rEfLecTiONs...

Numbness....

2011-10-17T00:25:00.001+05:30

Silence. It had lately taken a substantial priority in her life. At times, everything seemed out of order; her very purpose lost somewhere in the mindless miles she traveled daily for work. It was hard to believe. But it happened; the thing she had feared the most was now a truth in her life. They had broken up.

Hope; she had learned painfully, was a bad companion to keep in such times. She would keep going back to her world, and with every sweet memoir she lingered towards her phone, expecting a call or a special sms. None came.

At times, hope would subside, only to give way for anger. She would open her email account and continue scribbling fresh lines of astonishment and anger ... to an already long mail. How could he do this to her? Did he realise how terribly hard it was for her to come in terms with this new un-pleasant reality? It was a nasty jolt, and she felt it was an un-necessary decision. But the mail would just remain in her draft; without a receiver, without a subject.

Music, she had discovered lately, was a better companion. Sometimes, she would pop in the headphones and play her list of heart breaking, lonely tracks. Loneliness gave her mind that solace, that comfort. Seldom did anyone notice the tiny beads of tears in her eyes, everyone had lives of their own to settle. And she had her own aloofness; her songs that made her numb. She liked it, the numbness...

On building compassionate relations…

2011-08-22T23:58:00.005+05:30

Surely, there must be many of you who have read the highly recommended and acclaimed “Seven habits of highly effective people” by Stephen Covey. However, there is something specific in that book which I feel like sharing with you folks today. In my belief, it is what can be your first and last step towards building highly successful relationships.

In his book, Covey recalls an encounter with a client who complains that love is absent in his relationship; that his marriage is about to fall apart and there’s nothing he can do about it. Covey simply asks him, “Have you loved her?” to which the client replies “I told you Sir, there’s just no love anymore between us.” Covey repeats the question – “Have you LOVED her?” - Love is a verb, it is an action. You must listen to her, sympathize with her and be there for her. To love, you must accept her.

Covey’s thoughts have inspired and help countless relations to re-start cranking themselves. Add a few drops of that magical oil, and the engine starts running smoothly, giving you more smiles ahead. That beautiful magical oil, is acceptance. It’s what I feel like stressing about.

If you think about it, acceptance forms a very fundamental part of love. Take the definition of love and traverse right to the base of it, and you’ll find acceptance out there. Because the definition of love in terms of acceptance; is a truly universal one. It holds true for any relation – be it a child and his parents, a brother and sister; arranged marriage or love marriages.

Unfortunately, many of us today walk around the world with some seriously wrong concepts about love. There are quite a number of people who are awed by the concept of love marriages and look down upon arranged marriages as something out-dated and orthodox. No, No – before you even think about it, let me clarify - my point here is not to compare both the institutions. Rather, I would like to clear some mis-conceptions in the minds of these folks. They like to think of love marriage as a perfect fit; a compromise-free life where nobody needs to adjust. And nothing pains me more when I see love being treated like a commodity or stock. If the orders don’t match, it’s not a trade. And this happens frequently even in arranged marriages. In my humble opinion, whether your marriage is love or arranged – any relation succeeds only when there is acceptance. Love isn’t at all about matching; it’s definitely not about the number of interests/hobbies/levels of comfort that define it. Any and every of these, are parameters which define your personality. Physical attraction is a different aspect of love in which chemistry plays a strong role; no doubt. But the act of loving – the small simple things in your everyday life, like listening to your partner, being supportive of her, sympathizing with her; these actions only come out of you when you truly accept the other individual.

So go ahead and try this out today – start accepting, rather than expecting. And you will experience for yourself how the wheels of relations turn in your favour. And as you start enjoying your journey, do write to me and share your happiness. Go on, love her!

P.S: The author belongs to a family united by love marriage for the past 28 years. And he will be doing a love marriage in the near future. :-)

Two.

2010-08-08T20:24:00.003+05:30

It was regular to see cars swarming outside Bandra station on any evening. Amidst the yellow and black rickshaws struggling for customers, a white premier padmini silently parked just near "Bandra" signboard. Three men, dressed in casual jeans and t-shirts stepped out of it. It was the perfect attire; Bandra being the hub of suburbia cosmopolitanism witnessed this as its most sought and worn outfit.The commonly common. As the men walked directly towards the first platform, one of them received a call on his phone. Suleiman, a strongly built Mohammedan in his early twenties, answered the call. He heard only one line - "Saath pachees ki Andheri local, third last compartment". Suleiman hung up, and silently motioned his men towards the Churchgate end of the platform.

The pink and violet painted canvas of the evening skies looked magical, with the sea link magnificently standing broad in the background. It was the only thing worth looking at, in an overcrowded evening Andheri local for Irfan. Farid chacha stood right next to him, firmly holding his hand. The train was spilling with Mumbai's daily travelers, right from business men with their typical suitcases, local workers completed with their daily routines to students attending their evening classes. All with their sweaty shirts, their soaked handkerchiefs providing them with little relief. Hence Irfan preferred staying at the doorway, it was very fortunate for him to get the place. He never liked travelling by trains: overcrowded and noisy, he would tell Farid chacha. Yet, it was the cheapest and quickest way to travel for Mumbai's burgeoning middle class. As the train passed over the Mahim creek, it slowly started chugging itself towards platform number One.

INDIA: Finding Opportunities Within.

2010-05-09T21:57:00.004+05:30

Since my engineering days, entrepreneurship has been a topic that always remained close to my heart. Somehow, the whole idea of starting up on your own, identifying the opportunities within a problem and effectively running a business out of it, excites many of us. And as we live most of our lives in the metropolitans, there is significant exposure to a variety of entrepreneurs and startups from across the city with which we interact, share our experiences and enrich our learning curve.

However, travel sixty kilometers across the city limits and you will be tossed into a completely new world. The rural face of the country – it’s always very close to the city, just a couple of hours of a drive away from hi-tech Bandra-Kurla Complex, and you’ll find lush green villages, beautiful forts and deep valleys. Amongst these mountains and valleys lie numerous dotted villages, randomly scattered groups of tribes and rural populace whose life is entirely contrasting from ours. Their problems are simpler, their needs, limited. But that does not stop them from being creative, or coming up with splendid solutions to their day to day life issues. I particularly remember one time when I had been on a trek to Kalsubai, in Sahyadris. I happened to meet one such inspiring fellow, who was actually running multiple businesses in a small tiny village at the base of the mountain! Completely taken by surprised, I was shown the various needs he was attending to, such as adventure camping (providing tents to trekkers like us, at reasonable costs – Rs. 200/- per night for a four men’s tent, is a dirt cheap deal. And exciting too!), besides cultivating honey farms along terraced slopes of the mountain. He was utilizing the demographics of the area to favor his business. And he was indeed doing well, with enthusiasm in thinking of other opportunities.

Today, my friend Mr. Sachin Kadam suggested me to view this video on TED by Dr. Anil Gupta. And when I saw it, I could hold myself no more. I had to write this article in a small tribute to create more awareness about this section of our society; which if you observe by statistics, is the larger chunk of India’s population. And yet, it chooses to reside on a low key only with a few exemplary individuals utilizing their resources to create awareness. As an organization committed to fostering entrepreneurship, I sincerely feel we need to honestly start examining the opportunities within our rustic lands. And I’ll show you some numbers which might inspire you.

(Source - U.S Census Bureau: http://www.census.gov/ipc/prod/ib-9701.pdf)

There you go. Those numbers simply work down to one word. Opportunities. While the larger chunk of our population remains rural, we pre- dominantly focus on the issues and concerns of the urban societies. Now, I can perhaps understand if large organizations turn a blind eye in this area with reasons such as sustainability and margins; but I feel that it provides an excellent opportunity for younger startups to breed their innovative ideas in this sandbox, rather than competing amongst their urban peers’. There are several facilitating factors to consider such an approach:

People in the rural are not demanding when it comes to brands. If you have a product/service that meets their needs, they will come to you.
Their problems are simple, and so are their needs.
Word of mouth publicity works fantastically in here. Go check it out sometime, if you still haven’t. It can do wonders for your business, if you have a product/service focused for them.
As a general view, rural people are sincere, honest and hardworking. They have a strong desire to do well, and equally sharp is their creativity. One can learn quite a lesson or two, from them.

On a concluder note, I would urge all of you passionate entrepreneurs and opportunists to think about your hometown, at times. If you haven’t been there in a long time, or if you don’t have one, go and get a ride over the week end. We have illustrating examples of fine individuals like Dr. Harish Hande (see Selco), a social entrepreneur with an excellent education background (graduation from IIT, Masters and PhD from University of Massachusetts, Lowell in Energy engineering) who came back to literally ‘enlighten’ the villages. Or take the example of our banker from South India, Mr. J. S Parthiban; who penetrates the remotest villages to assist villagers in opening savings accounts and financing their own needs. (See banking on change).

India’s opportunities lie within. And they are enormous. So entrepreneurs, go ahead. Find your opportunities beyond.

One.

2009-11-01T19:29:00.002+05:30

“CRACK!”

“Bhaaaag, Irffan!!!!”…. The sweaty hot gullies of Sultan Nagar echoed with screams of half a dozen kids feverishly indulged in their game. Life continued at its pace for the rest; men in pathanis and white caps walking by. Irfan sprinted, the whole of his Bhairampada cricket career at his stake – his team needed only one run to cheer. He had never been in a losing team so far, at the age of twelve. The front tire of a green Pulsar was his only goal, as he zeroed towards it with his outstretched bat. Sunil threw the ball at the tire-turned wicket, full of hope…

A second later…

“Yaaayy!!! Jiit Gaye!!!! Dhin Chak, Dhi chak!!!!” An overexcited Irfan threw his bat in the air, as his teammates ran to lift him in glory. Irfan was busy dancing in his victory ishtyle as his teammates handed him a kala-khatta Pepsi cola. And he grinned proudly, for a free treat tasted even better. A few spectators merely smirked and walked away. Farid bhai, however; managed to squeeze a smile. Seventy four years old and running a local paan shop; Irfan was his only prized possession, his gem of an orphan grandson. Irfan fondly called him "chacha ji". A gleam shone across his old freckled face as his brown stained, tobacco eschewed gums showed up. Absent minded, he stared at Irfan, paving out a few more details in his dream future for the grandchild. He wanted Irfan to grow up and be a car mechanic. From his life savings, he had even managed a small gala in the near-by municipal estate to establish the repair shop. Irfan, meanwhile, continued to celebrate; oblivious to his chacha ji's dream.

Two buildings away, perched in an aram khursi on the second floor; a steel cold pair of watchful eyes observed the same kid, carefully thinking. Zakir had been patiently watching this adolescent kid now, steadily for over ten years. A confirmation call, and the much awaited plan would kick into action.

Irfan’s destiny was about to change. Forever.

Intelligence...

2009-08-27T21:33:00.006+05:30

"It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it."

It was a few days back, when I first came across these words of wisdom, on Gtalk. (A smart fella had the cheek to keep this as his status message.). And the more I started "entertaining" this thought, the more fascinated I was by its sheer brilliance.

Think about it. We are in a world today, where formal education is no longer something we awe about. (Unless you are an Ivy league graduate.) However, what I did observe in almost all of us (that is sad, really); is a specific way of looking at life. When we come across a situation in life, what do we do? Well, to begin with, we may think about it. We try to remember if we have come across such a situation before. And in case anything matches; well, we try to implement the same solution (if there was one).

Now, here's a catch in this entire process. We think of experiences in our lives, as patterns. Patterns, which we believe (or love to believe); repeat themselves. However; what we do underestimate or ignore, is a fact that patterns may sometimes be similar, not same. Every "next time" you come across a situation which looks similar at the face of it; may not be SAME. Same and similar are different, even if their differences are subtle.

What does this mean? To put it in very simple words, is to understand the quote on the first line of this article. The next time you face a situation, just try doing this. Simply think of the situation as a collection of thoughts. Imagine. Imagine that each of these thoughts, is an individual string. Take that string in your mind, and play with it. Turn it upside down, stretch it, twist it, pull it. Tie two of them together, and see how it looks. Let it play in your mind, without you having to accept it. Eventually, you will start realising where this takes you - to a whole new world of possibilities. Where you can simultaneously look at various angles of a situation, individually assess each one, and then chose the best.

I believe that this is an art; which if learnt, can significantly improve our ability to make decisions in life. It can help us to individually acknowledge every situation in life, as a unique one. It will enable us to see the unique angles which we might have overlooked; had we been pre-opinioned. And at the end of it all, it is an infinite source of learning for us. Experience is what You get when you didn't get what you wanted. Think about it.

I know that this article must have (at it's best response), played a firework thoughts in your head. And this is exactly what I intended to do. I want you to tHiNk about what I just wrote, as individual thoughts. Consider this as your first exercise, in educated thinking. See how well you can entertain individual thoughts, without accepting or rejecting any particular ones. What comes to your mind, as you go back to the words you just read? What comes to your mind, as you see the image of the chessboard? I suppose this article will serve as a feedback system for you; enabling you to learn as you think. And think, as you learn.

To end this note, I will mention the creator of this beautiful thought. It was none other than Aristotle, the Greek philosopher. I believe that this thought of him is something which can be pondered upon, for atleast the next 200 years. Think about it.

Your Shot Jigsaw Puzzle

2009-08-20T08:24:00.001+05:30

Strokes of a brush....

2009-06-30T22:31:00.004+05:30

Every moment of my life,
is a stroke of a brush in my painting
The stroke begins with you,
and ends with you

strokes so bold and sweeping,
they bring me closer to you...

lights and shadows that make me,
understand you...

little touches simply add up,
that I can't live without you...

The real art in my painting,
is to love you, is to love you.

Let me be honest and admit that, this is not my work. I could never write poems, even for god's sake. This flow of creativity has been inked by Nayna Kadam. A chartered accountant, a lawyer; and a wonderful poet in the making. You make my life strong. Thank you.

mAkE a DiFFerEnCe !

2009-04-26T22:35:00.005+05:30

If you are passionate about something, how far would you go for it? Today, I witnessed how much some people can actually go in it. All thanks to a mail that had dropped in my facebook account by Puneet, a couple of months back. It’s a MAD, MAD world out there, and I love being a part of it!

2006: A group of youngsters, leaded by 22-year-old Jithin Nedumala, started out on a journey to teach the children at a children’s home in their home town. Initiated as a noble cause, however, the youngsters started realizing the reality of the situation. More importantly, they realized that they could improve the situation. Make A Difference was born. And the rest was history. Spanning across cities like Cochin, Chennai and Pune and winning accolades, MAD had really started making a difference. And then it decided to venture into the maximum city, the metro with a live heart. Mumbai was all set to go MAD, and today was the first official workshop, which I got to attend and be a part of.

2009: The Mumbai chapter of MAD has primarily been actively promoted, organized and managed by a bunch of energetic youths from the NMIMS College. They were glad to see a non-NMIMS make it to the workshop, as much as I was glad to be a part of them. The venue was at St. Joseph’s high school, Vile Parle. After most of the volunteers turned up, the workshop kicked off with an ice breaking session which was, in my honest opinion, one of the most incredible programs ever! We were all given a sheet of paper with a couple of questions relating to numbers and places, such as the size of our footwear, the number of ex’s, your favorite honeymoon destination and local railway station. After figuring out these numbers, everyone was asked to gather up in the middle of the hall and start hunting for other people in the room with same numbers and places as you had. An intelligently designed program, it was an instantaneous hit amongst all of us! Everyone was shouting “Churchgate”(obvious one, isn’t it?), “Seven” (foot size), “Paris” (honeymoon), “two” (ex’s) at the top of their voices, with some hilarious entries like “Seawoods” for favorite station, “Mount Everest base camp” as a honeymoon location, and a whooping 14 number of ex’s! The program ended with each one of us knowing each other a lot more, and the ice had melted away!

This was followed by an orientation programme which explained the birth and mission of MAD in brief. An emotionally touching presentation brought us back to the primary reason why we were all here for. The sense of unity was vibrant as the participants started opening up their cogitations. Our differences were kept aside, and we all realized the moral responsibility that we were about to shoulder by committing towards MAD.

After this session, the whole group was divided into teams of four, and each one of them was presented with a situation most likely to experience during teaching at the centers. The teams were supposed to understand and analyze the scenario, and brainstorm on possible solutions to overcome such situations. This really bought all of us in the groove of the situation, and as the teams presented their solutions, a healthy discussion would follow (Yash – I couldn’t help mentioning your name here!). It was a fabulous way to express each other’s opinions and broaden our visions.

The next program on the list was again team based, but this time it carried a different spice. Each team was supposed to work as the core committee of MAD, and think up of designing a logo, a jingle, a T-Shirt design, ways to raising funds and ideas to foster the organization amongst the youth. I particularly enjoyed this activity a lot, since it was years since I was dipping my fingers in poster colored bottles and painting on paper! Letting our imagination run wild, we all expressed our ideas and concepts in strokes of colors and papers. During this program, the personal interviews of the volunteers also initiated. As this creative session came to an end, we started with another game – taboo. Unfortunately for us, Natasha had somehow hoodwinked the whole game, as she kept winning round after round, earning a perk on every win! Finally, we decided to debar her from the game, and started with dumb charade. As a result of all these games, we never realized the pace of interviews, until our turn came in. The interviews were pretty decent, with a few questions designed to judge one’s reactive abilities.

