Ever since I started working, life has, in a way, come to a standstill. Office, work, party and sleep. That seems to have become the routine. In between all this, sometimes there is a cup of tea at the neighbourhood tea stall where conversations segue from the most inspiring to completely banal. During one such discussion last week, an interesting topic came up. A topic that brought back the nostalgia of college, of the years we had spent growing up and of the dreams we had seen.
This tea stall is a place where tea costs Rupees 6 and the conversations are free but priceless. But the best part is that here we can exercise our credit limit endlessly. This is the reason why the conversation began. We realised we were Rupees 30 short and we told the owner we would pay him later. But just then, someone asked for another cup and as a chain reaction, so did everyone else. Somebody in the group just mentioned, “do you remember the way we used to run short of cash when we were students?”
Memories came flooding back. I remembered the time we used to sneak out of home to catch a late night show. The time when neighbourhood tea stalls used to be our stronghold. Someone dug up the memories of getting drenched in the rain and binging on any kind of edible, cooked substance that was classified food. The time when one cigarette was shared between 4 people and Old Monk was the warmest companion of winters. A lavish birthday party would only mean “you will be fully fed” and weddings at friends’ places were always welcome because it gave us limitless access to food. On the days of an absolute cash crunch, we would share one plate of idly or a dosa or a sandwich between three people, with everyone aiming for the lion’s share. We would borrow friends’ bikes to drop pretty girls home, in the hope that something constructive would materialise. With some people, it was always “pay for me now and I will pay you later” when we went to the movies. That “later” never came. The hassles of exams and attendance brought back incidents that we would have rather forgotten. But looking back, it seemed fun. There were deadlines and curfew timings at home, but post that was when the fun began. A mobile phone was a luxury with call rates that meant we could only give missed calls. For the ones with girlfriends, it meant huge (by student standards) bills. Which in turn meant that we would have to lie at home for extra cash, and innovative lies at that!
Playing pranks on teachers and creating a ruckus was commonplace and so was the resultant “get out of my class”.
If I start making a list, I will probably run into hundreds of pages. But the important part is that we all realised that somewhere, along the years, we have probably forgotten how much those little, insignificant moments meant and how much we have missed them in the work life. Those years seemed so long back in the past!
It rekindled a flame, the embers of which, were dying out and as I end this piece, I will just say that let’s not allow anything to interrupt the little joys of life because these are the moments one savours. Let us raise a toast to a promise that we will live and breathe such moments every day. What say?
Monday, January 31, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Kaash...
Intezaar hai mujhe tumhara
Kyon, yeh pata nahi
Bas aisa lagta hai jaise
Bina tumhare zindagi mein koi khalal hai
Kehne ko toh roushan hai yeh zindagi
Par zehen ke kisi koney mein
Ek gehra andhera jaise
Ghar kar baitha hai
Yaad aati hai tumhari jab bhi
Ek khushi ki leher daud jaati hai mayoosi ke beech
Aur pal bhar ko mann karta hai
Sameyt loon inhe tinka tinka karke
Par jaise yaadon ki raet pe
Likha tumhara naam
Gumm ho jata hai
Haqeeqat ki aandhi mein
Ghadiyaan lamha lamha kar beet jaati hain
Par na tumhari khabar aati hai
Aur na hi intezaar ke samundar mein
Saahil kahin dikhta hai
Pata nahi kashti ko sahara milega
Yaa doob jayegi isi samundar mein
Bas itni ummed hai ki kal jab aankh khule
Toh tum paas baithi ho..kaash!
Kyon, yeh pata nahi
Bas aisa lagta hai jaise
Bina tumhare zindagi mein koi khalal hai
Kehne ko toh roushan hai yeh zindagi
Par zehen ke kisi koney mein
Ek gehra andhera jaise
Ghar kar baitha hai
Yaad aati hai tumhari jab bhi
Ek khushi ki leher daud jaati hai mayoosi ke beech
Aur pal bhar ko mann karta hai
Sameyt loon inhe tinka tinka karke
Par jaise yaadon ki raet pe
Likha tumhara naam
Gumm ho jata hai
Haqeeqat ki aandhi mein
Ghadiyaan lamha lamha kar beet jaati hain
Par na tumhari khabar aati hai
Aur na hi intezaar ke samundar mein
Saahil kahin dikhta hai
Pata nahi kashti ko sahara milega
Yaa doob jayegi isi samundar mein
Bas itni ummed hai ki kal jab aankh khule
Toh tum paas baithi ho..kaash!
