HarryFication

The Blue Mascara

2011-10-03T18:00:00.000+05:30

Genre: Fiction
Mood: Oh! Pune
Song: Vinnai Thaandi Varuvaaya (Will You Come To Me Across The Sky)
Quote: There Is No Distance On This Earth As Far Away As Yesterday. Live in The Present.

Quick Note: Reality is often, far too Stranger than Fiction

Love, Intimacy, Failure, Endgame.. [L-I-F-E]

2011-04-10T02:43:00.006+05:30

He was an innocent looking kid. Amir was a studious ninth grader studying in the famous boarding school in the foothills of Darjeeling. She was a cute little girl. Shaili studied in the tenth at the girls convent nearby. As with all the romantic convents of our times, the two schools shared nothing in common, but a wall. Shaili was famous; more so in the Boys school. Boys used to fight amongst themselves, to self proclaim a right to be the first in her ‘list’. Like all the girls of the sweet sixteen, she ignored the hormone laden wannabes who craved for her attention. Who gave these idiots the right to create the numbered list which was now famous in both the schools? She could never relate to silly things like love and infatuation. These are for people who are not in control of themselves. In fact, she hated such people.

Amir had never really ventured into the world beyond his mundane school. That was until he saw her across the road one fine day on the way back home. She noticed the all-too-common stare on her and just walked on. Amir could not sleep that night. He remembered the pretty face, the sharp eyes, the perfect nose, the curled lips, the flowing black hair, the flawless curves. The next day he waited an hour past school at the same cross. She did arrive and again noticed Amir blush away. Not one more fool, she thought. That evening she went to her aunt’s place behind her house. He was already taking his tuitions inside the house. He gave a shy smile and looked down into his note. She was surprised at the coincidence. Her mind always worked in weird ways. Was he really ‘stalking’ her now?

For two long years, Amir did not have the courage to look at Shaili in the eye. She knew it vividly by then what was unfolding at his end. He crossed her path all too often. Around school, in front of her house, at the tuitions, everywhere, with the same innocent and timid look. But he never initiated it any further. Anyways, she always knew the answer she had ready for anyone and everyone, the rock strong person she was. Eventually it was time for the story, if ever there existed one, to end. She got a seat in one of the most prestigious colleges of her state. She went away from her home for the first time ever to the city of Joy. Living in a hostel was so much fun. Her fiercely independent nature easily facilitated staying away from her parents. Besides, Calcutta was quite different from her Darjeeling and she always loved changes in life.

At the end of the first semester, she returned back to Darjeeling for her holidays. She went back to her school to meet her friends. Amir was now in the final year of school. Destiny though, had carved a different script for Shaili when she happened to meet him at the same road cross. He flinched and walked away in the opposite direction. Shaili stood numb. She retuned back to Calcutta a day later. But she could not forget Amir’s weird reaction. She thought about him that night, through the next day, in the college, in the hostel, the next morning, the next and so on. Soon enough, Amir preoccupied her mind. She wanted to forget him, but she just could not. How could anyone make her feel this way? She had to be her own favourite, not someone else, definitely not a freak called Amir who stayed miles away. Yet, when you are in love, you can only delay the inevitable. She waited for a whole year for the hormonal infatuation to subside. Obviously, it never did. Finally, at the end of the second year, Shaili searched for his Orkut profile and decided to mail Amir..

The love story set in as if it was decided in the heavens all along. Mails translated into messages, and messages into long late night calls. The usual 10p schemes by the mobile operators made Shaili change her number even though Amir retained his own. He meant everything to her now, and she found herself weak at her knees. She accepted that it was always meant to happen this way. With time, minor fights did happen, but Shaili was too smitten to let him go away. Stubborn as they both were, they would indeed fight over trivial things, and even stay without talking for days together, but in the end, it was Shaili who used to break the ice.

She found herself to be able to stay rational with everyone in this world. But with him, she often found herself emotional. She hated herself for this, but the love of having him in her life always overcame this self hatred. Matters of the heart are different she knew. Her best friend in school used to say that there is always that one special person in this world for whom you will go to any extent, lose all reasoning, and everything that they do, will seem acceptable to you. Of course, back in school, she used to discard this as being emotionally weak and susceptible. But today she knew, that one person in her life was always meant to be Amir.

Amir was now in Gurgaon. His engineering college was the best he could get into. From his side, he liked Shaili. Even though he had never met her properly all his life, he stayed true to her all through. His initial childhood infatuation had turned into love. But the way he understood love now was distinctly different to her way. Shaili absolutely revered him and would be ready to go to any extent for him. He had never been as expressive as her. He knew that he hurt her quite a lot through his subdued nature, but he liked it his way. Besides, their relationship had depended forever on the mobile signals in their hostel rooms; never did they have the face-to-face comfort. He did try to be more accommodating of her. But of late, the more he adjusted, the more she expected. Wasn’t she the one who initially used to talk long hours about the importance of space in relationships? He wanted Shaili to move away a little even though he loved her to the core.

Shaili on her part, recognised Amir that does not feel the same way he felt for her before. But she just could not let him go. So many had liked her before, but she had never even bothered about any of them. All she had done was hurt them. A few cases were extreme, but had she pacified herself deep inside that it was part and parcel of being born as the more attractive sex. You are meant to be bad to them, even if you don’t want to. But now life was turning it against her. She was now at the other end of the tunnel. It is always meant to be an emotional rat race, a hundred run behind you, but you run behind the one who never reciprocates to you. She brushed away this idiosyncrasy as a part of the human hypocrisy.

In the vacations after her graduation, Shaili got a job in a multinational and left for the city of dreams. Mumbai had a feel which even native Darjeeling did not. But some things can never change. Atleast that is what she thought. In the winter of 2009, seven years after it all began, Amir decided he could take it any longer. Staying in a far off new place, Shaili expected that extra bit from Amir. After all, he was the one to whom she could talk to about anything and everything. Amir counted 59 incoming calls in just one week, some even at times when she knew Amir would be in class. The pretty girl in the tenth grade he had so fancied was uncharacteristically irritating now. How could he even think about living with her for the next fifty years of his life when he could not even bear her for a few minutes on the phone every day? In all his practicality, he decided to deal with it right now and ask Shaili to stop fooling herself that they can go ahead together down the line. He decided to come down to Mumbai and make a surprise visit. Talking on the phone at this point would be unjust to the seven years that they have been together. Completely taken aback by his sudden visit, Shaili flung herself at Amir and kissed him for the very first time ever. Little did she know that it would be the last time as well.

