A walk to remember

Camera doesn’t capture everything that is beautiful. When I 'actually' discover (appreciation is somewhat like discovery, isn’t?) beauty, I do nothing but see and feel it. That's a moment of absolute oneness with the subject. I lose my sense of meta-reality(read meta-consciousness). For a moment I am too engrossed to feel even joy. That's when I discover; I see the beauty, our beauty. In other cases when I know that something is beautiful, and everyone knows this, I lose my interest in that (at least partially), perhaps because there is not much opportunity for me to discover anything there. I find my eyes, my subjectivity absolutely redundant there. Everything is known, studied, researched, documented, pictured, said and heard. There I take my camera out. For instance I asked my friend to take my snap with Mona Lisa in Louvre, Paris. I don’t remember myself looking at that painting even for a minute.* For me it is just famous, not beautiful. For me Mona Lisa is a symbol of this-is-what-an-artist-can-do-with-a-woman or this-is-what-a-woman-does-to-art, period.

But when I took my usual post-dinner walk along the river** in Aschaffenberg, I cannot tell you how profoundly enchanted I felt by her*** divine beauty. Wrapped in the inexplicable mystery of night**** she dynamically assumed mysterious colors and insane dimensions. I would sit and stare at the river and would rejoice in her company. I looked into her eyes. She appeared to alter her expressions according to the shades of my moods. And then she slowly engendered a whole spectrum of illusions in my poor besotted mind. God knows how many unearthly ideas sprouted in my mind. I am scarcely able to recall all of them now. But each one of them seemed to be so ineffably strange, even to me.



Good Heavens! Could reality be so beautiful? She rendered poetry, music, art, everything superfluous. She made the reality richer than the dreams. How singularly surrealistic everything seemed to me in the warmth of her tender embrace! Every sensation seemed too fantastic to be true. The experiences I had were so novel to believe and so elemental to express. My conscious seemed to float blissfully in a wonder-world where reality mingled with the imaginary. I either was dreaming or was more awake than I’d ever been in my life. Perhaps people feel this way when they are intoxicated or when they are on the verge of death, I don’t really know.

I felt a strange lightness of being, as if I was just a soul without any form, any body. And I seemed to see then what was otherwise invisible, not only to others but also to me. I saw or I think I saw a horizon slowly rising from beyond the dark curtains of the background, luminous with a dim whiteness, making everything visible in the pitch-ebony of the night.

Surrounded by an impregnable serenity she showed herself more clearly. Her contours, nebulous with mist and foliage, triggered so many imaginations. Imaginations, by numerous, awestruck and earnest eyes, curiously caressing her curves peering from behind the translucent veil of darkness. Sometimes later the quivering images of the trees, arrayed along its sides, caught my attention; trees hesitatingly bending over her as if begging her permission to kiss her moist lips, the delicate petals parted by the dark glowing nectar! And then I saw the mischievous sparkles in her numerous eyes and the million moons melting in them... ohh as if she had chosen me to know her innermost secrets, as if she had been eagerly waiting for me since eternity only to bless my ignoble life with a meaning, as if she herself had been craving for me with her outstretched hands trembling with a burning passion, throbbing with a living desire. What a flattering delusion! Or was it true? Whatever, she was dangerously, mortally charming and nothing else seemed to matter. I eagerly drank her fragrance that was generously wafted into the secrecy of nightly atmosphere. Perhaps I was getting insane with ecstasy. I held myself for a moment and pondered over the compulsion that made me go to her every night. Was it a command of my destiny, my inner longing that had brought me there? I let myself sway with the tune she played; I dropped my defense. Pouring her ethereal beauty into my hypnotized eyes she stripped me of my sanity as well as my innocence and even my sight for a while. Looking into her eyes almost made me feel vertigo. Her unexplored and unfathomed depth invited me deep within her. I was not sure how long I would be able to resist that temptation though I knew I had to pay for it by my life. But my heart felt overwhelmed with gratitude and awe; just like, I ventured to imagine, someone would feel after committing the first original sin with an unknown village belle under the mask of anonymity and in the veil of darkness.

What a celebration of unadulterated sensuality it was! An uninterrupted orgy of senses! Life seemed to be utterly vulnerable after witnessing such divinely a spectacle, and life seemed to be more worthy to be lived than ever before.

Apprehended by an unknown foreboding, I closed my eyes. For a moment everything came to a standstill. But before I could return to my consciousness I heard a soft whisper in my ear. I felt that she said something to me, perhaps something deeply meaningful, or perhaps something utterly flippant and playful. I didn’t know exactly. Perhaps she didn’t say anything at all. She usually surprised me with her moody behavior. And that's what made me her slave. I heard the lost tunes of many unheard serenades in that silence that seemed to hide so many untold tales in the inaccessible alleys of her timeless memory. I took a deep breath to restore the lost rhythm of my heartbeats and opened my eyes. Turning my head upwards, I looked above in order to escape her sight and return to normality. I didn’t see many stars in the sky. I saw a large school of white clouds swimming across the sky as though they were moving purposefully to some destination. Suddenly I felt as if I was lying at the bottom of a huge ocean gazing at the gigantic tortoises sailing at the surface. What a weird thought! I closed my eyes again and visualized myself lying on the bed of my beloved and looking up at the sky. I saw colorful fishes running over and stars dancing at the wavy screen creating delightful patterns. After a while I saw myself dead and my hairs undulating by the gentle strikes of my beloved. I narcissistically reveled the sight of my dead body but then my sense of morality reproached me. What a morbid thought!

The first one or the chosen one? I reflected on that. Now I can't and I won't say this beauty to be untouched or unseen and I am sure that many before me must have come and felt the same illusion of exclusivity. But this uninterrupted illusion seemed to be more real than reality itself. She surely knew the art of making love. She knew the indispensability of the elements of spirituality for the fulfillment of the senses. She knew the significance of unconditional surrender. She knew the importance of the illusion of unassailable exclusivity.

I saw even myself coming to her in different times, as different beings. Sometimes as an old priest, fallen in his own eyes, who sought atonement with his own stained soul. Sometimes as a young soldier, kneeling down before her, stained with tear, sweat and blood, who vowed to win his dignity back in the next battlefield. Sometimes as a frustrated poet, sometimes a confused philosopher but always as a seeker. And she had always provided the courage and strength to find the answers of the questions the life essentially poses to every seeker. She had always inspired life in my dead soul. She had always showered affection like a mother when I needed it the most. She had always sent me back more energetic, more vigorous, and more capable to face the death inherent in life. My heart felt deluged with reverence for her.

A sudden flapping of the wings of the ducks broke my trance. God knows what made them panic; perhaps I might have made some movement though I am not sure. I admit I was alarmed by the noise. My heart would have skipped a beat. I stood up dazed and shaken at the steps and watched them sailing across the river. I looked at my watch, it was quarter past one! I sat there for around one and a half hour! It was high time that I go to bed. The next night was to be spent in the bus to Paris so this sleep was very much needed.

While coming back the distinct swoosh of wind flirting with the leaves echoed, nay, haunted in my mind for long. The horror is still vivid in my mind. I felt that she was sending her envoy to keep me from going back to my world of light and levity where everything had a universally understood meaning. The world of unanimity where there was no place for imagination and multliplicity of meaning. I turned back to see the last image of my fading dream. I saw her receding with a self-assured smile. As if she knew very well that I secretly harbored a vague wish to die in her arms as dictated by my unalterable destiny. As if she knew that I had to come to her for the final atonement. As if she knew that she was the only way to my salvation.

I entered my room where my roommates were enjoying some movie.

- had your walk?
- hmm…
- took so much time? met someone there?
- yeah..
- god knows what do you see there?
- god. What else?


Next to next morning I found myself in Paris. I saw the famous Eiffel Tower. We took a lot of snaps there though none of us could remember a single minute when we actually appreciated its beauty, just by looking at it, mesmerized, spellbound. We just took pictures.



*It was this observation which prompted me to write this essay. Nobody was seeing Mona Lisa, everyone wanted to be seen with her!
**Main. Read 'Mine'. This is a tributary of the river Rhine.
***Please allow me, the 'kafir' lover, the personification of the river, the beloved.
****I love night! I am absolutely in love with it. But please, let it be clearly understood…my night has nothing to do with the night of 'nightlife' which I hold with utter contempt. What a waste! What a mindless underselling of the sublime!

musical mood:
- tujhe bulaaye yeh meri baahen (Ram teri Ganga maili)
- lag ja gale (Woh koun thi)

This is not the Pune I saw last time

Hmm... so new life has begun at old place... nay even the place seems to be new or may be even older... well dont get confused. This Pune is not the one which filled me with enthusiasm and hope and charged me with life. This Pune couldnt sustain a bad phase, a rough weather. The reality is out at the surface for everybody to see.