On the whole, I had a truly nostalgic experience, it felt like going back to my college years and the NSS experiences. Only that MAD was a lot more fun, had a lot more interactive sessions than I had expected, and made me feel great at the end of the day! It’s the pure energy of these youngsters, there’s something addictive about it – you tend to fall for it, and if you really want to get high, then think of joining us! Be ready to embark upon yourself the moral responsibility of making a difference towards our society, by empowering the youth with street smart education. It’s the need of the hour for our nation, and there is indeed a lot that YOU can do! For starters, you can click here. Understand what MAD is all about, what the programs are, and what are different ways in which YOU can contribute for this society. Last, but certainly not the least, if you can’t be MAD, then spread the word.

Even that Makes A Difference.

Hungry kya?

2009-04-18T22:50:00.004+05:30

1900 hours, Marine Lines, Mumbai – The evening skies are filled with the aura of a thousand halogen lamps, un-naturally loud for the environment. Once a place of recreation for cricketers and footballers who discovered their skills; the gymkhana is now in a completely different avatar. Artificial decoration in a pathetic manner attempts to make the place look like a flowerbed in heaven, but one can’t help noticing the flowers dying to wither out in the blasting heat of those very lamps, held on by the gardeners who constantly spray preservative waters on them. And then arrives the most important part of any marriage in India – the food, of course. You think of the cuisine, and it’s right there. The kitchen churns out a global pot pourri of everything ranging from East to West, North to South, domestic, local, international. They have it all, more than the average man can contemplate. You find the lousy class who wants to be the jack of all trades, and one glance at his plate would make you vomit out your lunch. Though he covetously dabbles spoons of the variety, his plate ends half-emptied in the trash can an hour later. The same pot pourri has now lost its delicacy and magic, submerged in the stinking, sloppy contents of the garbage.

In a Virar bound local passing along the adjacent tracks to the gymkhana, a mal-nourished beggar watches the same event. It is one of the countless marriages of the rich and the powerful in this megacity, and they will flamboyantly display their wealth in an event of such caliber. After all, if marriages are made in heaven, why not flaunt them in one of the most expensive grounds in Mumbai? The beggar simply watches. He notices a group of hunger stricken families at the backyard, waiting for the leftovers. He wonders what his family will be able to fetch, back home. At the end of the day, it’s hunger that brings him back to reality. Every passing day is a struggle, every arriving night brings pang of emptiness in his stomach. He has a family of seven to survive, and his children have already starting displaying symptoms of malnutrition. If anything happens to them, he has no choice left. The child will keep crying, as the pangs keep alleviating, until the moment will arrive when the child will decide to quit. Even they realize that crying makes them hungrier, instead of receiving help. Every moment from then onwards is a silent fight, taming their stomachs, swallowing empty gasps of hot, dry air. One day their mother lifts them up, only to look at those cold lifeless eyes staring back at her.

The Oxford University defines the word hunger as a state of not having enough food to eat, especially when this causes illness or death. Have you EVER experienced hunger at this level, where you feared your very own survival? The World Food Programme estimates that 963 million people in the world are undernourished today. The rest of the numbers are frightening enough, I do not wish to state them here, mainly for two reasons: First, and most important, I believe that statistics are not taken seriously unless they are critically significant to you. And secondly, I have more important points to make here. The issue that I want to raise here is not about the alarmingly large number of people dying every day because of hunger. That’s the end reaction of a chain of events which occurred in the previous eras of human civilization. What I immediately wish is to start eradicating this issue. And this is where all of you come in the picture. Yes, I am talking about YOU. I am personally addressing to each and every one of you who is reading this article. The fact that you visited my blog and reached so far (hopefully, without yawning) makes me realize that I will be able to successfully connect to each and every one of you. Thank you, for coming so far. From this point on, I will guide you in making certain smart choices, which will not only change the way you live and think, but will also extend a helping hand in this global issue. So, what can we do now, you ask?

These are some of the un-conventional ways where YOU can help.

1. Play games.

2. Learn better words in the English language. (GRE/GMAT guys, this one is for grabs!)

3. Take a walk.

Surprised? Well, don’t be. These are some of the un-conventional ways in which you can Make A Difference. Besides, the conventional financial help is always an option, and the United Nations Organization has plenty of great programmes for which you can contribute. Finally, you can also chose to be a more sensitive, civilized citizen in your society and think rationally. Especially when we organize parties, night outs, and marriages. Let’s not lose the original excitement of meeting up for these social causes under the burden of arranging food, quite some of which goes as waste. The problem is not in-sufficient food; the problem is the imbalances in our society which are preventing this food from reaching out to all. None the less, it’s one of the primary necessities of human beings, and we all need to mutually understand this and improve the situation. It’s a massive problem, but an optimistic approach and a bit of change, DOES make a substantial difference over the period of time. Celebrate World Hunger Day this year, on 29^th April 2009. Play a game. Keep walking. Go on, it’s Your world.

If you liked it so far, you’d love to look at this!

http://www.wfp.org/how-to-help

And, if you have ideas of your own which can be of help, do write to this post.

Once again, Thank you. By reading this, YOU have already made a choice. Much power to you!

We, the people.

2009-04-06T22:38:00.003+05:30

The metro link bus was steadily cutting its way through the expressway, descending down the cold mountain. As she starred out of the window, the sight that beheld her eyes was enchanting. A thousand lights flickered down the hill in darkness as she approached the city limits once again. With every turn of the wheel, she was arriving closer. The last few days had been incredible, to be back to her roots. Every single hour of those days had been etched into the walls of her memory, dear as they were. But the call of duty was now pulling her back, away from the comforts… And as she started noticing the countless lights shimmering in front of her eyes, vivid images started floating in her mind…

“The farmers in these areas are barely surviving on basic amenities… water is always a calamity in the summers, and electricity is a false promise we have been shown for the past four decades. Last year, 20 families committed suicide, unable to bear the losses of their crop. This year, the wells have already dried up. Do we have any hope left, or have we to abandon our own lands? “

Tears flowed down the old man’s eyes like lost hope, drying up in the intense heat of the sun. She was looking around the land, barren, withered crops. Behind the man stood his two daughters, poverty stricken. Their eyes spoke of the hunger they had been taming for the past several days. Those very eyes, they begged at her for those basics which every human is worthy of. Every day they woke up with a singular thought, to find enough food to silence their craving hunger. Every night, they went back to sleep on the cold floor, hoping that the next day would bring something better. One such day, they would wake up in the morning and walk a few meters behind their hut to the large banyan tree. Only to find their father’s malnourished body hanging from the dried branch…. That day wouldn’t be far, she sensed it. The old man’s eyes reflected it. The time for stern action was due.

She knew it then. She belonged to the people; they looked upon her as the heaven-sent angel who would fit the lost pieces in the puzzle. She remembered her mother’s dreams; realization dawned upon her mind of the enormous responsibility that lay before her. Her journey had already begun somewhere... only now did she understand the choice made before her birth.

We, the people.

Understanding her...

2009-02-18T09:03:00.003+05:30

Mumbai. The city of seven islands, the city of recursive opportunities. Where shops vanish in twenty seconds upon the appearance of a grey-shaded monstrous truck; where aircrafts land amidst acres of slums. But in-spite of these facts, it remains as the powerhouse of the Indian economy, providing opportunities for millions. She was one amongst them now, travelling to and fro between office and work, carving a niche for herself. Back home, she belonged to those few who dared to venture beyond the simple conventional lifestyles and pursue superior goals. She was aware that her mother nurtured her with pride in her eyes; for she was chasing her lost pursuit through her daughter. She knew that she would have to venture beyond the darkness, she had the right support for which. The girl’s days of youth had witnessed several hardships encountered by her family, but they made no compromises on her upbringing. Every event in her life was eventually going to shape her destiny. Over the years she had developed the skills to acquire knowledge, an influential weapon which was going to accompany and empower her along the journey. Through her swift, lovely vision, she maintained a balance – at times, projecting her principles; at others, absorbing thoughts anew. A casual glance at her, and if you had a really good look, you realized that she was speaking volumes about herself just through her eyes. She possessed the skill to wishfully contemplate a hawk’s vision of life. Understanding of complexes, therefore; came very naturally to her as she could observe the patterns which her peers found themselves entrapped in. Thus, she impeccably won trust; a direct consequence of her rare nature.

But the big question still lingered in her mind: where would she go from here, now?

And then, it clicked right in…

The reminiscence of a childhood…

2009-02-09T23:23:00.001+05:30

The day was drawing close to retirement; lifelines were slowly making their beeline back home. It was another of those countless monotonous days in everyone’s life, and hers was nothing less. She turned the keys and walked inside her room; her chosen abode in the maximum city. Exhausted, she went to the bathroom, washed her face and came back in the living room, fresh with a napkin. She drew a chair towards the balcony and settled down on it, catching a few breaths; cursing the agonizing traffic of the city. The quadrangle in her society was bustling with action; children were making the best of the last few minutes before the sun would dip down across the smoggy horizons and the frustrated mothers would vocally drag them in-house. Tiny tots rushing around, screaming with glee; their innocent voices took her on a journey years back… she was one of them, running around, hiding behind the pillars, and anxiously waiting that chance to run across the hideout. She would burst into a fit of laughter when her friends would discover her secret hideouts. And then there was the bully, the fat naughty kid with sloppy hair who would never miss a single opportunity to throw a nasty tantrum. Recalling his rotund face was a pure delight to her, as she blushed with the memories anew. Those were the days when she had a carefree life; when she did not have to think about deadlines and investments, bank balances and repayments. The jovial evenings when she could walk around the fields, laugh at her own reflection in the dark well waters, witness grand evenings as the sun dipped among rooftops and tree branches into the orange red horizons. The lovely, nutritious meals cooked by her mother’s soft hands, the endless fights within the family, the good night tales with the elderly…

“Triiiiiing!!!!” She squinted her eyes and looked out of the balcony as she stood up to open the door – the sun was dipping among terrace tops with clothes-lines; a flock of pigeons fluttered nearby as the honking of horns on the main street pitched in. Mumbai.

her journey...continued ....

2009-02-06T23:00:00.004+05:30

Now. It is the time in her life, more important than any other phase. She realises that she has to explore beyond her existing routine; she has to reach out to the world. But to move out of employment means taking risks. She knows that every movement will be her own responsiblity, as her journey is bound to be alone. Her charm can earn her companions and colleagues, but she is looking for certainty. Her restless mind wants a peaceful companion, someone who will understand her emotions, and more importantly, be a pillar of support. The past is like a paperweight, trying to supress her. But with every gust of wind, she realises that she'd be better off, flying again. The question is, when? And where? Will it be the right move? Would she find her heart at peace, in this new land of opportunities? Or would she be isolated and then regret her decision? It's a question that keeps nagging at her constantly.

Eventually, she realises that her heart is what she wants to listen to, not her mind. She has a choice - between what is right, and what is easy. She must do it. Now.

By the seashore...

2009-02-04T23:29:00.002+05:30

As her tender feet touch the soft sand, it slowly wriggles away beneath her. She stands at the edge of the shore, the waves gently washing by. To and fro, they keep playing their game of hide and seek. As she stares out into the sea, she observes a thousand brightly lit stars speckled in the black velvet of the heavens above. The moon is glowing fully luminescent, casting its reflection on the playful waves. She chuckles as she tries to grab the silvery threads of light, but they vanish away as soon as she immerses her hands in the warm oceanic waters. Finally tired, she sits down in the sand, listening to the magical beauty of the waves as they fizzle out in front of her. A million thoughts are racing through her fragile mind, but she simply wants to pour it all out like the sea. A needle of envy, a blossom of charm erupts in her as she tries to absorb this magnificent act of nature. Her past appears in front of her eyes, frames of moments fading in and out. Words, actions, feelings, pain. Laughter, sorrow, silliness, calmness. People, places, times, faces. They weave a blanket of thoughts that flutters in her mind uncontrollably. Finally, she closes her eyes and releases the fabric of her thoughts to soak in the waves. She feels lighter, emptier. The fabric leisurely dissolves in the crashing waves, until their rhythmic melody is the only sound captured by her mind.

She opens her eyes to a whole new world. Slowly, she walks away, the waves amused with her as they brush off the last of her footsteps…

The world around me…

2009-01-13T22:19:00.004+05:30

8:50a.m, Grant Road station: As I walk along the foot over bridge towards platform number 3, I notice a bundle of rags lying on the floor. A few steps near, and the bundle reveals as a beggar. Would be around my dad’s age, soiled down to every bit of his skin, crumbs of bread stuck in his beard. He sleeps, unperturbed. I walk away, starring.

10:20a.m, Kanjurmarg station: A fisherwoman steps out of the local with her basket. As she walks by, the basket slightly tips over and a few drops of fish stench spill on the neighboring lady commuters. And lo! A scene of hot, wild exchange of abuses follows. A few commuters stop dead in their tracks to absorb the entertainment from it, further irritating other fellow commuters who push them out of their way.

I walk away, starring.

7:15 p.m, office: During a social debate, opinions are tossed like a ping-pong ball across colleagues. Some say more, others while away, glaring at their lcd screens with blank expressions on their faces. Disgust, pride, anger, humour. A pot pourri of emotions is being stirred. Shallow words emit by. I sit there, starring.

8.15p.m, C.S.T. local: A noisy gang of workers accidently get aboard the first class ladies compartment. As they realize their mistake, they panic even more and look around frantically, exclaiming in their local language. Men in my compartment look at them with plain disgust and indifference. One kind gentleman gets up and addresses the scared group to get down at the next station, and enter the adjacent second class compartment.

I sit there, starring.

8.45p.m, Grant Road station: People turn back home. A few men animatedly make a jovial conversation with their pals, laughing away. Elder women hurry their way up the stairs, thinking of dinner, children, and husband. Young girls are glued on their cell phones, pouring their lives out in wireless beams. Street sellers try to make a few bucks before the day calls in.

I walk by, starring.

Just another ordinary day, as I stare by it. Full of differences.

Learning principles...

2009-01-06T23:10:00.004+05:30

Watching a new born baby is one of the most pleasurable sights you can ever see. There is awe and surprise in his eyes, a curiosity about everything around him, and a thirst to learn. Right from day one, he starts by watching, listening, feeling, hearing. He is getting adapted to the world into which he has just stepped.

As the baby grows steadily into a child, his curiosity only strengthens further, enabling him to learn even better. The child is now shaping into a human being, by imbibing certain aspects that will define him for the rest of his life. Principles. Qualities that are hard coded into the very conscience of every individual, they decide how he will step ahead in life. Every one of us is born with a purpose. A unique purpose, for which we exist in this world. For if this purpose was not unique, if it could have been achieved by any other individual other than us, then why did we exist in the first place? Why were we born to our parents? Who has a choice over our gender or our place of birth? These are questions which have no answer. But we all know one fundamental truth, whether or not we accept it – we are unique. All of us. And we have a definite goal to achieve.

What then, is the purpose of our life? And how many of us actually manage to achieve our goals? How do we realize them? Again, these are some questions we cannot answer with certainty. It really doesn’t matter. What matters is knowledge of certain facts. That everyone of us is born with a set of talents. It’s like a built-in functionality. Though they are unlimited, each one of us has some of them. No wonder you will find many individuals with similar talents in this world. A. R. Rehman is a fantastic musician, but so are the Shankar-Ehsaan Loy brothers. Rajendra Janglay is a great photographer, but Atmaram Parab can give him tough competition. Sonu Nigam is a fabulous singer, but Abhijeet Sawant can give him a run for his career. The examples are just endless.

So, what are we trying to get at? If so many people in the world exist with similar talents, what makes us unique? Just the fact that we are different individuals, born to different parents? No, not really. It’s rather the path that we chose to walk on. And that path is very much chosen by you. It’s the freeway that you ride on, guided by only one compass - your principles. This is the fitting piece in the puzzle. The track that you eventually align yourself on, to reach your destination. This combination of principles and talents is what defines our inimitableness. They eventually decide your behavior, your nature, your attitude of looking at life. Every moment in our lives, is a choice between what is right, and easy. Life then, is simply a collection of one’s choices. Think about it.

A confession...

2008-12-09T11:57:00.004+05:30

As I step on Kennedy Bridge to hail a cab, I notice one parked right in front of me. Four tough looking youngsters in their mid-twenties step out of it, so does the driver. The driver seems to be arguing with them about something, I walk nearby to know more. The meter fare converts to fifty rupees, but one of the ruffians’ hands over a ten rupee note to him and starts walking away. The driver, angered with the injustice of it, asks for the balance to be paid off. No sooner than he says this, trouble starts brewing. The four men stop dead in their tracks, turn around and walk towards the taxi driver, watching him steadily with fierce looks. One of them opens his wallet and says “Yeh le tere pachaas rupaiye, bhenchod.”(Take back your fifty rupees, you sisterfucker) Shivering, the driver takes his money silently, knowing that something dark is about to happen. The guy shoves the wallet back in his pocket and leaves. One of the roughnecks casually walks over and faces the taxi driver. Violently, he frisks the driver away from the vehicle. He has noticed that I am waiting for all the commotion to get over. In an authoritative tone, his bloodshot eyes meet mine as he says, “Tu iske sath hi jayega, lekin do minute ruk.” (You will go with him, but wait for two minutes).

