begging people have stopped it in front of me. Now they just take what they want without asking. That explains why the three apologies that I have been waiting for, for over a month haven't come. These reality shows make it okay to beg : Please please humein aapke votes ki bahut zaroorat hai. please vote kariye. please mobile phone utha kar mera code dial kariye. Please. Bhangwan ke naam pe dede baba. (okay last line mera improvization tha)
And finally, the last rant para on RS. Thats reality shows. (no other elaboration of RS ;) ) Kabhi results episode dekna. Kya setting hoti hai. Kya tension. Aaj kiska sapna khatam hone jaa raha hai. kiski kismet ka faisla aapne kara hai. Kaun abb hamare beech nahin hoga. Kaun hamse juda ho ke jaa raha hai. Kise abb producer's ka check nahin milega aur kiski biwi ghar par aaj pitai karegi. Batate hain. Break ke baad.
TV suxx
TV sucks. Its official now. For the past few months I have been telling my friends "TV par kuch acha nahin aata" And in all cases so far people have dissented (is that a verb I can use?). I had stopped watching TV for a long time. Maybe from March or so my TV viewing can be termed as negligible. So when my friends said there is always something interesting on these days, well I believed them. Yesterday I decided to check those claims. And I have reached certain conclusions.
Warning: Incase you haven't figured it out this post is going to be about the TV and how crappy the shows are. Let me also add that its going to be long and mean as I have a headache and there is still nothing good on TV. Compounded by the fact that my maid is absconding, my landlord is probably serving me notice in about a week's time, my friends are busssy, I have a headache (wait I think I already said that) and I haven't left my bedroom in the past 24 hours the chances of this post making reasonable reading are slim. Muck, I just caught the advt. for Rakhi Sawant ka swayambar - do yourself a favour and skip to the end.
So the conclusions are:
Conclusion no. 1: I am way too old and grey. Not only do I not understand the generation succeeding mine, I am also having trouble keeping up with the telly tastes of my own generation. I mean comeon guys. There is NOTHING good on. How can you spend the whole weekend on this damn thing!
Conclusion no. 2: Telly world is short of talent.
Conclusion no. 3: Telly world is short of talent and doesn't know it yet.
Conclusion no. 4: The new generation kids are such mind numbing morons with shallow self image, zero IQ and so low a moral grounding that its not even funny any more. Okay maybe I am too quick to judge but this conclusion was reached while watching 3 reality shows on MTV and Real involving teemagers and some young 20 year olds battle for stupid titles (Teen Diva)and yes love (Splitsvilla and somethg somethg).
Conclusion no. 5: People are becoming uglier by the day. This despite all the beauty creams, lotions and treatment that have come up. I mean I had no expectations from the soap opera people but atleast movie stars should look reasonably tolerable. Purane zamane mein kitne goodlooking actors hote the.
Conclusion no. 6: There is just too much sex on TV. I mean I am very liberal a person. I have no issues with short dresses, pre marital sex or post marital for that matter, gays and lesbians are welcome at my party and i firmly believe in the dictum: to each his own. But still I cant help be judgemental about these advts. and music videos and movies that just objectify women and men for that matter.
I still remember there were times long back when if something risque would come on TV one would be a little squeamish watching it with one's parents. delicately you would leave the room or change the channel or something. But now every damn thing is about just one thing.
(((There is more to talk about this. Next post mein par.)))
Now lets dig a little more deep. Let me review whats on these days.
Zee, Colors, Imagine, star plus par soaps aate hain. Lux, haman, lifebouy wale nahin.
Daily soap tells you its okay if you love someone and marry another and then sleep wit your brother in law and then cheat on him (your brother in law not the hubby) with your college sweet heart. Women wear tonnes of makeup and jewellery every day even night. And somehow manage to look butt ugly even with all that muck (this time its muck not F___) on their face. I have so far identified 2 types of women: The good one who has no brains or career aspirations and lives and dies and invariably marries for the family. Everything is about the family or her love or about looking demure and pretty. Did you catch that muckall show Dil Mil Gaye? Supposedly doctors hain sab. I prayed extra hard last night for good health after watching that show. And the other type of female characters: biatch who wants money, someone else's husband, revemge, or money. No greys in the telly world. All black or white. I wished the distinction could have more parameters : like the good ones are pretty and well dressed and the bad ones are not. But sadly I found all needed to be sent to a personal grooming seminar in jhumritalaiya and attend the art of wearing less makeup. And the men of the telly world : they are too much of a disappointment to even write about. Sometimes even good clothes, fake accents and body building sessions cant help you overcome nature's revenge - that is your face. By the way in a twisted sense, telly world is female dominated. It claims to see the world from the women's perspective. Last night I got the aha moment. Now I know why the guys think that women are brainless twits. Its the damn TV. If anyone things that "Ghar ki laxmi:betiyaan" is how the world really is, I would myself call them names much worse than brainless twits.
News Channel: Mere ko mili nahin abhi tak. Still looking. Incase I get one I will certainly review.
There are some channels Aaj tak types that some times show some national happenings in the break time they get from airing bollywood happenings, advertisements, talkshows on bollywood, breaking news like finding the road that pandavs took in Mahabharat to go to heaven (I swear i saw that program). Btw India is defined by Delhi, kolkata and Mumbai. East ki states ka kabhi mention nahin aata. Sikkim etc. mein ya toh issues hi nahin hain ya phir its not worth these channels time to talk about them. Aaj Tak bata raha ki KJo is working hard on his next film Khan is King. Chalo thats good to know. Kabhi remote South mein kya ho raha hai, farmer suicides ka kya update hai yeh bhi bata dena. "Greasepaint in the time of personal trauma" yeh aa raha hai on Headlines Today.
Reality shows: Rakhi ka swayamvar. Need I say more.
To be contd
Warning: Incase you haven't figured it out this post is going to be about the TV and how crappy the shows are. Let me also add that its going to be long and mean as I have a headache and there is still nothing good on TV. Compounded by the fact that my maid is absconding, my landlord is probably serving me notice in about a week's time, my friends are busssy, I have a headache (wait I think I already said that) and I haven't left my bedroom in the past 24 hours the chances of this post making reasonable reading are slim. Muck, I just caught the advt. for Rakhi Sawant ka swayambar - do yourself a favour and skip to the end.
So the conclusions are:
Conclusion no. 1: I am way too old and grey. Not only do I not understand the generation succeeding mine, I am also having trouble keeping up with the telly tastes of my own generation. I mean comeon guys. There is NOTHING good on. How can you spend the whole weekend on this damn thing!
Conclusion no. 2: Telly world is short of talent.
Conclusion no. 3: Telly world is short of talent and doesn't know it yet.
Conclusion no. 4: The new generation kids are such mind numbing morons with shallow self image, zero IQ and so low a moral grounding that its not even funny any more. Okay maybe I am too quick to judge but this conclusion was reached while watching 3 reality shows on MTV and Real involving teemagers and some young 20 year olds battle for stupid titles (Teen Diva)and yes love (Splitsvilla and somethg somethg).
Conclusion no. 5: People are becoming uglier by the day. This despite all the beauty creams, lotions and treatment that have come up. I mean I had no expectations from the soap opera people but atleast movie stars should look reasonably tolerable. Purane zamane mein kitne goodlooking actors hote the.
Conclusion no. 6: There is just too much sex on TV. I mean I am very liberal a person. I have no issues with short dresses, pre marital sex or post marital for that matter, gays and lesbians are welcome at my party and i firmly believe in the dictum: to each his own. But still I cant help be judgemental about these advts. and music videos and movies that just objectify women and men for that matter.
I still remember there were times long back when if something risque would come on TV one would be a little squeamish watching it with one's parents. delicately you would leave the room or change the channel or something. But now every damn thing is about just one thing.
(((There is more to talk about this. Next post mein par.)))
Now lets dig a little more deep. Let me review whats on these days.
Zee, Colors, Imagine, star plus par soaps aate hain. Lux, haman, lifebouy wale nahin.
Daily soap tells you its okay if you love someone and marry another and then sleep wit your brother in law and then cheat on him (your brother in law not the hubby) with your college sweet heart. Women wear tonnes of makeup and jewellery every day even night. And somehow manage to look butt ugly even with all that muck (this time its muck not F___) on their face. I have so far identified 2 types of women: The good one who has no brains or career aspirations and lives and dies and invariably marries for the family. Everything is about the family or her love or about looking demure and pretty. Did you catch that muckall show Dil Mil Gaye? Supposedly doctors hain sab. I prayed extra hard last night for good health after watching that show. And the other type of female characters: biatch who wants money, someone else's husband, revemge, or money. No greys in the telly world. All black or white. I wished the distinction could have more parameters : like the good ones are pretty and well dressed and the bad ones are not. But sadly I found all needed to be sent to a personal grooming seminar in jhumritalaiya and attend the art of wearing less makeup. And the men of the telly world : they are too much of a disappointment to even write about. Sometimes even good clothes, fake accents and body building sessions cant help you overcome nature's revenge - that is your face. By the way in a twisted sense, telly world is female dominated. It claims to see the world from the women's perspective. Last night I got the aha moment. Now I know why the guys think that women are brainless twits. Its the damn TV. If anyone things that "Ghar ki laxmi:betiyaan" is how the world really is, I would myself call them names much worse than brainless twits.
News Channel: Mere ko mili nahin abhi tak. Still looking. Incase I get one I will certainly review.
There are some channels Aaj tak types that some times show some national happenings in the break time they get from airing bollywood happenings, advertisements, talkshows on bollywood, breaking news like finding the road that pandavs took in Mahabharat to go to heaven (I swear i saw that program). Btw India is defined by Delhi, kolkata and Mumbai. East ki states ka kabhi mention nahin aata. Sikkim etc. mein ya toh issues hi nahin hain ya phir its not worth these channels time to talk about them. Aaj Tak bata raha ki KJo is working hard on his next film Khan is King. Chalo thats good to know. Kabhi remote South mein kya ho raha hai, farmer suicides ka kya update hai yeh bhi bata dena. "Greasepaint in the time of personal trauma" yeh aa raha hai on Headlines Today.
Reality shows: Rakhi ka swayamvar. Need I say more.
To be contd
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Picasso ka dost kaun?
Picasso ka dost kaun? Batao. Batao. Ya phir Van Gogh ka? Nahin pata naa. Socho Mozart ka? Ya Beethoven ka? I now realise why these greats never have BFF (best friends forever, duh!).
Imagine Picasso as a budding painter. He would have his own personal space where he would put up his sketches/paintings (s/p) for everyone to see. Then just like an excited child who finally gets 9/10 in handwriting from grumpy Mrs Jones and runs home to show mommy the report card, he (Picasso not the child) would call his friend on the phone. Hey naya painting banaya hai. check karo and comment, he would say. I presume.
And then that so called friend in about an hour would call back and proceed to criticise every damn thing about Picasso's s/p. Brush strokes sahi nahin hain. Colours ache nahin hai. You should have used blue. And why are all your paintings about horses? (wait am I thinking of Picasso dada ya apne hussain miya) And finally the closing: Get a life yaar. Kya paintings banana roz roz.
And there in that one phone call, Picasso ka career shuru hone se pehle behrehmi se khatam kar diya jata hai. All in the name of constructive open feedback.
Isilliye Picasso ke koi friends nahin the. Aur isiliye Picasso became so great!
Samjhe!
Imagine Picasso as a budding painter. He would have his own personal space where he would put up his sketches/paintings (s/p) for everyone to see. Then just like an excited child who finally gets 9/10 in handwriting from grumpy Mrs Jones and runs home to show mommy the report card, he (Picasso not the child) would call his friend on the phone. Hey naya painting banaya hai. check karo and comment, he would say. I presume.
And then that so called friend in about an hour would call back and proceed to criticise every damn thing about Picasso's s/p. Brush strokes sahi nahin hain. Colours ache nahin hai. You should have used blue. And why are all your paintings about horses? (wait am I thinking of Picasso dada ya apne hussain miya) And finally the closing: Get a life yaar. Kya paintings banana roz roz.
And there in that one phone call, Picasso ka career shuru hone se pehle behrehmi se khatam kar diya jata hai. All in the name of constructive open feedback.
Isilliye Picasso ke koi friends nahin the. Aur isiliye Picasso became so great!
Samjhe!