This is not the Pune I left.

coming back

so the work is done.... successfully...

whatever... INDIA I am coming back... HOME :) on this saturday..

redefining Germany for you

Germany: A country better known as a land of Hitler, a nation characterized by Nazism and a place infamous for the arrogance and belligerence of its citizen.

But often I find that the reality begs to differ from the media. I suppose I should write something about it coz I’ve been fortunate enough to see the reality through my own eyes during my short stay here. And Aschaffenburg is not Berlin or any other cosmopolitan city with an evolved culture of tolerance. Here we have 14 Pakistani taxi drivers and 5 Indian software engineers. That’s it.

Before proceeding with my various experiences let me tell you that this small country has given a lot to the world. As a person who has some interest in literature and philosophy I know the name of Kant and Nietzsche and Hermann Hesse and Franz Kafka. I am sure you know about Beethoven and Einstein. It is unfortunate that the English world has made Hitler as the icon of Germany. But even Hitler arguably contributed in the precipitation of our freedom.


It is a beautiful place. It is not beautiful because of its exotica or unchallenged technological advancements but because it is inhabited by beautiful people. Let me explain.


Do you know about any other country that reunited after a division? Here the people actually broke the wall of Berlin and presented the most unique and heartwarming instance of reunion.


A BMW car whose capacity to turn heads can only be competed by supermodels is zooming on the roads. Its possession can and does make a man a swollen-headed swaggering monster (and a prisoner in Tihar Jail for running it over 5 persons in Delhi) in my country. But not here. Not here because they have not just bought it, they have made it. And perhaps that’s why they stop to give way to bicycles or people who want to cross the road. And mind you, I am not writing it after one or two random experiences, this is the regular practice here. Did our elites even bother to buy this along with the car? I understand that in India your car wouldn’t budge if you care to stop it for pedestrians but what about our attitude? Any answers?


These people are great people. They are great because they do not suffer from deep-rooted inferiority complex like we do. Remember I am talking ONLY about educated Indians. I am talking like people like us, like me who need electronic gadgets to breathe with confidence. I too like electronic gadgets but not our servility. I disliked the Harley-Davidson bikes despite its formidable lineage. Whatever, I was talking about Germans. These people walk barefooted on the road without being jeered upon. The girls lie down on the pavement without being stoned with sarcasm. In my office my seniors explain while kneeling down on the floor without minding my sitting comfortably on the chair. They don’t mind. They are cool.


I don’t intend to prove them superior to us. I don’t need to. They are so. At least I have no doubts about it. All I want to do here is to say that we’ve chosen a slippery way to be like them. If we really wish to emulate them then we must learn to appreciate their attitude towards everything.


While returning from Heidelburg we met a man who was greatly delighted after knowing that we were software professionals from India. He addressed as ‘the famous Indian software engineers’!! He then waved at us after getting disembarked from the bus. Nice work gentlemen! I am proud of you all who had paved the way for us. We are not only gaining acceptance but respect too! I didn’t narrate this anecdote because I thought this to be a stand-alone incident. I didn’t know that it was a part of a thought pattern developing in Germany and may be in other European nations as well. But today its repetition amazed me. While we were appreciating the music played by a girl in the market I asked a bystander what instrument she was playing. It was harp. This initiated a conversation. He too was quite impressed by the same fact. He asked me to explain how do we manage to be so good. All I could do was smile. You know what a great programmer I am. But he didn’t know that. He invited me to his place Vittsburg. We had no pen and paper so he went to a café and wrote his name and phone no and gave that to me. What say guys? :)


This day has been great. In the morning I booked the tickets for Paris. Yeah finally we are visiting Paris next weekend. :)

Many small incidents followed but I’ve deleted them coz they might seem very unimportant to you. I wish I had brought a diary with me to note those little things, which means a lot to me.

The Castle

Saturday 09.07.05

I woke up early, switched on my laptop and played music... Deewana hua baadal.. from Kashmir ki kali. I was quite enthusiastic and I had to charge up others too. After all we were going out. After all life had started playing pleasant tunes and all we had to do was to dance and enjoy.

We had our regular breakfast at Asheffenburger Hof, the hotel where we stayed. We walked down to the main station and bought ‘weekend ticket’. You must know the concept of state and weekend tickets in Germany. The state ticket costs you 20 euro and 5 people can go wherever they wish in that state with one ticket by train.. and even by bus or tram. The weekend ticket costs you 30 euros and again 5 people can travel in entire Germany with it. If you don’t know or forget this, you screw you wallet. I did while coming from Frankfurt to Ashaffenberg.

The journey was pleasant. Watching the tilted-roofed houses arrayed along the sides of streets trigger your imagination.

We reached to Heidelberg at around 11.40 am. This place is 1.5 hrs far from Ashaffenberg if you travel by train. I don’t know how far is it geographically. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Physical distance never matter. Anywhere. Well, Kabby (Tejinder) had called me there. He is hell of a crazy surd and my batchmate in IITD. But he made my day. Hang on, I will tell you everything.

We had agreed to meet at McDonalds at 3 pm. As my friends(Dilip, Louis, and Nilesh) had 3 hrs spare, we decided to see the castle first. A bus took us there. We had to walk up to the castle. Now you must be knowing that castles were made at the top of the hills. Rulers controlled the people from there only. You know the political and strategical significance of altitude. Whatever, we reached there and took pics. All of us were more interested in taking pics. It’s okay but to expect the photographer to make you an Amitabh Bachchan is too much of idealism. Anyways, the view of the city from the castle was nice. We saw many Indians there, mostly south Indians. They were, not contrary to their reputation, nice but cold. But we were more interested in the castle. And visibly so were they. It is a tourist place and you can see people from many places. I saw a big group of east asian girls. They look scary with their small eyes.

I will upload these pics soon on internet for you to see.

German beer is the best in the world. I try to feel the spirit of the place I visit as much as possible and as much as permissible by my nature. Though I don’t drink (beer) but I know that it is good for health if taken in right amount. So when Kabby, and my foreigner friends J insisted I didn’t say no. PROST!

Kabby is kewl. As a matter of principle he doesn’t talk anything non-frivolous. I don’t claim to know him in and out but when I found that Jeremy had no idea about the vastness and diversity of India, about arranged marriages etc then I figured. At the table every Prost was preceded as well as followed by some lewd err… interesting comment on some passerby girl or waitress. Many were shot too… by his new digicam. His german “I don’t care” friend was no less. Yeah the French guy was relatively staid.

We all had met at McDonalds, 15 mins after the stipulated time. It is so nice to see an old pal after an year. Our interests are poles apart but still I enjoyed his company. Initially I didn’t talk to his friends. But soon I found myself quite comfortable with them. We took a train to reach the hilltop. This was even higher than the castle. This train journey was B R E A T H T A K I N G. The slope was practically 90 degrees and we witnessed the incredible technology when the train crawled along the steep rails like a lizard. There we ‘prosted’ and listened to the non-vegetarisch conversation of Kabby and Tilo. This was followed by a trek. The view was again magnificent. I tried to capture the beauty in the camera. We had already exhausted our batteries. Thankfully Kabby had his camera with him. Today he said that the snaps are beautiful. More than that my knee didn’t complain at all. I am young again. :)

As we had visited the castle before we skirted it this time. We took a long time to reach at the foot of the hill …to the old town. Ohh I forgot to tell you the most amazing thing. The old town was like a huge fair. And while going to the railway station(a special one for the hill) we passed through the old town. There I saw a lady fully painted in ash color. Her face, her clothes, everything was painted. And she was standing like a statue at a podium. Sometimes she would move to shake hands with kids. And her movements! God it was simply unbelievable! She was like a robot. I can’t explain the finesse with which she maneuvered her body. Her expressions, her grace, everything was just out of the world. You have to see it to believe it. Ok have you seen this movie, ‘Euro Trip’? Some said that it is shown in that movie. Watch the movie.

We again ‘prosted’ in the old town. This time I tried the beer of west Germany. Earlier it was of east Germany which was lighter in color. Even after gulping down a litre of beer I didn’t feel tipsy. I don’t know why these guys act macho.

Kabby had again ‘interesting’ plans but we had to choose between spending some 50 euros more or to go back. Anyways, the interesting plan was a no-no for me so we decided to come back. Our train was scheduled after 5 mins and we had to eat too so we couldn’t even say bye to our host friends. We had to change 2-3 trains and at last we had to board on a bus to reach Ashaffenberg.

I slept as soon as I lied down.

The next day we shifted to an apartment. It is beautiful. More beautiful than we had expected or imagined. I started jumping on the beds and dancing on the floor. Our life is going to be easier now. From yesterday we have started cooking too. Now bye-bye to bland food. Life is going to be spicier.

just some updates

I have no time to wite about my feelings here... I will just write some observations... I will talk in detail sometime later

Here people drink aerated water which is costlier than beer. And water means aerated water. If you want to drink normal water then hmm... they dont serve it. Well wait for sometime, return to your place and drink the tap water.