Turning back to the driver, he continues to stare at him. The driver tries to go back towards his vehicle, but the guy stops him. As the driver opens his mouth to protest, he receives a stunningly powerful blow right across his face. He is literally thrown back with the force of it. The sound of it thunders across the entire area, further amplified by the early morning hours. I am in a helpless situation, since interfering with these men does not look wise though it is ethically right. My watchman hunts for another taxi and escorts me quickly into it. But I am horrified, witnessing the whole scene. I notice the guys laughing and chatting in Marathi as they walk away, leaving the driver standing alone in the middle of the street with tears in his eyes. They are the tears of injustice, the tears of agony. Tears that roll down the cheek of thousands of lower class, struggling Indians every day as they fight heat and nights earning their family’s daily bread. They never grab any media coverage or newspaper headlines; simply buried as they are beneath the countless sights and sounds of this city. It’s not the physical pain of the blow or losing another customer that hurts him as much as the pain of un-acceptance by his own society; the pain of being different. The brave Marathi manoos has done it yet again; proving his prowess and dominance over the North Indian bhaiyyas. It’s been sixty one years since India’s independence. The innocent face of the taxi driver with glistening red eyes lowers my head down in shame. India: A country of unity amidst diversity of religions and cultures. What about their followers, what about her citizens?

This is the voice of an ordinary, middle class Marathi manoos who is even today sporadically refused a ride by cabbies in his own town, after 23 years of living.

The tale of a neighboring state: The entrepreneurial Gujarat.

2008-11-18T21:23:00.007+05:30

Reading much about the progress of Gujarat lately, the hunger to explore this land was slowly developing in my mind. Then, the opportunity entered through my door almost like Goddess Laxmi. This year, the festival of lights apparently had a special plan in store for me. Here’s how it all started…

One evening during a chat session at Gopalas, Siddharth casually suggested that I join him at his hometown. Siddharth is a good pal of mine who hails from Gandhidham, Kutch. Perhaps he was not aware of my appetite till then, but he must have been quite surprised, for I immediately agreed. And thus we started chalking out our plan in full throttle of excitement, like school going kids gaming on some mischief.

After several unsuccessful attempts to get a train ticket under the tatkal service, I took the brave decision of travelling by bus. The journey had a lot to see, to hear, to learn.

Maharashtra and Gujarat are complementary siblings from the same womb. I will elucidate this by starting a comparison of their roadways. One can call them as the ether of Gujarat; the place is riddled with broad lane state and national highways that facilitate rapid transportation and connectivity of the interiors with their district capitals. To a traveler from Mumbai who is accustomed to the pothole ridden bumpy rides, these seem like F1 practice laps. Arguably though, one should think twice before carelessly tossing the blame on the state transport authorities of Maharashtra. The two states, however adjacent to each other, have completely different topographies and climatic conditions. Rains are one of Mother Nature’s most ferocious elements, and it makes but a guest appearance in Gujarat. The roads survive the heat.

As the highway snakes its way across the length and the breadth of the country, one notices the silent presence of the three loyal electric lines running obediently besides you. Perched atop these cables, you will discover flocks of charming little racket tailed Drongos pecking at the dry, harsh air. Welcome to the state of the mighty Sabarmati and Narmada; welcome to the state where deserts are cultivated with Taiwanese papayas and Israeli watermelons. Welcome To Gujarat.

Along the journey, tiny stalls selling huge baskets of piping hot fafda, chilies and jalebis sporadically make their presence, flocked as they are with the ravenous locals. Women have a distinct touch of rustic beauty on them; their pierced nose, colorful blouses and jingling dresses are a welcome to the sore eye, a contrast to the barren ambience they come from. The horizon stretches on for miles, which is simply out of question in Maharashtra, since the country of this state is interspersed with the mighty Sahyadris. The landscape oscillates between barren lands and vast green fields swaying gently below the deep blue skies. As I wonder how the farms survive the harsh strokes of heat, the answer zooms past me: a long canal lazily wiggles its way through the fields.

Suddenly, the bus stops in the middle of nowhere; a few passengers want to take a leak. The terra firma appears to be arid, empty. As soon as the door swings open, the men jump at the opportunity. Running off the highway into the fields, they quickly unzip their trousers and relish the delights of relieving their bladders. A teenager eagerly steps down from the bus with similar intentions; though that’s when she notices a tiny toddler urinating on the ground next to the bus, skirts up and all. There isn’t a single tree in sight for miles to cover, and as the cruel truth dawns upon her tender mind, she dejectedly turns her footsteps back. I wonder when we will introduce public latrines inside buses, atleast for the sake of women. It is a natural calamity, it is a national calamity.

Evolution of modern townships – Adipur, Gandhidham.

After twenty hours of a back breaking journey spanning across east to west of Gujarat, I finally land up in Gandhidham. Not less than twenty seconds into the car, and I have already started developing affection towards Mr. Hero Tirthani, Sid’s father. The two of them turned up at the bus stop to receive me, bags and all. As the white Santro navigates its way through the by-lanes of Adipur, Mr.Tirthani takes the pleasure of introducing me to this new township. I observe him as a passionate enthusiast with a huge appetite for a variety of topics. A former Lion’s club president, Mr. Tirthani’s personality comes across as a warm social celebrity with the distinct pride of being a denizen of the town he resides in. Without further ado, we start with the history of Adipur.

Much of the Kutch district was primarily a dessert during the pre-Independence era. The land belonged to the two provinces of Sindh and Gujarat. However, after the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947, India lost much of the province of Sindh including the Karachi port. The towns of Adipur and Gandhidham were simply non-existent then. The area had vast expanses of arid-dessert like topography filled with thorny cacti, wild snakes and scorpions; it was unfit for humans. The partition had inflicted a heavy wound upon lakhs of residents in western India and Pakistan; they were now homeless, and rehabilitation was inevitably bound to arrive. But they had a leader, a visionary – Bhai Pratap Dialdas (1908-1967). This freedom fighter from Sindh was in the forefront with the likes of Nehru and Patel during the struggle for independence.
With a dream in his mind, Bhai Pratap approached Maharao Madansinhji, the ruler of Kutch. As a kind gesture and a mark of respect to Bhai, the Maharao offered a vast area of land in his district. After consulting town planners and establishing the Sindhi Resettlement Corporation (SRC), Bhai Pratap’s dream steadily took a concrete shape into what western India recognizes today as the modern townships of Gandhidham – Adipur. Initially, the barren lands had to be improvised to make them habitable for humans. Bhai Pratap used revolutionary approaches like offering incentives for eradicating the poisonous scorpions and snakes in the vicinity, for 25 paise and 50 paise each. Small initiatives like these ensured that the people to be rehabilitated were also employed with activities and went a long way into establishing their home town. When you work for building your place of residence right from the grass root level, you tend to develop a strong feeling of attachment for that land. This affection can be positively felt in almost every household today, including the Tirthani’s. They love the soil and will go to great extents to develop it further.

Lovely breakfasts…

Enter Mrs. Nisha Tirthani: Siddharth’s mom, another former Lion’s club president and an exceptionally magnificent cook. An amiable mother; she always treated me like her son. A connoisseur of Sindhi food, Mrs. Tirthani ensured that I got a taste of the best, and she would put in every effort to make this possible. I thoroughly enjoyed the taste of various cuisines right from the Spanish omelets to chicken salads and soups, including the fantastic mutton delicacies, the succulent meats and butter laden rotis. A terrific treat for my taste buds, I must confess. While she would churn up dish after dish for us, Mr. Tirthani would update me with the necessary knowledge surrounding the delicacies. As a result, there were lively discussions at the dining table with every one offering their perspectives, while satiating our tummies.

A generation of erudite…

The Tolanis are the second reason for development of the modern township – they established a host of educational institutions which cater from early childhood right up to post graduation in various streams. As a result of this contribution in the early years, the generation in the town today consists of populace with double degrees and broad visions. For an elfin town, Adipur is home to numerous educational institutions and literacy rates are significantly higher than most of the surrounding townships. The result is an erudite society that feeds on rational thoughts and clean lifestyles. The average household possesses a burgeoning collection of books, social meetings are attended by the learned, and adequate pools of culture are maintained by public libraries. The constant strive for preserving the traditions of the Sindhi community is visible in the Indian Institute of Sindhology, a local establishment with an interesting name.

The town has been developed into self-sufficient districts which are further sub-divided into neighbouring wards. In the early days, water was a major issue, obvious to any place which is a part of a dessert. This issue was handled when a pipeline containing Narmada water found its way into the town. It is surprising to a Mumbaikar when he opens the basin tap and water freely gushes out of it; this is a luxury which more than half of our population is not fortunate enough to enjoy. Our state government has other priorities on its mind. Adipur serves as a perfect case study of a well planned town, and should be studied carefully by architects and town developers of tomorrow.

A visit to the epicenter…

Bhuj is the modern day headquarters of the Kutch district. As a town, it enjoys a historic importance, being home to many palaces, schools and temples. Among the most famous ones are the Nagar Khana and the Aina Mahal. At the center of the town lies a placid lake with the fort walls on one side and a couple of temples on the other. The gothic structures of Alfred High school and the local museum makes you feel as if you are in South Bombay. It’s hard to believe that an earthquake of horrific intensity had annihilated the whole town, just seven years back.

The first thing we do in Bhuj is eat. Vicky’s Restaurant is the most renowned eatery in the town, a hangout of the socialites and foreigners. The air conditioned interiors are decorated with large traditional Gujarati works on a western architecture; the waiters are clad in a typical white kurta and a red turban. An enormous plate lies in front of you, and steadily the contents start filling with scrumptious vegetables, dals, kadis and rotis. Dhoklas, dahi wadas and hot jalebis come in next; and it doesn’t end here. Rather, the whole process is never ending unless you firmly stop the waiter from further hospitality. A veggie’s ultimate delight, that’s my final verdict.

It’s a herculean effort to explore any town after such a filling luncheon. But the museum immediately took care of that. One of the best places to start from, this rock structure is house to some of the priceless treasures of the town. There are scriptures dating back to 11 A.D, and a sample of eroded tree trunk residing within a glass cage makes you gasp when you notice the placard below it – “belongs to the Jurassic era”. The place is a time machine, for it takes you on a journey dating almost 150 million years back. An entire evolution of generations pose behind glass shelves – coins, rocks, weapons, clothes. Kutch has several tribes with their own unique traditions and each has contributed towards the history of the land. The museum pays tribute to all of them by housing their sculptures, giving minute attention to the style of clothing, occupations and physical features. It comes across as a pleasant surprise to the visitors and local residents that the town has such a rich history to boast of.

Next on the list after the museum, is Nagar Khana. As we step out of the car and my eyes first rest upon the ancient structure, a surge of exotic familiarity passes through me; this feels like déjà vu. The palace, the towers, they look surprisingly familiar…and lo! The puzzle clicks in, finally. Nagar Khana is another example of a gothic structure like the many at Fort, Mumbai. The tower overlooking the town limits reminds one of Rajabai towers (Bombay University), except that the vast green lawns of the Oval are missing here. What you find instead, are rubbles of dirt and stone, deep cracks in the wall here and there; the scars of a recent mishap. However, even in this day and time, the palace interiors, the staircases, the wide corridors with wooden floorings and ceilings unfailingly create a majestic experience for the traveler. At some places, the wooden ceiling has cracked and pairs of bright green parakeets poke their head out and noisily chirp at you. But alas, they are the only living inhabitants of this magnificent structure today.

As the engine roars to life again, we head towards yet another destination, which was according to me the cherry on top of the pie. A few kilometers ahead of Bhuj, we start noticing an air force base and several defense camps in the vicinity. Beyond it is a small hill with a road going right till the top of it. We can see a couple of circular whitewashed huts built atop the hill; it seems like a resort. Quite a weird location to set up a resort of such a trendy fashion, right in the middle of an area surrounded by military base camps.
And then I notice it.
The land in front is barren, for miles. The harsh rays of the sun are scorching down upon your head. But right there in the heart of it, mesmerizing your sight is a colossal water body stretching from east to west; placid, calm. Rudramata dam. The magnificent cherry on top of the pie has finally been placed, and I am speechless for a few minutes, spellbound by the fascinating bird’s eye view offered from the hill top. As we sit in the shade sipping on cold drinks, my mind is finally at peace. I have never experienced something like this before, it is a strange and unique feeling, something I will cherish for a lifetime. As I look beyond the desert, I already know it; the sibling state, the pastoral Bhuj, the Rudramata dam is going to receive my visit again. The social towns, the rustic spirit, the entrepreneurial attitude are lessons for life, an inspiration to do more. To strive hard for success, to build castles out of sand. We have a long way to go, I guess.

As Robert Frost would quote...
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Time...

2008-10-07T20:41:00.003+05:30

A strange entity, isn’t he? Time. He enriches one man’s journey; he steals the very thing from another. An abstract companion; everything revolves and spins around him. Moments, events, incidents, situations, eons, centuries, seconds, years, yesterday, tomorrow. Now.

Time changes us. Our thoughts, our opinions, our beliefs. He can start an expedition of a lifetime in the fraction of a second. He can also end that voyage in the blink of an eye. He is expected to walk at a constant pace, though we never feel so. Some moments seem to last forever, and one feels as if time was given an anesthesia. To contrast, some moments occur so rapidly that the very time we speak of, seems like Lance Armstrong in one of his winning performances. And inspite of his changing nature, I wonder why we fail to accept changing people. Why is it that you want them to remain the way they were, when you knew them a couple of years back? Such milestones are followed by a single pair of footsteps, instead of two. You feel sad about their absence; you wish it had never happened. You feel alone.

He’s a strange fellow indeed, time. I guess I am yet to learn much about him…

rATAnGAd....

2008-10-03T21:45:00.007+05:30

Ambarish: It’s now, or never. We have made it so far.

Me: Yeah, I can see the god damn summit. Five minutes, seven at the most.

Gaurav: Oye, you guys are crazy! CRAZY!!! The rain is hurting and the waterfall at the entrance has multiplied its force. As if this isn’t enough, the ladder is broken at the top. And it’s horribly slippery up there. This is pure suicide, nothing short of it. Trust me guys, this point is as good as the top. Enjoy the view from here and let’s head down now, before it gets late. It’s alright, we have made it.

Me: We have ALMOST made it, Gaurav. There’s a difference.

I am going up. Anyone else?

Ambarish: Me.

Gaurav: Fine. We will wait for you guys. Don’t try too hard. And please be quick. Are you taking the guide along?

Guide: Me not coming up, sahib. Waterfall is too powerful. Waterfall is Dangerous. Don’t go, sahib.

Me: Whaa??? Screw this guy! Let’s go, Ambarish.

Ten minutes later…

Oh fuck! The damned waterfall’s coming straight at me. Even the rocks are slippery as hell. lemme try this way ….

12:30 in the noon and both of us were shivering to death under the timid shelter of a cave, at the summit of Ratangad. It was all over. Another fort conquered; another clean victory. Although I must confess that we didn’t really enjoy the descent down the slippery waterfall entrance. It makes my hair stand at the edge even today, when I recall that petrified situation in my life. But that’s Ratangad for you, and if you have adventurous genes, you’re dead sure to love it. Got the balls, go and do it. I did it. And I have no regrets about my call; for beyond fear, there is success. The sweet taste of it always makes you want to go for it, again and again. Sort of like an addiction.

But our journey had started a long time back, and it started in an abusive tone…

12:30 (a.m. this time), Thane bus stand: We finally found our golden Toyota Qualis, humming impatiently for our arrival. Except Mandar and me, everyone else was in that car, abusing us. Same shit, different day. When you are with Mandar, somehow this always happens. I have a strong notion that Mandar, in his previous life, must have been a physicist who fooled around with time travel miserably. Hence, the revenge.

Finally we took off for our base camp, Bhandardara. A near four hours journey bundled up in the back of an uncomfortable Qualis bought us to our hotel at 5 am. We caught the first, and perhaps, the most beautiful glimpse of the gigantic waters of the reservoir. Unfortunately, it was too dark to photograph this magnificence, so this will be perhaps the only record of it ever made. As experienced on previous occasions, language fails to express such beauties. Sight, after all, is one of the fundamental senses for us. To search for an alternative that does justice to it is plain foolishness, if you ask me for an honest opinion.

After a bit of rest, we got ready for our first day of exploration. If you are in Bhandardara, there are a couple of things which you are simply not allowed to miss. One of them being the deliciously hot kanda bhajjis near the lake (Introducing Mr. Sanjay, an extremely kind hearted fellow who can help you in a thousand ways. This also includes satiating your hunger by his awesome cooking skills). Try the lemon grass tea and the potato wadas…you’ll be licking your fingers like a hungry fox. Okay, I am not sure whether a fox actually does that, but I am positive that you will. Go for it!

Anyway, enough of freelance marketing for Mr. Sanjay. After a “happy go tummy”, we proceeded to sight- seeing around Bhandardara. This place is indubitably one of the most beautiful locations in Maharashtra, since a lot of the scenery is yet untouched by the filthy hands of our urbane population. Countless waterfalls litter every road, many of them jogging right over so that your car makes a grand splashage as it roars through them. On one such occasion, we also got a healthy feedback of local abuse. You can easily guess why.

One of the places we went to was some irrigation project high up the surrounding mountains of Bhandardara (I forgot the name, as usual). Freezing cold, high up, a cold wind blew us a welcome note as we stepped out of the comfortable Qualis to explore this place. It was at the edge of a mountain, and with a visibility of 5 feet, all that you could make out was the faint structure of an iron railing ahead. We all went and stood there, freezing in time, not knowing what lay beyond or below. Nothing could be seen, as we were engulfed in a massive cloud. Teeth chattering, feet scrambling, fingers curled around the camera, we all awaited for the moment to arrive. And it suddenly did! The clouds swirled back like curtains of an old cinema, offering us one of the most heart touching view ever! It lasted for hardly four seconds, but it was all our lenses were waiting for. The photograph below will speak for what we witnessed in those four seconds.