She was aghast. “I just don’t feel the same way for you Shaili. I know it has been 7 years now. But I am sorry. I can be rude like this. I did try to be more accommodative, but I was just not able to be my natural self with you. Whenever I talk to you, I have to change myself to suit your expectations. I simply don’t think this can continue on a long term. I don’t know when it got like this, but now I have taken my decisions. It is true that you are my first and only love till now, no one can take that away, but that does not mean I turn into an emotional idiot like you. Find your own life from now on Shaili. I wish you well.” He was gone with his friend who was waiting downstairs.

Life turned around, and how. The only person for whom she really cared about, didn’t want her anymore. What was she at fault? Loving him in the purest sense, without even an iota of physical attraction? Loving him a bit too much? Being ready to do anything for him in this world, anytime, at the instance of a single phone call? She had helped so many of her friends in such similar situations, played the agony aunt’s role to perfection, mostly advising them to call it off as a rule! Today it was her turn to be in the spot. Rationally, she knew that she had to let go of him now. But somehow, she just could not. I am the world’s biggest hypocrite, she thought.

She got up in the nights holding up her intense paining head and often palpitating. Her asthma attacks were recurrent and intense owing to the state of mind. Her Herpes resurfaced after years. She wanted her higher education to work out. But somehow, she managed not to get herself through. Should she blame it on herself or on Amir, on simply on the situation? She tried hard. She indulged in heavy drinking. She started smoking packs a day. Do those really help those in stress? She found out the answer to be in the negative. Her work place was in a mess. Her colleagues just moved on to bigger things, while she just stood watching. Her life was in a mess. She was truly living on the edge now.

Often she found herself transferring all the hatred to her parents back home, who had no clue whatsoever about anything. She hated herself for talking to her parents the way she did. She hated herself for still loving him so much, for still believing that one day he will be back to her again. Above all, she hated herself for simply not being able to hate Amir. He was responsible for turning the practical and rational Shaili into the emotional fool she was now. A moment later, she blamed herself for getting so attached to him in the first place. Twice, she was thought of ending it all. She feared returning to her flat after office. Every night she would imagine herself jumping off the balcony. The thought of how her parents would react, and how Amir would react when he came to know of her death probably made her change her mind. On second thoughts, Amir might not even feel a tinge of guilt, she thought. Probably he would feel that it was her stupid decision to die, where does he come into the spotlight in this. But she always knew - Her parents surely deserved better..

She had to change. She made new friends, a bunch of them. Being alone truly scared her. They drank, they smoked, they partied. Each one had their own story to cry over. But she liked it here. These new friends, they stood by her, even though none knew what exactly had gone wrong. She wanted to show Amir that she can indeed live without him. That she was still strong from inside. On his birthday she wrote a long six page mail about what she was going through and about her stupid suicide plans of the past. She spent nine hours at a stretch writing the mail, finishing at 5am. She ended apologising; she will never ever consider such a step again in her life. Frankly, she did not expect a reply. Strangely, she did get one, a short one, “Ok. Tk Cr.”

“That is all? Just 3 words for the long mail explaining my condition after you left me for no reason”, she wrote back. This time, she was right, there was no reply. She was not surprised anymore. In the summer of 2010 Shaili resigned from her job in Mumbai and returned back to Darjeeling. She died while crossing the road cross in front of her school. Atleast that was what Amir heard on the 23^rd of that particular month from a common friend.

Later in his life, Amir adopted a baby girl and named her Shaili. Against the wishes of his family Amir decided not to marry all his life. The number 23 stung him forever. But he knew that he had to bear the grim reminder attached with the number, every single time he encountered it. He could never be at peace, and in a way, it was not wrong. What Shaili went through, in the past year because of him, he had to go through it for the rest of his life. Life is indeed fair, sometimes tragically so.

Did she lie to him about never again thinking of suicide? Or was she killed in a genuine accident? Then why exactly at the same road cross where they had first met? Because Shaili always considered only him to be her very own, would things have been a little different if he had made just one phone call after that mail, encouraging her to come out of the depression? Amir must never have these answers all his life..

Quick Note: Written on 3^rd April 2010, this story is an amalgamation of three stories - of people who are/were the most influential in my life. Except the last two stanzas, every single detail here is a real life incident..

Last Day In Infosys..

2011-02-12T17:32:00.014+05:30

/*******************************************************************************

Last Day In Infosys Mail

'*******************************************************************************

' Author: Harish Thangaraj

' Emp. No: 92339

' Date Created: 21/05/2010

' Code Name: Summary of my Infy Life

' Description: Bored of the way Last Day Mails are/were written

*******************************************************************************/

#include Mysore.h /*Include the experiences from Mysore*/

#include Chennai.h

#include Pune.h

# define TRAINING_MYSORE 4 /*Define training period in Mysore as 4 months*/

# define BENCH 2.5

# define PROJECT 26

void main ( )

{

void Training.doc ( ) /* First 5 stanzas indicate my own experience*/

void TheGoodBad&Ugly.doc ( )

void Acknowledgements.doc( )

…………………………………….

void ContactMe.doc ( )

void YourDecision.jpg ( )

}

/*******************************************************************************

The End

'******************************************************************************/

Have a Happy and Hale Future Everyone. Keep in touch! And if possible, Do Remember me!

Thanks and Regards,

Harish Thangaraj

Harish.great@gmail.com
http://harryfication.blogspot.com

Training.doc

Note: Today (21st May) is the first anniversary of this tragic bus accident. This blog is a narration of my Mysore experiences and more importantly, a tribute to the ones we lost in the accident. Read further over here:

http://harryfication.blogspot.com/2009/05/mood-disturbed-may-19-2009-mysore-india.html

TheGoodBad&Ugly.doc

The Good:

The Bad:

The Ugly:

As with every sphere of life, there exists the odd black sheep here and there. Choosing not to wash dirty linen in the public, I have approached the relevant people with the concerns. Hope they will be addressed; as it is entirely in Infy’s best interests to do so! All the Best Infy, I will always remember you..!!

Acknowledgements.doc

In my exit interview, I have listed Peers / Co workers as the second best thing in Infy after the Mysore training. Having worked at some point of time in all of CTTJL, BY, GM/TM, Mobility, I have had a chance to work with a lot of like minded people.