The break up (Story)
Papa bought this cute new Barbie for me. I was thrilled. Delighted. Overjoyed. I didnot expect that doll. He never told me she is coming. And in those days everyone knew Barbie was rare. It meant your papa reallllly loved you. That you were the favourite. Mummy had also been err mum about it. Did she know? I am sure papa must have not told her. Otherwise she would have protested. I hadn't been making my bed or doing my homework or being good. Still he didn't know or more likely he didn't care about those things. He wanted me to be happy and he got me the doll. Sumi I named it. I loved her like how much a fat chick would love a bowl of chocolate icecream on a hot Delhi afternoon. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I was smitten. I never let anyone touch her. She was mine. Mine alone. Sharing her was out of the question. And for weeks I would finish my classes, do the essentials and then play with her. Sumi and I. Quite a couple were we. I was happy. All the time.
Then one day. Suddenly she left. Papa said he gave it to Choti as choti had gotten hurt and was crying and Sumi made her feel better. There was other stuff too that he said but I never listened. I was furious and heart broken and betrayed and confused all at the same time. If you have ever been in love you would know why.
1. How dare you give her away.
2. I miss her. Please come back. Please pretty please. Some how. Please God please.
3. How could you do this to me?
4. Why did this happen? How do I get her back?
I was hysterical. Upset for days. I cried like crazy, refused to eat food, threw tantrums and yes didnot speak to my dad for a month. I was sad for a longer time after that.
Anyway 10 years later Choti the witch (or something that rhymes with that) returned Sumi to me. I looked at Sumi. She looked old but well. Her eyes still had that twinkle. As Choti left, I picked up my cell to call papa. I am sorry for Sumi episode papa. He laughed arrey you were too young. Yes papa but I am sorry and I love you. Bye.
I took Sumi and locked her in the trunk. She had no effect on me now. I was over her.
Then one day. Suddenly she left. Papa said he gave it to Choti as choti had gotten hurt and was crying and Sumi made her feel better. There was other stuff too that he said but I never listened. I was furious and heart broken and betrayed and confused all at the same time. If you have ever been in love you would know why.
1. How dare you give her away.
2. I miss her. Please come back. Please pretty please. Some how. Please God please.
3. How could you do this to me?
4. Why did this happen? How do I get her back?
I was hysterical. Upset for days. I cried like crazy, refused to eat food, threw tantrums and yes didnot speak to my dad for a month. I was sad for a longer time after that.
Anyway 10 years later Choti the witch (or something that rhymes with that) returned Sumi to me. I looked at Sumi. She looked old but well. Her eyes still had that twinkle. As Choti left, I picked up my cell to call papa. I am sorry for Sumi episode papa. He laughed arrey you were too young. Yes papa but I am sorry and I love you. Bye.
I took Sumi and locked her in the trunk. She had no effect on me now. I was over her.
Aadi - Story 2
He saw her for the first time when she was 10 years old. Fat and dull- he thought. The only thing that made him go to her house to play was the fact her mother was an excellent cook and a doting aunty who insisted on feeding him goodies every time he came. Two years later he moved to Kanpur and they expectantly lost touch.
An engineering degree, lots of daru-bazi, plenty of crushes, a short secret fling, and a large circle of friends later he found himself in Mumbai. This time when they met he was 26. He almost didn’t go for the first meeting.
“Hi Aadi, how are you? This is Neha ..neha agarwal..dilli se.. pehchana. I got your number from aunty. I have also just moved to Mumbai. Though it would be nice to meet once. Are you free this weekend?”
Neha Agrawal– arrey woh moti. Sheessh. Saala pehle toh koi ladki phone nahin karti aur agar phone aata hai to iss moti ka! But he realized that his roomie was listening so in his most cocky voice he drawled “Neeeeha. Kaisi ho! Offfcourse yaar I remember you. How is aunty? I still miss her cooking. (he he) Haan Haan lets meet up this weekend. How about Barista near….”
So thanks to Abhi and his habit of listening to every conversation Aadi had, Aadi found himself at Barista at the designated time. When she walked in – his heart skipped a beat. Well it couldn’t really otherwise he would have collapsed but to him it felt like it did. Secretly reading Barbara Cartland and M&B makes you acutely aware of these sensations.
They hit it off from the first moment. Actually she thought he was a okay types (as she later told her friend) and a loud talker. But as for him the first meeting was the sign from above - sign that she was ‘IT’. Bas, lets just say he was hooked from the word ‘Go’. They kept meeting regularly for the next two years and he never once mentioned his feelings to her. She was involved with some one else. And while she was falling out of love with the guy he would never meet, his feelings for her were reaching their crescendo.
To make things bearable he decided to write to her. A letter for every day. All the passion that you would never associate with someone so analytical in his work found its way into those letters. 365 letters later he was told that she had split with her guy. But this didn’t make things any easy for him. For post that tempestuous relationship she was (as she put it) “off men”. All her conversations were now dark and brooding.
One evening he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He confessed. He confessed his love, his feelings for her, the fact that he thought of her before going to sleep and that it was with her thought that he woke up. Of the letters he had written, the future plans he had made. Of how he thought they would be the happiest together and how this was what was the best thing that could happen to both of them. She listened silently to the long speech. A strange mix of emotions were present – he had started with passion and love; briefly he was angry at her silence; then came the pleading and the tears and finally desperation.
Why is it that two people in the same relationship sometimes can never view it with the same lens? She never understood his passion. His next one year was spent in thinking of ways to convince her, to make her realize that she was wrong, that they were meant to be. As firmer her Nos became, the more hopeless in love was he.
He became quiet, sullen and bad tempered. His friends noticed the change. His mother too. To make it worse the rishtas had started coming for the both of them. Both refused but for entirely different reasons. And one day she dropped the bombshell. “Im going2 US. Its 4 the bst. Sorry for all this mess Aadi. Plz b hppy.” read the sms.
He met her the day she was leaving. He gave her the half hug you can give a female friend in India and pressed a parcel into her hand. “Something to read on the flight”, he said. He waited for a month for her to reply.
Those letters. They were his last hope. If she didn’t get them, nothing would ever convince her. A week passed with no word. She must be settling in. Another passed. New job hai, she must be tied up. Another week went by. He grew impatient and finally a month later he called. They had their first international fight. He accused her of being insensitive and escapist, trapped in her past. She countered that he was cruel and hurtful. Many words later, he found out she had never finished reading the letters. His heart finally broke with that realization. And he hung up.
Lets be friends, she said in the end. “un huh” was all he could manage.
The next day he quit his job and a week later moved to Hyderabad, A change of air would do me good was the thought. At 30, he was now no longer the man he was before. She had changed him. But as they say the worst was yet to come. New place, new office, new people. Six months into the city, he met Sumi. She was his apprentice- mentee in the organizational parlance. She was funny and cute. Didn’t make his heart stop as Neha but time did fly by quickly when he was with her. Within an year they decided to marry.
Three years later Mr. and Mrs. Aadi Malhotra found themselves back in Delhi. Three years of marriage make you realise how overrated companionship is. Both of them were getting tired of each other. Sumi felt that Aadi never paid her enough attention. He was aloof at times. Watched way too much football and had loud gross friends. Aadi's defence always was: Its soccer not football first of all. Friends' loudness and grossity werenot for her to judge and will she please learn to cook something atleast.
Their bickering was growing worse day by day. And then one day, she arrived. A simple facebook message : Aadi, Its been a long time. Am in India for a week. Can we meet? Will understand if you say no.
To be accurate Aadi's first response was to say: NO. But as he was typing the 'O' he heard Sumi in the kitchen say: phir TV laga liya. Pata nahin kitna TV dekhte hain. office se aaye nahin ki match shuru. Iss football se toh main tang a agayi hoon. Aadi quickly pressed backspace and wrote: Sure. Am in delhi. Tell me when and where.
They met at the old Barista. Aadi and Neha. It was like she had never left. "I am sorry aadi. I never responded to those letters but I wanted to be sure of my feelings for you. Your love scared me Aadi and I felt I wasn't ready for it. I just wanted to tell you that.And yes also that I love you."
For once Aadi was dumbstuck. He had no idea what to say. She looked stunning and kissable. And after 2 minutes of not so pious thoughts, he remembered he had a wife at home. "I am married now Neha"
"I know Aadi. I know. For the past few months I have been replying to those letters you wrote all 365 of them. I just wanted you to have the replies. Here. Goodbye." She left. Aadi watched her go. His eyes followed her till she sat in the taxi and then he sat looking at the parcel.
He opened it. Her perfume hit him. He sat there for 3 hours going through her work. She wasn't a good writer. (Nobody writes as well as I do. He smiled.) But she did manage to put her point across. And that point was simple: She wanted him back.
He left her letters in the car. On returning home, he ate dinner quietly and then sat staring at his laptoop wondering what to do.
An engineering degree, lots of daru-bazi, plenty of crushes, a short secret fling, and a large circle of friends later he found himself in Mumbai. This time when they met he was 26. He almost didn’t go for the first meeting.
“Hi Aadi, how are you? This is Neha ..neha agarwal..dilli se.. pehchana. I got your number from aunty. I have also just moved to Mumbai. Though it would be nice to meet once. Are you free this weekend?”
Neha Agrawal– arrey woh moti. Sheessh. Saala pehle toh koi ladki phone nahin karti aur agar phone aata hai to iss moti ka! But he realized that his roomie was listening so in his most cocky voice he drawled “Neeeeha. Kaisi ho! Offfcourse yaar I remember you. How is aunty? I still miss her cooking. (he he) Haan Haan lets meet up this weekend. How about Barista near….”
So thanks to Abhi and his habit of listening to every conversation Aadi had, Aadi found himself at Barista at the designated time. When she walked in – his heart skipped a beat. Well it couldn’t really otherwise he would have collapsed but to him it felt like it did. Secretly reading Barbara Cartland and M&B makes you acutely aware of these sensations.
They hit it off from the first moment. Actually she thought he was a okay types (as she later told her friend) and a loud talker. But as for him the first meeting was the sign from above - sign that she was ‘IT’. Bas, lets just say he was hooked from the word ‘Go’. They kept meeting regularly for the next two years and he never once mentioned his feelings to her. She was involved with some one else. And while she was falling out of love with the guy he would never meet, his feelings for her were reaching their crescendo.
To make things bearable he decided to write to her. A letter for every day. All the passion that you would never associate with someone so analytical in his work found its way into those letters. 365 letters later he was told that she had split with her guy. But this didn’t make things any easy for him. For post that tempestuous relationship she was (as she put it) “off men”. All her conversations were now dark and brooding.
One evening he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He confessed. He confessed his love, his feelings for her, the fact that he thought of her before going to sleep and that it was with her thought that he woke up. Of the letters he had written, the future plans he had made. Of how he thought they would be the happiest together and how this was what was the best thing that could happen to both of them. She listened silently to the long speech. A strange mix of emotions were present – he had started with passion and love; briefly he was angry at her silence; then came the pleading and the tears and finally desperation.
Why is it that two people in the same relationship sometimes can never view it with the same lens? She never understood his passion. His next one year was spent in thinking of ways to convince her, to make her realize that she was wrong, that they were meant to be. As firmer her Nos became, the more hopeless in love was he.
He became quiet, sullen and bad tempered. His friends noticed the change. His mother too. To make it worse the rishtas had started coming for the both of them. Both refused but for entirely different reasons. And one day she dropped the bombshell. “Im going2 US. Its 4 the bst. Sorry for all this mess Aadi. Plz b hppy.” read the sms.
He met her the day she was leaving. He gave her the half hug you can give a female friend in India and pressed a parcel into her hand. “Something to read on the flight”, he said. He waited for a month for her to reply.
Those letters. They were his last hope. If she didn’t get them, nothing would ever convince her. A week passed with no word. She must be settling in. Another passed. New job hai, she must be tied up. Another week went by. He grew impatient and finally a month later he called. They had their first international fight. He accused her of being insensitive and escapist, trapped in her past. She countered that he was cruel and hurtful. Many words later, he found out she had never finished reading the letters. His heart finally broke with that realization. And he hung up.
Lets be friends, she said in the end. “un huh” was all he could manage.
The next day he quit his job and a week later moved to Hyderabad, A change of air would do me good was the thought. At 30, he was now no longer the man he was before. She had changed him. But as they say the worst was yet to come. New place, new office, new people. Six months into the city, he met Sumi. She was his apprentice- mentee in the organizational parlance. She was funny and cute. Didn’t make his heart stop as Neha but time did fly by quickly when he was with her. Within an year they decided to marry.
Three years later Mr. and Mrs. Aadi Malhotra found themselves back in Delhi. Three years of marriage make you realise how overrated companionship is. Both of them were getting tired of each other. Sumi felt that Aadi never paid her enough attention. He was aloof at times. Watched way too much football and had loud gross friends. Aadi's defence always was: Its soccer not football first of all. Friends' loudness and grossity werenot for her to judge and will she please learn to cook something atleast.