As the curtain of clouds engulfed us again, the cold got bitter and we voted to move back in the car. Next on the list was the famous ancient temple of Amruteshwar. This is another of those beauties which exists even today, standing hard and cold out of a single rock since eons, bravely withstanding the ruthless forces of nature. Sadly, the only thing our archaeological department has managed to do is to fix up a simple board outside this monument, declaring it as one of those countless heritage structures who put up a silent show. They are a testimonial to our intellectual ancestors, who could build structures in those times which have survived till date. We have a lot yet to learn from them, but unfortunately, our fundamental building blocks today are bricks, concrete and steel. Though western ideas are concrete, they cannot match up with stones. Look at what I mean to say, you’ll understand.

The temple seems to be non functional, but the interiors truly emanate a spiritual charge through you. There is a shivling inside the temple, which is almost submerged in water during the monsoons, and looks mysteriously enchanting. This temple is a must watch, if you are to visit Bhandardara any time.

After loitering around the temple ambience, we decided to head back to our hotel for lunch. We had one of the most mouth watering meals consisting of chapattis, dal and a red-hot vegetable, with green chilies and onions. Oh, how we devoured it! Like a pack of hungry wolves, we gulped down chapattis after chapattis, until no more would slip down the throat. With thoroughly satisfying (and disgustingly unsocial) burps, we proceeded to our hotel for a short nap. (I was wondering if we were seriously on a trek, this seemed to be too luxurious for one?) Mandar’s behavior was truly bolstering this school of thought, since he made this trip as a complete luxury trip. No efforts at all. Hence, he was a hard target for all of us. Everywhere, anywhere, poor Mandy would be pulled into the conversation, and a couple of painful taunts would be tossed at him casually. (Swapnil). Not that he got affected in any way, Mandy’s an o’l sea dog who keeps his cool (and that’s how I gather up the courage to write shit about him in public).

Ambarish had joined the gang by now, from Pune. Not without earning his share of abuse, though. And the mangy fellow came for a trek with an umbrella, which tempted me to rag the living hell out of him. (Remember Lokesh arriving at one of the Matheran treks with a suitcase? You broke his record, bro!)

In the evening, we visited a monstrous waterfall, followed by the main gates of the dam. The water here was a shade of bluish green and petrifying to even the most expert swimmer. After taking a few good clicks around, we came back to the hotel to get ready for the big day – trek Ratangad fort.

0630 hours: Mandy, wake up! We got a trek to do. Today!

Mandar: Zzzzz…..

Me: Damn it mandy please fucking get up! No one told you to hang around till late night yesterday…

Mandar: Zzzzz???

Manndyyyyy!!!!!!!

Mandar:Zzzzzzzz…..

I rushed into the loo to get myself ready, and that’s when I realized that there was no electricity. It was pitch dark in the bloody bathroom and I was left with just one option: Candle light shitting. Try it sometime, if you still haven’t been fortunate enough to do this. You can’t make such shit, I’ll tell ya! It’s a situation of baseless (literally) fear, for the candle might fall at any time. And god alone can save you if that happens.

Ten minutes into this acrobatic stunt and I was out alive, unhurt, unscratched, un-burnt, and most importantly, lighter. After much running-bustling about, we finally got our sacks ready, dumped them into the car, and set off for Ratangad. Ahh, the weather! It was perfect – light rains, strong breeze, mild sunlight would ensure a cool trip. However, a sad turn of events took place when we reached the base camp, the temple of Amruteshwar. It was pouring heavily by now, and we encountered a group of fellow trekkers who had just come back from the trek. When we asked them about it, their reply was “No. There’s no use of going, you’ll have to turn back near the end. It’s impossible to make across the second ladder. ”

Wow! That’s exactly what we needed now, I said to myself. A bunch of losers who want to discourage enthusiastic, blood thirsty travelers hailing from lands far across. I had already made up my mind – I was in. Thankfully, many others were in as well, and so we set off on our journey. And what a terrain! Nine waterfalls, traversed across! I literally remembered the adventures of TinTin, and I much fancied myself to procure four strands of yellowed hair on my head, and snowy. The rains were pouring heavily, everything was drenched right to the core (except for my camera – it’s a miracle). Slowly, steadily, wading across the waterfalls, we made our way up the fort. Three hours and a couple of snack-breaks later, we found ourselves facing the first iron ladder which would take us to the top of the mountain.

We started climbing it up, and pretty soon we reached the top. This was the turning point. The rainfall had increased to such an extent, that it was literally painful. Huge drops hitting your eyes at terminal velocity made you blind, you couldn’t see anything in such inhuman conditions. The second ladder was bang in front, mocking at us like an un-conquerable monster. There was a waterfall growling right through the entrance to the fort, down this ladder, and it’s force had increased tremendously. All in all, it was a subprime meltdown situation.

Gaurav: That’s it, guys. We have done it. There’s no point going up there.

Ambarish: It’s now, or never. We have made it so far.

Me: Yeah, I can see the god damn summit. Five minutes, seven at the most.....

Fear can make you prisoner, hope can set you free.

2008-08-22T10:20:00.009+05:30

It is very rare when a movie can alleviate your spirits to the greatest levels of optimism. It is very rare when a movie makes you look back at your footsteps; makes you ponder over those moments which plug together and complete the jig-saw puzzle of your life. We realize how much we try to hurry up with our lives; rather than accepting, we keep expecting.

And it’s no wonder that such a movie ranks #1 in the world.

Inspired from a fictional novel written by Stephen King, “The Shawshank Redemption” spools a fantastic plot about Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins), a young successful banker who is convicted for the brutal murder of his wife and her lover. With insufficient evidence to prove his innocence, Andy is sentenced a double life-time imprisonment behind the stone walls of Shawshank. Here he meets Ellis Redding (Morgan Freeman), an inmate who has an easy way with the guards, enabling small needs of the prisoners to be smuggled into the walls of impenetrable Shawshank. Redding steadily takes a liking for Andy; for he notices something quite different from the early appearance of the man. Dufresne is someone you might completely mistake in your first impression: a character with a cold stare and minimal talk, he would seem to be unapproachable. But behind those strange eyes hid one of the most intricately knowledgeable brains in the banking industry- Andy Dufresne was an expert in finance, he knew it all- the rules, the rewards, and the loopholes.

Surprisingly, Dufresne is not the only protagonist in this charismatic drama. The movie equally revolves around other characters. Redding, who’s in for a murder committed in his early years, has spend 20 years of his life in Shawshank, when Andy arrives. Redding is one of those typical elements you’d find in almost every prison-an expert at contraband. The very nature of his talent earns him his loyalty in dollars and prisoners. 20 years is a small number to type out on the screen, but living your life within stone walls for that period is unthinkable. “Shawshank” has done a brilliant job at painting this unimaginable style of living; a prisoner’s way of life. “These prison walls are quite funny. You hate them in the beginning; then you slowly get used to them, and eventually your life becomes dependent on them.” A prisoner gets “institutionalized” by the time he starts sharing these school of thoughts. Inside, he is recognized with his responsibilities and abilities. But outside, he’s just an old con struggling for a living. And then there are inmates like Andy Dufresne. Who believe strongly in the power of good, in the power of hope. Who understands the forces of nature such as pressure and time. (Watch the movie; you’ll know what I mean.) Dufresne is one of those bright winged seagulls, who shouldn’t have been caged in the first place.

“Shawshank Redemption” has also portrayed a dark canvas of the inhuman degrees of torture subjected on its inhabitants. Simply imagining such conditions can cave the walls of security within our minds and strip us to bare nudity. And yet, inspite of all levels of physical, emotional and mental torture, there still remains a freedom which is exclusively ours. No one can ever touch it; no one can take it away from us. It’s the freedom of thought. The freedom to choose, to act. And once you make your choice, you either get busy living, or get busy dying.

(The Shawshank Redemption is rated on IMDB as the #1 movie in the world with 3, 65, 762 votes and a user rating of 9.1 as on 22nd of August, the year of 2008.)

Conflict diamonds...

2008-07-28T23:13:00.003+05:30

That special day has finally arrived. You walk up to her, go down on your knees, and offer her the glistening diamond ring. The happiness on her face is radiating with a special glow as you slip the precious stone on her tender fingers. It is a breathtaking moment which isolates both of you from the entire world.

Meanwhile; deep in the forests of Sierra Leone, a woman screams in agony as a group of revolutionaries brutally drag her outside a hut and rape her. Her children watch the crime with a horrified expression, helpless to the armed men. After the sin is committed, the pitiless revolutionaries beat her to death using bamboo sticks with nails embedded in them. This is the price paid by millions of such families for that one moment of happiness in your life. The diamond on your beloved one’s fingers is a conflict diamond.

It all began in late 90’s, when the government of Sierra Leone was in a precarious condition. The Revolutionary United Frontier had a clear intention in their mind – to give birth to insurgency in Sierra Leone. "No More Slaves, No More Masters. Power and Wealth to the People." was the slogan they publicized largely, but their alternative for the unjust government was equally unknown. After overthrowing the government, the RUF rebels captured a majority of the population, and subjected them to ruthless torture. An estimated 23,000 children were brainwashed to join the RUF as soldiers, brandishing rifles and knives in their little hands. Girls were forced into prostitution; pregnant mothers were killed for entertainment. The primary occupation of the locals being working in the diamond mines, these workers had to compromise with their hands; which would be hacked off by the rebels. They feared that these locals would work for the government, so they took the” necessary” measures. Meanwhile, approximately 20% of the diamonds were being sold in the international markets, along various routes in South – East Asia and the Indian sub-continent. RUF used the cash-flow from these diamonds to buy arms and ammunition.

While the present situation is a lot much better, it was shocking to know that a crime of this degree existed just a few years back. Today, Sierra Leone is a third world nation struggling to recover its economy and social life. Interpolations indicated a loss of around 2, 00, 000 lives during the coup. International acts such as the United Nations mandated Kimberly process have ensured that countries exporting diamonds certify that the precious stones are not misused. The number of conflict diamonds in the international diamond market today is reported to be less than 1%. Africa is slowly rising once again on its feet, and its citizens hope to have a better tomorrow to dream of.

(For further references, kindly visit www.diamondfacts.org)

Breakfast at Cosmopolitan…

2008-07-17T21:15:00.002+05:30

Well, well, well….things change with time, don’t they? This was the precise thought that popped into mind last Sunday. I was out at my friend’s place for an overnight stay, and we decided to have our Sunday brunch at an Irani restaurant near his house. Something different than the usual hideouts.

There is something strikingly different about these Iranis. Right from the entrance, to the flooring and the funny smell that loiters the ambience. The walls are covered with tall mirrors and pretty wallpapers. Wooden tables with an exquisite marble top are neatly arranged across the expanse of the restaurant. The fluttering sheets of a century old calendar drag your attention to the gigantic and ancient ceiling fans hovering above you. It’s the perfect place to sit with a cup of tea and spend hours on end, reading a novel. And no one disturbs you. No one is actually bothered about you; you are left to your own self.

Unfortunately for us, these Iranis are slowly becoming an extinct species. Today is the era of Café Coffee Day, Barista and Brio. These new-age cafes are complete in every sense. In every modern sense, that is. Swanky new chairs and tables, shiny floors, large panes of see-through glass, air conditioned ambiences complete with lava lamps and bean couches. And an equally young generation of waiters who will provide you with prompt service, bringing in your cappuccino and micro-waved samosas in minutes. These cafes are a favorite hangout for all - youngsters and elders alike. They prove to be an exchange domain for study notes, love, memory trips and business ideas. With their wireless access points and electric plugs, they easily attract the portable computers and their busy brained users. Meanwhile, the loyalists of Iranis slowly continue to trickle down…

I wonder if ten years down the line, I will even be fortunate enough to experience the bun-maska and cutting chai of Merwan’s at my neighborhood. Though they are no match to the abundant amenities of CCD, they certainly deem home to the nostalgic good old times la Bombay!

Office after lunch...

2008-07-14T20:03:00.006+05:30

I am extremely lazy. Honestly. And yesterday I came across this beautiful video on my office mail, and I just couldn't stop laughing!!! This is exactly how our post-lunch sessions go. Ahh, and the innocence of these sweet little kids....just check it out, and you'll know... daaaamn cute, ain't she? Cheers!

Pit pat pit pat....

2008-06-07T11:08:00.003+05:30

3^rd June, 2100 hours, Outside National Stock Exchange: The vivid orange hue in the heavens was unmistakable as I walked down the exit lane. Weariness in my soul drained instantaneously on witnessing this grandeur arrival of the rain gods. I excitedly caught the nearest rickshaw and headed straight for the station. And the gods decided to wait…till I grabbed the door and comfortably placated my feet at the entrance of a Churchgate local. A flash of light across the skyline, the rolling thunder that narrowly followed it, and a sudden jolt – we were off!

Like everything else about the maximum city are its monsoons. They inimitably paint the metropolitan with shades of crisp purity. Harsh fumes of heat are rapidly swallowed by the brisk splatter of downpour. Sweat becomes sweet. The moist air is filled with an exquisite fragrance. Green waves of moss and mimosa squeeze their way through every gap in the walls and roads. The once desiccated gutters between the tracks now reflect shades of dark gray skylines. Winged angels shake the cold droplets out of their outstretched feathers, squatting on the overhead lines.

As my train caught speed, the heavens finally decided to let go! What initially felt like tiny grains slowly grew into big fat pearls of water. How hard they slap us across the face! It felt painful and refreshing at the same time, the rains spitting at you. An arm outstretched, it would soak right down to the skin in no time. Careless I was, since my soul was craving for freedom. And the monsoons certainly had a strange way of replenishing it in my life. As a station ran by, the aftermath of this drama was witnessed in live along the platforms - innocent children jumping gleefully in the muddy puddles, their agitated mothers chasing them furiously, men folding up their trousers with much disgust, young and charming women standing cautiously at the edge; their feet curled up, their delicate hands outstretched, collecting droplets of happyness from the heavens. The exuberant emotions were vibrating along the stretch of twelve boogies. And the surge of clean moist air rushing down your lungs made you feel like a newborn. If all this was not enough, your phone somehow manages to sense your innermost feelings and starts singing… take me home, country roads ♪♪ .A promise of romance, a journey down memory lanes; that’s what the monsoons bring us every year. Welcome back to Mumbai!

Innocent lessons...

2008-04-16T14:30:00.006+05:30

Children are wonderful teachers. What an ironic thought to begin with! However, I couldn’t make a more accurate statement than this. You discover their remarkable qualities, when you wait patiently with love to understand them. I have an interesting experience to tell you today. It actually happened with my friend, Javier. Both of us were having a long conversation over coffee the other day, discussing some college work. That’s when he told me about this incident that happened with him and one of his friends in an orphanage. Javier and his friends visit an orphanage every Sunday. They teach catholic faith and its principles to the young orphans. During Christmas, the group decided to throw a nice party for all the children. One organization agreed to even sponsor a sack bag and a lovely box of chocolates for each child. The party was a wonderful event; all of them sang carols and had a gala time. In the end when the gifts were distributed, the children went crazy! The happiness at the orphanage was infectious; children were dancing around in glee. That’s when one of Javier’s friends decided to play a prank. He noticed a small child nearby, who was standing merrily with his new gifts. He called the child. When the boy came to him, he said ”Oye! I want that box of chocolates. It’s mine!” Surprisingly, the innocent lad put the box in his hands and said, “Here. Take it. “The guy was lost for words! It was a totally un-expected reaction from a youngster of his age.The orphan already knew the universal truth - Nothing in this world is yours, to own. Fortunate are you, for all that you receive. Trembling, he gave the box back to the sweetheart and said, “Dear, I was only kidding. It’s all yours. Go ahead, enjoy them.” The child laughingly took the box back and left, but not before saying “Thank you!”

An enchanting metaphor...

2008-03-14T21:20:00.005+05:30

It’s astounding how our mundane routines sometimes reflect the core journeys of life. Like this experience I had the other day in the train, whilst on my way to office. Pretty much a mundane activity.

That day was nice. It was one of those bright and fresh mornings, when you feel like spreading your arms out like an eagle and soaring high in the skies. Since this was not a feasible option, I chose to stand at the door of the zooming local, the breeze whistling wildly through my hair. My sight engaged on the railway tracks, dazzling delicately in the gentle rays of the early sun. Criss-cross they went, wildly jumping from here to there. Switches, signals and all kinds of complex circuitry that makes the whole system work impeccably. It was right out there, everyday. But today was different. Enchanted as I was by this intense phenomenon, I experienced what could be nothing but another brilliant shift in paradigm. Rather, I believe that a paradigm of life started evolving out of those lifeless, cold tracks lying before me. A cavernous metaphor that was staring out, with its eyes wide open all these days. That our journey is so much like a local train. You begin and end it on a single track. There are many tracks running in and out of yours, so you always have a choice of jumping over. But unless YOU chose to do so, your train will continue on the same one. Sometimes, a signal will force you to change your tracks. Sometimes, a signal will just tell you to hold on right there. Patiently. There are some tracks that can take you away from your destination, and you might never return back. Then there are those wonderful moments when you get green signals successively, and you just pull on your fastest pace ever, zooming ahead of the rest! Curves, bridges and tunnels sporadically appear and make the otherwise straight journey an interesting one. At times, you spot another train chugging parallel to you and you seem to be faster than her, but alas! Your station arrives and she pulls past you, winking. And after all these wonderful events of the day, you turn up, all dusty and tired, at the rail yard. But content fills your heart, for the journey has been exciting on the whole. Totally worthwhile. And you dream about tomorrow, till whence you rest under the shelters…

Who moved my cheese !!!

2007-12-13T14:53:00.000+05:30

Change is beautiful. It always brings new challenges, unknown alleys and broader prospects. Adapt to it, and you will find yourself elated to novel heights. Unfortunately, not many appreciate its magnificence; and we always try to resist it.