Friday, September 17, 2010
On the man they call the Mahatma
To begin with, this piece is not to hurt the sentiments of those who believe in him. Neither is it political propaganda. It’s just an average Joe’s take on Mr. Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi a.k.a Mahatma Gandhi.
Having said that, lately I have come across way too many people who scream from the rooftops to tell the world how great a man he was. At least for me, it was way too many people to handle. So here’s my response.
First of all, with my limited intellect, I fail to see how a man who was never on the frontline of the Indian independence movement, be called the greatest of heroes! Before someone misinterprets that statement, let me clarify that by ‘frontline’ I mean someone who was there in the thick of the action – like Lala Lajpat Rai, who suffered fatal injuries during the “Simon Go Back” agitation when the Simon commission was setup. Or Bhagat Singh, who took the battle to the enemy’s turf! For me, that’s a true leader. Not a man who sits at the command station while his followers are assaulted.
Second, I do understand that Mr. Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi was a believer in non violence but there is a very fine line between being non violent and being blind. During the Non Co-operation Movement of 1920, when the Chauri Chauraha incident occurred, why did he call off the movement? Did he not realize that the people he was leading were not a herd of sheep? Their patience had limits and the British had breached it a few times too much. I am not justifying needless violence but I do not advocate the “slap my other cheek too” logic either. People had quit their jobs, schools, colleges and changed their entire way of life! And a good leader is supposed to be good at reading his followers’ minds. Mere criticism of subjugation doesn’t really prove to be a constructive solution.
Third, please, somebody, remind me again – why is he called the Mahatma? I mean, I haven’t really come across any articles on his enlightenment. Follow a leader. Respect him. Be proud of him. Buy why on earth should he be given the status of a demigod? Just because he preached non violence? Russia, France, America and China have all undergone violent revolutions. And yet they are more developed and better placed than we are. So, what does that say? And yet their leaders are not worshipped.
Fourth – why do we have only Gandhi on our currency? Does it mean that the contributions made by Bhagat Singh, Chandrashekhar Azad, Jatin Das, Subhash Chandra Bose, Lala Lajpat Rai, Khudiram Bose, Ashfaqullah Khan, Rash Behari Bose, Ram Prasad Bismil and Rajguru not significant enough? Or is it because we called him the father of the nation since he was the only one in the list to have survived the struggle? Frankly, I find it a tad bit surprising that he was the only one to live through the whole period. Looks like non violence does have its perks!
To add to that, Nathuram Godse, the man who shot Mr. Gandhi was once his follower. So is it possible that somewhere he had let his followers down to an extent that one of them actually decided to put an end to it all? I mean come on, anyone who undertook an attack like that would have know that he didn’t even have a snowball’s chance in hell to get out alive. Yet he did it. Why?
Again, I was not present there. I am too young to have been there so I am not making a moral judgement. Just asking a few questions. Making a few statements. Any answers?
Having said that, lately I have come across way too many people who scream from the rooftops to tell the world how great a man he was. At least for me, it was way too many people to handle. So here’s my response.
First of all, with my limited intellect, I fail to see how a man who was never on the frontline of the Indian independence movement, be called the greatest of heroes! Before someone misinterprets that statement, let me clarify that by ‘frontline’ I mean someone who was there in the thick of the action – like Lala Lajpat Rai, who suffered fatal injuries during the “Simon Go Back” agitation when the Simon commission was setup. Or Bhagat Singh, who took the battle to the enemy’s turf! For me, that’s a true leader. Not a man who sits at the command station while his followers are assaulted.