Perhaps this is the repetition, I am not sure. All the mystique around brands like BMW and Mercedes etc will disappear once you come here. We commute daily by these cars. :)

The german term for vegetarian is 'vegetasch', not sure about the spelling.. but this can be a magic word for you if you are a vegan like me.

We are gonna shift into an appartment here on 10th July, there is a pakistani shop where you can find the raw stuff for cooking. O how nice life would be then... :) I cant wait anymore. And I am tired of changing hotels.

Achtung baby!! Moi gonna PARIS on the next weekend!! Yup. Dont worry I will keep you(?) updated.

Repetition again perhaps. People are toooo nice here. Our experience with people have been more.. much more than we had expected. Throw the english trash which defame germans..

What else... well yesterday I tried THAI food... for 2nd time if I remember... it was nice.. I finished it. This asian restaurant is blessing...oasis here for us... and that girl who understands what we say...

I visited the local church this weeekend. A very old church it is... tourist come here to see it. And needless to say.. very beautiful too. This was my first visit to any church.

We went to shopping this saturday. My friends bought digi-cam. I took a winamp player. You have to look at it to believe how wonderful it is!

My physical activities have been reduced to ZERO. No sports at all.

yunhi koi mil gaya tha

We commute by Merc! Yeah baby... here all the taxis are either Merc or Volks Wagon. And sights of BMWs have made them so commonplace!! Well I am not crazy about cars but if you are then this is a right place for you to visit.

Yesterday when we were returning from the office an old man came running towards us with his dog. He was panting and seemed quite tired. He cursed his dog for making him run after him and thanked us for giving him the way. A routine affair in Germany where people greet you on the street without knowing you or having any interest in knowing you either. But this man stopped.

- where have you come from.
- India
- dont worry, it wont do anything.
-
- i was wondering...err...i just wanted to find out...which religion is the best?

Khatraaa...

Of course yours,after all this dog is yours!

- you might like to talk to Louis..
- hey.... i just wanted to know which religion is the BEST!

He was talking to ME. Everyone talks to me. Nahiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

Ok Abhishek, you torture others with your questions, now its your turn to be tormented. Remember 'Vikram aur Baitaal'? 'Is sawaal ka jawaab de nahi to tere sar ke tukde tukde kar doonga.' Here the situation was even worse, even answering his question was going to put us into trouble, MAJOR trouble. I remembered the mythological story in which the Sphinx used to stop the passersby and ask them questions.. sphinxlike question.. answer or DIE.

- well, sir i think i am too young to know these profound things...
- hmm...

***
I had left this post to be completed later but I think I should post it as it is... absolutely no time..

Chalte chalte

Dont mind my language please. I am in hurry. I just intend to note some incidents which I will discuss with you later.

We(Dilip, Louis, Nilesh and me) were returning to our hotel after the dinner from an asian restaurant. Outside a general store two men accosted us. The reason nay the crime- our being Indian. No, till now my experience has been very nice. But this incident ruffled my ego. These guys asked us if one of us could assist him in his kitchen COZ many Indians and Pakistanis do it. Well, nothing wrong in it but I have my huge ego which gets hurt every now an then. Whatever, I promptly made clear that we are software professionals and we were there for business purpose. Perhaps he didnt understand and asked if we knew a man who could work in the kitchen. Well, I made myself clear.

Yesterday when I and my friends were going to the same restaurant for taking dinner then the same man saluted me. I WAS FLATTERED!! HE HE :)
And not only that, he stopped his work and stood aside the pavement and saluted me again when we were returning back to our hotel. Now this time I felt a bit awkward. But you know.. chote chote deshon mein badi badi baatein.....

We dine in a chinese restaurant. Well to be precise... the owners are Vietnamese. Well that doesnt make the waitress less charming. Yes charming, not beautiful from the Indian standards and prejudices. People in Aschaffenburg give you big smiles with big nods at every sentence they speak to you. If you ask the receptionist to call a taxi for you she reacts as if you have proposed her... TAXII!! You want me call a TAXII for you? :) But they look cute. Well let me return back to our asian restaurant where the waitress iterate the word 'VeggitAriyan' 3 times while taking the order. She looks doubly cute coz she brings us nice food. I wore my tantra T-Shirt yesterday night and showed her the logo of Buddhism. She became very happy and asked me if I was also a Buddhist. My flirtatious nature is highly debilitated by my truthfulness. I said I was a hindu. That didnt bring us any closer and she seemed a bit disappointed. My friends who have already understood or misunderstood my nature and intentions reproached me. Later we decided that I would tell her that I am from the place where Buddha was born. :) I and my little harmless mischiefs!!

Life is smooth here but the last day was quite tiring in the office. The bloody set-up is not working. Dilip is exhausted trying and we are tired watching him trying.

above cloud 9

Finally!!

Yeah I am in Germany now. The journey was long... but pleasant. The realization of flying over black sea...or Iran... or any country in Europe was gratifying beyind words can state.

In the morning of June 26th I was in Paris. The airport itself is so large! But I was amazed to see the green trees. We find green trees in India, I expected something different. I looked at the sky, it was grey and not azure. Well, but sooner I entered the airport building my eyes widened. No marks for guessing what I am going to tell. Yeah man, BABES!! Here you know what they actually look like! Details later, in person.

Then at around 11.30 I found myself in Frankfurt. We boarded a shuttle bus to reah the railway station. Man! I was floored! What impressed my was not cleanliness or lack of crowd, I had already expected that. Actually it was the absence of something which made me happy. Yeah, there was no noise at all. There was no 'May I have your attention please'.

The train was again, nice. You must have seen them in movies. I remembered DDLJ scene where Shahrukh lends his hand to help Kajol board the train. Unfortunately there was no Kajol.

Whatever, here you dont miss any Kajol for long.

I reached Aschaffenburg, my destination, in the afternoon. A lady taxi driver took us to the hotel where a lady... err babe receptionist welcomed us. Later we went for dinner where a babe waitress served us. Wherever you go, you find babes, especially in the fare we went yesterday. Ohh they are awesome!

The people of Europe, even the absolute strangers, say hello to you with a smile. The girls give you(he he not you, only me) a huge smile at slightest excuse. But dont expect them to befriend you so easily. At least I have no base of saying so. Soon I will be in a position to say something about it. But remember, the german men are HUGE.

Work to do......ciao

*the sun sets at 10 pm.
*a glass of water costs you 1.2 euro.
*any idiot can ask you to take a job of a cook in his kitchen coz you are an Indian and many Indian and Pakistani do this kinda job.



AND YES, THIS IS MY B'DAY. HAPPY B'DAY TO ME :))

Germany

So the time has come. It has to come sooner or later. I am going abroad, to Germany. This is the first time I will go out of the Indian subcontinent. Yes I have been to Nepal :)

The last week or say 10 days have been very hectic. Visa interview, conferences, meetings and other hi-fi things happened. And you know, this post is special coz I am writing it on my laptop. Well I am not a very tech-savvy person but I know people go crazy over these things. Whatever.

I had started preparation for CAT'05. Lets hope my Germany trip doesnt hamper my studies much. But God save the project. I dont know under which spell did they decide to send me onsite.

Today a lots of shopping is due. And noone is there with me to help me. Abhishek, get ready to live alone(with her ghost around of course). My parents are dying to come here to celebrate my birthday and to see me off but father is too tied up in his official work. He and mother are feeling guilty to send his son abroad without a bouquette. He and his fascinations with flowers! I will write about it sometimes later.

There is much more to write. Kehne ko bahut kucch hain magar...

About smoking on screen

SMOKING: I hate smoke. It makes me dizzy. It makes me dizzier if it is produced from the burning of the tobacco of the cigarette the other end of which is between someone else's lips. I mean why should I made to suffer for someone else's pleasure? I dont want to be treated like a helpless fowl who is killed to gratify other's taste buds. I am not ready to sacrifice the no-headache state of my mind for the titillation of others' nerves. And I dont plan to die of lung cancer as well. If I have to die of AIDS I'll prefer to die not by a infected injection but by unbridled promiscuity. Similarly If I have to die of cancer then I'll prefer to choose my favorite cancer. There are so many of them available in market. Why lung cancer only? No lung cancer for me as I dont smoke. I am not giving anyone lung cancer so I expect the same from others. I dont want to bear the consequence of others' existential decisions. Go smoke and die. I couldnt care less. But spare me please. Smoking should be made strictly a private affair... like masturbation. The non-smokers, at least I, dont like their face to be subjected to the abominable end-product of someone's oral masturbation. Is that understood?