Ratatouille is indubitably one of the best animated movies rolled out by Pixar Studios. So much so that it inspired an indolent species of my likes to get my ass off the cozy sofa and write. There is a touch of uniqueness in this movie. You always feel great when the beautiful principles and the values that you have always believed in; start playing before your eyes on the 35mm screen.

One of the moments that especially touched me was when the young and enterprising cook rat (Remy') speaks to his father (Django), about humans. Django is adamant that humans are and will always treat them as hostile creatures, unwanted and unloved. He tells Remy', “Listen to me, young man. It is not in their nature to change their views about us. They are not going to do it for you.”
Remy' replies, “But you don’t understand, father. Change is Nature.”

Change is Nature. Because history shows that nature has adapted itself in the blanket of time. However, the beauty of change is that you can bring it in your own life. You have the choice to do so. I think I can sign off here, by recalling Mr. Herbert Spencer’s words of wisdom, since there was a lot of eternal truth in his words:
Survival of the fittest.
Could he have referred to “adapt-ability” by fittest? Perhaps. But whilst you ponder; “Ratatouille! What a touching movie!” chuckles Mr. Spencer somewhere, wiping a tear. Au revoir, Remy!

Perspectives.

2007-11-25T14:08:00.000+05:30

How often do you find yourself in a situation like this?
“I wish he was more tolerant….”

"I hope my boss will understand my needs this time…"
“Why can’t she appreciate my sense of space?”

Misunderstandings, lack of trust, feeble faith. Is it so? Are these really the root cause for such situations?

I remember a famous parable that I had read in my school days. It said that each one of us carries a long stick. This stick rests on our shoulders throughout our lives, such that we can see the front end of the stick. The stick has two bags, one attached to either end. These bags are called the bags of faults. They are called so, since they contain faults. But the most interesting part about these bags is which of them carries what. The bag in front of us always carries other’s faults. The bag behind us contains our own faults.

How confidently we arrive at the conclusion that it’s always got to do with the other person. In fact, we are almost un-aware that a different vision of it can exist. That we could only be staring at our own insecurities. There is an alternative to this situation. Look at yourself from a third person’s eye. Get out of that comfortable body where you are sitting smugly, blaming the world for all that is happening. Look at yourself. Look at others. Reflect back on yourself. On your behaviour. And then judge the situation. Think whether your actions were justified. For you can choose your actions, but not their consequences.

As someone rightly suggested once, “You can’t clap with one hand…”

Strange moments...

2007-11-15T17:24:00.000+05:30

It was a hot sunny afternoon, and as I had finished my work at the bank, I decided to drop in at my tailor- Mr. Fernandes; to collect my jeans. I had already been there twice, and both my attempts had failed, since he was busy with his festival customers. As soon as I entered his shop, I saw his face go small, and he said- “Sir, please do sit down. I’ll do your work now.” He had forgotten it again.

I was annoyed by his negligence, but I decided to give him a chance and just stood there, waiting. He promptly removed my jeans, and started working on it. I took a seat and I was looking at his work, when suddenly a healthy man in his mid-fifties happily piped his way into the shop, stood at the counter, and beamed: “ALFRED! Where’s Alfred?”

“Alfred expired.” The words stung the man painfully. His beam disappeared at once. Appalled, he stood there for a moment, searching for his voice.

“When did this happen?”

“1999”.

“And what was the cause of his death?”

“He died of jaundice. I am his son.”

“Alfred was my best friend. We used to sit here during evenings, chatting…” he pointed at a corner, now occupied by hangers with trousers attached to them. The moist vision of Mr. Fernandes fell on the corner that was once his father’s working place, and he smiled. “Yes. I know. He used to sit there.”

The man looked for a few more moments at that corner, then turned back to Mr. Fernandes and said: “Son, I am very sorry to hear about your father. Goodbye and May God bless you.” He left the shop, an empty stare on his face.

My anger absconding, I found my heart full of sympathy for Mr. Fernandes as I stepped out of his shop, moments later. Sometimes, life journeys you through strange moments.

India poised, but Indians?

2007-10-31T20:10:00.000+05:30

I had an incredible experience today. The experience of a paradigm shift. It’s something that happens when you start looking at a situation in a totally different light.

I usually travel by local trains, and today was no exception. While I was seated reading a book, I looked around and got distracted by the catchy headlines splashed across the front page of the newspaper which the neighboring commuter was engrossed in.

India Poised: The best place for excess money.

With the stock markets doing exceptionally brilliant these days, such headlines were only obvious to appear in the media. The article went on to explain how the burgeoning Indian economy has made our nation as the ultimate investor’s haven, with the dollar price depreciating in value day by day. With a bullish market like this, our nation’s economy is indubitably rising to great heights. A large number of foreign investors now look at India as the most potential investment. We have even managed to curb inflation rates at an all time low of 3.07%.These are but strong pointers to our growing economy and a certain transition from a developing nation towards a well developed one.

As I turned away from the paper, I threw one glance outside the window. And that was it. I experienced the jolting paradigm shift.

I was staring at one of the largest slum areas in Asia: Dharavi. Some sights that painted my mind;

Women washing utensils from gutter waters.
Children playing on the tracks wearing what could barely differentiate from nudity.
The weak and illegal abodes with tons of garbage decorating the ambience.

This is the present day reality of India which almost all newspapers and media today are talking about. The very same India where…

Foreigners are channeling millions of dollars.

The sensex is about to touch 25000 in a few days.

You look away from the cold eyes of a hungry child lying on the pavement opposite the multiplex.

Water turns into a scarcity, from a nuisance; within 200 kms.

Chose what you want to believe in, and work towards it. Now. It’s your vision.

Nature...

2007-10-21T22:42:00.000+05:30

Many of you must have performed the iron fillings and bar magnet experiment in your high school days. It is an enjoyable activity in which we take some iron fillings, spread them on a piece of paper and then place a strong bar magnet below the paper. A few taps on the sheet of paper and your eyes behold the sight of one of the finest and oldest patterns in existence.

Why do these randomly spread iron fillings suddenly arrange themselves in a strange pattern? What is the beauty behind this simple yet peculiar phenomenon? Would you get these intrinsic patterns without the magnet? If you removed the bar, would the fillings still remain in the same way? If you rotated the magnet, would the pattern change? If you try to change the pattern by disturbing the fillings, will the pattern really change?

Eternal questions; some, perhaps more important than others. However, there is more to it than pure science. Nature. The complex qualities or attributes by which an entity is uniquely recognized. The next time you see a pattern like this, you can blindly claim that a bar magnet is lying somewhere nearby, responsible for it. Isn’t it true? You wouldn’t even take the pains to search for one, you know it is there. You have identified its footprints.

Such is the beauty of nature. It is what identifies us. Over the years as humans have evolved, we have invented status and positions in our society. A person whose work encompasses machines and computers is an engineer, someone who deals with paintings is an artist, prescriptions and tablets identify a doctor. But how many engineers exist today in our society? Ever taken a walk in a gallery to see the variety and competition in art? It's hard to miss the familiar white board with a red cross in almost every by-lane in a metropolitan.

What then, is our true identification? Is it the nameplate outside our house, is it the responsibilities we shoulder in our workplace, is it the signature below our emails, or is it the fame we achieve from our work?

Or is it the hidden magnet…?

2007-09-04T18:15:00.000+05:30

Why do they do it?

It’s something I fail to understand. Miserably. Months and months of impeccable planning, high level risks managed with perfection, greasing the officials hands for smoother and “un-noticed” movements; all of this- for brutally killing citizens? Ordinary men and women from all walks of life, cheerfully entertaining themselves with their folk; who never realized that this was their last performance… ambitious students with grand plans for their career, families and societies, which are just left as grand plans, the being no more.

Who is to be blamed?

The overwhelming absence of knowledge made me read a bit about the terrorist organizations, and the results were horrifying. Apparently, Pakistan is house to some of the most well planned terrorist organizations such as the Lashkar–E-Toiba, MQMA, etc to name a few. Curiosity getting the better of me, I decided to find out more about LeT. Also known as “Jama’at-ud-Da’awa” the LeT, founded in 1990, is currently based in Muridke, 30 kms from Lahore, Pakistan in an area which spans across 200 acres. The organization, obviously banned by nations such as US, Britain and India, maintains a goal of making India as a nation under the rule of Islam. Furthermore, it seeks to convert all countries surrounding Pakistan to be Islamic, and to this goal it remains highly active in the Indian State of Jammu and Kashmir, Chechnya and some central Asian nations.

Hafiz Saeed, a “scholar” in Islam is of the belief that Jihad is their weapon to realize the dominance of Islam over the entire world, and to eradicate the evil forces and the ignorant. I believe that by evil forces, he means the Democratic and Socialist nations; whereas the ignorant would count up to the non-Muslim folks, innocent and ignorant as they clearly are to the power of Jihad.

Now for some more interesting facts- The LeT has strength of around 750 “cadres”. Primary funding of the training, arms and ammunition, operations and running of the organization is managed by the ISI. Who is ISI? Inter Services Intelligence is the external intelligence agency of the Pakistani Government, whose chief goal is to safe guard Pakistani interests and national security inside and outside of Pakistan. Please note my point regarding who ISI is. And now for the strangest fact ever: the military regime of President Pervez General Musharraf banned the LeT in Pakistan on 12^th January, 2002.

I now leave the rest for you to ponder upon. First, if Mr. Musharraf’s military regime did ban the organization, precisely what does he mean by the word “ban”?

Additionally, if the government bans a certain organization, then why does an external agency that is primarily connected to the same government, finance this organization?

Unfortunately for us, these religious fanatics can have things their way, inspite of the odds and ends. And it is we, the common citizens, who usually face the grime of their operations by losing our near and dear ones. I have a question here for the so-called scholar, Mr. Hafiz Saeed. Are your bombs and bullets so advanced, that they can detect the evil forces and the ignorant from the religious Muslims? Do you claim that you have never, during all your attacks, affected even a single innocent Muslim? And considering that we go by your way, what next? Hmm? What after the whole world becomes an Islamic ruled planet? What next? Mr. Hafiz, are you listening?

(References used from Wikipedia (ISI) and the South Asia Terrorism Portal (SATP).

XpLoR UoR kRe-8-T-wiTTy!!!

2007-08-22T20:18:00.000+05:30

By now I presume you figured out the topic…yes! Today, I thought that I’d share something totally creative with you…mind you, I was pretty good at craft in my school days, so these ghosts do hiccup at times; and the result? Peek –a-boo!

Making your own greeting cards.

Yes, that’s what I am gonna show you. Well, nothing new about greeting cards- we all make them, we all use them, atleast everyone’s seen them. So what’s the big deal?

Hmm…the difference is in the design. It’s very interesting to create greeting cards this way; it’s also easy, economical and it looks a darn better than the old fashion opaque cards. Besides, it’s always a great thing to have your own personal touch to a greeting card; it shows a lot of affection and care for the person whom you are gifting it to.

So, let’s get started with it… To begin with, we need the following materials:

White or designed paper (approximately A4 size) for the background. Make sure it’s smaller than the OHP.

A single OHP transparency sheet.
An OHP pen.
Ribbons of your choice of color.
Scissors.
Glue.
Blade/knife.
A sea shell, colored marble or attractive rocks.

You now need to understand how the greeting is, in order to proceed smoothly. It has a semi-transparent appearance, so we make a colorful background; and use the OHP to cover the background. Using the butter paper along with the OHP produces the semi-transparent effect, and you then use the marker to write your own personal message on the top of the OHP. WTF? Got confused? Don’t worry…let’s get it started; you’ll surely get the hang of it.

Begin by deciding what you want for the background. In this example, I simply created a pattern of stripes using three colored ribbons. You could make things easier by using a photograph. Alternately, you could also draw something colorful using oil pastels/poster colors, etc. Anything, as long as it’s bright and vibrant.
Once you are done with drawing/making the background, go and get the paper laminated. Now this is totally optional, however I recommend doing this, as the effect is more pronounced.
After laminating the background, take the OHP transparency along with the butter paper and adjust both on the laminated background. Try to adjust the transparency such that it covers the background completely, and there’s some extra sheet at the top. Fold this extra part such that it hinges on your background paper.
Firmly stick the extra part on the back side of your laminated background.
You should now have a greeting card template ready, where you can make out the colors of your laminated background against the transparency.
Get you brains racking and write some good thought for your loved one on the front of the transparency sheet. (try google!)

Finally, you can decorate the front by sticking a sea shell or colored rocks. Use permanent glue for the same.

That’s it! Simple, ain’t it? Go ahead now, try it out…

P.S: If anyone has any ideas/suggestions, I will be most happy to hear them. Adios!

A useful tip in nature photography

2007-08-15T18:44:00.000+05:30

See this picture? Fine, ain't it? Thank you, thank you! Hehehe...I am largely into nature photography, and therefore I thought of sharing a tip with you today.
If you want to take photographs like the one above, it's fairly easy. The trick lies in the mode which you use, and proper focusing. I photographed this wild flower in Goa, using a Kodak Easyshare C643 digital camera. See? No big deal, no professional equipment used. Just a plain o'l digicam does the trick...how?

Go into the main menu of your camera, and scroll to the "white balance" menu. Under this, you should usually find a number of options such as Auto, Daylight, Tungsten, Fluorescent, etc. The default selection is "Auto". Change this to "Tungsten".
Now, change the photography mode from Auto, to Close up mode (for subjects closer than 28 inches / 70 cm). Rotate the dial on top of your camera for changing modes.
Now, try to focus the camera on the subject you want to shoot. Make sure you half-press the shoot button for a couple of seconds and then fully press the button; this enables you to better focus your photographs. If it appears to be blurred, try holding your camera a little bit farther from the subject, and try again. Thus, you can avoid a great deal of "blurry" images by using this simple technique. I agree that it's a fundamental in photography, yet; many people may not know about it.

Click, and boom! That's it. Simple, isn't it? And the effect is simply charming, I think it's much better than daylight photography.

That's it for today....keep looking for more, I'll add as and when I discover...
Cheers!

A journey of 60 years...

2007-08-14T10:59:00.000+05:30

Yesterday, I watched the movie “Chak De India!” A movie inspired by real events in the life of Mir Ranjan Negi. The shocking history of how the sincere and faithful captain’s life and reputation was tarnished by some abject, rumor-thirsty media. And in spite of the failure and humiliation, Mr. Negi comes back after seven years to mentor the Indian Women’s Hockey team. Trials and tribulations unfold one after another, and the man proves his worthy leadership by uniting a team of 16 sportswomen, each bent on proudly representing their own state. It’s a wonderful combination of emotions and humor: a tale that beautifully engages you to the reality behind our National Game and the burgeoning discouragement faced by many of its players. But Negi constantly keeps reminding his players, that women can do anything and everything that men can, perhaps with better sincerity. And this was one of the most significant issues that the movie touched.

In her journey of 60 years, India rose from a third world nation to a developing one: An economy that was once driven by agriculture is today driven by services and industry. A number of economic and social reforms have elated the condition of her citizens. And women are in the forefront of revolution today. This is a notable observation made in some of the rural areas of India, where women are taking great strides to overcome all barriers of gender, race, and caste – and alleviate the issues in their respective village. Thus, the role of women in shaping our society is more significant today, than ever. Women could always do anything and everything that men could; nature never gifted any one of them with more abilities than the other. It was and has been largely our belief, and our history gives enough evidence of the ugly face of inequality.

But things have changed today. It’s quite the opposite now- women are leading all the fronts, and they have a certain degree of sincerity and dedication, a leaf worthy of noting for all men. That’s me included, by the way. Yes, I am firm of the belief that the next big revolution in the Indian society will have women playing a chief role in it. Why, even the movie showed the team finally bagging the gold medal at the world cup; the very same women’s hockey team that often was used as a convenient specimen for scoff. We all need to grasp the reality of our present, and together we can strive to change. Together we can make the difference. And it’s done through small acts in daily lives, by you and me. Let us take this opportunity, on the sixtieth year of our priced independence. As John F. Kennedy righteously stated, “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.”

An astonishing talent...

2007-08-12T20:43:00.001+05:30

This video left me stunned...simply stunned. All I have to say is, Nico Di Mattia- You are truly a genius! A brilliant, fabulous genius. Nothing short of it. I got no better words to describe this breath-taking art. But I have happy news for those of you who got inspired by this video (me included) - The artist has a blog site, where he is planning to release video tutorials, they'r coming very very soon, over here!

BOOM!

2007-08-10T22:50:00.000+05:30

Apple!

What was the first thought you had after reading the word? Sir Isaac Newton? Or the pearly white, brand new Ipod/Iphone/Imac? I know, I know it’s the “Or” for most of you. See what I mean? No, No; I don’t mean to say that Sir Newton’s discovery was inferior. What I am trying to portray here is the sheer brilliance of an individual who totally inspires me, and could easily inspire anyone, irrespective of his walk of life. Yepo, the one and only - Steve Jobs. Or rather, in his own style, BOOM!

A guy who dropped out of graduation school when he was 17, started his own company at the age of 20, was thrown out of his own company at the age of 30. Would you believe that these are the milestones in the life of Apple’s CEO? And surprisingly, he claims that he found them very invaluable. Steve dropped out of graduation school (Reed College) at the age of 17, because he couldn’t see where this was leading to. And the course was too expensive. He used to travel 7 miles every weekend to a Hare Krishna temple to enjoy a good meal. Sleeping on the ground in his friend’s places, 5 cents on returning coke bottles used to sponsor his food. But he took up a course in calligraphy at this age, only because he found it interesting.