Starting from the Night Shift gang of 2008, I want to thank Aditi, Ankit, Arpit, Jinesh, Nishant, Premal, Puneet, Shishir, Shruti, Surujit and others. They made the transition from the student life to the professional life quite smooth indeed.

Mobility team shared a great cubicle and I want to thank Amrita, Mona, Nilesh, Puja and Sachin for all the good times we had back then! Although we virtually have a new team in CTT now, I have been lucky to have worked with Ankit, Anup, Divya, Gavin, Raghav, Ritesh, Sahil, Yogesh and many others!

Thanks to all my college-cum-room mates in Pune. The list is long, but each of them matter just as much. Aarti, Ambrish, Amit, Bharti, Darshita, Deepa, Hemant, Khushboo, Parag, Pooja, Surujit, Salil. You guys made Pune, the next best thing to Mumbai! Not to forget the training pals – Kaushal, Madhura, Prasanna, Piyush and Siddharth.

It’s ‘The Party Rockers’ who have made me explore this city like no other. Our escapades will truly be cherished years down the line for obvious reasons! Abhishek, Anup, Arpan, Garima, Nachiket, Nishant, Rohan, Sahil, Sheetal. Are we guys crazy or are we mad! WE ROCK!! :P

Barring a particular manager who is no longer with Infy, I want to thank most managers I have worked with. Special thanks to Atul, Ravi and Partha for the consideration of leaves after filing my E-Sep.

In The End, It Always DOES Matter! Thanks Aarti, Amit, Garima, Nishant and Sheetal for being the people that you are and to Aditi for being special.

ContactMe.doc

The world is indeed round (Don’t trust that Friedman guy always). Either walk around the globe once so that we can meet again or simply use any of the following means to keep in touch!

Harish.great@gmail.com
http://harryfication.blogspot.com (My Publishing Zone)
Facebook
Orkut
Twitter
Linkedin

YourDecision.jpg

Quick Note:

1. I quit Infosys on 21st May 2010. While my stint was not without its fair share of Crests and Troughs, amongst its comparable peers, Infy is easily the best IT company to work for in India.

2. MBA @ IIT Kanpur got changed to MBA @ Vinod Gupta School of Management, IIT Kharagpur.

Mad-U-Rai

2010-09-24T23:49:00.018+05:30

Genre: Critical Analysis/Satirical Humor

Song: My Immortal, Evanescence

Madurai, my birthplace, is called the City of Temples. Till the early 2000s, there used to be a temple every 50 steps on its lanes and by-lanes, which used to scream obscene film songs through the loudspeakers every other night. After a huge anti-encroachment drive, most of the unauthorized temples were taken down (surprisingly without much resistance from the public). Now you end up with a temple every 100 steps; the most famous of them being the magnificent Meenakshi temple.

The roads are quite narrow. As with most of India, two lane roads are conveniently used as 4/5/6 lane ones. The roads are dominated by cycles, autos and TVS mopeds/bikes. Cars are still a luxury here. For the people here ‘Lexus, Skoda and Daimler’ are Latin translations of ‘Love, Sex and Dhokha’ (Ok, that was for exaggeration; but did you remotely hope that Tamils understand Love, Sex or Dhokha any better?) The electricity wires zigzagging around the city totally ruin whatever traces of landscaping existed in the first place. Houses are unorganized in construction with most buildings being 1/2/3 storeys tall. Cut-outs of politicians and film stars (only males) lace the nook and corner of the city. Roadside Idli shops make up for 33.33% of all shops in Madurai. The other 66.67% are equally divided between Jewellery shops and Silk Saree shops.

People here are very down to earth. No airs, no ruckus; very pleasant, friendly, absolutely devoid of attitude, but sometimes irritatingly so. Sometimes you get the feeling how can people stoop so low in front of strangers; why don’t they respect themselves more? Fashion, Lifestyle, Partying, Eating-Out, Pride, Show-off, Shrewdness are nonexistent terms. Family, TV, Devotion, Education, Job are terms of paramount importance in everyday life. Eventually you find more happy people here than anywhere else, because 'Happiness' is seldom defined by the former terms.

The average Tamil child is made to believe from a very early life that his sole purpose on this earth is to get educated and slog his ass out for a lifetime. Whoever thought the purpose of life is to carry forward the cycle of life to the next generation. Boys and girls are not supposed to interact with each other. In my cousin’s Engg College, the guy was expelled and the girl fined heavily because they were caught getting intimate with each other. Actually they had held hands outside the college premise. After a huge protest, the punishments were over turned. For a typical student in TN, the day starts by heading off to school, coming back and heading for tuitions and then completing the homework and sleeping off. It is this upbringing which makes Chennai the city to send the highest number of students every year to the IITs. It is also interesting to note the high occurrence of abortions in the state in the age of 20-25 i.e. the age when students move out of their homes to work after college. When you repress the hormonal instinct for 10 years, this is what you get when the cages are opened.

The normal Tamil housewife wakes up early in the morning, sprinkles the place outside the main door, casually makes a highly ornamental rangoli as if making it is comes naturally to everyone from birth, sends off her hubby and children, and then makes sure her day begins at 11am. From 11am to 11pm, begin the ultra-mega serials of the Tamil television. Our housewife will follow every character across every serial, across every channel religiously, and relate to the stories as if they are happening in her own life. Majority of people in TN have shifted to Sun Direct (DTH Service) which provides 55 Tamil channels (who watches news/sports/hindi/cartoons/edutainment channels anyway?) for a monthly rate of Rs.75 which directly targets this type of households.

Films constitute a huge proportion of the very little fun quotient in Madurai. The release of a Rajnikant/Kamal/Vijay/Ajit/Surya movie is a day of festivity throughout the city. A first day first show of these movies is an experience in itself. The movie halls conveniently hire goons with lathis to manage the testosterone-only crowd. 80% of the halls still do not have an AC and the tickets are Rs.30 for stall and Rs.40 for balcony. Multiplexes are unheard of in the city. Heroes are dark, fat and sometimes even bald, and always from this state, while the heroines are fair, slim and sexy and often imported from the north. Such is the culture here. My own girl will not be allowed to go out of home, but I will fantasize the ones thrown to me from outside.