OK. Cool. Banning smoking at public places is most welcome. But how about implementation? In India you can even ban farting. No wise man will come out to protest. Why? Because here laws are produced like kids and similarly left to their fate.

What double standards! You will not ban the manufacture of cigarretes coz it generates a hell lot of revenue for you (only to be spent on your foreign tours) but you will surely ban showing someone smoking on screen. Are you sure what you want to do? You want people to smoke coz it gives you cash. Okay understandable. Then why the pretence of banning movies which feature it? Infact you should make it madatory in movies. Or you dont want people to smoke coz it reduces their life-span and your ratings in HDI? Then ban the very companies which produce it. Why banning the cinema only? What purpose do you think it would serve save some delta change in statistics? I mean I am feeling dizzy as I never felt before, that too without smoke. How extra-earthly ludicrous an idea it is!!! When this 'someone' smokes on screen I personally feel no danger of lung cancer or migraine. He can puff a whole bloody godown away for all I care! But no! He is not allowed to smoke there. When the same fellow comes out in open and smokes making me dizzy and vulnerable to unbartered and unsolicited death then there is noone to stop him! It is permitted for all practical purpose. I seriously want to see the faces of these law-makes behind which such superhuman brain rests! Bloody morons! All I get from government is that statutory warning in micro-mini font and a low-budget ad on Doordarshan before the news which noone watches anyways.

There are people who do the good things for the wrong reasons. It is not their mistake. There are certain things beyond our control. These people talk about art and aesthetics. These people are protesting the whole ban thing to salvage the creative freedom.

I am not saying they are wrong. I have tries to understand aesthetics but it is not that simple. So I will refrain from commenting about the importance of smoke in creativity. Smoke might help showing something which can not be shown otherwise. I neither dispute this point nor endorse it. But talking about aesthetics surely looks a bit incongruous for an industry which predominantly sells the movies plainly to pander the most immediate requirements of mass. I never subscribe to the idea that morality should be a subject matter of merchants. For a benifit of Rs 1 they can prostitute art with its family to some alien who would never come back here to return that at any cost. These people have vested interests. I dont trust them. Period.

But still I think that such type of banning is extra-terrestrially insane and it must be immediately repealed. Let the people have their little fun directly by smoking or vicariously. How else would a man of such country which was kept slave for 1000 years by foreigners and which features between sub-saharan countries in HDI feel masculine or even good? There are hazaar problems in the life of aam aadmi in India. Let them enjoy a little. Give them some life for God's sake. And please think about us non-smokers too.

Fun and frolic co. unltd.

I am having fun of my life here in Pune. It is a wow place. And it gets wower in this season. God knows if I will be here to enjoy the rains or not. But I enjoyed it yesterday.

Oh boy! It was something! The sky was looking furious and determined to electrocute the earth. Earth, on the other hand, listened to all the eat-splitting thunderous shoutings of the sky with her characteristic immovable patience. She was quite used to it. Sky was in one of his rainy moods. She knew it would subside before winters. Well, the ferocity of the sky relented. Soon after their settlement they engaged in a boisterous lovemaking. Ohh it was equally passionate! And much more beautiful! The sky seemed to fall over earth. Thousands of arrows were being shot from above as if to kill anyone who came between them. It reminded me of a particular coital position I saw in Kamasutra. People decided to hide themselves under anything they found closest and let the lovers go berserk and make their tryst out in the open.

This sublime celebration of cosmic love has always fascinated me. It was no exception this time. For me raining is the mother of a thousand desires. The desire to forget oneself and unite with everything desirable around me. It is a season of eating and hmm... mating too as some would say. And it is universal. It is true for plants and trees too. Have you ever noticed them dancing with joy at the beats of raindrops? I have. The whole nature seems to rejuvenate itself. For a moment it forgets the tension of global warming and ozone layer depletion. Even the inanimate objects seem to emote and gyrate confirming the doctrine of animism. Have you seen a dupatta of a beautiful girl swaying with the invisible but impertinent caresses of the flitratious wind? Everything gets playful! Everything is permitted!

The halcyon days of Daraulli are gone and so the days of 'woh kaagaz ki kashti, woh baarish ka paani'. But the spirit is still alive and it is properly pampered now and then. When the whole world was washing itself in the nectar of life-force then how come I stayed stolid? It would have been so un-Abhishekly!

All I did was to urge my arguably equally crazy friend Rajesh to ride in the rains. After initial hitches he agreed perhaps coz he was not fully aware of the fun which awaited us. Well we started and soon he found that he was riding with his eyes closed. It was not only dangerous but plain impossible to keep the eyes opened while sharp needles were thrown without a slightest consideration of the vulnerability of the potential targets. But it didnt matter much coz there was no traffic on the road anyways. And putting on the helmet made us immune to the heavenly fury.

- my father was right when he said that I have become an awara.

- awara hoon, ya gardish mein hoon aasmaan ka taara hoon. yo!!

We saw people, the lesser mortals huh, huddling together under the shades and we hooted at them.

- losers! mediocres!

- crawling louses!

- they crawl in shit.

- and they will keep crawling there.

- come out you morons and get a life.

- they wont. they live like worms and die like worms.

- everyone is not like us.

- honge raaje rajkunwar hum bigde dil shehjaade...mera joota hai japani...

- water has gone into my shoes.

- water has entered into my underwear.

- same here.

- ha ha.

- i wanna be.... your underwear.

- yaar abhi koi mil jaaye yahan.

- aaye haaye. aaja meri gaadi mein baith ja, aaja meri gaadi mein baith ja.

- long drive jaayenge full speed jaayenge kahin rukenge na hum.

- gaana-bajaana khana-peena gaadi mein hoga sanam.

- po po po.

- aaja meri gaadi mein baith ja...

Sometime later...

- yeh dosti hum nahi chodenge...

Much hooting and howling happened in the way. We teased people with our gestures. We did everything which we couldnt have done without the protection and permission of rains.

Hmm... finally time to EAT!! We started with garamgaram Ragda-Puri. Rajesh stood under a tree with his plate.

- main to yahan khaaonga.

- hey, tujhe ek baat pata hai?

- kya?

- is ped pe chidia baithti hai. ha ha.

Before having vada-pao with chai we went to our flat and washed ourselves. I was in O HUMDUM SUNIYO RE mood when Rajesh banged the door of my bathroom. I had left the main door wide open. Well...

Karavan guzar gaya gubaar dekhte rahe.

Sapne jhade phool se, meet chubhe shool se,
Lut gaye singaar sabhi baagh ke bubool se,
Aur hum khade-khade bahaar dekhte rahe,
Karavan guzar gaya gubaar dekhte rahe.

Neend bhi khuli na thi ki haye dhoop dhal gayi,
Paon jab talak uthe ki zindagi fisal gayi,
Pat-pat jhad gaye ke shakh-shakh jal gayi,
Chah to nikal sahi na par umar nikal gayi,
Par umar nikal gayi...
Geet ashq ban gaye, swapna ho dafan gaye,
Saath ke sabhi diye dhuan pahan pahan gaye,
Aur hum jhuke-jhuke, mod par ruke-ruke,
Umr ke chadhao ka utaar dekhte rahe.
Karavan guzar gaya gubaar dekhte rahe.

Kya shabab tha ki phool phool pyaar kar utha,
Kya kamaal tha ki dekh aaina sihar utha,
Is taraf zameen aur aasmaan udhar utha,
Thaam kar jigar utha ki jo mila nazar utha,
Ki jo mila nazar utha...
Ek din magar yahan aisi kuchh hawa chali,
Lut gayi kali-kali ki ghut gayi gali-gali,
Aur hum lute-lute, waqt se pite-pite,
Saanjh ki sharaab ka khumaar dekhte rahe.
Karavan guzar gaya gubaar dekhte rahe.

Haath the mile ki zulf chaand ki sanwaar doon,
Hoth the khule ki har bahaar ko pukaar doon,
Dard tha diya gaya ki har dukhii ko pyaar doon,
Aur saans yoon ki swarg bhoomi par utaar doon,
Bhoomi par utaar doon...
Ho saka na kuchh magar, shaam ho gayi sahar,
Woh uthi lahar ki dhah gaye qile bikhar-bikhar,
Aur hum dare-dare, neer nain mein bhare,
Odh kar kafan pade mazaar dekhte rahe.
Karavan guzar gaya gubaar dekhte rahe.

Maang bhar chalii ke ek jab nayi kiran-kiran,
Dholkein thunak uthi thumak uthe charan-charan,
Shor mach gaya ke lo chali dulhan, chali dulhan,
Gaon sab umad pada bahak uthe nayan-nayan,
Bahak uthe nayan-nayan,
Par tabhi zahar bhari gaaz ek wah giri,
Puch gaya sindoor taar-taar huyi choonari,
Aur hum ajaan se, door ke makaan se,
Paalki liye huye kahaar dekhte rahe.
Karavan guzar gaya gubaar dekhte rahe.