Second, I do understand that Mr. Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi was a believer in non violence but there is a very fine line between being non violent and being blind. During the Non Co-operation Movement of 1920, when the Chauri Chauraha incident occurred, why did he call off the movement? Did he not realize that the people he was leading were not a herd of sheep? Their patience had limits and the British had breached it a few times too much. I am not justifying needless violence but I do not advocate the “slap my other cheek too” logic either. People had quit their jobs, schools, colleges and changed their entire way of life! And a good leader is supposed to be good at reading his followers’ minds. Mere criticism of subjugation doesn’t really prove to be a constructive solution.
Third, please, somebody, remind me again – why is he called the Mahatma? I mean, I haven’t really come across any articles on his enlightenment. Follow a leader. Respect him. Be proud of him. Buy why on earth should he be given the status of a demigod? Just because he preached non violence? Russia, France, America and China have all undergone violent revolutions. And yet they are more developed and better placed than we are. So, what does that say? And yet their leaders are not worshipped.
Fourth – why do we have only Gandhi on our currency? Does it mean that the contributions made by Bhagat Singh, Chandrashekhar Azad, Jatin Das, Subhash Chandra Bose, Lala Lajpat Rai, Khudiram Bose, Ashfaqullah Khan, Rash Behari Bose, Ram Prasad Bismil and Rajguru not significant enough? Or is it because we called him the father of the nation since he was the only one in the list to have survived the struggle? Frankly, I find it a tad bit surprising that he was the only one to live through the whole period. Looks like non violence does have its perks!
To add to that, Nathuram Godse, the man who shot Mr. Gandhi was once his follower. So is it possible that somewhere he had let his followers down to an extent that one of them actually decided to put an end to it all? I mean come on, anyone who undertook an attack like that would have know that he didn’t even have a snowball’s chance in hell to get out alive. Yet he did it. Why?
Again, I was not present there. I am too young to have been there so I am not making a moral judgement. Just asking a few questions. Making a few statements. Any answers?
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Reflections…
Life was a baffling puzzle,
In the scorching heat,
I sought a little drizzle.
And at times, a retreat.
The world was a buzzing place,
But in my lonely heart,
I often fell asleep pondering,
And woke up with a start.
What was I looking for?
I didn’t really know.
Where I was headed,
I didn’t want to go.
Life was a baffling puzzle,
In the scorching heat,
I sought a little drizzle.
And at times, a retreat.
I stayed up nights,
Looking at the lights.
Filled with fathomless gloom,
Like preparing for my doom.
But one single morning,
Changed it all.
When you walked into,
That empty hall.
All it took was,
One look at you.
And the whitewashed walls,
Turned into a million hues!
Your sparkling eyes,
Like the untamed sea.
Sometimes an open book,
Sometimes, a mystery.
I wished I could hold,
The sands of time.
Or let it be lost,
In the labyrinth of my rhyme.
But time is a wily beast,
It flew.
Leaving me with,
Memories of you.
Then I saw you again,
Walking down the street.
I think I skipped,
Just one heartbeat.
Today it’s been,
A long, long time.
And I am trying to capture time again,
In the labyrinth of my rhyme.
So I can spend a moment with you.
With your memories.
Forget my mundane life.
Escape all my worries.
We knew each other,
For a very short while.
But you infected me,
With the desire to smile.
So today in the scorching heat,
When I look for a retreat,
All I do is think of you,
And lose myself in your million hues…
In the scorching heat,
I sought a little drizzle.
And at times, a retreat.
The world was a buzzing place,
But in my lonely heart,
I often fell asleep pondering,
And woke up with a start.
What was I looking for?
I didn’t really know.
Where I was headed,
I didn’t want to go.
Life was a baffling puzzle,
In the scorching heat,
I sought a little drizzle.
And at times, a retreat.
I stayed up nights,
Looking at the lights.
Filled with fathomless gloom,
Like preparing for my doom.
But one single morning,
Changed it all.
When you walked into,
That empty hall.
All it took was,
One look at you.
And the whitewashed walls,
Turned into a million hues!
Your sparkling eyes,
Like the untamed sea.
Sometimes an open book,
Sometimes, a mystery.
I wished I could hold,
The sands of time.