Such is the world here that people are least bothered about what is happening in the neighbouring state. A train crash in Delhi is pitied upon in a humanitarian way, but the feeling that someone from my country is dead does not arise for some reason. At the same time, the anti-Hindi and anti-India movement of the 1960s is totally lost for good now. People here are fanatical about Tamil language. Tamil, being declared as ‘A Classical Language’ by the Center after years of struggle, the TN Govt is celebrating this event across the state on 23-25 June. Schools, banks and Govt offices have been given a 3 day holiday. TVs play out Rahman singing in praise of Tamil language. There is a fervorous atmosphere here right now, yet it is distinctively different to the one back in Maharashtra. People will never bash up people for not speaking Tamil, never will they even demand that non-Tamils learn their language. Such is the tolerance for others, even though their own pride in Tamil is unparalleled.

Tamil Brahmins are a different species in themselves. Even though they constituted just 3% of the total state population, till the 1980s/90s they dominated everything from education, arts, politics, government, business, everything. Society was heavily influenced by the caste system and Brahmins suppressed others across all fields. Today, obviously they have opened up, but their networking skills till date are mind-blowing. On the train to Madurai, I met this 60 year old man, who had 2 children working in Infy, now settled in the US, having a million relatives in every country across the world. He has been to 5 IITs himself, knows a 100 other people who have passed from these IITs/IIMs, knows people from the place we lived in, knows people from my Dad’s workplace, knows about my school, knows my Principal, studied in my Junior College, knows my Engg college, has stayed in Pune, knows every lane and by-lane in Madurai/Mumbai/Pune. In short he knows about every god-damn thing that I talk about! Brahmins occupy the top posts across business, politics and anything related to money and power. As from ‘Two States’, music and dance forms are very important to them. Some of my Brahmin friends have now learnt singing for 20 years non-stop now. Every Brahmin child will be trained in atleast one of classical/carnatic singing and dancing.

The idiosyncrasies of the Tamil wedding are as intricate as the handiwork on the Kancheepuram silks adorned by the female clan at the wedding. A woman gains an average of 8-10 kgs once she dresses up for a wedding. Two kilos of Gold (3-4 Necklaces, 2-3 chains, 4-5 pairs of bangles, 3cm long earrings, 6/8 rings, all purposely made in 20carat gold so that it gives an at-your-face kinda color of yellow), 6-7 kilos of pure Kancheepuram silk draped around her body and one kilo of talcum to give a make believe tint of fairness to the tanned dark skin. On the other hand, the husband and her son can be expected to wear anything from a shirt costing Rs.180 (Rs.100 for the material and Rs.80 for the tailor) to a silk shirt costing thousands. But the point is, they will just not be noticed at all, whatever be the case. The man can as well walk naked to the wedding along with his heavily clad wife, and yet everyone will inquire about the wife's sari and jewelery!

As was mentioned in ‘Two States’, people here are supremely under confident in everything. Shifting out of Tamil Nadu or even to Chennai truly scares a lot of people. Coz their world is too protective and suppressive of them. True to the book, they are amongst the hardest working people, yet they will back off from lime light and not take credit even for the work they do. They also have a sense of inferiority complex when they mix from people outside of their state. The culture back home of being too nice and pleasant to everybody fails when people need to take on the outside world.

To summarise, this is a world within itself which is today being forced to open up because of globalization setting in. People want to resist the change, but deep inside they understand that opening up was long overdue, and doing so will only bring them better economic opportunities. In the decades to come, sadly, the unique culture of this state will be soon destroyed and as the cities turn cosmopolitan, the essence of being from Tamil Nadu (Nadu=Country) will soon be lost. Yet, the new identity will be that of hailing from one of India’s most crime-free, female-respecting, economically advanced, literate, open minded and progressive societies.

Quick Note: This is a highly subjective analysis of my native state. This post at best describes just the lower 80% of the state. In a way, I have played 'Slumdog Millionaire' with the state by not portraying the upper 20% which is better than most other Indian states!

July, the 26th

2010-07-26T22:56:00.013+05:30

Genre: Real Life (2005)

'Mumbai will be made into a Shanghai' announced our PM back in 2004. A massive infrastructure boost was planned - flyovers, metro rails, monorails, freeways, skyscrapers, etc etc and finally a slum free Mumbai! I always hated these slums. They made my walk everyday to Andheri station into such a messy ordeal. The hypocritical Indian media had told me they steal my share of power, water and infrastructure without paying any taxes. So true I thought; Throw them back to their villages for spoiling my beautiful city.

It seemed just another day at college. Except that the calendar read 26/07/2005. Rains were deficient again for July. The Met Department had given out its customary 'Heavy rains in isolated areas likely' warning. Yawn… Around 10am, the sky was turning gloomy. I played Nostradamus and advised my friend who stayed far away to leave early as ‘there will be rain today like no other this season’. I thought I was just joking! But the assault started soon enough. A gallon of water fell from the stars exactly every 0.14 nanoseconds. We watched nature's awe from the comforts of our classroom. Rumours of trains getting delayed trickled in. Excitement built up with the prospects of a half-day. We wished for the rains to continue and then it would be a reality. But nature had other sinister plans..

The inevitable happened at 2.30pm. Emergency alarms asked us to evacuate immediately. But a self-proclaimed Hitler loyalist from Germany was specially imported to start lectures from that particular day itself. Obviously, lame entities like Mumbai rains and trains were too insignificant compared to her all-too-important lectures. The rest of the college vanished and finally we were released from the Nazi prison at 3pm after a long wait. So began the journey, to the Andheri railway station, a 15 min walk from college usually. We played in the rains splashing water from the small streams flowing on the sides of the road. The photographer in me rises from deep slumber with such adventures. I pulled out my proud Nokia 3200 and took shots with its princely 0.3mp camera. Everyone was awed by the only camera phone in the class back then. What clarity in the pictures dude..!

As we walked, we saw cars and bikes disappearing under water. More snaps were taken. We were now walking against waist deep water, hitting us at a great speed. We saw a 3ft long piece of tar road whizzing past us in the water. Meters away, a bike was flowing in the river, the rider trying desperately to balance himself on the seat. Great snaps they made. A woman was being swept away. We rushed to grab her. Three girls were standing on the sides of the road crying. We asked them to join us. They turned out to be first day freshers in College, travelling on their own in the ruthless Mumbai trains and rains for the very first time. Yeah, God was indeed being kind to them! Within minutes, the water had risen to our chests and manholes gushed out water with a ferocious force. Manhole covers went swirling around in the water, invisible from the surface. The reason, as we later found out later, was that the rivers (read gutters) of the city had overflown onto the streets during a 5m high tide due to which the sea water-gates were closed.