Their bickering was growing worse day by day. And then one day, she arrived. A simple facebook message : Aadi, Its been a long time. Am in India for a week. Can we meet? Will understand if you say no.
To be accurate Aadi's first response was to say: NO. But as he was typing the 'O' he heard Sumi in the kitchen say: phir TV laga liya. Pata nahin kitna TV dekhte hain. office se aaye nahin ki match shuru. Iss football se toh main tang a agayi hoon. Aadi quickly pressed backspace and wrote: Sure. Am in delhi. Tell me when and where.
They met at the old Barista. Aadi and Neha. It was like she had never left. "I am sorry aadi. I never responded to those letters but I wanted to be sure of my feelings for you. Your love scared me Aadi and I felt I wasn't ready for it. I just wanted to tell you that.And yes also that I love you."
For once Aadi was dumbstuck. He had no idea what to say. She looked stunning and kissable. And after 2 minutes of not so pious thoughts, he remembered he had a wife at home. "I am married now Neha"
"I know Aadi. I know. For the past few months I have been replying to those letters you wrote all 365 of them. I just wanted you to have the replies. Here. Goodbye." She left. Aadi watched her go. His eyes followed her till she sat in the taxi and then he sat looking at the parcel.
He opened it. Her perfume hit him. He sat there for 3 hours going through her work. She wasn't a good writer. (Nobody writes as well as I do. He smiled.) But she did manage to put her point across. And that point was simple: She wanted him back.
He left her letters in the car. On returning home, he ate dinner quietly and then sat staring at his laptoop wondering what to do.
Aadi - Story 1
She stood in the court, head held high. She confessed to her love, their affair, admitted to knowing that he used the company funds to take her for her Egyptian holiday and acknowledged that she knew he was married. Twenty minutes into her speech - his job, reputation and the case was finished. He was as good as divorced.
As she walked out the courtroom, Aadi asked her to stop. "Oh gudia don't look so sad. I know they cornered you. You couldn't help it. No need to apologise. Wait in the car for me. Lets just get home." She said nothing.
On the drive back, both were silent. As they were reaching his home Aadi said "Gudia, it doesn't matter if they fire me. Which I know they will. I don't regret a thing. Four years in that shit marriage I never felt alive even for a moment. Sumi tried to make it work but I just didn't love her. I never loved anyone till I met you. I don't know what is it about you - the things you say, the way you move, your books everything is just so irresistable. I love you Aayesha. I love you so much. And don't you worry everything will be fine. I will make it okay. Did Anwar call? (She nodded.) So you know right? The registration is done. I have transferred the house in your name. Now let's see Sumi try to wriggle that from me now. Bitch has nearly cost me fortune to get rid off."
Aayesha didn't say anything. Just leaned on the right and pressed her body next to his. He kissed her hair and the rest of the drive was spent silently listening to 'November Rain.'
He rang the door bell- twice. Sumi answered it - looking radiant in her chiffons. Aayesha was hesitant for a moment stepping in but Aadi firmly held her hand.
Sumi spoke first. "Please let's not be melodramatic today. I have made drinks for everyone. Let us just have them."
"Aayesha doesn't drink. She has only...."
"Coke with lots of ice ( Sumi interrupted) I know Aadi"
"How do you know that? Let me guess. You hired a dick to track us. Typical of a bitch. And whose bags are these? Are you clearing out of my house?"
Sumi laughed. She always had a mirthful laugh. Unabashed and undulterated. "Oh Aadi, do you remember last year on our anniversary when you told me you rather #$%^ the maid than be with me. You always had a way with words. Anyway, I realised that day this marriage was not worth fighting for. In college, you know, someone was in love with me. Every day I got a little note saying how wonderful I was. When I found out the writer's identity I got scared and nothing ever happened between us. But those notes they made me feel alive then. She knew me so well. So the very next day after you had left for office I went through all my old contacts to find out where Aayesha was. And would you believe it - She was in Delhi all this time. We met the next week. And everyday after that. This was her idea. She was aways the brilliant one. Anyway, we just thought you should know what actually happened. Now please let's not be melodramatic today. I will ask the maid to put your bags in the car. Your shaving kit is in the red suitcase. My lawyer will get in touch with yours tomorrow. "
Aadi gulped down his drink without a word. As he closed the front door behind him his last vision was of the two women tenderly embracing each other. As they broke away from their kiss, his heart broke. He was never quite the same man again.
Inside Aayesha laughed loudly. "You are such a dramebaaz, Sumi."
S: Hey can't I have some fun sometime! (eyes twinkling with glee)
A: I wasn't prepared for the kiss (frowning)
S: Yes, err that was a spur of the moment improvisation. (smilling wickedly)
A:But why all this kahani, bebo?
S: You know Aadi hates to lose. And the one thing that he would hate more than losing is losing to a woman. That too someone like me. He never loved me. You know that. But he never respected me as well. And for months know I have wanted to slap him out of his smugness, out of this feeling of power that he knew had over me just because I loved him. So just getting the house was not enough. He can build one again. Although I would like to see which bank would hire him now? Still. I needed him to lose the thing he most needed. You.
A:Cool. Complicated enough. I think I would use it for my next novel
S:Go ahead. Pay me my loyalties before that. Speaking of payment, the broker said he has found a buyer already. Great price. Anwar called a while back. He is waiting for you at home. Have dinner with me first Aayesha. I hate eating alone.
As she walked out the courtroom, Aadi asked her to stop. "Oh gudia don't look so sad. I know they cornered you. You couldn't help it. No need to apologise. Wait in the car for me. Lets just get home." She said nothing.
On the drive back, both were silent. As they were reaching his home Aadi said "Gudia, it doesn't matter if they fire me. Which I know they will. I don't regret a thing. Four years in that shit marriage I never felt alive even for a moment. Sumi tried to make it work but I just didn't love her. I never loved anyone till I met you. I don't know what is it about you - the things you say, the way you move, your books everything is just so irresistable. I love you Aayesha. I love you so much. And don't you worry everything will be fine. I will make it okay. Did Anwar call? (She nodded.) So you know right? The registration is done. I have transferred the house in your name. Now let's see Sumi try to wriggle that from me now. Bitch has nearly cost me fortune to get rid off."
Aayesha didn't say anything. Just leaned on the right and pressed her body next to his. He kissed her hair and the rest of the drive was spent silently listening to 'November Rain.'
He rang the door bell- twice. Sumi answered it - looking radiant in her chiffons. Aayesha was hesitant for a moment stepping in but Aadi firmly held her hand.
Sumi spoke first. "Please let's not be melodramatic today. I have made drinks for everyone. Let us just have them."
"Aayesha doesn't drink. She has only...."
"Coke with lots of ice ( Sumi interrupted) I know Aadi"
"How do you know that? Let me guess. You hired a dick to track us. Typical of a bitch. And whose bags are these? Are you clearing out of my house?"
Sumi laughed. She always had a mirthful laugh. Unabashed and undulterated. "Oh Aadi, do you remember last year on our anniversary when you told me you rather #$%^ the maid than be with me. You always had a way with words. Anyway, I realised that day this marriage was not worth fighting for. In college, you know, someone was in love with me. Every day I got a little note saying how wonderful I was. When I found out the writer's identity I got scared and nothing ever happened between us. But those notes they made me feel alive then. She knew me so well. So the very next day after you had left for office I went through all my old contacts to find out where Aayesha was. And would you believe it - She was in Delhi all this time. We met the next week. And everyday after that. This was her idea. She was aways the brilliant one. Anyway, we just thought you should know what actually happened. Now please let's not be melodramatic today. I will ask the maid to put your bags in the car. Your shaving kit is in the red suitcase. My lawyer will get in touch with yours tomorrow. "
Aadi gulped down his drink without a word. As he closed the front door behind him his last vision was of the two women tenderly embracing each other. As they broke away from their kiss, his heart broke. He was never quite the same man again.
Inside Aayesha laughed loudly. "You are such a dramebaaz, Sumi."
S: Hey can't I have some fun sometime! (eyes twinkling with glee)
A: I wasn't prepared for the kiss (frowning)
S: Yes, err that was a spur of the moment improvisation. (smilling wickedly)
A:But why all this kahani, bebo?
S: You know Aadi hates to lose. And the one thing that he would hate more than losing is losing to a woman. That too someone like me. He never loved me. You know that. But he never respected me as well. And for months know I have wanted to slap him out of his smugness, out of this feeling of power that he knew had over me just because I loved him. So just getting the house was not enough. He can build one again. Although I would like to see which bank would hire him now? Still. I needed him to lose the thing he most needed. You.
A:Cool. Complicated enough. I think I would use it for my next novel
S:Go ahead. Pay me my loyalties before that. Speaking of payment, the broker said he has found a buyer already. Great price. Anwar called a while back. He is waiting for you at home. Have dinner with me first Aayesha. I hate eating alone.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Kodak Moments
I am as damn crazy about 'moments' as you can get. Let me explain. Kuch saal pehle TV par maine dekha woh Kodak moments wala advt. Voice over ne bataya ki Life is full of kodak moments. Abb aisa hai ji ki main mummy ki baat maanu ya na maanu advertisers ki sab baatein manti hoon. Toh agar add wale uncle ji keh rahe hai ki life is full of Kodak moments toh bhai life must be full of KM.
Bas tab se meri struggle shuru. Har samay KM ki fight. Aur saath mein shuru hui karibi logon ki shyamat. Kyunki KM banane ki zimmedari unki hai. Hamesha. Teen karibi log abhi tak psychiatrist ka bill bharne ke liye jo loan liya tha uski installment chukane ke liye naukri kar rahe hain. Two lapata hain. Aur ek ne aaj mujhe resignation bhej diya hai. Likha hai:
Yaar bahut fight hai tumhare saath. Bahut pressure rehta hai. Har cheez perfect karne ka. Agar jhagda bhi karo toh woh bhi tumko perfect chahiye.
Mera mann tha jawab doon: abbe kam se kam KM wala resignation toh karta. Kitna dramatic moment ho sakta tha. Main kehti: nahin Bhaiya nahin. Tum impromptu kuch deliver karte. Aur scene khatam hota mere closeup se.
Acha KM toh khair mashaallah kaafi aaye hain life mein. Pichle saal ke kuch pal (happy + sad):
Campus mein ghusna pehli baar. Mera pehla apna ghar. Tanay ka laptop thodna. Arora ki hasii. RK ka sweeetie namkaran. TB ki lapata belt par comments pass karna. RRS ka DMOP padana. RD ka "Hello madam ji" kehna. SP ke chakar mein Chachi naam padna. SI ke mails edit karna.(@#$% treat kahan hai meri) Pakode banana. Movie dekhna theatre style ghar par. Comp Strat mein A aana. Kale sir ki class. Bhagwan ji ki class. Moon sir ki jai. AB ko galli dena. (paper toh banaya karo yaar) Conjoint ka naa samajh mein aana. RJ se mulaqaat aur uske J-isms. AK ka ek saal. Diwalli ki mast photo meri. Grad mein sms karna phunny wale. Raat mein padna. Last 2 terms mein Ram bharose hona. Rona bahut sara. Nega mein dhoka khana. Prof DK ki counselling. Class mein advts dekhna- yaar subject hi wohi tha. VB ki bakar. Woh rooftop ki meeting. Gang ka fail hona. INFS mein B aana thx to dean listers and IIT passouts. Treats lena- dena. The Great kabab factory jana. Snooker seekhna. Squash raquet milna. TT mein nearly harana. Bday dunking. 3 cakes katna. Paise barbaad karna preterms mein. Seniors ka April fool banana. DBell ko dekhna. LDP mein time ka wastehona. ELP mein masti karna. Global Eco padhna. Nerkar ki class mein off the cuff brilliant cp karna. Goel ka khana. Mummy ko miss karna. Budget -rebudget karte rehna. Ric Charlesworth ko momento dena. C K Prahlad ka lecture attend karna. Nokia, Airtel, Biocon, Castrol etc. ke CEOs se milna. Pkakkar ka advt par funde dena. Naukri ka pehla interview. ISB ka pehla "Application shortlisted" sms. Consulting study group meetings bunk karna. Class ke break mein coffee peena. Chole Bhature cafe ke. Nimboo stall ko patronise karna. Relationship counselling karna. Aunty naam padna. :( Basanti banana. Dumb C jeetna.
bas yaar abhi ke liye itna hii..kaafi moments ho gaye.