Or let it be lost,
In the labyrinth of my rhyme.
But time is a wily beast,
It flew.
Leaving me with,
Memories of you.
Then I saw you again,
Walking down the street.
I think I skipped,
Just one heartbeat.
Today it’s been,
A long, long time.
And I am trying to capture time again,
In the labyrinth of my rhyme.
So I can spend a moment with you.
With your memories.
Forget my mundane life.
Escape all my worries.
We knew each other,
For a very short while.
But you infected me,
With the desire to smile.
So today in the scorching heat,
When I look for a retreat,
All I do is think of you,
And lose myself in your million hues…
Thursday, July 15, 2010
With love, from India.
Acknowledgements:
Joel Stein – for the wonderfully written piece of trash with insecure and spiteful undertones. (http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1999416,00.html
Rahul Parikh – for the truly amazing comeback to Joel Stein’s article which inspired this piece. (http://edition.cnn.com/2010/OPINION/07/13/parikh.stein.rebuttal/index.html?hpt=C2&fbid=Ee7Dj34bC72)
Kapil Dhawan – for posting the link to Rahul Parikh’s article.
Now, let me have my take on what Joel Stein had to say. And let me be very clear that this piece is not about insulting Americans in any way because I personally know some really nice Americans. It is just a rebuttal to Joel Stein’s “humorous” piece.
To begin with, for a nation Joel Stein so kindly referred to as poor and not-so-bright, we have had way too many “bright” people that the world admires. In fact, if one types “famous Americans” on Wikipedia, there is a list of 33 names that springs up. If one types “famous Indians”, on the other hand, the list runs into pages. Moreover, there is a separate list which talks of famous “American Indians”. And guess how many names are listed? 347! The names span all walks of life. So, looks like we are not that “not-so-bright” after all, are we? As for being a poor country, we’re one of the fastest growing economies in the world, besides holding a roster entrepreneurs who lead some of the largest organizations in the world. Yes, we are poorer than America but that is also probable because we do not go around declaring wars on smaller countries, accusing them of hoarding weapons of mass destruction, while the actual objective is just to acquire oil reserves. Plus, the world knows the reality of the American dream and how fulfilling (note sarcasm) it is!
Now coming to culture. India has had a civilized history is one of the oldest in the world. We have a menu of languages that is as varied as our spicy cuisine. And we do not borrow foreign languages, mutilate the spellings like changing “colour” to “color”, rape the grammar and try to make the world follow our version of the ravaged language. India is the place where Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism and Sikhism originated. And Rabindranath Tagore has been rated to be a multi faceted genius, second only to Leonardo Da Vinci. Moreover, an average Indian with a mother tongue other than Hindi grows up learning three languages at least! One look at politics will also clear the fact that India has already achieved the feat of putting a woman in the highest office of the country. America hasn’t. But despite all these achievements, our idea of the world doesn’t just revolve around India. We do not say that if aliens ever invade, it will only be India, or Indians are the only ones who will put up a fight. Neither do we say that every volcanic eruption, vampire epidemic, tectonic shift of earth’s plates has to begin or occur in India. Our view of the world pans 360 degrees.
Having said all of that, yes we do have our share of black sheep as well. But we have Charles Shobhraj, America has Jack The Ripper! Point being, nothing is black or white. Not viewpoints, not issues, not people. It is all grey. And I think considering the fact that most of the population that has moved to America is a part of the cream in their generation, if anything, Joel Stein should be thankful to us Indians. And I would like to agree with Rahul Parikh on the fact that a meaningless footnote for an apology doesn’t work. It just doesn’t. And next time, please leave the humor to people who know a thing or two about it.
Joel Stein – for the wonderfully written piece of trash with insecure and spiteful undertones. (http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1999416,00.html
Rahul Parikh – for the truly amazing comeback to Joel Stein’s article which inspired this piece. (http://edition.cnn.com/2010/OPINION/07/13/parikh.stein.rebuttal/index.html?hpt=C2&fbid=Ee7Dj34bC72)
Kapil Dhawan – for posting the link to Rahul Parikh’s article.