Sapne jhade phool se, meet chubhe shool se,
Lut gaye singaar sabhi baagh ke bubool se,
Aur hum khade-khade bahaar dekhte rahe,
Karavan guzar gaya gubaar dekhte rahe.



- NEERAJ

A BEAUTIFUL SONG.
Singer- Md Rafi
Music Director- Roshan
Movie- Nayi umar ki nayi fasal.

Random thoughts

I distinctly remember what O.P. Amar Sir told us (Ashu and me)*.

1. Winning arguments at the cost of people is not worth it.

2. Never expect your confidant to keep your secrets (because even you could not at the first place if you shared it).

3. Conversation between two people should be considered confidential by default.

Words of wisdom isnt? But I didnt understand why he said this to us at the first place. Perhaps he was talking to himself. I dont know.

Whatever, I will talk about the first point only.

I start with a confession. I like to win arguments, even at the cost of people. I have been doing it. I have been losing people.

Dont get me wrong. I am not one of those pig-headed brutes who refuse to budge an inch from whatever they hold to be right. At least I think I am not like that. By winning arguments I mean giving more importance to ideas than to people. Well I need to qualify my statement again. What I really mean is that I place more importance on my ideas than that of others'. Why? Simply because my ideas are my ideas. They are like my children. I love them and I can not abandon them. If I leave them then who will take care of them? I do not consider myself an unreasonable man. If some idea appealed to me then there has to be a reason for that. I dont believe in words like winning and losing in a discussion. If some idea appeals to me then I admit it promptly. I concede my defeat. But I dont do it to make anyone happy or proud.

I am not a manager. I dont know the art of managing things. I do know, though, the science of it: the rule of Golden mean.

Well, I mismanage things. Or I should say they get mismanaged, especially relationships. I understand that human beings are made up of various biases, irrationalities, repressed desires, the bitterness of unrequitted love, inferiority or superiority complex etc. I allow myself to be taken for a ride. I do listen to people and their feelings. I try to feel their sentiments by putting myself in their shoes. But then I have a severe limitation. I dont pretend to be fooled by emotional nonsense when it is presented to me wrapped in the cover of rationality. People expect me to buy their arguments with its faulty logic. I can not do that. I want them to realize that they are being emotional when they do so. I dont allow others to pretend that they are being reasonable and rational. They feel exposed and they leave me.

I am impulsive. I follow my instincts. I say what I feel like. You might say I am bad. You might say I am good. I say I am none. I am what I am. Your experience with me could be bad or good. Though I hate to hurt anyone but I have seen that it can not be helped anyways.

People are strange. I have met people who ask your opinion about certain things. But what they really want is your approval and confirmation to what they say. It is wierd coz they wouldnt tell you about this beforehand. Otherwise it could be done. They want to establish a political nexus under the veneer of rationality. What I find repulsive is not their desire to be supported but the pretense of free discussion.

NOTE: I had left this post to be completed later on. But now I think this much bitterness is enough to cause dyspepsia to a normal reader. I spare you. :)

* Prof O P Amar- Dept. of chemical engg. IIT Delhi
Ashu- Ashutosh Mathur - my friend, currently in IIMC

Identity

I get confused by this word - Identity. I dont know what it means. All I know that it is a complex word and it represents a complex idea.

Often people talk about making their identity. Young men and women who read and re-read Ayn Rand talk about it most often. They want to be successful to make their identity. I dont understand what they mean. It is again a curious word - Success. I dont know what it means. The people who think that they think better define it for us. They define is differently though. Shiv Khera says that it is a progressive realization of a worthy goal. (God knows what would happen if he could meet Camus by any chance! Well, he is rather too redoubtable an adversary for the poor man!) He does not take the unworthy goals into account for his definition. But this word worthy is again contentious and difficult. Who will decide the worth of one's goal? There is no unanimity about the worthiness of the goal of Osama Bin Laden. Who is right and who is wrong?

Some say that hitting your target is success. Your target might be anything. The man who assassinated Kennedy was a successful shooter. The man who blew up Hiroshima was a successful bomber. Similarly we can have successful criminals and successful terrorists by this definition. Dont you think Dawood Ibrahim is successful? After all he accomplished what he targetted. He is a successful gangster. We know his name. He has made his identity.

So we see that making identity is being successful in whatever we do. It doesnt matter what we do but how successfully we do it. There can be a man who has mastered the art of killing people. And most of us not only approve but also appreciate it. There are a lot of blockbusters and chartbusters to support this argument.

So making identity is a political act which might not be moral. It is predominantly earning fame and what fame can fetch. There is nothing noble about that. Nobility follows in the later generations to justify the ends. People want to be heroes. They want to be popular or notorious. They want people to talk about them. They want people to listen to them. This is what they want- acknowledgement. But then I see a contradiction!

We use this word only when we want to highlight ourselves on the background of the world. The more the differences, the more pronounced is our identity. People ask me: Who are you? They wish to know my identity. They wish to know what is unique in my personality. How am I different than others? Even I ask myself this question. I want to compare and contrast my individuality with my surroundings. I also want to know my identity. I can see the physical similarities and dissimilarities with others. I want to see the metaphysical aspects too. I know that the modus operandi to do this is to introspect, to look within. This is the way to see what we are in originality unadulterated by the contaminating influence of others.

But here the scope of confusion is even more staggering. Can we have any identity in isolation? Can two eyes floating in infinite colorless void even know about their existence at the first place?

NO. They can not. And anyways the very idea of identity is meaningless and senseless in isolation. It is always with respect to some standard. It always presumes the existence of other. It is a social concept.

And it is a substitute for something we dont have. All of us want to know about ourselves as such. But we it is not possible or at least not possible for everyone. So we use this concept of compare and contrast with the others and we name the unique part of us our identity.

But is it not meaningless even then? We are not created out of void. We are a product of the intermixing of the elements of the society we live in. How could we be different? How could we extricate ourselves from our genes and clock and home? What is unique in us save the proportion of the properties common in mankind? So how could any social concept like identity separate us from rest of humanity when it is impossible? Why is so important to us? Which type of existential necessity does it fulfil? These questions often baffle my mind.

I have already made a point that making one's identity might not be a moral act. And if we pay heed to the opening page of Godfather which reads- 'Behind every fortune there is a crime' then the fetish of the word success looks absolutely absurd. Why would the society want us to be successful? Well do we idolate the celebrities who despise us? Why do we go to theatre to watch 'D'?

Because we want Heroes, right from the childhood. Initially we read comics and feel the power vicariously. Later on the presence of these heroes give us a sense of direction, a ray of hope, a break from the mundane affairs of humdrum life, a ride full of thrill and adventure in the world of imagination. So the successful people behind the fortune of whom there is a crime enjoy not only approval but also the adulation of the masses. In the barter the fans get their share of dreams and pseudo-identity.

Read this at your own risk

I know what you do all the time. All of you idle people sit and chat on messenger when you dont read blogs of others. And when you read blogs you keep a 'busy' status on your messengers to decieve others. How do I know? Well, why should I tell you that? I just know it. Generally I dont but sometimes even I have done this. Dont laugh! All your influence! Well I wanted to say that there are a few people who make chatting possible for you. They work hard for your luxury. Do you ever think about thanking them? No. I knew it! Well here is a chance. You can thank me. Yes me. Coz I am going to work on the code, the fundamental mechanism which does it all for you, of a messenger. I deserve a double thanks coz even the post you are reading with a stupid grin is written by me.

But I am feeling quite bored by now. I dont want to write even. Yes I dont want to write this post. I didnt want to write anything yesterday too. And so I didnt write. Why would I? There is no point in writing if you dont feel like. Do you know what you write otherwise? Think! Can you? You write what you are reading right now you moron! Yeah trash. Crap.

Pure unadulterated trash. Perhaps you dont know what it is. How will you? You never introspect. You never bother to see your soul. You dont even look in the mirror properly. But dont worry, after going through this post you will. You surely will.

Today one of my friend sent me the link of his new blog URL. He also wants to write. Why not, everyone does. Even I do. And anyways this will not cause any major deforestation anywhere. So you shouldnt have any problem. Well what was I saying? Yeah I remember. Trash. If you are really keen on not only knowing but also feeling what trash is then you must read his post. Even one paragraph will do. My god, it was trash with every impurity removed! It was shit! I am feeling quite sick after going through it. Its very smell was dizzying. I pity those electrons which are employed to carry those cursed words on their shoulders. They must be treated as untouchables by other electrons. And the magnetic field composed by them must have made an e-slum. I am afraid that the words might contemplate a suicide. They didnt know that if brought together in that order they could create such a nauseating smell. No two words of this post would ever like to come together. They are terribly scared. Well it is a time of crisis. Everybody should save his life first. I am not sure whether reading that post didnt reverse the various polarities and electric fields etc in my mind. Only a neurologist will tell that after proper examination. What! Neorologists dont do that? I am wrong? How could I be right you fool? It seems that reading this post has already fused the circuits of your logical part. If you write anything else but this paragraph as comment then you are crazy.