Bas tab se meri struggle shuru. Har samay KM ki fight. Aur saath mein shuru hui karibi logon ki shyamat. Kyunki KM banane ki zimmedari unki hai. Hamesha. Teen karibi log abhi tak psychiatrist ka bill bharne ke liye jo loan liya tha uski installment chukane ke liye naukri kar rahe hain. Two lapata hain. Aur ek ne aaj mujhe resignation bhej diya hai. Likha hai:
Yaar bahut fight hai tumhare saath. Bahut pressure rehta hai. Har cheez perfect karne ka. Agar jhagda bhi karo toh woh bhi tumko perfect chahiye.
Mera mann tha jawab doon: abbe kam se kam KM wala resignation toh karta. Kitna dramatic moment ho sakta tha. Main kehti: nahin Bhaiya nahin. Tum impromptu kuch deliver karte. Aur scene khatam hota mere closeup se.
Acha KM toh khair mashaallah kaafi aaye hain life mein. Pichle saal ke kuch pal (happy + sad):
Campus mein ghusna pehli baar. Mera pehla apna ghar. Tanay ka laptop thodna. Arora ki hasii. RK ka sweeetie namkaran. TB ki lapata belt par comments pass karna. RRS ka DMOP padana. RD ka "Hello madam ji" kehna. SP ke chakar mein Chachi naam padna. SI ke mails edit karna.(@#$% treat kahan hai meri) Pakode banana. Movie dekhna theatre style ghar par. Comp Strat mein A aana. Kale sir ki class. Bhagwan ji ki class. Moon sir ki jai. AB ko galli dena. (paper toh banaya karo yaar) Conjoint ka naa samajh mein aana. RJ se mulaqaat aur uske J-isms. AK ka ek saal. Diwalli ki mast photo meri. Grad mein sms karna phunny wale. Raat mein padna. Last 2 terms mein Ram bharose hona. Rona bahut sara. Nega mein dhoka khana. Prof DK ki counselling. Class mein advts dekhna- yaar subject hi wohi tha. VB ki bakar. Woh rooftop ki meeting. Gang ka fail hona. INFS mein B aana thx to dean listers and IIT passouts. Treats lena- dena. The Great kabab factory jana. Snooker seekhna. Squash raquet milna. TT mein nearly harana. Bday dunking. 3 cakes katna. Paise barbaad karna preterms mein. Seniors ka April fool banana. DBell ko dekhna. LDP mein time ka wastehona. ELP mein masti karna. Global Eco padhna. Nerkar ki class mein off the cuff brilliant cp karna. Goel ka khana. Mummy ko miss karna. Budget -rebudget karte rehna. Ric Charlesworth ko momento dena. C K Prahlad ka lecture attend karna. Nokia, Airtel, Biocon, Castrol etc. ke CEOs se milna. Pkakkar ka advt par funde dena. Naukri ka pehla interview. ISB ka pehla "Application shortlisted" sms. Consulting study group meetings bunk karna. Class ke break mein coffee peena. Chole Bhature cafe ke. Nimboo stall ko patronise karna. Relationship counselling karna. Aunty naam padna. :( Basanti banana. Dumb C jeetna.
bas yaar abhi ke liye itna hii..kaafi moments ho gaye.
Faisal - Story 1
The riots had torn the town apart. There was not a street that was not burning - not a family that was not touched. In seven days a petty dispute over a piece of land had evolved into one of the worst communal riots the town had ever witnessed over the last fifty years.
It was 2 am when Faisal heard a thud in the verandah. Sleep had eluded him today as well. Kaun ho sakta hai. The rioters had moved into the far end of the town. And the looters who were now following the rioters’ footprints wouldn't be expected to raid the house of a poor car mechanic.
Usne paas rakhi hockey uthayi aur ek torch bhi (the bulb in the verandah had been broken three days back) "Kaun hai," woh chillaya. "Kaun hai saala wahan pe. Samne aa."
In the silence of the night he heard a whimpering sound. The torch light discovered a silhouette crouching next to the empty oil drum. Ek ladki thi. Bees-baiees saal ki lagti hai.
"Kaun hai tu"
She moved closer to the broken drum as if trying to hide behind it.
"Abey kaun hai tu. Chhup mat. Kya naam hai tera? Yahan kaise aayi? Kyon aayi? Bata."
Still no answer. Zeba ki yaad aayi usse. Woh bhi aise hi chipakti thi darwaze se jab kuch galti karti thi.
"Acha chal idhar aa. Dekh mein hockey rakh raha hoon. Mera naam Faisal hai. Yeh mera ghar hai. Main yahan baju mein jo Sulaiman Motors garage mein kaam karta hoon..tha..shayad. Ab toh na Sulaiman bhai rahe naa unka garage; Allah unhe jannat naseeb kare. Chal ab tu bata kaun hai tu. Tere abbo-ammi kahan hain? Bol naa. Dekh darr mat. Mere ko apna bhai maan. Zeba, meri behen, teri jitni hi hogi. Chal bol ab."
"Main yahan ki nahin hoon."
"Yahan ki matlab - Ahmed Nagar ki nahin hai. Toh kahan rehti hai."
"Saket Housing Society. Main aaj Delhi se aayi thi. Bhaiya aaye the lene station par. Par wahan hamla ho gaya aur main kho gayi. Please mujhe ghar pauncha do."
"Naam kya hai tera."
"Sumi"
Faisal was quiet for the next few minutes. Sirf do khayal the uske paas - ek Zeba ka aur ek ki yeh ladki Hindu hai. Phir usse yaad aayi ammi jaan ki nasihantein. Ammi kehti thi har bar ki Quran sharif mein likha hai ki ek acha insaan har zarooratmand ki madad karta hai. Yeh Faisal teri khushkismati thi ke aaj kisiki madad karne ke layak hai.
“Faisal bhai! Faisal bhai darwaza kholo. Ek ladki aayi hai iss taraf. Hindu saali.”
“Chal andar jaa. Wahan Zeba ka burka rakha hai. Pehen le. Au khuda ke liye chupp rehna. Samjhi. Jaa ab. Bhag!”
He goes and opens the door.
“Kya hai? Kam se kam raat mein toh kuch sukoon mile. Kya hai?”
“Faisal bhai. Ek randi saali aayi hai iss taraf. Feroz ne dekha hai. Tumhari muder par chadi thi. Andar chhupi hogi.”
“Andar koi nahin hai. Main ne dekh liya hai. Feroz ko kuch galat faimi hogi.”
“Nahin Faisal bhai.” This time it was Feroz himself who chipped in. “Maine dekha. Allah tala jhoot na bulwaye. Yahin hai woh.”
“Main aakhri baar bol raha hoon yeh baat. Andar koi nahin hai. Jao tum log. Shaam se aise jaahiloon jaise ghoom rahe ho. Ghar jao. Subah hone wali hai. Fajr ka waqt ho raha hai.”
“Par Faisal bhai.”
“Jao”
Inside Sumi was shivering. She kept praying that the mob outside would listen to Faisal. “Oh God please help me. Please. Just let me go home. Please.”
She heard Faisal close the main door.
“Chale gaye sab”
“Thank you so much. Tumhare paas cell phone hai kya. Mera dead ho gaya hai. Mummy se baat karni hai."
“Nahin woh toh nahi hai. Ek kaam karo. Tum idhar andar so jao. Darwaza band kar lena. Main bahar sota hoon. Subah chod aaonga.”
Yeh keh ke who chala gaya. Sumi didn’t sleep the remaining night. At 5 ‘0 clock she heard Faisal get up. He completed his prayers and sharp at 6 knocked at her door. “Chalein” They left from the back ally. Crossed three mohallas. The damage of the riots was visible everywhere. Sumi covered from head to toe in Zeba’s burkha kept praying the whole time.
“Waise tumhari behen kahan hai.”
“Tum yahan kal hi aayi na Dilli se”
“Haan”
“Jhagda hamare mohalle se hi shuru hua tha. Pehle hi din ek toli aayi thi. Raat mein 3 baje. 2 ghante mein sab khatam kar diya.” Faisal rone laga. “Main nahin tha tab. Dost ke yahan gaya tha. Jab khabar mile tab bhaagte aaya. Kafan bhi nayi naseeb hua usse.”
“I am sorry.”
“Pata nahin kahan hai. Tumhari jaisi hi thi. Shayad tumse thodi moti. Inshallah milegi kabhi. Kahin. Dua karna.”
“Haan zaroor karoongi. Sab theek ho jayega. Tum mere bhaiya jaise hi ho.”
“Shukriya. Acha dekho yahan se tum logo ke ghar shuru hote hain. Zeba ke kapde de do mujhe.”
“Theek hai.”
After 15 minutes of walking, Sumi screams. “Woh raha mera ghar”
“Acha toh main chalta hoon”
“Suno”
“Abey dekho saale wahan jaa raha hai. Pakdo saale ko.”
The mob was upon them in a minute. Sumi screamed. “Main yahin ki hoon. Mera naam Sumi hai. Mera ghar hai samne. Please madd karo meri.”
“Aur tera naam kya hai”
“Faisal”
“Tum jaanti ho isko”
“Nahin”
“Chalo Faisal miyan tumse kuch baatein karni hain.”
Aaj tak Sumi ko nahi pata usne “nahin” kyon bola. Aaj tak Faisal ka bhi pata nain chala.
It was 2 am when Faisal heard a thud in the verandah. Sleep had eluded him today as well. Kaun ho sakta hai. The rioters had moved into the far end of the town. And the looters who were now following the rioters’ footprints wouldn't be expected to raid the house of a poor car mechanic.
Usne paas rakhi hockey uthayi aur ek torch bhi (the bulb in the verandah had been broken three days back) "Kaun hai," woh chillaya. "Kaun hai saala wahan pe. Samne aa."
In the silence of the night he heard a whimpering sound. The torch light discovered a silhouette crouching next to the empty oil drum. Ek ladki thi. Bees-baiees saal ki lagti hai.
"Kaun hai tu"
She moved closer to the broken drum as if trying to hide behind it.
"Abey kaun hai tu. Chhup mat. Kya naam hai tera? Yahan kaise aayi? Kyon aayi? Bata."
Still no answer. Zeba ki yaad aayi usse. Woh bhi aise hi chipakti thi darwaze se jab kuch galti karti thi.
"Acha chal idhar aa. Dekh mein hockey rakh raha hoon. Mera naam Faisal hai. Yeh mera ghar hai. Main yahan baju mein jo Sulaiman Motors garage mein kaam karta hoon..tha..shayad. Ab toh na Sulaiman bhai rahe naa unka garage; Allah unhe jannat naseeb kare. Chal ab tu bata kaun hai tu. Tere abbo-ammi kahan hain? Bol naa. Dekh darr mat. Mere ko apna bhai maan. Zeba, meri behen, teri jitni hi hogi. Chal bol ab."
"Main yahan ki nahin hoon."
"Yahan ki matlab - Ahmed Nagar ki nahin hai. Toh kahan rehti hai."
"Saket Housing Society. Main aaj Delhi se aayi thi. Bhaiya aaye the lene station par. Par wahan hamla ho gaya aur main kho gayi. Please mujhe ghar pauncha do."
"Naam kya hai tera."
"Sumi"
Faisal was quiet for the next few minutes. Sirf do khayal the uske paas - ek Zeba ka aur ek ki yeh ladki Hindu hai. Phir usse yaad aayi ammi jaan ki nasihantein. Ammi kehti thi har bar ki Quran sharif mein likha hai ki ek acha insaan har zarooratmand ki madad karta hai. Yeh Faisal teri khushkismati thi ke aaj kisiki madad karne ke layak hai.
“Faisal bhai! Faisal bhai darwaza kholo. Ek ladki aayi hai iss taraf. Hindu saali.”
“Chal andar jaa. Wahan Zeba ka burka rakha hai. Pehen le. Au khuda ke liye chupp rehna. Samjhi. Jaa ab. Bhag!”
He goes and opens the door.
“Kya hai? Kam se kam raat mein toh kuch sukoon mile. Kya hai?”
“Faisal bhai. Ek randi saali aayi hai iss taraf. Feroz ne dekha hai. Tumhari muder par chadi thi. Andar chhupi hogi.”
“Andar koi nahin hai. Main ne dekh liya hai. Feroz ko kuch galat faimi hogi.”
“Nahin Faisal bhai.” This time it was Feroz himself who chipped in. “Maine dekha. Allah tala jhoot na bulwaye. Yahin hai woh.”
“Main aakhri baar bol raha hoon yeh baat. Andar koi nahin hai. Jao tum log. Shaam se aise jaahiloon jaise ghoom rahe ho. Ghar jao. Subah hone wali hai. Fajr ka waqt ho raha hai.”
“Par Faisal bhai.”