And then it all came back to him...all the wonderful knowledge of calligraphy came back to him one day, ten years later while designing the first IMac. The IMac was the first computer in the world to possess beautiful typography. And today, we all enjoy those wonderful fonts, thanks to this one calligraphy class! Hence, knowledge gained is always, ALWAYS valuable. You never know when it might change your life. Or change the world!

Moving on to recent events, we all know what a stir Iphone created. And it’s not surprising, looking at the device that Apple introduced to us. It’s nothing short of magic, I daresay! My mouth was wide open as feature after feature (all stunning) revealed themselves on the exclusive Iphone video.(check it out here). It’s just fabulous, that magical device. Think of it, and it’s all there…pictures, internet, GPS, mp3, everything! And at the flick of your finger!

But now comes the best part. Apple apparently does NOT manufacture any of these devices on its own- it outsources the entire manufacturing and assembly process. Then where does Apple earn? Design. That’s it. Apple earns around 80U.S$ on every 299U.S.$ Ipod sold to the world. Brilliant, eh? The various parts that compose the Ipod are manufactured at nations across the world. In this way, no single company knows the entire secret recipe to the wonderful device. On the other hand, Apple has benefited so many companies. This fact has gone to such extents; many of you won’t believe the next fact now. The very day I-phone was released; people bought it home and tore it open only to note the various companies that had manufactured the parts. Why? Because these companies would experience a shoot-up in their share market prices. And therefore, it was the right time to invest in them.

Anyways, Steve leaves us with a beautiful thought. Think different. And be inspired. BOOM!

PLEASE NOTE: For those of you who are puzzled by “BOOM”, kindly go to youtube.com and watch a video called “Steve Jobs-Boom – 1.01 minutes”. To read Steve Job’s fantastic graduation speech, go search for it on Scribd. To go to Scribd, click on the link in “my all time favorite websites” on the right side of this page, and BOOM! Cheers!

PLEASE, PLEASE NOTE: The author, till this day, dreams of owning an Iphone…and yes, sponsors are most delightfully welcome!

Atheists...who are they?

2007-08-09T12:33:00.001+05:30

Well, I am sure this video will spark a hell lot of controversies, but you certainly can't deny the facts. Personally, I am not an Atheist; but viewing this video engages you to a school of thoughts about religion. After all, we invented them, as a basis for our faith. That's another fact, for sure. I now leave the rest upto you: go watch the video, and think about them. Is the indifference of our society towards Atheists justified, especially after the amount of scientific and world changing contributions they have provided to us? What say you, huh?

UNDEEEEERDOG!!!!!

2007-08-08T20:32:00.001+05:30

Ohh gosh..I saw this video the other day on facebook, and I rolled on the floor for five whole minutes, laughing like a maniac! Go ahead, give yourself a roll too- it's worth it, I say. Cheers!!!

Hello!!!

2007-08-08T11:02:00.000+05:30

Yes! Finally, I have decided to move away from the intangible and network heavy MSN Spaces, to the much cleaner and flexible Blogger. And it totally rocks, there's so much here...hell! Why didn't I make my move earlier? Anywaz, now I am finally done with moving all my past work to this site (and therefore, do not be surprised if you saw all my blogs posted within a span of two days...I am no Rita Skeeter ;-P ) Hehehe....keep checking here for more of my ...uhh..reflections! Cheers!

Commit to social service...

2007-08-08T10:43:00.000+05:30

I guess I am really lucky to be born in this world. Moreover, I am so lucky to have a wonderful family who has cared for me since my birth, to have close friends who have been there through my ups and downs. However, I truly realized the significance of these facts, when I joined a social service scheme for 2 years. It was during this era that I truly observed the hardships of living below the poverty line. It was during this era that I understood how different life in the rural is, compared to the urbane. I also realized how women in these rural areas were far more hard working and revolutionary than men; and I would love to help this strata of the society as far as possible. Simply because giving happiness to others, is by far the most amazing deed that we can do. It’s where true happiness lies, unscrufled by the forces of material influence.

Uncertainity, fear and 5400ft, on top of Kalsubai!

2007-08-08T10:37:00.000+05:30

Hanging on the edge of a semi-tempo zooming at 40 miles an hour; tall green mountains around me and a series of windmills in the distant, the vista was slowly fading away. I turned back, and saw the white strips on the highway zipping by, one after another…

Day 1: We stepped out of the local at 0945 hours, and the irrational nonsense started right away. A notice read the words, “NO PLASTIC ZONE”; the board itself made out of the finest polythene. Tongue in cheek.

We made our way to Bhandardara- our destination for the day; via Ghoti. Ghoti is a small village located at half an hour’s “rattle-rattle in an ST”, from Kasara. After getting down, we had to wait for another hour and a half till we got a connecting bus to Bhandardara. The journey to Bhandardara was a picturesque one – the road was slowly winding its way through lush green fields, while the familiar black and blue Sahyadris far in the background bade you a good day. The climate was just righteous- cool and refreshing. After an hour’s drive, we reached Shendi village- the base for Bhandardara. And there it was, hard to miss- the massive Bhandardara dam was standing a few meters away, and we could see the enormous gates and the lazy river on our side. Walking towards it, we came across a small hillock on top from which we saw the most heavenly sight ever- the vast lake of the dam lay right before our eyes, surrounded by small hills and mountains from all sides. Such a big water body surrounded by mountains on all four was a truly breathtaking view - we stood there, mesmerized by the beauty of it. And then we went down to experience it. A local fisherman agreed for a boat ride, and off we went into the lake. All of us were totally engaged with our cell phones, clicking photos after photos of the exquisite panorama. Suddenly, it started raining! This was the unexpected surprise – it turned out to be even more beautiful than before now, with rain drops making ripples on the surface of the vast, smooth lake. Slowly, we turned our way back towards the shore, fully drenched with the showers. Near the bank, we saw a group of 6-7 young women who had come for picnicking, and here’s where “Ambarish’s babes” came into existence. We ragged him crazily, but there was a lot more in hide for the poor guy. After giving the boat rider our order for a sumptuous lunch, we proceeded to the bus stand, from where we could get transportation to Randha waterfalls. Here I had the most amazing vada-pav and bhajis ever in my lifetime, after which our stomach was more in synchronization with our minds; both at peace. We found a jeep who agreed to take us to the waterfalls, and we all sat in. But hey, this guy wasn’t budging so early- he wanted seven (???) more passengers for his jeep. And Whoa! What was this, but a mere coincidence? The very same “Ambarish’s babes” were the passengers he was looking for, and once again we crossed paths. Hahaha…poor fellow was getting ragged more badly now, than ever!

After a fifteen minute ride in the jeep, we reached Randha waterfalls. One should ever refrain from asking me why the peculiar name; I am obviously illiterate on the history of this waterfall. I and Mandar made up our own theories later; but mentioning them is beyond the scope of this blog. You can easily guess why.

Jumping across gorges of rocks, we made our way to the spot for viewing the waterfall. Thundering down from a height of almost 150 feet, the waterfall made a truly “Wow” experience. We were stuck by the sight of it, milky water splashing down and flowing across as a river, carving its way through the rocks. We even discovered a way to go down to the river, but were stuck half way and had to turn back reluctantly. We had come to the place hoping to take a bath somewhere in the waterfalls and loiter around, but both the waterfall and the river seemed inaccessible. Just when we were going back disappointedly towards the road, we noticed a small lake a few yards away from the waterfall. We made our way there, and this was just the blessing in disguise…the water was just right, and the depth was perfect. We changed immediately, and started loitering in the chilling lake….BRR!!! It seemed freezing cold at first, but gradually we got accustomed to it. After a while, guess who gave us a surprise visit? Hahaha…Ambarish’s babes were back again! This time they got him almost naked. Ohh, how hilarious it was! We were certain by now that something was cooking, or even if it wasn’t; we so damn wanted it too- this was but the perfect opportunity to pull Ambarish’s legs!

The swim in the lake truly refreshed all of us, and after a while we decided to head back towards Bhandardara. We realized that we had mis-managed our time, and were in for a fix- but we didn’t realize that things would be so serious…

Waiting for almost 15 minutes without any luck, we were at our wits end, when we saw a steel colored Indica waiting across the street. Ambarish went and convinced the guy to drop us for 120 bucks, and off we went. But this guy just didn’t look decent, and we realized it too late. After 15 minutes, he dropped us to the south end of the dam, saying that this was Bhandardara. We told him that we needed to reach the north side, but he simply refused to go for the same price. Temper rose, and before we knew it; we were in the middle of a dirty argument- and then the worst came as the rogue decided to call on his “friends” to look into the matter. Deciding that things weren’t going to get any better, as we were in alien territory, it was quite late, and the location was absolutely isolated; we decided to pay him off the amount and walk up the rest of the way back. We had to walk back almost 4kms, and time wasn’t on our side- it was 6.20 p.m already, and the last bus for the base village had a departure time of 7.45 p.m. Finding whatever shortcuts were possible, we tried to reach the village, but only made it by 7.30 p.m. The bus was already there, waiting. But we still had one issue to resolve- we had ordered our food with the fisherman, and wanted to pick it up before leaving. I went with the fisherman to bring the food, and here began another crazy search—this time for the fisherman’s mother’s house. It was pitch dark, and we couldn’t see where we were heading. After a few moments of hunting, we finally reached the place, and I got all the stuff packed. Somewhere in my heart, I heard the rumble of the S.T’s engines roaring to life. And my heart hadn’t mistaken. When I reached up near the road again, I was welcomed by the tire tracks of that very bus.

8.00p.m. in the night, and five of us had no place for spending the night. As if this was not enough, we had another headache already: a friend of ours, Kunal; was supposed to meet us directly at Baari. Now, we were stuck here for the night, and there was no way to communicate to him about the matter. Hell, we didn’t even know whether Kunal was in Baari, or not. And if he was, where was he? How were we supposed to find him now? With all these disturbing thoughts in our mind, we stepped out to hunt for a place to stay. Luckily, the fisherman was a kind angel in disguise, for he came with us and suggested places where we could stay. Luck, however; it seems, was not on our side today. Not a single hotel, not even a single room was vacant. Finally, the fisherman told us to come and spend the night at his place. Relief! At last, we had some place to stay for the night. We would have been royally screwed otherwise, since it was raining and cold; and we had no provisions of our own for shelter.

The fisherman’s house was far away from the town, in the middle of the forest. It was one hell of a spooky experience, walking towards his place at 9.00p.m. There was a faint glow in the night sky, a common phenomenon in the monsoon evenings in Maharashtra. But it just added to the daunting atmosphere. We made it to his place somehow, and then we had one of the best lantern-light dinners ever! Ohh, it felt like all this pain was worth the experience now! After this fantastic dinner, we set our alarms to wake up the next day at 4a.m, and immediately fell ran to sleep. Our bodies were aching so much from all the expeditions, that sleep was instantaneous. And we all prayed that such unfortunate incidents wouldn’t happen with us again…

Day 2: We woke up, packed our stuff and paid the fisherman for all his kind services. He and his family had been truly wonderful; they protected us and gave food and shelter. What more could anyone ask for, from a complete stranger? After wishing their family goodbye, the fisherman came with us till the bus stop. He had told us that the first bus would be leaving at 4.45a.m, and we made it there by 4.40 am. However, not a soul was to be seen on the streets. We all started feeling a little bit tense- had the bus left already? If so, then we were again for another horrible disappointment; since the next bus would only come at 8.00 am in the morning. All this while, Kalpesh noticed something that sank our hearts totally- fresh tire tracks in the mud. Wonderful! We had again, within the last 12 hours, managed to miss the stupid S.T. bus. Yet again!!! And the fisherman had already left us, so we had nowhere to go now. Slowly we recalled that while coming here, the fisherman told us that the bus’s actual arrival time was 4.15 am. When we discovered this, so frustrated we were by his actions- it seemed “Shendi” was just the apt title for this god damned village; everyone here was out to fool you!

5.00a.m, Shendi village: Not a single living being on the streets. We were the only five fools, waiting for something to happen. Walking towards a tea stall, we took shelter in it. But our spirits were not so easily given. Me and Mandar started thinking of ways to spook the first local who would pass us…some hilarious ideas we came up with. Then we witnessed the most extra-ordinary love affair of all times: Two frogs had found the early morning to be exceptionally romantic, and were steadily progressing into “it”. We were laughing like crazy, conjuring songs for the male frog to dedicate to the female- it seemed that frustration had finally started taking a toll of our sanity. What could easily be the most unfortunate time of our life was being spent by cracking jokes and ridicule. It seemed like god was testing our patience. And I feel so happy to say, that we passed it brilliantly! For at 6.00 am the owner of the tea stall came, surprised to see such early morning “visitors”. After telling him the situation, he kindly gave us water to refresh ourselves and prepared some nice hot tea which we readily gulped down. All this while, he contacted a jeep driver who willingly offered to drop us to Baari. Finally, we were getting somewhere! After getting our bags ands stuff, we immediately hopped into the matador and thus started our journey. It was still 6.40 am, so we had decent amount of time. Perhaps we could still manage to trek up till the top of the mountain, since we had a strict time restraint, and didn’t want to mess around with S.T’s anymore. But there was an even more acute problem at our hands…finding Kunal. How do you search for a single person in a territory of 3 kms, at 7.00 am in the morning?

But finding Kunal was easier than I had expected. Someone at the rest house had noticed him the earlier night, and told me that he was in the base village. We immediately started the jeep and started hunting for him, asking village by-standers. Luckily, we found two guys on a motorbike who knew where he was. I hopped on the bike, and they took me to the bus stand- they told me that Kunal was at his wit’s end; he was bout to leave. He had told these guys that he would be catching the first bus to go back home…I hope I was in time atleast now. As the bike approached the bus-stop, I gave a huge sigh of relief- the tall fellow was right there, munching on his breakfast. When he saw me, there was a total mixture of feelings on his face- Anger, Surprise, Joy, everything. However, I just hugged him, shook hands and told him about our tragedy the other day; after which he cooled down a bit. I totally appreciate this guy’s patience to spend the whole night in some alien village, all alone. Trust me, it takes guts.

Without wasting further time, we quickly gulped down our breakfast and finally at 8.00 am, we were on our way- Mt. Kalsubai, we were coming! After all trials and tribulations, we were still given a chance to prove ourselves. Unfortunately, we didn’t have a lot of time in our hands. The bus to depart for Kasara would come here at 2.00 pm, so we had just 6 hours to make it to the top and back. But would we do it…?

11.45 am: “Clang, clang, and clang!” the final steps on the iron ladder were now behind us.

Kunal: “Shek, that’s it! We are on the top. 5400 feet. Can you believe it?”

Shek: “Wow!”

That’s the first word that came out of me, at the peak of Kalsubai. We were surrounded by clouds on all sides, the peak wasn’t really broad. In fact, it was perfectly like a peak- very small indeed. There was a huge black rock overlooking the peak, and I cautiously made my way on it- this was the most mind-blowing experience of my lifetime! A rain cloud was blowing straight at me, and I was wet with the mist and freezing with the wind. It was an “out-of-this-world” feeling…there are just no words I have to describe my feelings at that point. However, content I was at the fact that after going through all the pain, success was finally a nice big apple waiting to be chomped upon. With that satisfying thought, I reached for the big fruit I was actually carrying in my bag all along…

2.45p.m: Hanging on the edge of a semi-tempo zooming at 40 miles an hour; tall green mountains around me and a series of windmills in the distant, the vista was slowly fading away. I turned back, and saw the white strips on the highway zipping by, one after another…

Mumbai’s local train motormen- the unspoken heroes of our society…

2007-08-07T20:28:00.000+05:30

Picture this- you are driving a local train, along one of the spines of Mumbai- the Western Suburban railway line. A twelve coach train filled beyond capacity with tired office goers, students returning home from college and other fellow travelers. It’s a wonderful deed, dropping so many people to their destinations daily. The train is speeding by the line, accelerating steadily towards the next station, when all of a sudden you find a victim on the tracks, right in front of you…you are faced with a terrible choice: save the person in front of you by braking immediately, but you face the risk of jolting hundreds of commuters out of the over-packed train. And you have to trade off this victim, for their lives. A monstrous vehicle of metal rams on a fragile body, and life ceases on impact. It happens before your very eyes…and there is nothing you can do about it. A heart filled call of apology. Followed by immediate, painful death. How many of you face a situation like this? Have you even realized that this is a part of someone’s lifetime, to face such drastic circumstances?

I am writing this blog as a deep mark of respect to Mumbai’s local train motormen- they are the very people who face situations like these, and quite often. And they have mentioned how hard it goes for them when they have to take such spine-chilling decisions. They can’t sleep at times, they go to bed without dinner, but the last look of morbid fear on their helpless victims is the only thing that swims in their minds. It is only with a heavy heart that they come back to their services the next day.

These are but still normal, when compared to the other abject violence which we have recently witnessed- terrorism. Last year these very locals were targeted by a group of terrorists. And the accounts narrated by their motormen were not easy to digest.

“Papa, don’t go by local train, isme bomb fatta hai,” V K Majhi’s son Rupesh pleads before him every day when he leaves for work. Majhi was driving the 5.19 pm Churchgate-Virar fast on July 11, 2006 when a powerful blast ripped apart one of its first class compartments at the Mira Road station. Many others saw bodies lying in pool of blood, belongings strewn about and metal pieces everywhere- the blasts tore through the life and soul of the locals. And these audacious motormen had to bring the trains to control under such circumstances.