Now, let me have my take on what Joel Stein had to say. And let me be very clear that this piece is not about insulting Americans in any way because I personally know some really nice Americans. It is just a rebuttal to Joel Stein’s “humorous” piece.
To begin with, for a nation Joel Stein so kindly referred to as poor and not-so-bright, we have had way too many “bright” people that the world admires. In fact, if one types “famous Americans” on Wikipedia, there is a list of 33 names that springs up. If one types “famous Indians”, on the other hand, the list runs into pages. Moreover, there is a separate list which talks of famous “American Indians”. And guess how many names are listed? 347! The names span all walks of life. So, looks like we are not that “not-so-bright” after all, are we? As for being a poor country, we’re one of the fastest growing economies in the world, besides holding a roster entrepreneurs who lead some of the largest organizations in the world. Yes, we are poorer than America but that is also probable because we do not go around declaring wars on smaller countries, accusing them of hoarding weapons of mass destruction, while the actual objective is just to acquire oil reserves. Plus, the world knows the reality of the American dream and how fulfilling (note sarcasm) it is!
Now coming to culture. India has had a civilized history is one of the oldest in the world. We have a menu of languages that is as varied as our spicy cuisine. And we do not borrow foreign languages, mutilate the spellings like changing “colour” to “color”, rape the grammar and try to make the world follow our version of the ravaged language. India is the place where Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism and Sikhism originated. And Rabindranath Tagore has been rated to be a multi faceted genius, second only to Leonardo Da Vinci. Moreover, an average Indian with a mother tongue other than Hindi grows up learning three languages at least! One look at politics will also clear the fact that India has already achieved the feat of putting a woman in the highest office of the country. America hasn’t. But despite all these achievements, our idea of the world doesn’t just revolve around India. We do not say that if aliens ever invade, it will only be India, or Indians are the only ones who will put up a fight. Neither do we say that every volcanic eruption, vampire epidemic, tectonic shift of earth’s plates has to begin or occur in India. Our view of the world pans 360 degrees.
Having said all of that, yes we do have our share of black sheep as well. But we have Charles Shobhraj, America has Jack The Ripper! Point being, nothing is black or white. Not viewpoints, not issues, not people. It is all grey. And I think considering the fact that most of the population that has moved to America is a part of the cream in their generation, if anything, Joel Stein should be thankful to us Indians. And I would like to agree with Rahul Parikh on the fact that a meaningless footnote for an apology doesn’t work. It just doesn’t. And next time, please leave the humor to people who know a thing or two about it.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
250 miles of insanity!
I am back! Offer your brains so I can feast on them.
Ok. Fine. Don’t. Selfish people. Want to keep all your brains for yourself! Anyway, let me get on with what I wanted to say. Lots and lots…and lots of things have been happening and like always, it’s a blend of “oh so painful” and “oooh so nice”. And in the middle of all this is me. So then, without further ado, let me begin.
Keeping in sync with my affinity for things unplanned (except for a few situations, of course) I suddenly decided that since Jaipur is not that far off and most people who mattered were either out of Delhi or out of touch, it will be a nice idea to hop on to a bus and go to the Pink City for Diwali. The idea was great but the execution, not quite. To begin with, the buses starting from Bikaner House in Delhi were supposedly “full” and employees there could be seen openly selling tickets in black and making what they called “Diwali profit”. A press card or a police ID proved extremely helpful though, as I later found out. The bus rolled out of Bikaner House at sharp 1.15 in the morning. At least punctuality was a virtue the RTDC still has. Now, I was on the seat in the middle of the last row. Shaky but spacious. At least I could stretch my legs, though it’s a different thing that parts of my body like the neck, would also get stretched but that was inevitable. Then I suddenly saw this woman walk up to me and stand right in front of me, moving her head left and right like she was watching a tennis match! My estimate said she was around 29, unless she used one of those anti aging creams. So then she sat down and handed over her bag asking me if I could shove it under the seat in front of her. I did. Then it happened! Like the Tsunami…like a volcanic eruption…like a hail of bullets from an air raid…like Rajnikanth’s 60 kicks in a second…she started rattling away at a speed so fast that I doubt if even Michael Schumacher could keep up. The topics included things like how the government servants were cheating people out of money and how her uncle, a crime reporter had secured her a comfy seat, among a zillion other things. Finally, after 20 minutes of a monologue, I guess she lost steam. And went on the mute mode. The experience was so intense that I took me a good 40 minutes to get my concentration back to my Sudoku book. But my ordeal wasn’t over. The two guys sitting on my left then started off in a language that I presume was Hebrew or Arabic. All I could make out was that they sounded like they were clearing their throats repeatedly. I even thought of offering them cough drops. No offence meant though. They went on talking and talking like they’d had a crate of Red Bull. And people say I am talkative.