“Jao”
Inside Sumi was shivering. She kept praying that the mob outside would listen to Faisal. “Oh God please help me. Please. Just let me go home. Please.”
She heard Faisal close the main door.
“Chale gaye sab”
“Thank you so much. Tumhare paas cell phone hai kya. Mera dead ho gaya hai. Mummy se baat karni hai."
“Nahin woh toh nahi hai. Ek kaam karo. Tum idhar andar so jao. Darwaza band kar lena. Main bahar sota hoon. Subah chod aaonga.”
Yeh keh ke who chala gaya. Sumi didn’t sleep the remaining night. At 5 ‘0 clock she heard Faisal get up. He completed his prayers and sharp at 6 knocked at her door. “Chalein” They left from the back ally. Crossed three mohallas. The damage of the riots was visible everywhere. Sumi covered from head to toe in Zeba’s burkha kept praying the whole time.
“Waise tumhari behen kahan hai.”
“Tum yahan kal hi aayi na Dilli se”
“Haan”
“Jhagda hamare mohalle se hi shuru hua tha. Pehle hi din ek toli aayi thi. Raat mein 3 baje. 2 ghante mein sab khatam kar diya.” Faisal rone laga. “Main nahin tha tab. Dost ke yahan gaya tha. Jab khabar mile tab bhaagte aaya. Kafan bhi nayi naseeb hua usse.”
“I am sorry.”
“Pata nahin kahan hai. Tumhari jaisi hi thi. Shayad tumse thodi moti. Inshallah milegi kabhi. Kahin. Dua karna.”
“Haan zaroor karoongi. Sab theek ho jayega. Tum mere bhaiya jaise hi ho.”
“Shukriya. Acha dekho yahan se tum logo ke ghar shuru hote hain. Zeba ke kapde de do mujhe.”
“Theek hai.”
After 15 minutes of walking, Sumi screams. “Woh raha mera ghar”
“Acha toh main chalta hoon”
“Suno”
“Abey dekho saale wahan jaa raha hai. Pakdo saale ko.”
The mob was upon them in a minute. Sumi screamed. “Main yahin ki hoon. Mera naam Sumi hai. Mera ghar hai samne. Please madd karo meri.”
“Aur tera naam kya hai”
“Faisal”
“Tum jaanti ho isko”
“Nahin”
“Chalo Faisal miyan tumse kuch baatein karni hain.”
Aaj tak Sumi ko nahi pata usne “nahin” kyon bola. Aaj tak Faisal ka bhi pata nain chala.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
What the muck
I wrote the longest blog entry possible. It was a Booker prize winning story. Humour tha, emotion tha, ladki thi, ladka tha - and for good measure SUSPENSE bhi tha. It was a story jisko padkhe Julia Roberts bolti- "Ouii maa ! kya mast likha hai ! iss par ek movie banao. Mujhe act karna hai." And George Clooney ka agent would spend sleepless nights hunting for my number kyonki George wanted to have a private word with the author-ess who had written this magical stuff.
I was just a "Publish" button away from global stardom, limosine rides, award cheques, Oscar for best original story and my George Clooney when the battery of my fudging laptop died. And as the screen went blank and as my immortal soul loudly shouted Muck (or something that rhymes with it) and as the precariously balanced glass of lassi fell from the bed (bachcho dont eat on the bed. dining table par sulaoongi varna), my dreams of walking the red carpet with Johnny Depp as arm candy vanished in thin air. Because as all us great authors know- we only have one great masterpiece in us - and that untitled beautiful sheer poetry of reading delight was mine.
Anyway while I wallow in self pity for the next 6 hours, 'A' I hope this is funny enough for you to read in the morning.
I was just a "Publish" button away from global stardom, limosine rides, award cheques, Oscar for best original story and my George Clooney when the battery of my fudging laptop died. And as the screen went blank and as my immortal soul loudly shouted Muck (or something that rhymes with it) and as the precariously balanced glass of lassi fell from the bed (bachcho dont eat on the bed. dining table par sulaoongi varna), my dreams of walking the red carpet with Johnny Depp as arm candy vanished in thin air. Because as all us great authors know- we only have one great masterpiece in us - and that untitled beautiful sheer poetry of reading delight was mine.
Anyway while I wallow in self pity for the next 6 hours, 'A' I hope this is funny enough for you to read in the morning.
Help sought
For weeks now a friend and I have talked about ways by which we can make a positive impact on society. To give back something to it. Unfortunately somehow things are not moving forward as quickly as we would like them to. The ideas we have will take time (and resources) to execute. Now patience as most of you might know is not one of my many virtues. Therefore, on an individual level I want to start doing something RIGHT NOW.
I am not aiming for a great impact, just looking at doing some thing atleast that involves looking beyond my petty problems and perennial blues. I haven’t done anything for society so far. Some of my friends have done so much work for their community that I am very ashamed of the lackadaisical attitude I have shown to life so far. So from here on I pledge to do something (howsoever miniscule) every week that will go beyond my regular trips to Shopper’s Stop and inane blog writing.
There are 2 very simple activities that I have picked for myself and I want you guys to carry out the same at your end.
1. Every Saturday I pledge to feed a family. I will get food packets prepared at home, go to a place of worship and distribute the same. For those of you who don’t have a maid, I recommend you contact any of the dozen small eateries that have sprung up everywhere you look and get basic food parcels made.
This is a doable exercise and doesn't involve much effort or money. I know some of you will think what's the big deal about it, it is too simple and regular. And that's precisely why I urge you to do the same at your end. I know making plans about removing world hunger seems more impactful and worthwhile but even this execise if carried out regularly can make a difference.
So all of you reading, promise me that this Saturday you will carry this out and if you are short of time (and in Hyd) I will help you with the same.
2. I plan to teach. English, Hindi and Basic Maths. Where? I have to figure that out. There is a masjid right in front of my home- maybe there..then again maybe not. Still haven’t worked out the logistics for this one. But yeah this is what I want to do. If you have any suggestions on how to carry out the same (in Hyderabad - near Raj Bhawan Road) leave a note.
So this is the plan for the weekend. Join me in executing action point no. 1 this Saturday. And yes let’s compare notes on Sunday then.
Blessings (Poem by me)
They came to bless thee
Each claiming you for his own
When they couldn’t decide
Who is to be your guide
They split your soul in two
I give thee independence
The powers to do as you please
All your life choose your path
Wherever it takes thee
"I will Give", He countered
"A chance to be truly free!
Have no one to walk beside you
Traverse alone your journey"
I give thee health and a steady hand
In frailing times post youth
"I match it with an ingrate child
Whose heart will be stone to you"
Take from me loving friends
Who will care for you deep
"How about I give you just one foe
But place him deep with-in "
I grant you the love for life
For pleasures it can bring
The knowledge of the joys it holds
The wisdom to know the right things
"I", said He, "will ensure
You chase your dreams through out
You never rest; You never breathe
You never completely re-form"
Oh my child I give thee heart
The chance to feel
The devil smiled as He walked away
"This makes it an even deal"
Then you whisper Dear lord
This somehow doesn’t sound right
Can I have just one more thing
to make my burden light
My lord then said:
Oh my child for all the lost times
And all your darkest days
I give you ME to help you see
The folly of your ways
And here I place an eternal cure
For every ill you may endure
Deep in heart you will always find
Hope will never be far behind
Each claiming you for his own
When they couldn’t decide
Who is to be your guide
They split your soul in two
I give thee independence
The powers to do as you please
All your life choose your path
Wherever it takes thee
"I will Give", He countered
"A chance to be truly free!
Have no one to walk beside you
Traverse alone your journey"
I give thee health and a steady hand
In frailing times post youth
"I match it with an ingrate child
Whose heart will be stone to you"
Take from me loving friends
Who will care for you deep
"How about I give you just one foe
But place him deep with-in "
I grant you the love for life
For pleasures it can bring
The knowledge of the joys it holds
The wisdom to know the right things
"I", said He, "will ensure
You chase your dreams through out
You never rest; You never breathe
You never completely re-form"
Oh my child I give thee heart
The chance to feel
The devil smiled as He walked away
"This makes it an even deal"
Then you whisper Dear lord
This somehow doesn’t sound right
Can I have just one more thing
to make my burden light
My lord then said:
Oh my child for all the lost times
And all your darkest days
I give you ME to help you see
The folly of your ways
And here I place an eternal cure
For every ill you may endure
Deep in heart you will always find
Hope will never be far behind
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Baby steps (Poem by me)
Here at the crossroads
I wonder which way to go
Should I head straight
Or turn right
Or walk back the old road
Or take left-
to a distant land , unfamiliar and unknown
I ask myself
Unsure and silent
So what I do is this
I pitch my tent
There itself
Resting searching and wonderin'
I wonder which way to go
Should I head straight
Or turn right
Or walk back the old road
Or take left-
to a distant land , unfamiliar and unknown
I ask myself
Unsure and silent
So what I do is this
I pitch my tent
There itself
Resting searching and wonderin'
Poems and H W Longfellow
A Psalm of Life
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
"Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act to each to-morrow
Finds us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing
Learn to labor and to wait.
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
"Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act to each to-morrow
Finds us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing
Learn to labor and to wait.
Domestic Violence (Story)
Disclaimers:
I don't like giving disclaimers about my blog. It's my own personal space after all. But somehow there are times I can't help feel apologetic about what I write. Maybe because I know it is trivial/lame or maybe because I don't want it to be misconstrued in anyway. Still here goes nothing. This lame ass story that I just wrote came to me because of an article I read sometime back on battered wives. No matter how educated/rich you are domestic violence in its many avtaars in a reality for most women in India. It is tragic I know. But undeniably true.
*********************************************************************************
3 a.m.: He staggered into the house. She couldn’t tell how late it was tough. Living below the poverty lines means you have to do without some luxuries-owning a watch is one of them. He was drunk. As he stood beating at the door she sat muttering “Main nahin jaaun toh..phir kya hoga” But years of being a wife make you mechanical. She got up opened the door. He didn’t quite cross the threshold completely and collapsed midway. Usually she would drag him inside and shut the door. This time, as if in silent rebellion, she let him be.
7.00a.m.: She came back into the house carrying two empty buckets. The municipal tap didn’t oblige today. He was awake rummaging through her trunk. She threw the buckets down and ran towards him. But she was late. He had found the 200 rupees she had hidden there. In one swift movement the money was in his pocket. She protested loudly, yelling. A slap later she was on the floor. She knew better than to resist. She closed her eyes bit her lip and waited. It would all get over in 5 minutes. Minutes later as he walked out the door all that remained of the incident was the bruise on her neck. "Phir der ho gayi aaj" she muttered to herself.
***
3 a.m.: Doorbell rang in quick succession. Sumi looked at the watch. "3 a.m.!" She sat muttering “Main nahin jaaun toh..phir kya hoga” But years of being a wife make you mechanical. She got up opened the door. He staggered into the house. He was drunk. He sat on the sofa trying to remove his shoes but collapsed midway. Usually she would put him to bed. This time, as if in silent rebellion, she let him be.
6.30 a.m.: She sat working on her presentation. "Aaj toh bas kisi tarah se neepat jaye yeh meeting" she muttered. From the adjoining room she heard him stirring. "Sumi" "Sumi" he called twice. He was awake. She went but tried to say no. "Early morning meeting hai aaj" A slap later she was on the carpeted floor. She knew better than to resist. She closed her eyes bit her lip and waited. It would all get over in 5 minutes. Minutes later as he walked out the door all that remained of the incident was the bruise on her neck. "Phir der ho gayi aaj" she muttered to herself.
****
7.30 a.m.: The door bell rang. She went to open it. She came in.
"Aaj phir late ho gayi tu"
"Kya karoon memsaab mera mard kal raat daru peekar aaya tha"
"Roz tera kuch bahana hota hai"
"Nahin memsaab, kasam se"
"Chal abb baat band kar aur pehle bartan kar"
Both the women went to the kitchen. Silently going over the happenings of the morning. Sumi looked up at Nimmo and her eyes fell on the bruise. Involuntarily her hand went up to her neck.
"Chal bartan baad mein kar lena. Pehle chai bana doo cup. Ek tu lelena. Fridge mein bread bhi rakhi hai."
So saying she turned back to the gas, stirring the vegetable pot. Nimmo surprised looked up and now noticed the mark on her memsaab's neck. Involuntarily her hand went to neck.
"Acha memsaab banati hoon"
They stood there knowing they were sharing more than just tea. Two worlds, two women - married to the same man.