We were now holding hands to avoid falling over. And then suddenly, the 20 people strong human chain collapsed. The size 0 and size -ve girls had to be held tight to prevent them from being carried away with the water. A circle was created with these people being the centre. The guys in the circumference were facing the fury of the flood. Our legs moved zigzag as we could not balance against the angry flow. Across the road, an Auto had turned turtle and was hurling around hitting the totally submerged parked cars. For the next few moments, we just held hands, some shrieked, cried, prayed while the flood waters ferociously took us along at its will. Doomsday seemed seconds away.

In times of crisis, Life often throws the unthinkable. In the madness of the floods, a rope was being thrown across the road. A few men were tying the loose ends to trees on both sides. The first few ones amongst us being washed away with the water collided with a jerk. These men formed a human chain along the safer side of the chain and started pulling them to the sides. A few unlucky ones around flowed under the rope either to be rescued at the next rope 200m away or drown by then. Luckily all of us managed to hold onto either the ropes or to people who had already held onto these ropes. We walked along the rope and perpendicular to the flow direction, and finally to the side of the road, from where a Stairway (to Heaven) was visible.

As the waters rose still further, we were quickly led up a small hill which had slums stacked along its slope. The men who had thrown the rope turned out to be from these huts. We walked against the waterfall along the steps as we gained ground and were led to a dark room which was opened for us. Words were exchanged in Marathi and within minutes people converged with tea, biscuits, farsan and candles. Towels were arranged. Ladies from the slums invited us to stay in their huts as the night was fast approaching. We stood there speechless at their love..

They started a game of Antakshari to liven up our traumatized minds. We were too exhausted to resist. As the tempo built up in the dark candle lit room, I saw a few men running upstairs to bring down a thicker rope. On enquiring I found out that the rope had given way, not before saving quite a few. But now, an auto driver from their own slum was just washed past the initial rope. The men frantically raced past us. The song being sung was 'Hum Rahe Ya Na Rahe, Yaad Aayenge Yeh Pal' by KK. I froze. Next to me, a friend had just overheard the whole conversation. Tears rolled down her eyes as she was humming the tune. Aah, life can be cruelly strange sometimes..

With no sign of the rains relenting, we decided to move on to the college for the night through the hills. The whole area was disappointed with our decision not to spend the night at their hospitality. We took a further supply of biscuits and candles for the night and tried paying the old man who sat at the 5x5ft shop. To our surprise he abused us in Marathi and asked us to take it back immediately. Stunned at his reaction, and at life in general, we placed a couple of 100 rupee notes and ran away shouting 'Thank You's to him. Never came to know what happened to those notes. Probably it ended up torn in a dustbin if his initial reactions were to be noted.

My college being at a higher ground, water levels were not above the waist level. We moved onto the hostel buildings through the dense greenery of the campus. It was already dark and the biggest fear was snakes crawling in the water. Thankfully we made it safely through. Later we waded through waist deep water and travelled to the mess nearby. Dal-Kitchdi was made in bulk and the floating chairs had to be 'caught' with the hands and sat upon. Sitting and eating with your waists above water should be added to the list of 100-things-to-be-done-before-you-die. Washing of the plates and spoons happened by dipping them in the flood water around.

In pitch dark conditions we again created a human chain and walked back to the rooms. A mini carnival was planned there. Hostelites called it a night to remember as otherwise localites are not allowed into the rooms. 15 people enjoyed the night in the 10x10ft room till 3am and later dispersed to unknown rooms for bed. My cell angered by the shabby treatment it received from its photographer refused to be my loyalist anymore. The photos of the day were lost forever along with all the data inside it. Nokia successfully increased its new 3250 sales later in the week!

At 8am, the girls and boys converged from their respective hostels and we moved to my place. Water had receded from the roads. Left behind were stray cars and bikes and huge craters in the road washed away. Garbage and plastic stuck on top of the stranded buses, indicating the water level had reached 10+ feet the previous evening. Smashed car windows and small rocks and silt greeted us all along. 8 deaths occurred in the area with one being inside the college campus.

By 5pm, a few trains started running with a frequency of one hour. Mumbai was now trying to rise from the catastrophe of the night before. It had rained 944mm in the suburbs in the past 24 hr and 360mm in the 3 hours from noon to 3pm when the water had risen ferociously. To put it in perspective, Mumbai usually gets 2000mm spread across 4.5 months. The negative counts increased. Around 450 were confirmed dead most of them drowned or washed away and some due to landslides in the hillside slums. In addition, nearly 4000 buffalos had drowned as the cattle owners did not want to untie these animals from the dairy farms.

Power was restored to some areas after 10 days in some areas. Flooding of 30 feet was reported at Air India colony. Stories of courage and tragedy dominated headlines for weeks. People had been carried along for hundreds of meters to be rescued by roadside samaritans. A classmate was taken to a flat by a lady and in the morning she woke up frightened that she was alone with a man, the lady's husband who then calmed her down saying aunty has just gone downstairs. Another friend reached his home 60 hours after the rains began. He walked 70km over 3 days. All along he could not even connect to his home. His mother collapsed at the door seeing him alive.

We remembered the heroes who had saved us. Why did they need to risk their lives to save us all? Some of them lost theirs in the process as was reported by the papers. Where does Mumbai get this habit from? No other city in this country or world would have come out in such a magnitude and lent out its hand in such times. The reason might be simple; Mumbai has 60% of its population in slums; People, for whom humanity and humility mean much more than wealth and status. People, for whom ego means nothing, love means everything.

Fittingly, at around the same time, the Congress high command (Sonia Gandhi) in a totally independent order asked all further encroachment demolition drives to be cancelled permanently. Obviously they played the vote bank card, but I was happy to see my city still remain Mumbai and not turn into a Shanghai. Both the cities have their own uniqueness which should not be fiddled with.

Quick Note:

1. This is also the same Mumbai which charges Rs.100 for a mineral water bottle for helping a victim when a bomb has just ripped apart 200 people nearby. Or where 200 ARMED policemen keep hiding outside CST railway station inside police vans because they were too afraid to face Ajmal Kasab and his accomplish one fine November night. Such is the idiosyncrasy of the City of dreams..