Suddenly the bus halted. Two guys got in. And one of them reached his seat bonking against the lofts on either sides. The guy was visibly and audibly “high”. Stoned off his mind or sloshed beyond repair, I don’t know, though. His friend had a sheepish “I apologise” look on his face. Once on his seat the stoned/sloshed chap started eating. And boy could he eat!! By the time he finished, there were 6 empty packets of chips, 4 chocolate cake packets, 4 empty sandwich packets, all tossed on the floor of the bus. Instinct told me to kick him in the groin and tell him to pick it up. Even better, stuff it in his mouth. But it wasn’t needed. The conductor did the rest. Though, the being a Volvo, the smell lingered on for a while. Then this guy caused a nuclear explosion. Now I know what people in Hiroshima would have felt like. And I am not elucidating the point.
Somewhere in the middle of all this and old Bollywood music, I dozed off. But I was shaken up, literally by the “firing” woman next to me. She woke me up like either the bus had been hijacked or set on fire. I saw the bus entering a food court run by RTDC. She said she had to go…(you know, go for emergency) and if I would look after her bag. It was more a statement than a request and in my zonked state of mind; I must have nodded my approval because she bolted for the door, stepping on my foot in the process. Bored to the edge of my seat, i got off the bus and got myself an apology for a frappe for Rs. 25 at the counter. As the bus began to leave the RTDC Midway, I climbed back on and sat in the bus. Rest of the journey was thankfully uneventful.
On reaching Jaipur, I walked up to the local bus stand out of my sudden desire to travel in a local bus here. It was 7 in the morning and the guy issuing the tickets was smoking beedi after beedi, turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to the monstrous board right outside the counter that said “Smoking Prohibited. Fine upt o Rs. 200”. So I clicked a nice little picture of him with smoke rolling out of his nostrils and told him and if he didn’t shut that thing off right then, then I would walk up to the nearest police station and get him arrested. He scowled. I scowled back. He grunted, I growled. And after such show of power, he had no choice. I took my ticket and just then it started raining. So I ran under one the tea stalls and drank tea, accompanied by fruit cake from “Rachna Backery”. Decent fruit cake. When I walked back to the terminus, the guy stubbed out his beedi the moment he saw me! I was proud of myself and saw an elderly woman smile gratefully. Nice start to the day it was. The bus came in. And I hopped on for another journey. But that’s for later. That’s quite another story!
Adios.
Ok. Fine. Don’t. Selfish people. Want to keep all your brains for yourself! Anyway, let me get on with what I wanted to say. Lots and lots…and lots of things have been happening and like always, it’s a blend of “oh so painful” and “oooh so nice”. And in the middle of all this is me. So then, without further ado, let me begin.