Poems and Emily D
I wish I were a poet. No, wait. I wish I were a good poet. You know the kinds that can communicate volumes in a single sentence. I like lines that carry a different meaning every time you read them. Unfortunately I haven't progressed much from the schoolish version of poem writing - where every line rhymed with the next one and had as much depth in it as what a 10 year old could comprehend. :(
Anyway Emily Dickinson is one of my fav. poets. Here is one of her piece that I just read some time back:
I measure every Grief I meet
I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, Eyes
I wonder if It weighs like Mine
Or has an Easier size.
I wonder if They bore it long
Or did it just begin
I could not tell the Date of Mine
It feels so old a pain
I wonder if it hurts to live
And if They have to try
And whether – could They choose between
It would not be – to die
I note that Some – gone patient long
At length, renew their smile
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil
I wonder if when Years have piled
Some Thousands – on the Harm
That hurt them early – such a lapse
Could give them any Balm
Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve
Enlightened to a larger Pain
In Contrast with the Love
The Grieved – are many – I am told
There is the various Cause
Death – is but one – and comes but once –
And only nails the eyes
There's Grief of Want – and grief of Cold –
A sort they call "Despair"
There's Banishment from native Eyes –
In Sight of Native Air
And though I may not guess the kind –
Correctly – yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary
To note the fashions – of the Cross –
And how they're mostly worn
Still fascinated to presume
That Some – are like My Own
Anyway Emily Dickinson is one of my fav. poets. Here is one of her piece that I just read some time back:
I measure every Grief I meet
I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, Eyes
I wonder if It weighs like Mine
Or has an Easier size.
I wonder if They bore it long
Or did it just begin
I could not tell the Date of Mine
It feels so old a pain
I wonder if it hurts to live
And if They have to try
And whether – could They choose between
It would not be – to die
I note that Some – gone patient long
At length, renew their smile
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil
I wonder if when Years have piled
Some Thousands – on the Harm
That hurt them early – such a lapse
Could give them any Balm
Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve
Enlightened to a larger Pain
In Contrast with the Love
The Grieved – are many – I am told
There is the various Cause
Death – is but one – and comes but once –
And only nails the eyes
There's Grief of Want – and grief of Cold –
A sort they call "Despair"
There's Banishment from native Eyes –
In Sight of Native Air
And though I may not guess the kind –
Correctly – yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary
To note the fashions – of the Cross –
And how they're mostly worn
Still fascinated to presume
That Some – are like My Own
Sunday, June 14, 2009
My music
There are songs that speak volumes to me and music that I can listen to for hours together.
One such no. is Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen.
It can be just another regular song playing on your playlist or it can become a haunting piece of music that forces you to stop everything and just surrender to its melody. It can be religious and it can be erotic (depending on which version of the song you listen to). Its lyrics can be interpreted in multiple ways. It speaks to your heart - can touch your soul (listen to the K D Lang version) - a pensive melancholy overwhelming you everytime you hear it.
So when you are alone/lonely; draw the shades, close your eyes and Hallelujah!
Try the simple version:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kB67HO8tkQs
Or whats regarded as the best rendition of the song
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYiMJ2bC65A
One such no. is Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen.
It can be just another regular song playing on your playlist or it can become a haunting piece of music that forces you to stop everything and just surrender to its melody. It can be religious and it can be erotic (depending on which version of the song you listen to). Its lyrics can be interpreted in multiple ways. It speaks to your heart - can touch your soul (listen to the K D Lang version) - a pensive melancholy overwhelming you everytime you hear it.
So when you are alone/lonely; draw the shades, close your eyes and Hallelujah!
Try the simple version:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kB67HO8tkQs
Or whats regarded as the best rendition of the song
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYiMJ2bC65A
Lyrics:
I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth,
the minor fall, the major lift,
the baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelu----jah
Your faith was strong but you needed proof,
You saw her bathing on the roof,
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair,
She broke your throne, she cut your hair,
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelu----jah
Maybe I have been here before,
I know this room; I have walked this floor,
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch,
Love is not a victory march,
It's a cold and its a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelu----jah
There was a time you let me know whats really going on below,
But now you never show it to me, do you? (and)
Remember when I moved in you;
The holy dark was moving too,
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelu----jah
Maybe there's a God above,
and all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
And its not a cry you can hear at night,
Its not somebody who's seen the light,
Its a cold and its a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelu--jah
Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelu---u---jah
Plagiarized
The words borrowed
and 3 people alone could understand the irony behind this COL
How easy it would be to direct people to the indexed location in our memory and avoid going through the same dialogs, arguments, depression, insanity, levity again. You just say, "...Kindly refer to location {labels: love, despair, joke; circa: 2000/01/15; place: unknown} for what I intend to say, feel, emote, and interact at this point in time," and we all just move on.
and 3 people alone could understand the irony behind this COL
How easy it would be to direct people to the indexed location in our memory and avoid going through the same dialogs, arguments, depression, insanity, levity again. You just say, "...Kindly refer to location {labels: love, despair, joke; circa: 2000/01/15; place: unknown} for what I intend to say, feel, emote, and interact at this point in time," and we all just move on.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Heartbreak advices
Oyes! For the heart broken/ loveless/ ditched/ woebegone people here is some revenge advice that helps. I haven't tried any but others swear by it.
1. If you can't get her to love you, try her best friend.
There is nothing that pricks a girl more than to have her ex romance her best friend. And while you are at it, do all the stuff she (ur ex) wanted you to do (but you never did) like listen for hours, pay for shopping, cut your nails, watch Oprah, be nice etc.
2. Go on a world tour.
Two advantages: One, you get to see the world. (Rise above this revenge shit sometime.) Two, your ex now realizes you were actually loaded and no one likes to feel they let the 'hen that had the potential to lay the golden egg' get away.
Problem: Well, what if she was the 'hen that had the potential to lay the golden egg' of the relatinship. Simply put, what if you are broke. Hmm.
3. Marry
You avoided commiting to her for days/months/ years. But when she dumped you within 2 weeks you were all hooked up and looking for a 2bhk (with airy balcony) love nest. Trust me, she will go mad trying to figure out the answers to the age old questions "Was it my fault all along? What's wrong with me?"
Problem: Getting someone to agree to marry you. hmmm.
4. Go hit the clubs with 'happening' 'hep' people
As a gujju aunty I know says: very hape people go to my club. Find these hape people. Hang around with them. Go to clubs. Act as if you are having the time of your life. Get clicked. And then somehow figure out a way for your ex to see these snaps. Nothing irritates more than to have the person you hurt act as if nothing happened.
5. Date a super model or a hotter girl
If you need explanation for this point, I am going to side with your ex, you dumbo.
More such pearls coming up soon.
For the really heart broken ones, here's stuff I recommend:
1. Talk it out with your BFF.
2. Pick a hobby.
3. Rationalise.
Example:
a) I am so nearly perfect. I can't obviously be wrong. So the problem must be with him. What a loser.
b) In the end everything happens for the best. This is good for me. Something great is about to happen. I can feel it.
c) If he were that great why was he with me. umm wait something is not right. If he were that great whats he doing with HER!
d) I hated his mother/ his style (He didn't even have any!)/ his moronic sense of humour/ his friends/ etc. good riddance.
e) He is dating her! That settles it. He is got to be a pervert.
f) I anyway found his friend cuter. Wonder what's that guy is doing this weekend.
4. Have a good cry. And if you are like my friend A, make that have a good MANY MANY cries.
5. Realise that "The best revenge is to LIVE WELL."
More later.
1. If you can't get her to love you, try her best friend.
There is nothing that pricks a girl more than to have her ex romance her best friend. And while you are at it, do all the stuff she (ur ex) wanted you to do (but you never did) like listen for hours, pay for shopping, cut your nails, watch Oprah, be nice etc.
2. Go on a world tour.
Two advantages: One, you get to see the world. (Rise above this revenge shit sometime.) Two, your ex now realizes you were actually loaded and no one likes to feel they let the 'hen that had the potential to lay the golden egg' get away.
Problem: Well, what if she was the 'hen that had the potential to lay the golden egg' of the relatinship. Simply put, what if you are broke. Hmm.
3. Marry
You avoided commiting to her for days/months/ years. But when she dumped you within 2 weeks you were all hooked up and looking for a 2bhk (with airy balcony) love nest. Trust me, she will go mad trying to figure out the answers to the age old questions "Was it my fault all along? What's wrong with me?"
Problem: Getting someone to agree to marry you. hmmm.
4. Go hit the clubs with 'happening' 'hep' people
As a gujju aunty I know says: very hape people go to my club. Find these hape people. Hang around with them. Go to clubs. Act as if you are having the time of your life. Get clicked. And then somehow figure out a way for your ex to see these snaps. Nothing irritates more than to have the person you hurt act as if nothing happened.
5. Date a super model or a hotter girl
If you need explanation for this point, I am going to side with your ex, you dumbo.
More such pearls coming up soon.
For the really heart broken ones, here's stuff I recommend:
1. Talk it out with your BFF.
2. Pick a hobby.
3. Rationalise.
Example:
a) I am so nearly perfect. I can't obviously be wrong. So the problem must be with him. What a loser.
b) In the end everything happens for the best. This is good for me. Something great is about to happen. I can feel it.
c) If he were that great why was he with me. umm wait something is not right. If he were that great whats he doing with HER!
d) I hated his mother/ his style (He didn't even have any!)/ his moronic sense of humour/ his friends/ etc. good riddance.
e) He is dating her! That settles it. He is got to be a pervert.
f) I anyway found his friend cuter. Wonder what's that guy is doing this weekend.
4. Have a good cry. And if you are like my friend A, make that have a good MANY MANY cries.
5. Realise that "The best revenge is to LIVE WELL."
More later.
Friday, June 12, 2009
New Readers- Hurray
Sometime back (19 days to be precise) a mean hard hearted horrible no-good bully passed a rather nasty comment "who cares what you write! No one reads your blog anyway!" Ouch. Make that "Ooh Aah Ouch."
I must say the writer in me was wounded. The comment cut deep. Its not that I think I am Shakespeare reincarnate (But who read shares him these days! I should have said 'Shobha De' instead) or that my work deserves a place in Harward hall of fame or that this blog ought to get a Booker or two. But, yes, I do feel that these insightful pearls of wisdom or delightful banter or sober thoughts (as the case maybe) do deserve a one time read. Eager readers ought to clamour for more posts and maybe wrestle each other to win the coveted position of being the first to post a comment.
Sadly as that MHHHNGB (for full form refer opening sentence) pointed out this wasn't the case.
Cut to 19 days and 3 hrs later.
Registered followers: 3
Unknown unidentified mystery followers: 1
Readers who have left comments: 3
Readers who have told me that they have read the blog: 5
Readers who went ga-ga over certain posts: 3*
Readers who have read the blog but haven't reverted back to the author: Many
Readers who reread the blog and told their friends and family about it: Plenty
Readers who wish they had read the blog: Lots
(*author might be included in some figures)
Quite an impressive improvement don't u think.
So here is raising a toast to my new reader (s). Please leave comments or better still become a follower and you will see that immediately many good things will start happening to you. Try it.
And to that MHHHNGB I will just say: HA!!!
I must say the writer in me was wounded. The comment cut deep. Its not that I think I am Shakespeare reincarnate (But who read shares him these days! I should have said 'Shobha De' instead) or that my work deserves a place in Harward hall of fame or that this blog ought to get a Booker or two. But, yes, I do feel that these insightful pearls of wisdom or delightful banter or sober thoughts (as the case maybe) do deserve a one time read. Eager readers ought to clamour for more posts and maybe wrestle each other to win the coveted position of being the first to post a comment.
Sadly as that MHHHNGB (for full form refer opening sentence) pointed out this wasn't the case.
Cut to 19 days and 3 hrs later.
Registered followers: 3
Unknown unidentified mystery followers: 1
Readers who have left comments: 3
Readers who have told me that they have read the blog: 5
Readers who went ga-ga over certain posts: 3*
Readers who have read the blog but haven't reverted back to the author: Many
Readers who reread the blog and told their friends and family about it: Plenty
Readers who wish they had read the blog: Lots
(*author might be included in some figures)
Quite an impressive improvement don't u think.
So here is raising a toast to my new reader (s). Please leave comments or better still become a follower and you will see that immediately many good things will start happening to you. Try it.
And to that MHHHNGB I will just say: HA!!!
Quick advice (to frns who r consoling)
If certain ppl call u up to TALK abt their ex.-relationship and how the love of their life turned out to be a local scum, please dont tell them you read somewhere "its better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." Your personal well being may be compromised if you did.
And certain ppl shd also realise that yelling at their sweet friends (who are having a rather bad week themselves) doesn't serve any purpose now does it.
Apologies expected by morning.
And certain ppl shd also realise that yelling at their sweet friends (who are having a rather bad week themselves) doesn't serve any purpose now does it.