Spirituality, Sanctity and Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar

2009-11-12T19:51:00.012+05:30

In the Animal kingdom, the male lion is considered the ultimate ruler of the land. A typical lion pride consists of two males and a dozen females. Yet, when the all-powerful males are challenged by young nomadic males, the erstwhile rulers of the land are forced to abandon their territory and are injured and cursed to a slow death. It is no doubt cruel, but that is how nature is meant to work.

Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar has always been challenged. For the last twenty years, he has been challenged by the stalwarts and the gullible alike. They tried to dethrone him time and again, but lost and then simply moved. From the time civilization flourished, there have been stories of awe and inspiration where mankind has defied the limits defined by the Almighty and embarked upon a journey to achieve a place amongst the Gods. The Gods of course, don’t want a mortal to share their same cult status. But when a man revolts, awakens, inspires a nation of a billion, the power of love in a billion hearts results in a resonating frequency of oscillation which eventually renders even the Almighty impotent. This was not how it was meant to be. He was to retire after playing for a few years and then lead a happy family life with all the money earned. But some people challenge destiny, and when they have the courage to do that, they often succeed.

It is not often that both atheists and theists from different religions, witness Godliness in its purest form and that too, emanating from a human. God cannot be defined universally. He is the omnipotent, the creator, the destroyer, the planner, the executor, the controller or simply free will, faith, or destiny. For the more practical atheists, Divineness is the feeling when you lose yourself in meditation or when you are sloshed in your addiction or when you go through an orgasm or when you love someone unconditionally or when you overcome the boundaries of the society and speak or act from your soul and you find yourself surprised. At such times your energy level escapes the levels credited as sane in everyday life and you experience a tangible feeling which to date has never been explained satisfactorily by science.

Confine yourself to a dark room. Close your eyes. Think of the perfect stance, the perfect grip, the perfect man. Think of the bat hitting the ball, the sweet sound it crackles, envisage the ball rushing through the covers, the straight drive, the upper cut, the hook, the pull, the leg glance, the flick off the pads, the charging down the wicket, the graceful back lift. Experience the wave of tranquility travel from the head through the spine, to the toe. This is the true manifestation of spirituality - to reinvent, rejuvenate yourself. And the one who helps you attain this bliss is The Holy Guru.

India was a very different country in 1989. Deprived, Dependent, Deplorable, Distressed, Depressed. One man took on the mantle to change that. An average Indian returns to his home after yet another oppressive day at work. Then he watches the legend play live on TV and he forgets the unyielding day that just went by. Now imagine this with a billion people, over a period of 20 years. Today, in 2009, we are an optimistic nation. A new generation has been woken up, lead from a state of despair towards hope and beyond. One man has been as much influential in the spiritual progress of this nation as any other in the history of mankind.

For twenty long years, he has held his own. Human memory does not even stretch itself to such a long period. Can everyone even appreciate ‘twenty years’ objectively? It is one third of India’s age. Yet, the same passion, flair, flamboyance and panache are on display, every single time he takes the field with a willow in hand. How difficult is it to fight against a tiring, fragile, broken body with just your mind and will power. Not very, if you have the mental strength to face a deadly Waqar Younis on a fast Karachi pitch with a bleeding face. This after getting hit on the face on your debut match at the age of 16. We must have been in Kindergarten, crying over a broken toy or some crap when the genius had taken his first few steps to glory. And today, after experiencing the joys of yet another masterpiece from the great showman, the country is again overwhelmed and awed by the power of human achievement. In fact, ‘Indianness’ would never have been the same, but for him.

But reality, much like life in general, is a great leveler. The Law of Balance states that ‘When you have the adroitness fit for the Heavens, you often have a bane of unexplained failure. Even the ‘Destined One’ can do only so much. He has been blessed with unfathomable grace, unimaginable talent, unmatched commitment, uncountable records, unparalleled passion. And yet, he has this one chink in his armor – of not being to conclude things, of not being able to win important matches or World Cups, which lesser mortals easily accomplish. It will haunt, torment him, his teammates, his countrymen, his fans around the globe. Aptly they say ‘Sach is Life’. Yet, this very tragic aspect of his game will make his story an epic in the years to come. Victory is not the purpose of sport; the Quest for Heroes is. And there are not many who have attained a status as magnanimous as his.

Yet again we lost a Sachin v/s Australia match. As Australia won and India lost, one man towered over mundanely mortal creations like countries and borders. One man won in a field of Twenty-Two. Tragedy often has an idiosyncrasy associated with it which aids in savoring the jubilation of the impending heyday. Thus, the 5^thof November 2009, forever will be remembered for the magic created by a certain Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar in what was an exemplary spectacle of humanity knocking the gates of Godliness and ultimately swooping past it altogether.

The sky is often at its romantic best just before the dusk. As the sun slowly sets in the distant horizon, luxuriate in the Sanctity while you still can..

SACHINIZATION [Sa-ch-inai-za-shen] - noun

1. The act of redefining an art as it was previously known to mankind.

2. The process of converting from Atheism to Monotheism.

Bombay Dreams And The Raj Nightmares

2009-10-05T02:12:00.010+05:30

Mood: Outraged

Song: Salaam BOMBAY

'Mumbai ka don kaun?' growled Biku Mhatre in the movie Satya. But sometimes the problem is that, an ant living in a mountain hole forgets what it really is – a tiny ant. When people give it undue importance, the ant starts growing in arrogance and mistakenly assumes that it can represent the whole mountain itself..

Komal Johar recently apologized to me and other residents of Mumbai because he agreed it was criminal to call my city ‘Bombay’. KJo showed the world that even he can be ‘straight’ sometimes by saying “I have genuinely committed a mistake. I apologize for it.” Bravo KJo, it indeed takes courage to stoop like this.

Being straight was never his/her (still confused) cuppa tea. Dobby Barling recently suffered a broken heart. No, it was not coz Akshay Kumar refused to star opposite him/her, but coz his/her new found love interest was not returning his/her calls and messages. Who? Munaf Patel. All doubts about Love being blind are cleared now! Ewww…

Taj Rhackeray has upturned the politics of Maharashtra recently. Everyone awaits his next circus with bated breath, be it his followers or his adversaries. Nobody wants to upset him; a post-poll alliance with him might work wonders for self. Such love is of course enviable, only that Nazism also appealed to the Germans back then.