Keeping in sync with my affinity for things unplanned (except for a few situations, of course) I suddenly decided that since Jaipur is not that far off and most people who mattered were either out of Delhi or out of touch, it will be a nice idea to hop on to a bus and go to the Pink City for Diwali. The idea was great but the execution, not quite. To begin with, the buses starting from Bikaner House in Delhi were supposedly “full” and employees there could be seen openly selling tickets in black and making what they called “Diwali profit”. A press card or a police ID proved extremely helpful though, as I later found out. The bus rolled out of Bikaner House at sharp 1.15 in the morning. At least punctuality was a virtue the RTDC still has. Now, I was on the seat in the middle of the last row. Shaky but spacious. At least I could stretch my legs, though it’s a different thing that parts of my body like the neck, would also get stretched but that was inevitable. Then I suddenly saw this woman walk up to me and stand right in front of me, moving her head left and right like she was watching a tennis match! My estimate said she was around 29, unless she used one of those anti aging creams. So then she sat down and handed over her bag asking me if I could shove it under the seat in front of her. I did. Then it happened! Like the Tsunami…like a volcanic eruption…like a hail of bullets from an air raid…like Rajnikanth’s 60 kicks in a second…she started rattling away at a speed so fast that I doubt if even Michael Schumacher could keep up. The topics included things like how the government servants were cheating people out of money and how her uncle, a crime reporter had secured her a comfy seat, among a zillion other things. Finally, after 20 minutes of a monologue, I guess she lost steam. And went on the mute mode. The experience was so intense that I took me a good 40 minutes to get my concentration back to my Sudoku book. But my ordeal wasn’t over. The two guys sitting on my left then started off in a language that I presume was Hebrew or Arabic. All I could make out was that they sounded like they were clearing their throats repeatedly. I even thought of offering them cough drops. No offence meant though. They went on talking and talking like they’d had a crate of Red Bull. And people say I am talkative.
Suddenly the bus halted. Two guys got in. And one of them reached his seat bonking against the lofts on either sides. The guy was visibly and audibly “high”. Stoned off his mind or sloshed beyond repair, I don’t know, though. His friend had a sheepish “I apologise” look on his face. Once on his seat the stoned/sloshed chap started eating. And boy could he eat!! By the time he finished, there were 6 empty packets of chips, 4 chocolate cake packets, 4 empty sandwich packets, all tossed on the floor of the bus. Instinct told me to kick him in the groin and tell him to pick it up. Even better, stuff it in his mouth. But it wasn’t needed. The conductor did the rest. Though, the being a Volvo, the smell lingered on for a while. Then this guy caused a nuclear explosion. Now I know what people in Hiroshima would have felt like. And I am not elucidating the point.
Somewhere in the middle of all this and old Bollywood music, I dozed off. But I was shaken up, literally by the “firing” woman next to me. She woke me up like either the bus had been hijacked or set on fire. I saw the bus entering a food court run by RTDC. She said she had to go…(you know, go for emergency) and if I would look after her bag. It was more a statement than a request and in my zonked state of mind; I must have nodded my approval because she bolted for the door, stepping on my foot in the process. Bored to the edge of my seat, i got off the bus and got myself an apology for a frappe for Rs. 25 at the counter. As the bus began to leave the RTDC Midway, I climbed back on and sat in the bus. Rest of the journey was thankfully uneventful.
On reaching Jaipur, I walked up to the local bus stand out of my sudden desire to travel in a local bus here. It was 7 in the morning and the guy issuing the tickets was smoking beedi after beedi, turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to the monstrous board right outside the counter that said “Smoking Prohibited. Fine upt o Rs. 200”. So I clicked a nice little picture of him with smoke rolling out of his nostrils and told him and if he didn’t shut that thing off right then, then I would walk up to the nearest police station and get him arrested. He scowled. I scowled back. He grunted, I growled. And after such show of power, he had no choice. I took my ticket and just then it started raining. So I ran under one the tea stalls and drank tea, accompanied by fruit cake from “Rachna Backery”. Decent fruit cake. When I walked back to the terminus, the guy stubbed out his beedi the moment he saw me! I was proud of myself and saw an elderly woman smile gratefully. Nice start to the day it was. The bus came in. And I hopped on for another journey. But that’s for later. That’s quite another story!
Adios.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Gods Wanted
I had been suffering from an extreme lack of ideas all this while. Hence, no post. But today, out of the VIBGYOR, I thought of something. Here it is:
The world is changing. And fast! Infrastructure, technology, science and everything else, is undergoing a drastic change. Why should mythology and divinity be any different? In addition to the good old Gods, we need a few young and contemporary ones too. So here is a look at how the recruitment ad for these new Gods will look like.