And yet, the locals were working the very next day. These very motormen had the courage and strength to come back to work, in spite of witnessing such horrible atrocities on humankind within 24 hours. And they drove through all of it – they were the ones who launched that hard deserving slap on the face of these cowardly terrorists.

Obviously they live a very peaceful life, and it’s rarely when they make it to the headlines. But these are the true unspoken heroes of Mumbai. I am so very proud of them, since I believe that they impart a lesson for all of us to learn, to remember. Learn to face your fears. My Chaleureux’ salutation to all of you! Peace.

How the simplest of things bring happiness…

2007-08-07T20:24:00.000+05:30

The other day, I was browsing the newspaper early in the morning, and an article caught my sleepy eye, and drove whatever meager amount of indolence was left in it- it was an article about a guy named Ludwick Hubbler. Ludwick is a French citizen, who graduated when he was 22 years old. After doing so, he took a step many of us wouldn’t dare to- he started a trek. But this wasn’t like any other ordinary trek- he stepped out to trek the entire globe! 5 years down, and this voyage isn’t yet done: American continent, the icy Antarctica, the rugged topography of middle east, and currently discovering new cultures in the Indian subcontinent; Hubbler has been through such moments that are way beyond one’s imagination. One of the most exciting journeys described by him was rowing across the gigantic Pacific Ocean. Alone. Imagine something as fragile as a row boat spanning miles after miles of merciless rough waters of the Pacific. To top it, his boat hit an isle of rocks while he was in the depth of the Ocean, and he had almost lost hope during this moment. Anyone could, it was the worst nightmare in your life darkly coming true. However, he fortunately lived to tell us this fascinating tale. At other times, he has eaten reptile meat, traveled on camels, slept under the open blanket of the heavens, and asked for countless number of hitchhikes on his way to intermediate destinations. And he just declared that he finds himself as the happiest person on earth, with plans of returning back to his native land early next year.

Today morning, I was on my way to pick up some commodities for a nice lazy Sunday breakfast. I took a shorter way through a by-lane, and as I was passing by, suddenly the most pleasant and soothing tunes lured me to this man in his middle forties. He was sitting on the footsteps of some shop, and rhyme after rhyme of beautiful music was spilling out of his guitar. I was awestruck by the splendor of it, and almost forgot what I originally came there for. It was only with a heavy heart that I left him a few moments later, but this fellow has made my day. And he was doing it for the pure ecstasy of giving joy to others through his simple instrument, and the deep pool of talent which he possessed.

Only yesterday, a good friend of mine, Siji; wrote a testimonial for me on a social networking site. She was disappointed because she couldn’t upload the whole piece; there was a character limit on it. But the 1024 characters which she chose to express have exploded a surge of joy, contentment and hope in my life. And it’s a different kind of happiness- something I could have never experienced by possessing worldly pleasures.

These are but three small narratives of happiness, that I had to share with you today. What do you make of it, now? Isn’t true, everlasting happiness something you gain out of such simple things? At least I have begun to believe so…. And so the pursuit continues….

Chatrapati Shivaji Rao Bhosle- The King Alexander of western India!

2007-08-07T20:13:00.000+05:30

Chatrapati Shivaji Maharaj was the founder of the ambitious Maratha Kingdom, way back in the 16th century. A gem of an individual he was – excellent foresight, intelligent strategies for capturing enemy territories, audacious character and a strive to provide justice in his kingdom. The best part of his kingdom, I feel; were the forts that he had built across the mighty ranges of Sahyadris. These forts are the symbol of impeccable architectural skills, something that our architectures in Mumbai today ought to look at. They have stood through the tests of time, and they stand tall and sturdy till this date. Mostly built using a weird combination of limestone, lead, rocks and jaggery; these forts make for perfect one/two day treks, and reflect the careful planning of this great man, which I fail to see in most of our urban architects today. For that, I could challenge the Bombay Municipal Corporation to built a single structure like this, I am quite confident of their failure!

White water rafting in the Ganges...

2007-08-07T19:51:00.000+05:30

It’s incredible. I have done white water rafting once in the Ganges, and I still can’t get over it. The water was freezing cold, and we were told to jump into it!! After swimming around for a while, we were taught how to get aboard a raft without capsizing it. And after we got aboard, our trainee told us about the crocodiles in the river!! Eksss!!! I was petrified at the thought, but it seems they never harm anyone. The rapids were a different experience altogether- it’s the best roller coaster ride ever, and guess what? – it’s 100% natural!!! Go for it, it’s a “shek-highly-recommends”!! Amen.

Chaleureux salutations, Herge!!

2007-08-07T19:21:00.000+05:30

A century ago, on 22nd May to be precise; Georges Remi – the brainchild behind “The Adventures of Tintin”, was born. A 100 years gone, but the spirit of his character still remains fresh in every fan’s mind. Tintin was truly the result of painstaking efforts by Herge and his team. The comics featured beautiful drawings and accurate renderings of real locations, like Hotel Cornavin in Geneva, and maps of places like India. A unique story writer Herge was; he wonderfully weaved the animated adventures of the reporter and snowy with the facetious remarks of Captain Haddock. The lifeline of this fantastic man is truly admirable,go have a look at it here. Indubitably, I will soon be a collector’s fan…very soon indeed!

Armie...where art thou?

2007-08-07T19:14:00.000+05:30

When it comes to these kind, adorable creatures; I simply can’t resist it- I just love playing with dogs!!! Then be it a stray, or a well fed puppy- they are such wonderful animals, it’s almost like they are human! They will stay with you when you need companionship, they will play with full gusto and enthusiasm of a young child, and they will bark like crazy when you invade their territory. Don’t we as humans think alike? At least I believe I do. And hence I can relate so well to these amicable creatures. Canine life surely rules, so Armie- when are you coming?

Aurora Boreolis-magic in the night sky!

2007-08-07T19:11:00.000+05:30

This fantastic phenomenon was one of the primary reasons that Astronomy was added into my list as a hobby. The unfathomable activity, with it’s mysterious glows and hues, adds a unique touch of beauty to nature. It’s almost like Vincent Van Gogh decided to paint on the huge canvas of the starry night sky. Beauty beholds the eye of the observer!

Is this the end?

2007-08-07T19:02:00.000+05:30

I somehow can’t fathom it. Bachelors of engineering from Mumbai university- a four years course for which we enrolled ourselves in 2003. 1460 days of learning, writing, reading, speaking, listening, running, cursing, walking, laughing, crying, playing, eating, smiling, fuming, smirking, teasing, dancing, sleeping, abusing, thinking – all of these “ings”, shared with 68 fellow engineers. Over the last 1460 days we had all been doing this. And we are done with it, forever. These days are never again going to come into our life. It’s history. But it’s not the same o’l boring history like the kind we had in our school textbooks. This history brings a spark- a surge of excitement in your body, every time you recall it. Every one of us has a collection of extra-ordinary moments to share with. Special moments that appeared out of thin air. Ordinary days that made you feel great in the end. Sometimes, a series of days when nothing seemed to happen. And some days when so many things would happen, that you would actually think of buying time, if it was some materialistic property available with your friendly neighborhood store. Days when nothing was planned, but events would just fit in perfectly, like missing pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. And of course, there were days when nothing went as you had planned. We survived all those days. We cherished the memories of other days. I won’t say that every day was different. It wasn’t, to be honest. But you truly start appreciating happiness, when you experience sorrow. Same was with engineering. We would always yearn for those regular lectures to get over, didn’t we? My Oh My! How much would you all rage with anger, when I had to make an unfortunate announcement about an extra lecture! And how the whole class would rejoice with full blast, when a regular lecture was canceled. In fact, I am gonna list out some of these moments here:

- The regular hang outs at Ashish’s Sev puri wala, or the neighboring sandwich guy.

- Those endless rounds of ice creams from the canteen.

- The strong whiff of “Chinese tadka” forcing its way into your nostrils while you were at those ice-cream rounds, sometimes so strong that you would think you were eating chicken Singapore on a stick.

- The strong whiff of ammonia after passing the canteen.

- Those two hours of practical sessions, which were basically AC hangouts where you would discuss that cool movie/song/website/video/article/chic/guy/any_other_interesting_topic with your buddies, while your monitor reflected two-three open terminals with some C code on it.

- Voila! The SAME code appearing on your friend’s display. The probability of this event occurring was usually 0.9 to 1.

- Both the programs would usually have a third party name on it, and the date was one year back. Probability of occurrence: 0.95 to 1.

- Standing in the balcony with your lucky friends, enjoying the cool sea breeze.

- Laughing at the other not-so-lucky fellow classmates while you were doing this….they would be stuck up in some boring lecture, cursing you for not telling them in time.

- Sudden outbursts of laughter, thanks to BSB’s creative contributions like Biren’s excellent burps/abuses or Kini’s laughter. Kini’s laughter was very instigating- simply listening to it would make you laugh.

- Completing write-ups during lectures. You would raise your head in regular intervals, nodding slightly to show the lecturer your approval of the topic (you were faintly aware of), and then would look back down, and start writing – making notes, according to your lecturer.

- The sound of a hundred journal sheets being tucked below the desk hastily, while a book (with your writing in it) being simultaneously pulled up on the top of the desk. This would happen in only one case- when the lecturer would decide to take a stroll.

- Adding to your list of woes - the desk had no compartment below it...

- Telling the person in front of you, to shift slightly to the left/right. You had important matters at the table.

- Shouting “Yes maam!!” in chorus on some pre-decided victim’s roll call.

- Running to the lecturer and requesting her/him to check your attendance. Missing this after attending 60 minutes? No way!!!

- Arrival for the first lecture was inversely proportional to the distance of your residence from college. Hats off, Jennifer / Leslie / Tanmay / Prabhavi / Mansoor. (Sorry if I forgot anyone else. But I really appreciate your punctuality and perseverance).

- Heavy usage of networking / text replacement techniques during near-submission days.

- Endless loops of print queues.

- Master sheets for the entire semester, with columns named “printout”, “write-up”, “post-lab assignment” and ticks/crosses on them. These master sheets would enjoy utmost prestige. Everything relied on them. Everyone relied on them.

- Keeping a track of all your write-ups, assignments, and post labs with your classmates. It was a truly “distributed” environment.

- Heavy discussions in the evening, with the “first viva batch-mates”.

- Ultimate tension setting in 5-10 minutes after heavy discussions. (Most of the cases).

- Excellent strategies for Xeroxing notes, write-ups, assignments. Alternatively making use of ideal techniques like scanning or photographing using N70 and Sony Ericcson.

- Missing heartbeats on hearing news about the buzz on the third floor.

- Observing mixed emotions on third floor during the same time- satisfied smiles on some, great relief on others, tears on few.

………

Well…I realized that this list simply won’t end… So I have to end it here. We are now on the brink of the next big step in our lives, and great change awaits all of us. New tasks, bigger responsibilities, greater challenges. Let’s face it with enthusiasm and assertiveness. And let’s remember these moments during some peaceful epochs in between…after all, we lived upto them, didn’t we?

All the very best of luck to all the exceptioners!!!

Becoming a photographer..

2007-08-06T15:09:00.000+05:30

I agree that no electronic device can match with the capabilities of the human eye, but it’s my memory that sucks big time…and hence the crave to store those amazing moments!! Alrite, on more serious thoughts- I became an addict to it, since my school days, but i recently got a digital camera, so i am now gonna develop my skills to the fullest! I prefer nature photography over the rest, but am open to other fields for exploration – the satisfaction after ‘that perfect click’, is simply worth the patience spending in this hobby!

Cycle to goa...

2007-08-06T15:05:00.000+05:30

It’s a stretch of almost 345 miles, along one of the most beautiful coastlines in India. One of my friend’s brother has done it, and he told me the experience was exhilarating!!! Cycling during day, sleeping on the beaches during nights, with the waves pounding on the coast and a million twinkles to blanket your tiresome journey’s memories…i am definitely looking forward to this adventurous journey!

The pursuit of happyness..

2007-08-06T14:54:00.000+05:30

If I had to recommend a movie for the masses, it would indubitably be “The pursuit of Happyness.” (2006, starring Will Smith). Circa 1981, the US economy was experiencing a hard time, with many middle class citizens losing their daily bread. This story revolves around the central character of Chris Gardner, a middle class citizen who has a sales business and aspires to become a stockbroker. What follows is a classic narration of the ups and downs faced by the man in a slightly humorous manner, and his unconditional love and dedication towards bringing up his only child, Jr. Christopher. Circumstances change, situations change, and Chris introduces these hardships in an exciting way to his child, to shield his love from the realities of living below the poverty line. After struggling with the sales and losing on his girlfriend, Chris finally gets an unpaid internship for a stockbroker, which he decides to take up. However, lack of basic finances brings him and his child down on the streets, and they take up to living in homeless shelters and behind locked doors of a metro station washroom. However, it’s his self confidence, and the trust and faith of his son, that finally clicks in and Chris turns out to be a Wall Street legend.

Looking at the movie, a long chain of thoughts instigated in my mind- What exactly is Happiness? How do you define happiness? If you had to use one line to describe it, could you do the job with a satisfaction enough to bring tears to your eyes, whenever you yourself would read it? Maybe. Maybe not. But one thing that I learned for sure- happiness surely is an abstract term, every one of us have different expectations from the same bottle- one expects wine, the other thinks of nothing but beer. The bottle remains, and we spend all our lives to touch it- to get a feel of it. And every time we move in, the bottle only sways away further, like an ancient SOS message tossed by a survivor in the wild sea.

The other day, I was traveling along the streets of suburban Mumbai with a close friend, and our bus halted at a traffic signal. We were casually browsing the road, when we saw three street urchins playing across. My friend instantly freaked out at the site of this young brood messing around the footpaths, the road was a busy one with cars zooming past them. But I couldn’t help notice the laughter on that sweet child’s face- he was playing gleefully with his fellow comrades, who were actively involved in sticking their feet out of the path dividers. What seemed like a purposeless endeavor to me, was a ‘pursuit of happyness’ to them. I wondered what would be the last time these urchins ever had a decent meal, or a clean bath. It least bothered them. I could see them, happy. It was all that mattered. They were confidently holding to that very bottle, which sometimes never reaches our outstretched hands in an entire lifetime's journey. Which brought me to the million dollar question - are you really pursuing your happiness? Or are you simply drifting in for another’s bottle…

Living like a cave man...

2007-08-06T14:04:00.000+05:30

It was one of those typical, last minute planned trek I just came back from...this time, in the middle of a semester examination!! But who cares, and what else do you do when you have 19 days to go till your next paper arrives? You obviously pack your sack, and head to nature...In this case, Naneyghat was the chosen venue.

NaneyGhat is a historically important venue, for several reasons- firstly, the caves were home to one of the oldest families in Maharashtra, the Sattavans. Secondly, the pass marks the border between the Konkan region, and the country. A lot of history exists even today on the walls of the cave, carved out in the Brahmi script. We didn’t know it obviously, but it was fascinating to watch an entire history carved out on walls. Ok, now I don’t fancy getting into the detailed history of these caves…I’ll rather splurge into our own little adventures…To begin with,

The first thing I did, when I reached grant road station at 5.15am (yeah…I can’t believe it yet, reaching at 5.15???), was to search for my ultimate source of ridicule and humor- “doggesh”. For those of you who are not yet aware of him, let me introduce…”doggesh” is this astronomically huge dog, who probably has a cow everyday for breakfast, is easily 89 kilograms, and is unbelievably lazy. But scary. Think about it – a dog who’s like 1 meter wide, and 2 meters long, isn’t a sight you get to see everyday. Ok. Maybe not 2 meters. But who cares? He’s one heck of a big dog. And he’s funny. Me and my friends have till date, tried many expansion theories to explain him, but to nothing fits in. The cow theory seems to be the best so far, so we stick to it.

Nonetheless, “doggesh” was nowhere to be seen, so we just hopped in the next train, to make our way towards Dadar station. The rest of the journey was usual, all the six of us- Ankit, Biren, Mihir, Chiru, Lokesh and myself- taking each other’s cases, big time. And we discovered that Biren hadn’t got the 2 kgs of boiled potatoes, we had planned to cook.

After getting down at Kalyan station, we thought of an alternative for the vegetable- and 10minutes later, Mihir and Chirag turned up with 2 kgs of Bhindi, instead of potatoes. What a way to go!!!

With this done, we boarded an extremely rattled, tainted red colored State Transport bus, heading towards Malshej Ghat. Now one must understand this, that when you are traveling in these red ST blokes, your life is at the supreme mercy of the driver. Completely. There’s no second thought to this fact. Surprisingly, this one was not all that bad, except that Biren got an unexpected token of affection- a young toddler sitting next to him, wetted his pants.

Apparently, Mihir had been told that the place to get off the bus was marked by a milestone which read, “Kalyan-60kms”. After around an hour, the ST driver told us to get out. We did as we were told to, and sure enough, there was a milestone right out there. We went to the other side, and voila!! Kalyan-57 kms. Fantastic way to begin the trek- 3kms short of the actual base!!

After walking the NH-22 highway for about half an hour, we saw a big slab of rock, whitewashed, which had a big black arrow on it, and read- “Naneyghat”. Wonderful. Finally, we were on the right track now. It was a matter of around 4 hours, till we reached the Naneyghat pass. Only to find ourselves surrounded by a hoard of monkeys…our stupid little ancestors (all right, all right…they are not all that stupid, relax). But they were demanding, sure enough. And we turned their demands down swiftly. These monkeys have totally evolved- they thrive more on Lays, Kurkure and Parle-G , than bananas, oranges and nuts.