My God! I have read this post. Its really horrible. I must be brain-dead. I have to see a dentist.

The Great Escape

15~ 20 yrs back

trnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggggggggggggg

Oh no! NO! I am NOT at home. I am in HOSTEL!! :((

The infernal cacophony, the spear-like sound of the morning bell, ruptured the tender silence of the dormitory. It was called 'Baccha Room' where I was trapped with my fellow inmates. All of us were little innocent kids studying in LKG or UKG. The damn screech also snapped the power cord putting a premature end to my most favorite program: my dream! Oh how intensely I abhor noise, in any form! I believe that noise is somehow associated with every aberration, every crime, every sin because it suppresses the voice of conscience; it takes us away from ourselves, it makes us deaf, in every sense of the word. It is the messenger of Lucifer. How invulnerable it is! How indelicate! How unaesthetic! How sub-human!

The dream! Oh how beautiful it was! I was at my home with my parents and kid sisters having all the fun and tasty food and above all..... freedom!

It always used to happen with me. When I returned to hostel after a vacation I used to dream of my life at home. And the realization of it as a dream was heartbreaking.

I started a day with a heartbreak again. Nothing unusual Abhishek- 7, carry on. It's life!

FLASHBACK

Scene 1

- I also want to play.

- No Bablu. We have already started the game.

- You can start the game again.

- No, we wont. And anyways we don't want to play with you as you cheat and fight.

- Who says that I cheat? And which bastard says that I fight?

- Please let us play.

- No one will play if I don't.

Scene 2

- Why did you throw their toys?

-

- Answer me. Did you throw their toys?

- No, I just...

- Don't lie, I've got a complaint against you. And you beat that girl too, isn't?

- I just pushed her...

- Shut up. Last week too you had beaten a guy. You also fight with your kid sisters. And I never see you with your books.

-

- Hmm... they were right. I've indeed pampered you. But no leniency any more. Be prepared to go to hostel. Hey listen! Pack his bag. Your son will not stay in this house.

OK. So this is how I secured this hell for myself. No amount of begging or pleading worked. Father had pronounced his irrevocable sentence. And there was no appeal against that judgement. And there were many relatives of mine who thought that watching TV (Doordarshan, for God's sake!) was an unaffordable luxury for kids and above all Hindi medium guys don't have any future. Mother's love was speechless before this argument.

But nothing changed in hostel. I applied myself to top the class in order to persuade my father about my changed heart. Later on in my life I really was to become one of the staidest students in my high school. I was exempted from the mass punishments. My words were taken as the proof of truth. But back there in hostel my nature was nowhere near that. I was charged along with my accomplice for roughing up with another kid. And the allegation was not entirely unfounded. In that incident the poor guy got his hand fractured. But we didn't intend to go that far. We just wanted to teach him a lesson. After all he had stolen my Horlicks while I was asleep! The stolen Horlicks didn't help his bones too much.

Miss asked me to sit in the first row because I was the quietest student. Also, I was the topper of the class. But I found it very inconvenient. I didn't want anyone to see my weeping which I often did because of chronic homesickness. Well, the poor monitor didn't know my history, the reason for my being there at the first place. He mistook my silence for my weakness. I remember him bullying kids and hitting on their heads with his knuckles in order to control the class. I ignored him once because I was lost in my own lost world. The next time he did it, I stood up calmly, picked the duster, and banged it hard on his forehead. That was the last day of the his terror in the class.

Sherry was a BITCH, similar to Big Nurse in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's nest. She would come in our room in the afternoon when we were supposed to sleep. I was not used to taking a nap in afternoon but I pretended to sleep to avoid the trouble. In her rounds, she would check if any of us was awake and if anyone did, the bitch would flog him! She would even call our names to see if we were really sleeping! I was very happy when I came to know that a bhaiya slapped her when she did the same with him.So much for dominance.

The food was pathetic. Father was touchy about this. He used to pay extra money to the staff to ensure that we are fed well. Even my sister was sent to hostel with me. She was in nursery. She was an angel! She would hardly say a word. She would just look at people with her large eyes. She wouldn't even cry, as I used to, when parents used to leave. I believe she was dumb. Whatever, she lived in the girls' hostel where boys were not allowed to go, not even brothers. I could see her only in queues in school. I couldn't even break my queue to talk to her. It was inhuman, the discipline. I used to miss her terribly. And I had had enough. I could break their rules and gatecrashed the girls' hostel but the guards wouldn't allow us to set our feet outside the premises of boys' hostel. We were practically in a jail.

I was sick of all this. We were made to walk in queue from hostel to school, from our dorm to the study hall and from mess to our dorm and everywhere. I wanted to break free. I decided to flee.

- Nani, what if i get lost somewhere in the town?

- You have our address.

- But it is quite far from this place.

- So what? Take a rick and ask him to take you to our place.

- What if i had no money?

- Don't worry about that. I'll pay once you reach home.

I ignored the possibility of being thrown back to the hell, once I was caught. I just wanted to defy them and show them who was smart.

It was not difficult to execute the plan. But it needed balls to muster enough courage to overstep the forbidden line. The consequences of failure were terrifying. The hostel authorities were answerable for the safety of the kids. Any mischief like this could have really put them into serious trouble. The deterrents were correspondingly dire.

But we are not talking about ordinary people here. Yours truly dodged the guard and ran away, away from the hell. I was free. I stood at roadside and felt my freedom. 

I could go to Nani's place alone but I remembered my sister's innocent face. This pace was unsuitable for an angel like her. I decided to get her out. That was the hamartia. The girls' hostel proved to be the my Waterloo. Somehow I managed to dodge the guard and ran up the steps. In the lobby, I asked the astounded girls to call my sister. When she came I urged her to run away with me, away from the hell. But the dumb doll kept staring at me. Meanwhile, the large amazons held me and they wouldn't let me go away. I have no idea what made me so irresistibly attractive to these girls!

I vividly remember what happened next. Psychoanalysts say that the memories of the traumatic experiences sink into the unconscious. I can still hear his questions.

- will you ever try to escape again?

- yes.

A searing sensation.

- again?

- yes.

One more swish of the stick in the air ending with a cry of sharp pain.

Perhaps wisdom follows pain.

- again?

- no.

Taming of the tiger

July 2000. IIT Delhi.

I was coming back with moisture in my eyes after seeing off my parents at hostel gate.

I had just taken admission in IIT Delhi, the place of my dreams. An year back I saw some students climbing down the stairs of MS near the director's office and I wondered how blissful there life would be! It was love at first sight. A passionate love story began and I parted with my beloved with an inviolable commitment to return to her after an year, AT ANY COST. I took a resolute decision to climb those stairs. And I did.

Well, the blissful life was about to begin. Within first 2 days I understood that I am under observation. I saw my fellow batchmates being escorted by seniors and sent back with anguished expressions. I could also see the dreadful apprehension in their eyes when seniors thronged our wing. Many a times the seniors peered into my room but retreated with frustration and doubly ignited violence in their eyes after seeing my parents . Curiously, I found a tinge of contempt in their eyes coz they could not make me subject to their perverse entertainment.

Well, before you misconstrue or infer anything let me warn you- Ragging is strictly prohibited in IITD. Letters are sent from the director every year catagorically declaring the impregnability of anti-ragging norms and possible consequences of infringement by any senior. So 'Healthy Interaction' happens in each of the 8 (now 9, one more girls hostel :) hostels. This post is based on a true story which took plce in the karakoram house of IITD. And moi happens to be the protagonist of this action-packed thriller... is kahani mein emotions hai, drama hai, tragedy hai...

I heard the footsteps of the blood-thirsty predators. One of them knocked my door and commanded me to come out. There was noone to save me. The Gods(my parents) were going farther from me moment by moment. And one of the demons abducted me to the 'auschwitz' where Nitin Anand was having fun of his lifetime with another demon. I had(and have) a stupid habit of flourishing my smile (which is generally considered to be obscene) and attract attention. I will not dilate upon the series of 'smile wipes' and other rituals which followed in each of the ragging.. err....'healthy interaction' sessions. But this time it was different. I was still emotional and was missing my parents badly, like I used to when they would leave me crying in the hostel(I was in UKG then). These morons committed the same mistake which the monitor of my UKG class did: they confused my sentimentality with my frailty. And they paid for this mistake, similarly, heavily.

- chal intro de.

- I am Abhishek. I am from Ranchi.My All India..