The department of Divine Resource Management is recruiting for the positions mentioned below. The salaries are negotiable with additional perks like 50% of food and money offered to the deity by devotees. Please read the roles and responsibilities carefully before applying.
God of Traffic Control
The candidates should be skilled in traffic management with minimum 1 year of experience in managing Godly duties. Candidates from departments like War, Wisdom and Destruction will be given preference. Role will include managing traffic in the busy centers, miraculously fixing malfunctioning signals, answering prayers about reducing traffic etc. Ideally, the candidates should be between 40 – 150 years of age, and should, in no way exceed 200 years. Additional responsibility includes cleaning up after accidents as well.
God of Reality Shows
The candidates should be skilled in managing viewer mindsets. They should be well versed with the concept of TRPs and should respond quickly to prayers from producers, directors and viewers. Rewarding fair participation and punishing sleazy practices will also form a part of the role. Minimum 1 year of experience required. Candidates from Knowledge, Music and Intellect will be given preference. Age should not be more than 50 years. Computer literacy is a must.
God of Pollution Control
The candidates should have at least 5 years of experience in various departments. Role will include pollution control, rewarding environmentally aware creatures and punishing reckless creatures. Must respond to prayers from all species within 24 hours. Age should not be less than 200 years. Fraternizing with God of Natural Resources, God of Industrialisation and God of Capitalism will not be tolerated. God of Capitalism does not refer to the US.
God of Advertising
The candidate should specialize in conning techniques and influencing mindsets. Prior experience in any form of communication will be preferred. Should be able to respond quickly to any prayer from anyone in the advertising business. Perks will include a part of the profits. Age, preferably between 50 – 100 years.
All applications should reach the Department of Divine Bullshit, latest by doomsday. Applications received after that will not be tolerated. All applications can be mailed to holycrap@worship.com or alternatively, the candidate can call 1800 – HOLYCRAP for further details.
Till I write something stupid again…
Adios.
The world is changing. And fast! Infrastructure, technology, science and everything else, is undergoing a drastic change. Why should mythology and divinity be any different? In addition to the good old Gods, we need a few young and contemporary ones too. So here is a look at how the recruitment ad for these new Gods will look like.
The department of Divine Resource Management is recruiting for the positions mentioned below. The salaries are negotiable with additional perks like 50% of food and money offered to the deity by devotees. Please read the roles and responsibilities carefully before applying.
God of Traffic Control
The candidates should be skilled in traffic management with minimum 1 year of experience in managing Godly duties. Candidates from departments like War, Wisdom and Destruction will be given preference. Role will include managing traffic in the busy centers, miraculously fixing malfunctioning signals, answering prayers about reducing traffic etc. Ideally, the candidates should be between 40 – 150 years of age, and should, in no way exceed 200 years. Additional responsibility includes cleaning up after accidents as well.
God of Reality Shows
The candidates should be skilled in managing viewer mindsets. They should be well versed with the concept of TRPs and should respond quickly to prayers from producers, directors and viewers. Rewarding fair participation and punishing sleazy practices will also form a part of the role. Minimum 1 year of experience required. Candidates from Knowledge, Music and Intellect will be given preference. Age should not be more than 50 years. Computer literacy is a must.
God of Pollution Control
The candidates should have at least 5 years of experience in various departments. Role will include pollution control, rewarding environmentally aware creatures and punishing reckless creatures. Must respond to prayers from all species within 24 hours. Age should not be less than 200 years. Fraternizing with God of Natural Resources, God of Industrialisation and God of Capitalism will not be tolerated. God of Capitalism does not refer to the US.
God of Advertising
The candidate should specialize in conning techniques and influencing mindsets. Prior experience in any form of communication will be preferred. Should be able to respond quickly to any prayer from anyone in the advertising business. Perks will include a part of the profits. Age, preferably between 50 – 100 years.
All applications should reach the Department of Divine Bullshit, latest by doomsday. Applications received after that will not be tolerated. All applications can be mailed to holycrap@worship.com or alternatively, the candidate can call 1800 – HOLYCRAP for further details.
Till I write something stupid again…
Adios.
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