Coming back to ants, did you know the Queen Ant mates with several males at one go and then uses the stored sperm at her own will, throughout her lifetime! It’s tough being a male in this world; only one babe and then you die after the first hit. Thankfully humans don’t work that way!

The phenomenon called RT has managed to draw so much media attention to himself in the past several months, that he’s now got the ultimate coverage – He’s on Harryfication now! Successful leaders have always been great manipulators. They conduct a thorough SWOT analysis of the situation and act accordingly. Much like Hitler, RT manages to provoke his audience through his carefully worded speeches. He instigates the natives of this state who have been left behind in the progress of the past decade. Quite simply, it is a brain wash that captures the imagination of the less-educated, deprived and thus a violent class of residents. It often works wonders coz the target population can not think for itself.

The ruling DF Govt. has been woefully pathetic in addressing issues related to industry, agriculture, farmer suicides, etc. The Sena-BJP opposition has been equally spineless. With the Sena being weakened with an ailing mass leader, the charismatic RT has managed to rise over his rather subdued cousin. People like him are opportunistic by-products of a collapsing system in which there is just no development for majority of the local population. People from outside have come, seen and conquered, while a few natives have been left behind in the process of watching others. When a channelized route appears for this discontent, it simply spills over.

Though I would prefer Mumbai, if calling this city ‘Bombay’ can be an insult to ‘Marathi pride’, it indicates a fractured line of thinking. Marathi pride goes much deeper than merely spelling out names. It can be truly experienced in the way the state remembers its heroes, the way it celebrates its zillion festivals throughout the year, the way it honors its artists, poets, etc. Native Maharashtrians have given this city the spirit of tolerance and resilience which is unparalleled in any other city (read my next blog!). Therein lies the uniqueness and true pride of Maharashtra. I don't need authoritarians to tell me what my state is all about.

If RT was genuinely interested in the welfare of the people here, he would have been fighting for the rights of suicide-ridden farmers in Vidarbha, not ransacking movie halls or beating helpless daily wage workers. Shake Up & Wake Up Raj!

Quick Note: If anyone doubted my capability of writing short posts, the first 5 stanzas are 55 word fictions by themselves. Just did it. Tick!

In The Name Of The Holy Swine - The Hysteria..

2009-08-11T19:26:00.011+05:30

Mood: Sarcastic, Analytical

Song: Wake Me Up When September Ends!!

Pandemics are nothing new in a world, which has lost nearly 10% of its population in the 1918 Influenza (Spanish flu) outbreak, and 25% of the the 14th century population during Europe’s ‘Great Death'. Back home, the seven Cholera Pandemics, most originating from The Ganges Kumbh Melas have killed millions. The ‘Third Pandemic of Plague’, the Pandemics of Small Pox, Syphilis, the epidemics of Measles, Malaria, Dengue, etc have all wreaked havoc at will. Binding factors in all these cases have been the high mortality rates of 10-20%+ and the lack of any medication.

In the past few years, the WHO has issued warnings for SARS, H5N1 (Bird Flu) and now the Swine Flu. The WHO simply follows a template in each case stating that there may be 150mn deaths in the next five years, in the worst condition. The world media which was waiting with bated breath for some news other than Obama or Osama, laps it up conveniently skipping the 'worst condition'. Govts are forced to act more so for the media than the actual situation. While some countries efficiently follow the protocols of prevention of a contagious disease and contain the disease, it gets funny when it comes to countries like India. We cull a million poultry only to discover later they were not infected with H5N1 in the first place! At the Mumbai airport, we have a single sweet screening question, “Are you suffering from cold or cough?” For the record, even we have these airport checks, just like they have in other countries.

What is more shocking is that, while Bird Flu mania was gripping India, with zillions of chicks being put to sleep (ahem..ahem..) and advisories against non-veg food in full gusto, at exactly the same time, there were 1400 child deaths with a fatality rate of 25% within four months in Uttar Pradesh. The media could not care less. Prime TV-viewing cities Mumbai, Delhi had nothing to do with this. And more importantly, no American importance had been attached to this. The western world was least interested in these ‘inconsequential’ Indian deaths, albeit it outnumbered the entire fatality count of Bird Flu. Our print and digital media often blindly carry forward the sensationalization from the western world, even though it might not be justified here, leading to paranoia and hysteria.

Aah, Swine Flu now! It’s actually been in existence for decades now. The current variant has been named by WHO under the H1N1 strain so as to distinguish it from the original virus. But for the media, ‘Swine Flu’ sounds a lot cooler than ‘H1N1’. (Note: I will use ‘Swine Flu’ here for the same reason) India has been a very late target for the virus. No, it is not because God is biased towards us Indians, but because viruses can not thrive in hot temperatures. Our summers are a natural repellent for all kinds of flu. This also explains why North India is even today virtually isolated from the country in catching this flu. Probably by September end, this ‘pandemic’ will disappear for a while. Good for you and others, but bad for the entrepreneur in me who was planning to sell the Rs.5 mask for Rs.100 tomorrow. On another note, more over N95! The new N97 is here, and it is proven to keep Swine Flu at bay if you promise to lock yourself up in a room for 5 days with one of its kind.

Most of the deadly pandemics have been of first-time discovered diseases which were unique in nature. Plague was as different from Cholera as Shoaib Akhtar is from Britney Spears (Eeeks). Whereas H1N1/H5N1 are just forms of normal influenzawhich gets cured on its own. H1N1 is completely curable with Tamiflu/Relenza and often no medication is needed. In fact, of the 800 people who have been infected in India till now, 600+ are cured completely and are currently selling their stories to media houses and reality shows as you read this. For all the recent madness in Pune, if you were to be born a Thousand times with Swine flu, you will die 7 times from H1N1. In comparison, you will die 293 times from Heart Ailments, 64 times from accidents, 48 times from AIDS, 15 times by suicide and so on. So as of now I just sit and wonder why the world is so obsessed with Swine Flu rather than malaria which has killed 175 times more people this year.

The WHO has predicted 33% Indians will be affected in the next 2 years. Not improbable. But vaccinations are on the way. Besides the human body adapts quickly to viruses in the air. Apparently, we breathe-in an insane lot of viruses, but the human body has grown used to it over a period of time. This is purely nature’s way of maintaining equilibrium. Crap..This Small Pox virus guy just entered through my left nostril.