The cave, unfortunately, was in one big mess- plastic plates strewn everywhere, wrappers and cigarettes lying on the floor. Typically reminds you of being in an Indian tourist location. I wonder when our common Indian man will wake up. It’s one thing for which I hate our careless citizens. (Not the country, mind you).

After a little bit of tidying around the cave, we settled down to cook our long awaited Bhindi ki sabji. Man, what an experience!! Truly enlightening. Now I truly understand how easy life is, when you have a wonderful mother at home who cooks sumptuous lunch and dinner for you. But even our experiment was successful- the sabji was an instant hit amongst all of us, and we devoured it like a pack of hungry wolves. After the amazing lunch, we proceeded towards exploring the plateau of Naneyghat. This was one unbelievably disappointing moment- we climbed up the pass of rocky stairs, to find a huge green bus on the top of the plateau! We were like, “What the F*$%#*? “ And we thought we had achieved something big in life, by trekking up this pass. With a heavy heart, we proceeded to the peak of the mountain. This activity flushed down our earlier disappointment, because the top of the peak was – simply beautiful! Straight ahead of us, the faint layers of the Sahyadris could be seen, with the red sun sinking down upon us. Towards our left, rose the great fort of Jivadani, standing like a giant, smiling at us. Towards our back, was another peak, with the full moon slowly crawling up the horizon. And the wind was blowing strongly in our face, at the high altitude. We were all (except Biren) sitting right at the edge of the mountain, looking straight down the valley, while Biren was loosing his mind at the sight. He completely freaked out, and it was fun to freak him out more, by edging towards the valley. Sweat drops literally crept down his forehead, and that was a signal for us to stop, before he got a heart attack or something similarly nasty happened. The camera was at full usage, click after click. Soon, we started our way back towards the cave, which was now to be our home for the long night that lay ahead of us. Full of surprises and fear.

Dinner was another experience, but it was much easier this time. We had mastered the art of igniting fires by now, so it was not a big deal. The meal was followed by a round of Cadbury and assorted fruits, after which all of us started splurging our innermost secrets and desires…man, it was hilarious! I am definitely not going to indulge in the details, because some things are best left as secrets..!

Well, with all things done, it was finally time for us to tuck in to bed. We put all our baggage in one corner of the cave, and surrounded ourselves with it. Now, I was sleeping on the outer side, and Chirag was sleeping right next to me. Things looked all right, and after a while, our eyelids slowly started drooping, and before we knew it, we were fast asleep.

At around 12.00 am, I started feeling uncomfortably hot in my sleeping bag, so I opened the zip, and lay awake, staring outside the cave. Suddenly, I heard something like footsteps, and someone stepping on a plastic bag. It was a clear, full moon night. I turned towards the entrance, and looked out. There was another cave on the face of the mountain opposite to ours, completely flooded in moonlight. Clear as a crystal, I could see everything. But the source of the noise was nowhere to be. I felt a little bit freaky, as we had been discussing ghost stories, just before going to sleep. I now started regretting that action, as my mind was wandering into the unknowns. Somehow, I was just forcing my self to sleep, when I realized that even Chirag was awake. Instantly I told him about my experience, and he asserted with the noises. Even he had heard them, and had awakened as a result. Now things were getting miserable for me, since I wasn’t dreaming, for sure. There was something out here, not more than 10 feet away from us, and god knows, was looking at us at that very moment. I found it very hard to sleep, but somehow forced my self… If I can’t see anything, there was no point in thinking about it.

However, it seems it was destined for us, to unfold this mystery tonight, because as soon as I switched off the torch, I realized that the sounds were now more prominent. They were clearly audible. Things started getting really bad, I just couldn’t sleep now. I kept rolling in my sleeping bag, but I couldn’t face the entrance any longer. Fear. It was really weird for me. And even Chirag was waking up every now and then.

Finally, curiosity just got the better edge over my fears, and at 3am, I decided that I would dig to the bottom of this mystery. The noises were distinctly audible now; we were definitely not the only ones in the cave. Someone else was there, lurking in the corner, and disturbing us mentally with the plastic noises. I woke up Chirag, and together we switched on our torches, and started scanning the cave. At first, we saw nothing. In one corner, we saw a couple of plastic bags. It was our garbage, kept there, and it was to be dumped out tomorrow morning. However, a small movement caught my eye. I saw something move near the plastic bag. This was too much for me. I compromised the comforts of the sleeping bag, got out with a big rock in my hand, and walked up towards the corner, my torch focused on the bags. And then I saw it – the reason for my baseless terror, was watching out of his tiny little grey eyes at me. A harmless rat, feasting on our garbage, had been just discovered as my mysterious little ghost. I chuckled at the scene, and terrorized the small thing out of the cave. Not that it worked permanently. The wretched little creature came back in 10 minutes, but now I knew what it was. Finally, it was time for some peaceful dreams.

The next day was smooth enough, and we decided to get down from the other side, via the road. After walking for around 2kms, we reached a village, where we met this hilarious man, who strongly believed that meeting new people was the next best thing to nothing. He forced us to give our contact names, which we happily gave as Rajat, Rajni, Raj, Rajesh, Ratan and Rakesh – Biren seems to be saturated with the alphabet “R”!!! And finally, the long awaited bus came, marking the end of yet another wonderful trek – or caveman experience, shall we put?

Hiking is more fun when the State declares a Red Alert...

2007-08-06T14:00:00.000+05:30

Well, I don’t intend to say that our municipality authority’s words can be taken for granted. But four of us ended in doing so yesterday, when we ventured out for a hike. What was intended as a class picnic, ended at Dadar station into just the four of us meeting- Mihir, Chirag, Loj, and myself. Didn’t matter to us, we just decided to cancel our earlier location of malshej ghat, and decided for Bhilavli lake instead.

To start with, the weather was –perfect! Just the right amount of rainfall, and Mumbai had finally cooled down after a tremendously heated summer. After getting down at Panvel, we changed buses and got into another one for Chowk, from where the lake is supposed to be around 2 kms. However, little while after the bus started, the conductor told us curtly, that the bus did not go to Chowk. “Very well, then take us to the spot closest to Chowk.”..... We just hoped that he wouldn’t tell us to get off and direct us back to panvel. Hope, luckily, was still with us. The red container dropped us to a diversion, from where Chowk was approximately ten kilometers. Here, we saw a road that went to Alibaug. yes, AliBAUG !!! We were bewildered further, after getting down at Chowk from a rickshaw. The road leading to the lake not only went to the lake, it also went to Matheran, Khopoli, Lonavla, etc. The stupid path seemed like a focal point to anywhere in the universe, what next with a few black holes leading you out to Andromeda galaxy, the Venus, and god knows what else?

After walking a while, we reached a diversion- we could see a long, low hill to our left….but wait a second. It seemed too uniform to be a hill…what else could it be? I suggested a dam, only to receive valleys of laughter and mock from my fellows. A few yards ahead, the truth came and hit them hard in the head- it was a dam! Bloody hell, it was the largest single body I had ever seen in my life! West to East, it stretched its presence everywhere like a low lying wall. Chirag, on first sight, gave us the intelligence that the Great Wall of China stretched across in India as well.

We chose to go to Bhilavli lake instead, which was closer than the dam.

The lake streches out to a vast expanse, and is slightly brownish in the monsoons. But the ambience is exotic and serene. You can see a huge mountain in the distant, which is a mother to several tall waterfalls. On the other side of the dam(this lake also has a small dam) is a river, which is currently overflowing. The river is surrounded by green pastures, and herds of cows frequent the place. It was here that we sat and had our lunch. After munching on apples and sandwiches, we sat there for a while, relaxing and absorbing on the beautiful climate. All the while, there was a steady downpour. I was watching at a beautiful white pelican, whose only intention in life was to trouble a cow. The stupid bird went and stood in front of the cow, not even 12 inches away. And it kept staring into the cow’s face, till it got bored. I didn’t understand how it got the courage to do such things in the first place…I mean, the cow was almost 600 times bigger than the stupid bird, and it could have squashed it 10 feet underground in a single blow. But for some reason, I figured out, the cow was also a part of the play. It seems that they have a mutual understanding between themselves, of a nature I will never understand.

While I was thinking about cow-pelican relationships, I never realized when they starting approaching us. We decided it was high time we left these huge creatures alone to the pelicans, and with a petrified Mihir, we went back on the top of the dam. There was this measure gauge for the lake, which we decided to check out. It was kind of into the lake, and to reach it, you had to walk over a short bridge of iron. And this bridge was as unstable as Uranium. We went on this crazy rusted bridge, to the gauge, which had a tank containing the lake water. I was just satisfying my curiosity looking inside, when I suddenly saw a hand! I completely freaked out at the moment, and I shouted “Loook Mihir, a hand!!”

“Where? Where is it?” Mihir came and saw it, and by then I had realized what the hand was- it was nothing but a rubber glove. Ha! Mihir was horrified at the site of the nasty “hand”, but it was a funny moment….we were all laughing later, discussing how it could actually be some dead body submerged underwater by tying iron weights to the unfortunate body’s legs.

After all this nonsense, we returned back to the fork in the road, and found a tea stall. We had the world’s most exotic tea here. It was too sexy for words. And we badly needed tea, for we were shivering crazy. I decided to get my T-Shirt off and wring it to remove excess water, and while I was doing so, all the villagers in the stall started checking me out. I hoped they were not gay. Worst, I was with gay friends like chirag and lokesh, who stopped at nothing to give me the most painful “pungi’s” ever (call Chirag for an explanation of the term “pungi’s”..it’s a verb, and a painful one it is indeed.)

Having our insides swirling with warm tea, we pushed our way back towards the highway. Once on the highway, we hitch-hiked a truck and got ourselves a crazy ride till Kharghar. We filled our tummies at Kharghar railway station, dreaming of when Mumbai would have such sexy stations. From here, we used two S.T buses, two BEST buses and a local train, and somehow found our way back –Home Sweet home!

Can Hinduism Evolve?

2007-08-06T13:57:00.000+05:30

“Evolution- in biology, evolution is the change in the heritable traits of a population over successive generations, as determined by the shifting allele frequencies of genes. Evolution is ultimately the source of the vast diversity of life: all contemporary organisms are related to each other through common descent as products of cumulative evolutionary changes over billions of years.”

Source: Wikipedia.

Well, this does speak well about evolution as an abstract concept. However, what I would like to discuss, is different from the usual meaning associated with the word evolution. I would like to know, in the simplest of ideas, why is it that a religion cannot evolve from itself. And by evolution, I do have some strange ideas to discuss here. Let me hereby plunge….

Hinduism is one of the major religions existing today on the face of the world. I live in the heart of one of India’s biggest metropolitans, Mumbai. And being here for almost 20 years now, life has enabled me to witness certain practices, rituals, traditions, whatever you may call it- that seems very disturbing to me. And this is something I would fundamentally want to challenge today.

· Imagine a situation – a giant earth-moving machine, suddenly comes to life, and dumps tones of plaster of Paris, into the Arabian Sea.

Dejavou? Sadly, yes. We do witness such atrocities being committed today. Right before our very eyes. One should visit the beaches of Mumbai, a day after the eleventh day of Ganesh Chaturthi, right after the immersions are over. Ganesh Chaturthi is one of the major festivals being celebrated in Mumbai, with Mumbaikars complete with zeal and gusto enthusiasm. The spirit of the citizens is something that attaches me emotionally to this wonderful city. And yet, when I visit the seashore on the 12^th day, I wonder why? The site of devastated aquatic life – a price being paid for our festivals?

Why cannot we improve our practice?

· Somewhere nearby, another nasty-looking machine is in full life, chopping off banyan tree- branches.

Commonly called “Vat-Poornima”, it brings pain to the heart, when you see banyan braches being sold in the market, and women buying them and worshipping them. Again I wonder why? For the protection of husband or family, we worship chopped branches of an innocent tree? Is it wrong to worship the tree, without chopping it off? In fact, I have seen the practice of worshipping trees in rural life, and yet, a civilized city like Mumbai fails to understand such delicate issues. Yes, they are delicate. I simply fail to understand the point in cutting trees and worshipping their body-parts.

Why cannot we improve our practice?

I am not anti-Hinduism, from any point of view what-so-ever. As a matter of fact, I am a Hindu myself. Yet, I refuse to accept such practices, which have been comfortably enjoying the status of labeled traditions and rituals, and are practiced without thought, for centuries now. Can we not use sand, or mud for shaping Ganesha idols? Can we not plant more banyan trees, and worship them whenever the festival comes, but keep the plant alive? Can our religions not evolve?

After all, if humans have evolved, by realizing what is wrong and what is right, cannot we apply the same logic to religions? The very purpose of religions coming into existence was to encourage faith. Religions are, after all, man’s creation. Yet, cannot we stop doing something, which we very well know is harming the environment today? Or do we still continue to practice it, simply because it is our “religion?” Why cannot we improve our practices…..?

A lost slipper in the Arabian Sea...

2007-08-06T13:47:00.000+05:30

It was just like any other monsoon day in Mumbai- dark clouds hanging over the skies, a cool wind blowing across your face.

I got up at 8.00am in the morning, and started getting ready for college. Not a single droplet of water made its way till the surface, and I reached the station at 9.30am, in time for the 9.34 Virar fast. The train, fast as usual, was whizzing up the green town side, and nothing seemed out of the blue. Getting aboard, reaching Bandra, running to the bus stop, it was just like any, any other monsoon day; dark clouds hanging over the skies, a cool wind blowing across your face.

Little did I know that in the next six hours, I would find myself dragging across dark waters, cool waters, with raindrops splashing across myself?

College started. It was an especially boring lecture of mathematics. Trying hard not to doze off, I somehow made my way through it. Finally, the last minutes of the lecture, and lo!! lunch break. Somewhere near this time, the heavens started pouring down. But still, it just looked like any other monsoon day…

After break, we had an interesting lecture of microprocessors, with which the day was practically done for my fellow batchmates and me. With nothing else to do, I wandered off to the library with Chirag, who had to write an N.S.S notice for its members. Having done this, we went to the Ashram to teach the children. All this time, there was a steady downpour of rainfall. In the Ashram, children were enjoying themselves, with water logging in the ashram. All the small ones started playing in the water filled balconies of the ashram. It was a pleasant sight, with children happily playing and splashing water at each other. After some time, I returned back to teaching. Santosh (my XII std. Student) wanted me to take Chemistry, so I started with a rather heavy topic of thermodynamics. (zzzz…)

After about an hour of teaching, (throughout the hour, it was pouring continuously), I decided to make a move, as I realized that if the rains didn’t stop, things would get worse. Chirag was also thinking on same lines, because even he left his student right after I did. Having done this, and with some satisfaction in my mind, we left the Ashram premises and went to the college to get refreshed. In the college, the atmosphere was absolutely charged up. Students and teachers could be seen running everywhere, trying to call up their friends and residences, but to no avail. The effects had only started to show, with telecommunication lines disrupted. Samudra (a friend in T.E.IT) was kind enough to offer his cell phone to me. However, all my attempts to do so went futile. I asked Chiru, “lets’ go?” Came the reply, “yeah baby!!”. That’s the spirit.

And so we descended down the famous ‘slope’. The moment we reached down, we witnessed an unbelievable site. The monsoons seemed to be really in a fit of rage. The sea had literally come across the roads, and we couldn’t distinguish between the sea water and rain. Man, were we excited! We started wading in this super-Olympic sized pool, which was waist deep by now.

Somehow we made our way near the end of bandstand. Here’s where the fun started. The depth just increased more, it was now almost till our chest (and we are no liliputs). So, I handed my bag to chiru, strapped off my watch, and launched my self into the water- this was my only experience of swimming on a tar road! It was unthinkable in normal terms. I fancied my chances of saying “wazzzup” to Mr. Khan, while doing a backstroke. However, the current was actually strong, so I gave up my attempts to swim all the way back home too soon. Here’s where the funniest thing happened, which has inspired the name of this blog. We were walking no towards St. Andrew’s church, and water was gushing down against us, flowing into the sea. We were really struggling against this horizontal waterfall, when suddenly chiru started shouting ‘sheik’, sheik’, help!

I turned around, expecting the worst- chirag being dragged by a massive sweep of the element, but instead I saw him standing there, perfectly safe, except that he was searching out in to the sea- for what? The poor guy lost his slippers into the current that was flowing against us, and he was now trying to recover it. One brave dude, must be in his early twenties; shouted at the top of his voice (the water was ragging) that he would go and get it back. I could see the slipper rapidly making for the sea, like some long held prisoner, tired of life. The dude got a long pole and fished out his slipper just in the nick of time. After this small adventure, we made our way towards St. Andrew’s church. Luckily, we caught sight of a bus making its way through the flood, and made our jump for it.

Once in the bus, life seemed to be much secured, but some of the sites I saw have etched into the insides for a lifetime, I ain’t gonna lose them so easily. Rickshaws helplessly floating around, small cars being carried away in the flow, shops wrecked till the last bit, life coming to a screeching standstill. The once pleasant ambience of bandra, reminded one of perdition now. We could feel that this was an unusual downpour, looking at the degree of damage done. Even the bus floor wasn’t spared, the water had entered the bus. I remembered a scene from ‘twenty thousand leagues under the sea’. The only difference, here we would be two feet under dirty gutters of Mumbai. Twenty thousand times pathetic. A chill ran down my drenched spine. I shuddered at the thought of it (much to the disapproval of the gentleman sitting next to me). Luckily, it spared our lives. Slowly, we made our way till Worli, where the bus finally breathed its last. From hence, we went home walking nicely. It wasn’t as bad as we expected, on the contrary, we had a lively experience. This was our unforgettable experience of that day, the very 26^th July of 2005!!