Apologies expected by morning.
Breaking up
A friend of mine finally broke up. After weeks of trying to resuscitate what was generally acknowledged as a doomed relationship to begin with, she finally gave up. As she sat trying to put into words what she was going through I couldn’t help but feel sad.
A relationship takes so much out of you and you never realize how deeply you are in it till the void appears in your life. And then you struggle/scramble to fill it with anything and everything – be it work, parties, another relationship anything. But try as you may the hurt/ bitterness/ rejection or just pain always lingers - and does so for a long time.
Why are all breakups the same? I have yet to come across a happy breakup. Does it exist? Maybe because all my friends are very passionate people and passionate people never do things in half measure. When they love they love fully and so the breakup stings hard. The funny thing is by now we all know what we have to do to deal with it. Spend times with friends, don’t mope around, busy yourself, cut your losses, take a vacation, in the long run this is good for you – all standard break up advices available to all. Somehow I don’t buy that they work.
But still life moves on. And as you try to pull yourself together, pick up the pieces and move ahead you can’t help but wonder- was it worth it all? And the answer sadly in many cases is NO.
A relationship takes so much out of you and you never realize how deeply you are in it till the void appears in your life. And then you struggle/scramble to fill it with anything and everything – be it work, parties, another relationship anything. But try as you may the hurt/ bitterness/ rejection or just pain always lingers - and does so for a long time.
Why are all breakups the same? I have yet to come across a happy breakup. Does it exist? Maybe because all my friends are very passionate people and passionate people never do things in half measure. When they love they love fully and so the breakup stings hard. The funny thing is by now we all know what we have to do to deal with it. Spend times with friends, don’t mope around, busy yourself, cut your losses, take a vacation, in the long run this is good for you – all standard break up advices available to all. Somehow I don’t buy that they work.
But still life moves on. And as you try to pull yourself together, pick up the pieces and move ahead you can’t help but wonder- was it worth it all? And the answer sadly in many cases is NO.
Break ups
Why are we women so bloody dumb? We intend on making the same mistakes over and over again. And somehow the best ones I know attract the worse specimen of the male species. We let the guy walk all over us and then cry when he walks out. Or spend days nagging him to change and then when he does cry "Oh! you are not what you were when we first met" Or out of all the potential guys to date pick the one guy that even a blind nun living in Himalayas would identify as the 'most likely to break your heart'. And let me not even talk about turning a blind eye to obvious signs of cheating.
If he says - I will marry you as soon as I divorce her- we believe him. If he says- my marriage is over. We are just together for the kids.- we believe him. If he says- She meant nothing to me. I wont do it again- we believe. And yea how can I not mention gems like "I cheated, but I really care for you" "I would have never hurt you intentionally" "I wasn't with her when u were around. Its only when u went outta town that we dated." "We spent the whole night just talking"
As I help a broken hearted friend negotiate her way out of a bad breakup, I cant help but think very low of all u guys out there. You horrible people dont think twice before breaking someone's trust. And yes love is just another 4 letter word for you.
Post breakup getting up and moving on is hard. @A: hang in there. @Rest: Expect more male bashing posts soon.
If he says - I will marry you as soon as I divorce her- we believe him. If he says- my marriage is over. We are just together for the kids.- we believe him. If he says- She meant nothing to me. I wont do it again- we believe. And yea how can I not mention gems like "I cheated, but I really care for you" "I would have never hurt you intentionally" "I wasn't with her when u were around. Its only when u went outta town that we dated." "We spent the whole night just talking"
As I help a broken hearted friend negotiate her way out of a bad breakup, I cant help but think very low of all u guys out there. You horrible people dont think twice before breaking someone's trust. And yes love is just another 4 letter word for you.
Post breakup getting up and moving on is hard. @A: hang in there. @Rest: Expect more male bashing posts soon.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Let Go
Let Go Let God
As children bring their broken toys with tears for us to mend,
I took my broken dreams to God because He was my friend.
Then, instead of leaving Him in peace to work alone,
I hung around and tried to help in ways that were my own.
At last I snatched them back and cried,
"How could YOU be sooo slow"
"My child, what could I do? You never did let go."
---Anonymous
As children bring their broken toys with tears for us to mend,
I took my broken dreams to God because He was my friend.
Then, instead of leaving Him in peace to work alone,
I hung around and tried to help in ways that were my own.
At last I snatched them back and cried,
"How could YOU be sooo slow"
"My child, what could I do? You never did let go."
---Anonymous
All hope abandon ye who enter here.
Through me you pass into the city of woe:
Through me you pass into eternal pain:
Through me among the people lost for aye.
Justice the founder of my fabric mov'd:
To rear me was the task of power divine,
Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.
Before me things create were none, save things
Eternal, and eternal I endure.
All hope abandon ye who enter here.
Through me you pass into eternal pain:
Through me among the people lost for aye.
Justice the founder of my fabric mov'd:
To rear me was the task of power divine,
Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.
Before me things create were none, save things
Eternal, and eternal I endure.
All hope abandon ye who enter here.
Another sleepless night. Its going to be one of those days today.I finally slept around 4 in the morning at woke up at 7 feeling drained and exhausted.And its just Tuesday.4 days more to the weekend.Somehow I feel I am either stuck in the past or in the future. If only I had a magic wand or the zap thg of Will Smith that makes you forget stuff. I still cant believe it happened. How long can one say that stmt to oneself? "I cant believe it happened."
You know the problem is that relationships are my markers for my life. What I mean is people remember their past based on their achievements, the fun times, the sad times, some moments etc. We all have some basis for marking the past in our memory. For me that basis is relationships - the close ones I had. For DC I have 3. And although I am not regularly in touch with any of them I still have fond memories of DC because these rel. haven't lost their flavour. Sakshi still called me from the airport as soon as she landed in Indore.
But what happens if a rel. goes away? That entire time/place becomes a pain point. I don't want to think talk/think about it, relive the gud times or reminisce abt it at all. I have this strong urge to just delete it from my mind as it serves no other purpose but to remind me of the void created. Strange and stupid this is I know.
The unfairness of every thing still stings.
You know the problem is that relationships are my markers for my life. What I mean is people remember their past based on their achievements, the fun times, the sad times, some moments etc. We all have some basis for marking the past in our memory. For me that basis is relationships - the close ones I had. For DC I have 3. And although I am not regularly in touch with any of them I still have fond memories of DC because these rel. haven't lost their flavour. Sakshi still called me from the airport as soon as she landed in Indore.
But what happens if a rel. goes away? That entire time/place becomes a pain point. I don't want to think talk/think about it, relive the gud times or reminisce abt it at all. I have this strong urge to just delete it from my mind as it serves no other purpose but to remind me of the void created. Strange and stupid this is I know.
The unfairness of every thing still stings.
Monday, June 8, 2009
"If u can read this it isn't broken"
I received some very sad news last night. A very dear person I knew is no more. And although I had come to expect the unexpected from her, this was one thg. I wasnt prepared for. I spent the night feeling very angry – livid at the unfairness of it all. I can’t believe that a car trip and a wrong move is all it took to take away a name I had come to rely on. One stupid act and its all over.
As selfish as it sounds I wasn’t ready for this. This was not the time to go. You should have been more careful; if not for your sake then for the sake of those who loved you. I went back to all the talks we had, the last time we met. I was so worried about the distant future; scared about what will happen in the coming year and you were the one consoling me telling me all would be fine. But it isn’t now is it!
I hate it that I never got the chance to say good bye. But then what would have I said anyway. I went back to our shopping trip; our coffee/chai meets; the time you hurt your hand; the time I fell ill; the compliments we never exchanged; the thank yous that were left unsaid; the coworker bashings we both enjoyed; in short I went back to everything.
I will miss the comfort of knowing that no matter what you are there. I will also miss the assurity that no matter what I said in a fight the next day everything would be back to normal. I will miss our fights.
You took my tantrums well and I never thanked you for that. Did you know I really respected your intelligence? That your sheepish grin was cute. That you were criticized for your approach at work but that was what I liked the most about you. Your insecurities I understood, your enthusiam I tried to emulate. Enough said. Please be at peace whrevr u are and yes thank you for everything.
-S/PB/M/G/A
As selfish as it sounds I wasn’t ready for this. This was not the time to go. You should have been more careful; if not for your sake then for the sake of those who loved you. I went back to all the talks we had, the last time we met. I was so worried about the distant future; scared about what will happen in the coming year and you were the one consoling me telling me all would be fine. But it isn’t now is it!
I hate it that I never got the chance to say good bye. But then what would have I said anyway. I went back to our shopping trip; our coffee/chai meets; the time you hurt your hand; the time I fell ill; the compliments we never exchanged; the thank yous that were left unsaid; the coworker bashings we both enjoyed; in short I went back to everything.
I will miss the comfort of knowing that no matter what you are there. I will also miss the assurity that no matter what I said in a fight the next day everything would be back to normal. I will miss our fights.
You took my tantrums well and I never thanked you for that. Did you know I really respected your intelligence? That your sheepish grin was cute. That you were criticized for your approach at work but that was what I liked the most about you. Your insecurities I understood, your enthusiam I tried to emulate. Enough said. Please be at peace whrevr u are and yes thank you for everything.
-S/PB/M/G/A
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Factfile ISB
*As I had promised earlier, here begins my monologue on the last year. To understand the same you need to be clear about few basics :
Programme: PGP in Management
Total: 8 terms
Core terms: First 4
Elective terms: Last 4
Total credits (subjects get you credit):36
Min credits to pass: 34
ELP: Experiential Learning Programme (For the official version click:http://www.isb.edu/PGP/ExperientialLearningProgramme.Shtml)
PAEV: Planning an Entrepreneurial Venture (For the official version click:http://www.isb.edu/PGP/PlanninganEntrepreneurialVenture(PAEV).Shtml)
Profs:A lot of professors score high on the presentation aspect (you enjoy listening to them) but lose out on the teaching part (zero learning post the 10 sessions). Then there are those that teach a lot but unfortunately it becomes a task to keep one's eyes open during their sessions. Finally come the small minority that capture your interest from the word go and leave you wishing for more. The super cool professors. I will only mention my super cool professors here by name. The rest will all go unnamed for obvious reasons.
Mybatch: The best yet.
Strength: (about) 440
GMAT Score:
5%: <=640
18%: 650-690
56%: 700-740
21%: >=750
Work Experience:
62%: >2 to <=5
30%: >5 to <=8
1%: <=2
7%: >8
Age:
2%: >35
10%: >30 to <=35
69%: >25 to <=30
19%:<=25
Sections: 6
My Section: Section E
Chant: Rockees
About my section:
Borrowing from an old post: {http://surabhik.blogspot.com/2008/08/isb-hmmm.html}
i am in Sec e ..and i swear its the kewlest section !!! we spam like crazy and i love it :) i mean we have had 200 mails in a 2 hr DMOP class, 2 am poetry competitions, a dunk ____ campaign, and hoax mails on just abt everythg from water on mars to kingfisher calender !! the CP is our section is gud ..we have had some gems tht i willl possibly share with u later and yes i think we are the only section that conducts in session polls..ie the class is on..the professor is explaining conjoint analysis and my neighbour passes me a sheet stating - poll of the day -- who is going to start snoring in class today . option 1 , 2 , 3 or 4. i check around to see all the nominees ..needless to say they are inches away from their afty siesta and after much deliberation i put a tick next to my fren's name and then dutifully pass the sheet along ..let me add we all take our voting rights seriously including the TAs. :) last poll list was passed to the TA too!
oh that reminds me i didnt mention the sleeping cell of E ..there are a few famous ppl in our section..famous for their ability to fall asleep during all sessions and still get straight As.. thats the sleeper cell ..no i am not a permanent member of the cell (i aspire to be but thats for another day) rather i am the life time member of the Arbit CP (class participation) club..they have put me in the last row at the rightmost corner - the worst place for CP (the prof never sees u) but i am on to them..down but not out..thats the motto here :)
New Post on the subject soon expected.
So there it is. Now that you are uptodate. Lets begin.