- oye!! bihari hai tu!! haan chal bolta rah, ruk kyon gaya?

- My all India rank is 889 and I am in chemical engg dept.

- saale ninety kya tera baap maarega?

ONE

- girl friend hai teri?

- no sir.

- saale jhooth mat bol. shakal to dekh saale ki. abe hero lagta hai tu to. sach bata. koi to hogi.

- sach bol raha hoon sir. koi nahi hai.

- abe ******* samajhta hai kya? tere paas **** hai ki nahi?

-

- kya bore hai yaar tu. ok bata frequency kitni hai teri?

-

- abe ********* bol.

TWO

- sir please dont abuse.

- kyon? tujhe fight hai?

- nahi koi fight ki baat nahi hai. lekin mujhe problem hoti hai.

- saale RECs mein thappad maarte hain gaal par. yahan to hum choo bhi nahi rahe.

- aap maar leejiye sir, lekin main gaali nahi sunoonga.

- nahi sunega?

- nahi.

- NAHI SUNEGA?

- nahi.

- theek hai. ja apne room mein.

My funda was simple. Seniors are respectable but parents are Gods. Noone was allowed to defile the sacrosanct. Period.

I admit I was nervous. The bloody bastard yelled my life out of me. But I was pretending macho. It was more difficult than the street fights where the number of your enemies are limited. And it was IIT for God's sake!

- abe koun ********* hai jo gaaliyaan nahi sunta? baahar nikaal saale ko.

THREE

Oh God! Forgive them for they know not what are they doing.

- kyon be! suna hai tu gaaliyaan nahi sunta!

- yes sir. mujhe thodi problem hoti hai.

- (*&^%$#@!)

And shortly after that something followed which was entirely unprecedented in the history of Karakoram house, perhaps IITD. A senior was said to be beaten by a fresher.

There is a forbidden area, the area where foolishness intersects with fearlessness, and trespassers are usually prosecuted. I had ventured to intrude in, not for the first time in my life. I was absolutely oblivious of the consequences. But that doesnt mean they didnt exist. They did follow, and not unexpectedly.

I found myself as a blacklisted fresher. And the most wanted one. For a few the most respected one too.

The hell broke loose for other Abhisheks who were persecuted as soon as they uttered their cursed name. They didnt quite know what hit them. And I saw hostile gazes and stabbing fingers in the dining hall everyday pointing towards me. Everyone wanted to see and perhaps mutilate the face which had dared to challenge the dominion of seniors. The hurt lot was in a mood of merciless repression.

But Truth prevails.

I never wanted to insult or injure anyone's pride. They also understood that by keeping an eye ... or many eyes on my behaviour in subsequent days. And anyways, submission of a stud is always flattering. I kept on winning hearts. Just after the completion of 'fresher's period' I was offered the membership of mess as well as maintenance committee. Later on I was entrusted with the responsibility of the coordinator of infrastructure in TRYST, something people vie for. Just on the basis of my untainted reputation.

Satyameva Jayate.

yo!! this time I did it!

Today is the b'day of the woman I love most. Yeah your guess is right..she is my mother.

I duly wished her. She is in Bangalore with my sis. After thanking me the first thing she asked was the name of the person who reminded me of her b'day to me. This is my reputation! People, even my Ma doesnt expect me to remember her b'day. This is not her fault. Every year my sister calls me in the morning to remind me to wish her. This year I did it myself but your image is more REAL than yourself. I have realized this fact of life.

Well, this year I have been trying to improve myself. With some errors of course. I wished her happy mothers' day a day before. Shit! And I was damn happy about that. The first that I had asked was who wished her first: my sisters as ever or me? And when she said it was me then you cant guess how proud I was of my new people friendly avatar. Later on when I came to know about my goof-up then I thanked my God it was Ma and and not my girlfriend. I could expect mercy.

Lagey raho dear!

Life is meaningless?

Many people think that reading makes you a better person. Or at least wiser.

Well, nothing is necessarily true.

It all depends on the reader. The books give you information. It gives you power. How you USE that information is upto you. How you apply this power is within your discretion. The books give you knowledge but not wisdom. And understanding this point could be considered as the first step towards wisdom, towards freedom from the chain of black letters. In fact in many cases 'education' which is supposed to educe or bring forth our latent talents actually inhibit our growth as a person. Our whole being gets eclipsed and we remain an un-germinated seed, an un-blossomed bud. We die intellectually under the heavy stack of books. And it happens more often than we realize. Reading is no substitute for thinking. We cant expect others to think for us and give us the ready-made wisdom.

I am not against reading. Nor I am planning to quit it. It is a nice habit provided we appreciate the possible side-effects of it.

To quote Paracelsus, the Greek philosopher-

Every substance is a poison. There is none which is not. It is the dose which determines whether it is a poison or a medicine.

We MUST understand that an author writes for himself and not for the reader. For him, his interests are supreme and not others'. As I have already mentioned in my last post, the reason could be economical or political or even therapeutic. The plots are made to prove a point, a perspective. Every piece of writing is more or less tendentious.

Camus and other proponents(Samuel Beckett etc) of 'absurd theatre' indefatigably drone on the absurdity of life. If you read 'Waiting for Godot' you'll realize how bleak their world is made and how often they use the metaphors which draw nothing but dull and dreary pictures of decay before your eyes. They create a colourless world mortally chased by monotonous buzz of the flies hovering over rottening bodies of starved people. If the books of self-help and management touch one extreme of senselessness and stupidity where everybody wears a mask of smile like a cureless moron these books too, in the name of depicting reality, present an absolutely distorted view of world which is no more true than the former ones. The meaninglessness of life is the central theme of these writers. Though these writers are great and their thoughts are quite profound but that does not give us a reason to forfeit our common sense, to surrender our rationality in their possession. This is not the pre-requisite for reading. In fact reading should be dynamic and interactive. The more interactive we make it, the more we extract out of it.

If we cease to ask questions, if we suppress our curiosity to dormancy, if we stop to doubt then we render ourselves ineligible for reading. Then indoctrination takes place and not education. And it invariably results in fossilization of the mind. The very purpose of reading is defeated.

So we must ask questions. For the sake of it. Asking new questions is more important than even finding the answers of old ones. Sometimes the writer is skilled and persuasive and thus it becomes very difficult to find out the specious arguments or unfounded premises for an ordinary reader. But we can always question his intentions, the motivating force behind the choice of the topic and behind the side he chooses to take. Many a times he just speaks the voice of his time. And all the works of fiction, I believe, is directly or indirectly autobiographical. And for that matter even the work of non-fiction, even painting, even photography and even journalism! Why would a person choose a topic to study ignoring other thousand ones? Definitely he is emotionally attached to his purpose but he tries to hide it behind the veil of reason. Every man, and writers are no exception, is full of biases on the basis of his various experiences. And we tend to generalize our biases also. We even forget the difference between bias and fact, even the most learned writers too. We often deliberately propagate our biases and opinions to others too. A reader, before he credulously adopts everything he reads as the ultimate truth, must be aware of this truth.

Lets talk about the title of this post: Life is meaningless. While I was reading 'Of human bondage' by Somerset Maugham, I was absolutely enchanted. My mind was apparantly being regulated to think in a particular direction (Ayn Rand readers, you have gone through the similar experience. Havent you?). It is true with all the great writers who powerfully influence our mind. They make plots conducive to their purposes, a world where characters are mere puppets who live only to prove their point of view. They are hardly real. And we are tangled in the larger-than-life characters and extreme situations and worse than that, we tend to confuse those things as real and try to map and project the unreality of the world of fiction onto reality. And here we make mistakes. Big mistakes. Ok granted, Maugham hypnotizes our faculties of thought and reason for a while. Accepted. It is also understandable that all of us are not able to see the inconsistencies and the overpowering effect of rhetoric and other literary tools like exaggeration but the least which should strike the attention of a careful and sincere reader is the stark contradiction between the content and the motive of the writer. If these folks really believe in the meaninglessness of life then why do they take so much pain to write this at the first place? What accounts for their painstaking purpose of making this available to his readers? How does it matter anyways if noone reads this? Do they want to make us more informed, more evolved? Or do they want to earn fame? But after all everything is meaningless and valueless. So what for?

I have serious doubts on the sincerity of these fellows who sell death by depriving life of its meaning. They say life is meaningless. It has no significance, no importance. The obvious question is: for whom? For a nameless fellow objectively observing the earth from mars or venus? My life is most meaningful to me. The smallest details of my life is significant to me. My life is important to all who love me or hate me or try to ignore me. I will fell helpless and hopeless if the people I love lose their interest in their live by reading these trash. It would be painfully meaningful to me.

This poisonous concept of meaninglessness strips the life of its vitality. I am sure it is a conception of the most vicious minds humanity has produced. Their skills I repeat might be awesome and they might earns accolades in the world of arts and aesthetics for themselves but by divesting others of their spirit and gumption they do no service to the world.