Just one more detail-
PGP Core Courses : 2008-09
Term 1: April 28 - June 8, 2008
Financial Accounting in Decision Making
Managerial Economics
Marketing Management
Statistical Methods for Management Decisions
Term 2: June 9 - July 20, 2008
Competitive Strategy
Decision Models & Optimisation
Global Economics
Marketing Decision Making
Term 3: July 21 - August 31, 2008
Corporate Finance
Entrepreneurship
Leadership Development Programme
Managerial Accounting
Operations Management
Term 4: September 1 - October 12, 2008
Government, Society & Business
Investment Analysis
Management of Organisations
Strategic Analysis of IT
***
Programme: PGP in Management
Total: 8 terms
Core terms: First 4
Elective terms: Last 4
Total credits (subjects get you credit):36
Min credits to pass: 34
ELP: Experiential Learning Programme (For the official version click:http://www.isb.edu/PGP/ExperientialLearningProgramme.Shtml)
PAEV: Planning an Entrepreneurial Venture (For the official version click:http://www.isb.edu/PGP/PlanninganEntrepreneurialVenture(PAEV).Shtml)
Profs:A lot of professors score high on the presentation aspect (you enjoy listening to them) but lose out on the teaching part (zero learning post the 10 sessions). Then there are those that teach a lot but unfortunately it becomes a task to keep one's eyes open during their sessions. Finally come the small minority that capture your interest from the word go and leave you wishing for more. The super cool professors. I will only mention my super cool professors here by name. The rest will all go unnamed for obvious reasons.
Mybatch: The best yet.
Strength: (about) 440
GMAT Score:
5%: <=640
18%: 650-690
56%: 700-740
21%: >=750
Work Experience:
62%: >2 to <=5
30%: >5 to <=8
1%: <=2
7%: >8
Age:
2%: >35
10%: >30 to <=35
69%: >25 to <=30
19%:<=25
Sections: 6
My Section: Section E
Chant: Rockees
About my section:
Borrowing from an old post: {http://surabhik.blogspot.com/2008/08/isb-hmmm.html}
i am in Sec e ..and i swear its the kewlest section !!! we spam like crazy and i love it :) i mean we have had 200 mails in a 2 hr DMOP class, 2 am poetry competitions, a dunk ____ campaign, and hoax mails on just abt everythg from water on mars to kingfisher calender !! the CP is our section is gud ..we have had some gems tht i willl possibly share with u later and yes i think we are the only section that conducts in session polls..ie the class is on..the professor is explaining conjoint analysis and my neighbour passes me a sheet stating - poll of the day -- who is going to start snoring in class today . option 1 , 2 , 3 or 4. i check around to see all the nominees ..needless to say they are inches away from their afty siesta and after much deliberation i put a tick next to my fren's name and then dutifully pass the sheet along ..let me add we all take our voting rights seriously including the TAs. :) last poll list was passed to the TA too!
oh that reminds me i didnt mention the sleeping cell of E ..there are a few famous ppl in our section..famous for their ability to fall asleep during all sessions and still get straight As.. thats the sleeper cell ..no i am not a permanent member of the cell (i aspire to be but thats for another day) rather i am the life time member of the Arbit CP (class participation) club..they have put me in the last row at the rightmost corner - the worst place for CP (the prof never sees u) but i am on to them..down but not out..thats the motto here :)
New Post on the subject soon expected.
So there it is. Now that you are uptodate. Lets begin.
Just one more detail-
PGP Core Courses : 2008-09
Term 1: April 28 - June 8, 2008
Financial Accounting in Decision Making
Managerial Economics
Marketing Management
Statistical Methods for Management Decisions
Term 2: June 9 - July 20, 2008
Competitive Strategy
Decision Models & Optimisation
Global Economics
Marketing Decision Making
Term 3: July 21 - August 31, 2008
Corporate Finance
Entrepreneurship
Leadership Development Programme
Managerial Accounting
Operations Management
Term 4: September 1 - October 12, 2008
Government, Society & Business
Investment Analysis
Management of Organisations
Strategic Analysis of IT
***
Post MBA aftermath
You know you have become an MBA when you wistfully wonder how you can incentivise your friends to write your blog after you have explained the holistic vision and aim of the same. I am feeling lethargic after the initial burst of excitement. For one thing it feels like I am telling a half forgotten joke with the punch line missing. And then there’s the proverbial writer’s bloc. I wonder how people write books; trilogies even. The worst part is the people in question are MBAs too and I am sure you know how near impossible it is to get these damn MBAs to work. Such lazy bums I tell you!
Friday, June 5, 2009
KP or not to KP
My most moronic conversations have happened with educated literate people. I hate it when people walk up to me and enquire about my caste/creed. For a person who doesn’t wear her religion on her sleeve this curiosity to know my caste/creed irritates me to no end. What the hell is it to you “what am I”. And I never know what the right answer to that question is. I am an Indian or kashmiri pandit or a woman or an MBA, what?
Worse are fellow KPs who think it’s a matter of great pride that they won the ovarian lottery to be a KP. I mean I am proud of who I am but I don’t seek out fellow caste members to bond with them.“ Kaul,..Kaul that makes you a Kashmiri doesn’t it. I am one too. My family is from Srinagar. Where is your from? Blah blah blah ” Puhleeze!!! If you want to interact with me do so if you think I seem like an interesting person to know or if you feel that we share some common interests. But please spare me the Kashmiri-kashmiri bonding.
Don’t get me wrong. I think KPs rock. We are definitely very advanced when it comes to women rights, KP girls are very beautiful and men as “Pathan types” as they come. Nice progressive close knit group but I hate this myopia that goes with the assumption that all people of a caste/creed should stick together.
Also my pet peeve is with those who when they find out I don’t know kashmiri language look so disappointed. I don’t need your approval man to belong to the KP clan. Worse still are the follow up questions: do your parents know it? Did you visit Kashmir? Did your parents live there? etc. All this in the first conversation that I am having with you! (A conversation that I did not even initiate.) And I definitely do not solicit that stupid advice with that stupid expression: “Why don’t you learn it?”. Arrey why the hell don’t you mind your own business! I don’t know you. What gives you the right to tell me what to do! Jaan na pehchaan. And in the last year 5 different KPs have been guilty of doing this. And trust me I made it a point never to interact with them again.
So finally for those who I know will misunderstand let me summarise:
If you are a KP please do drop in to say hello but don’t rattle of those inquisitive personal questions and give me “how to be a better KP” advice.I would love to interact with you but not just because you are from a particular region or share the same surname as mine.
Anyway TGIF! But I have no fun plans for this weekend thanks to a very lethargic rather busy circle of friends and this is irritating me more. So will sign off now and rant a little later.
Worse are fellow KPs who think it’s a matter of great pride that they won the ovarian lottery to be a KP. I mean I am proud of who I am but I don’t seek out fellow caste members to bond with them.“ Kaul,..Kaul that makes you a Kashmiri doesn’t it. I am one too. My family is from Srinagar. Where is your from? Blah blah blah ” Puhleeze!!! If you want to interact with me do so if you think I seem like an interesting person to know or if you feel that we share some common interests. But please spare me the Kashmiri-kashmiri bonding.
Don’t get me wrong. I think KPs rock. We are definitely very advanced when it comes to women rights, KP girls are very beautiful and men as “Pathan types” as they come. Nice progressive close knit group but I hate this myopia that goes with the assumption that all people of a caste/creed should stick together.
Also my pet peeve is with those who when they find out I don’t know kashmiri language look so disappointed. I don’t need your approval man to belong to the KP clan. Worse still are the follow up questions: do your parents know it? Did you visit Kashmir? Did your parents live there? etc. All this in the first conversation that I am having with you! (A conversation that I did not even initiate.) And I definitely do not solicit that stupid advice with that stupid expression: “Why don’t you learn it?”. Arrey why the hell don’t you mind your own business! I don’t know you. What gives you the right to tell me what to do! Jaan na pehchaan. And in the last year 5 different KPs have been guilty of doing this. And trust me I made it a point never to interact with them again.
So finally for those who I know will misunderstand let me summarise:
- I love being a KP. Very proud of it.
- Don’t know the K. language. Not teaching my kids the same and yes don’t want to learn it either.
- Never have been to Kashmir. And till terrorism ends there have no plans of visiting.
If you are a KP please do drop in to say hello but don’t rattle of those inquisitive personal questions and give me “how to be a better KP” advice.I would love to interact with you but not just because you are from a particular region or share the same surname as mine.
Anyway TGIF! But I have no fun plans for this weekend thanks to a very lethargic rather busy circle of friends and this is irritating me more. So will sign off now and rant a little later.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
ISB ISB ISB
As is with life post the entire grad school experience I feel now I am better equipped to go through ISB. What I mean is now I know what’s the best way to tackle assignments, how to manage my time, how to handle the pressure etc. So, I will pen down my learnings and experiences and hopefully you can benefit from the same. Do comment.
A brief background-
I was the diversity candidate. I am a non engineer. (Precise educational detail: MMS (HR) Gold Medalist) I have four years of hands on experience (loved my first job, I realize now how much) in an entrepreneurial organization (the best place to learn and hone your business skills) in the sunrise sector of education and training. (That’s my nifty way of saying I did not have a Fortune 500 brand on my CV) I had taken a break from work for more than a year for personal reasons right before ISB. My GMAT was 750. And yes I was a single mom on campus with a 1.5 year old brat. :)
A brief background-
I was the diversity candidate. I am a non engineer. (Precise educational detail: MMS (HR) Gold Medalist) I have four years of hands on experience (loved my first job, I realize now how much) in an entrepreneurial organization (the best place to learn and hone your business skills) in the sunrise sector of education and training. (That’s my nifty way of saying I did not have a Fortune 500 brand on my CV) I had taken a break from work for more than a year for personal reasons right before ISB. My GMAT was 750. And yes I was a single mom on campus with a 1.5 year old brat. :)
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Relationship Blues - Part 1
Relationships. So one more person just asked me for marriage advice. What with the MBA now over and people getting jobs, somehow marriage is the next assignment for most of my friends. We saw a quite a few relationships culminating in marriage post April. And now news about engagements and match fixing is doing rounds.
So for my next super hit blog entry I decided to summarize what all I know about relationships and how to screw them. :) So here goes nothing.
Marriage:
How to choose the right partner?
The sanest advice I can give someone on marriage is don't do it for the wrong reasons. Loneliness, money, parental pressure, peer group pressures, wanting to have a family etc. are all not the right reasons to get married. Marry only if the person you are getting married to excites you. There is the proverbial chemistry. A spark. Listen to the little voice in your head. If your instincts tell you no, then trust them. In arranged marriages remember what you are shown is half the picture in majority of the cases.
The shoe never fits better later.
So many times while buying a pair of shoes the shop keeper tell me: I know its a little tight but walk around in them the whole day and they will fit better. It never happens with shoes; it wont happen with people. A person seldom changes. I know its sounds negative but the truth is its difficult for us to change. And if you know the person in question is short tempered/ lazy/ laid back/ aggressive/ insensitive/ loner and you feel with time he will change; chances are he wont. So either you accept the person for what he is or find a different person all together. It's not fair to either party involved if you enter a marriage with reservations and a ready checklist of items to change in the groom.
The myth of the right person :)
Pragmatists say,"The best way to find the right partner is to be one." i.e. marriage is not a mathematical sum. There is nothing right /wrong about it. If you behave properly other party behaves accordingly. Then there are some more romantic among us who believe in love and rightness and soul mates and other chick flick jazz. After watching tonnes of Yash Chopra films and catching all reruns of When Harry met Sally, Notting Hill, You've got mail and other like minded hits I am firmly a part of group 2. Life time membership. It is a separate matter that I believe in most cases by the time you realize and identify your soul mate; you both have been married to other people for over 10 years.
You don't marry the man, you marry his family.
True for women. True for men. Check the family out. Interact with the parents. Spend time with the mother in law. See if you are the kind of person she wants her dearest child to marry. Please don't be fooled into thinking that if you live in separate cities then this aspect won't matter. It always does.
Prioritise.
Prioritise what is important for you in your life. Identify the negotiables and the non negotiables. And then lay your cards on the table.I have had a friend walk out on an engagement because the guy was jealous of the time she spent with her friends. Know what your definition of personal space is and ensure you marry a person who understands the same.
Reality Check.
We all want to marry George Clooney who has the brains of Einstein, money of Bill Gates, dance moves of Travolta, sense of humour of J Carey, and the list goes on. In addition he should love your parents, give you space, understand your moods, be there for you, talk when you want him to share, listen when you want to talk, care about your cat, appreciate you as the woman of today, do house work, not mention his mum's cooking, never eye any other woman except you, be a great dad, a sound handy man, and yes spend time with your friends. My dear sweet girl such a guy doesn't exist and if he does hes looking for a P. Cruz lookalike with a killer dressing sense, who loves to cook, talks less, cleans well, worships him, let his career take the front seat, lets him be, enjoys his crude jokes, watches cricket, never hogs the remote, is envy of all his friends and yes becomes the homely types when ma is around. Since you cant be that woman, you cant get that man. So people in the end do a reality check too.
-----To be Continued------
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