Life is beautiful and as meaningful as we make it.

The downsides of Internet

There are many which you and I already know.

There is one I came to know about today. I would like to share with you.

My friend R J, the trivia man, came up with a sensational news about a US Law. According to him ONLY missionary position is allowed while sexual intercourse in some states of USA.

Well, what to say! I tried to act un-Abhishekly and kept silence. But his repetition irked me. My patience died as usual and we jumped into something euphemistically called a discussion. My point was regarding the impossibility of the implementation of this postulated law without violating the norms of democracy and thereby the impossibility of the very existence of such a law. Would it be acceptable to anyone to be monitored while having sex in his/her bedroom? Even Big Brother was more permissive in this matter. It was simply LUDICROUS!!

Well, all my allusion to logic and rationality failed before his obstinate willingness to prove his point. We dropped the issue till the next day and I relented.

Today is the 'next day'. I was really sent a couple of links testifying his incredible claims. I was shocked for a moment but thankfully my sense of reason didnt abandon me. After all it was UNBELIEVABLE! Well, I agree missionary position is THE BEST but .... ok not here.

Let's come to the point. I asked him to read the disclaimer which clearly read that the contents of the site were solely for the purpose of entertainment. Yes I forgot to tell you.. there were more of interesting 'laws' like sex with virgins was prohibited and sex without condoms were banned and many other.

But how many of us bother to read the disclaimer? I never did before. And surely even my friend didnt. It was not his mistake. He had read those stuff on the net. His only folly was to give up his rationality because even laws are founded on reason which he was not willing to understand.

So better be careful. There is a huge amount of false information floating on the web.

Aankhon mein bhar de andhera, tum aisi roshni se bachna. - Murder

Again... same thought

Why do I blog?

I asked this question again. Do I write for myself or others?

If I write for others then I shouldve stopped blogging long back coz no one reads them anyways. And I know it too.

If I write for myself then it could be better done in a diary to keep the secracy. And anyways, what's the point of talking to yourself?

Actually I blog for others as well as for myself. I feel happy when someone reads my posts and write comments for it. I get a reason to write better next time. I feel being listened and I feel expressed more meaningfully. But even if noone bothers to abrade his brains on my posts, I do not plan to discontinue this habit. I need to know myself. And looking in mirror is, I think, not the best way to see your actual self. Moreover, we are what we think and what we do. We are dynamic and so are our ideas and our world-view. We keep changing and growing. We sometimes metamorphose into a different person altogether. It is interesting to keep a photo album of yours and see the change in your appearance. Similarly blogging serves the purpose of keeping your intellectual snapshots which would seem to be more precious with time. It would be a fun to read our fervent opinions about certain things in future. We might end up having a very different opinion on the same topic by then. It would be like looking at your pic with no facial hairs. It will have a nostalgic value then.

Also, many ideas get developed when we ponder about them. Robert Pirsig truly says in ZMM, 'The more you look, the more you see.' We sometimes play devil's advocate and knowingly say what we dont mean. But doing this often gives us a novel perspective and we begin to appreciate the other side also. It is very important in life not to get stuck up with a point of view. It precipitates intellectual death in a premature age. So deconstructing age-old platitudes are vital. We must be ready to play with ideas. We must be ready to accept the disgusting. We must not be shameful in saying something which others dont say for some reasons we dont understand.

But the most important reason or unreason of blogging for me is to purge out the crap out of my mind. There are certain thoughts which inflate when we contemplate over them. But there are many which get vanished if written somewhere. I dont know if it works out for you but it surely does for me. This crap could be anything: a half-cooked idea which seems to be absolutely unworthy of further treatment or emotional discharge. But whatever, blogging is cathartic in a way.

Hmm...what else? I dont know. I dont care.... I'll keep blogging :)

Escaping the banality

Why do we work?

Think!

For money?

What if I stuff your account with unlimited cash? Will you never wish to work again? Think!

For X?

What if you get that? Think!

OK. Take a break.

I had(and I am sure all of us have) read a story of an idler lying as usual in the late morning when an old stranger comes to him and reproaches him for his laziness and urges him to work.

The idler gets up and stretches his body, yawns and gazes glassily to him with sleepy eyes.

'OK tell me... Why should I work?', asks the idler as if he already knew what the next man would say.

'To earn money', replies the stranger curtly and shrugs his shoulder, content with the adequacy of his answer.

'What for?' The next question is cast with the self-assured expression resumed.

'You'll be able to buy cars with chauffeur, bangalow with servants and all sorts of luxurious things by money', the old man explains the obvious with a tone of irritation.

'Then?' The tramp enquires with widened eyes in the anticipation of the expected climax as if he too had read the story like us thousand times in his life.

'Then what! You'll have position and power. You'll have people. Then you'll not need to work anymore. It'll be done by others and you'll be able to sleep all day long', retorts the old stranger.

'This is precisely what I am doing', says the man and lies down again covering his face with his blanket.

Moral of the story: Working is useless. It is like holding your nose the other way round.

CLICHE' CLICHE' CLICHE' !!!

I KNOW. Even your response is a cliched one.

So, why should we work? We are back to square one. After all it makes no sense to run only to rest. It is ridiculous! But this is what I see all around me. The whole service sector is taking pains to make life easier for others and the whole manufacturing sector is striving for others' comfort and consumption. So whose life is being made better? Noone's coz every one has his/her own cross to bear. Each one of us is slogging his/her ass off for someone we dont know. A software engineer writes code for some unknown client he/she has hardly seen or wishes to see. Though we know that somewhere someone is also toiling for us but it gives us no particular pleasure. Everything gets neutralized and we are hardly better off than our ancestors. In many ways we are rather worse. All our boasting and bragging about modernity is nothing but empty and hollow vanity. We sleep less and we sleep less soundly.

There is an inherent flaw in the whole concept of work then. What is it?

As far as I can see it, though I am going to say nothing new, as long as we work to achieve an ends, it is worthless.

Work should be done for its own sake. All 'after alls' are illusory because they ignore the joy of the journey and focus only on the destination. The idler doesnt enjoy the ride in a full circle and condemns the futility of it. The whole idea of 'cause and effect' and its extravagent application in our everyday life is what makes the whole thing nonsensical.

Actually we work to give an expression to our beings. It is the expression of our profoundest convictions and most tenderly cherished emotions. It integrates us with ourselves. It gives us our own identity.

Krishna says in Geeta: YOGAH KARMASU KAUSHALAM (Skill in action is yoga)

It is as essential as breathing. It keeps us alive. The death starts creeping in our soul when we sit idle. We need to renew us, rejuvenate us, revitalize us every moment. Inactivity and boredom is the mother of all deadly ideas which spread nothing but virus of pestilence in the surroundings. In the atmosphere of inanities and banalities mind never grows up and decomposes to dust even before blooming to its fullest. Life has a dynamic, a 'yang' feature along with the static, a 'yin' aspect. We need to free ourselves from the overpowering stagnation and dullness around us. We need to escape from the inanities and banalities of life. We need to change and we need to bring about change where we live. And we do it for no extraordinarily great reasons. We do it to make our life meaningful. Meaningful for noone else but to ourselves. We do it for our growth. Growth of our own personality. The other benifits of work generally rumored are baseless and product of ignorance and misunderstanding.

We have to think to say something new coz repetition makes the word meaningless and strips the sentence of its effect, its power. It dehumanizes both the speaker as well as the listener.

We have to do something new to revive ourselves and to recreate the world we live in. We do not do it for leading a life of rest and repose after 20 years but to provide essence to each passing moment. It is a constant struggle of life against death, till death.

kuchh khatta ho jaaye

Good Morning!!

yes, it is a good morning. The weather of pune can make a stone dance. Wow!! Last evening was a treat!

I wish I could fly. Imagine yourself gliding among clouds. And especially when its raining. You will not wet yourself coz you would be above the clouds. he he :)) Hey Jack, see I am being crazy again ;) Well I will try to find a shrink as you've suggested me to do. But I am afraid they would start shrinking after looking at such a hopeless case. But yes, some day I would surely glide among clouds. May be with someone more attractive than the clouds and rains. Uff I cant wait for that moment!

I also enjoy eating in rainy seasons, something hot like samosas and pakodas etc. Oh I am missing home! I went and ate Vada-Pao, garamagaram ekdum. Wah!! Mazaa aa gaya!

I went to gym wearing my Che Guevara T-shirt!! Oh boy! They are crazy after me! And they are dumb too. They dont know who Che Guevara was! I had to tell them one by one. God save me from such admirers!

Anyways, working out is a pleasure now. Though I dont see much improvement, people say they do. Sahi hai. Lage raho bidu.

Chalo, time for doing better things now.