Going back to the WHO, the worst case scenarios in their warnings are likely only when the virus mutates and also stops responding to all antibiotics. Even so, it can change to either a more dangerous variant or a totally safer variant. The chances of it mutating into a mass-killer as it is made out to be are as ‘strong’ as a lizard suddenly mutating into a Godzilla from Japan’s nuclear waste. So if you are afraid of dying in a Swine Flu pandemic, my Logical Reasoning argues that you should also be equally afraid of encountering a Godzilla on the way back home! (Ok..Sometimes my Libran Logic can go haywire)

Btw why can’t we simply install ourselves with an anti-virus and keep downloading updates every time a new virus goes on a rampage. I tell you, these medical research guys are way too slow compared to our techies at Symantec :|

Quick Note: Being stuck in pandemic-frenzied Pune, I will avoid crowded places, follow guidelines, etc. But not with the fear of desperately wanting to save my life from a dangerous, incurable illness, but to protect myself from an irritating bout of yet another variant of normal influenza.

It Rained That Day..

2009-06-21T21:30:00.005+05:30

Mood: Into Dumbledore's Pensieve

Music: Shadow Of The Day

December 21, 2000.

It was 9pm. A little girl was crying. But she did not understand why she was supposed to cry. Her mother was unconscious, lying next to her. That was probably why. There was a small crowd in her chawl today. Most were talking in low murmuring voices. The girl clung on to her mother. She had always been told by her that if she did not eat properly she would hand her over to the cops. And today there had been lots of them in her little house.

In a high rise flat not far away, another girl was laughing merrily. Even she did not know why. She was being made to feel special today. Her mother had cried and hugged her in the evening. Her grandmother had said something about her father now resting in peace. Her aunts and uncles, neighbours, everyone from her jewelry shop had been flocking to their place since evening. Her innocence did not allow her to understand much. But she was smart to sense the happiness in the air.

Ten hours ago; Harish was preparing for his Tenth Prelims. Bored of by-hearting the names of different types of Sheeps reared in North India, he closed his Geography text. He was staring pointlessly through his room window and watching the landing airplanes disappear behind the Powai Hills. Suddenly his Libran Lethargy was broken by a sharp sound. A white Omni had stopped in front of his society main gate. A man in his early thirties jumped off it and ran towards the gate. The car sped off on the main road. Seconds later, two more vehicles entered the society. A third one traced the path of the Omni. The wail was missing but the flashing lights on top were unmistakable.

The gunshot was loud and clear. But it missed the target. The man was now trying to jump the fence and dash into the nearest building. But the specialists were too quick for him. The first hit was in the left leg. He collapsed. But his instincts told him to fight for dear life. He managed to get his revolver from his pocket but the second bullet to his right hand made his efforts futile. Now there were 7 cops surrounding him. He closed his eyes and muttered a prayer, hoping to be captured alive. But the chances were grim he knew. It had simply never happened before. Still the thought of his pregnant wife and his 4 year old daughter gave him hope. Hope, that was all he had, now that his smuggled Chinese made revolver lay far from him.

The men in casuals had already started congratulating each other on yet another success, except two of them. One was busy picking the next bullet and handing it to his superior while the latter was busy testing his aim on the fallen man. The third shot hit the helpless man fair and square on the chest. His body went into a bout of fits. He remembered his kill a month ago; the jeweler had gone into a similar state at his hands, much like the 7 others he had killed before that. The cop did not seem satisfied with his aim. Another casual selection of a bullet and another playful trigger of the gun and this time the body was stable.

It was a busy day for the otherwise peaceful colony. First the Police Commissioner inspected the scene and congratulated the cops, then the local media reporters went into a frenzy, more cops arrived for the formalities and finally the Ambulance arrived after a good two hours. Local news was already telecasting the police Inspector describe the incident. "The Chota Rajan gang member was confronted acting on a tip-off. On being asked to surrender, he fired at the police. In self defence the police fired two bullets at his legs, one of which mistakenly hit him on his chest. Immediately an ambulance was summoned and he was rushed to the nearest hospital, but he was declared dead on admission."

By 6pm all that was left was the red stain on the road encircled in white chalk. The colony folks dreaded thinking of the same path to be taken the next morning to work, the path they had been so used to travelling everyday. The marks would make them remember the cold blooded murder each time.

It was Ramzan that day. God or Destiny, whatever you believe in, had it all planned out. The cold December Rain washed off more than just the stains in everyone's mind. Astonishingly, In Mumbai, It Rained That Day..

Quick Opinion: In the year 2000, my society witnessed three encounters, all executed in the same chilling manner. Should I crib about human rights violations by the Mumbai Police..?

No. I will Never.. At the same time, I do feel sorry for the family of the killed ones, particularly the innocent children.

Sometimes Life Is Meant To Be Harsh For No Fault Of Yours..

The Boulevard Of Broken Dreams

2009-05-27T01:37:00.034+05:30

Mood: Disturbed

May 19, 2009

Mysore, India.

Sr. No. Emp. No. Name Location Dept.

13 92xxx Harish Thangaraj Pune CMED

I was ecstatic right now. I punched my fist up in the air. I was looking at the posting location portal. After all these months I had finally got my desired posting location today. Now I could travel to my home in Mumbai every weekend. Yes!! You know, I had postponed trimming my hair by 3 weeks because I was so confident that I will get Pune as my posting and then I will be able to visit my favourite salon in Mumbai. So many little things I confidently postponed, taking for granted that I will get Pune at all costs even though the probability was less than 0.2! Paulo Coelho's 'The Alchemist' reminds me, 'When you want something badly enough, the whole world conspires to give it to you.' I couldn't agree more. They say that the cosmic world and the human mind interact in ways still not understood by humanity. Aye, Aye.

Here I am today, standing in this paradise called [Infosys Mysore], having cleared my intense training of 7 months with a CGPA of 4.97. Life here has been nothing short of a spectacular dream. I have made some of my best friends here. A usual day here is anything but that. How many times must I have walked down to my hostel block at 3am and then rushed back to the main GEC building at 7am again. The after-dinner CounterStrike sessions which went well into the wee hours of the morning, the cycling around the campus with friends at 2am, the back-to-back free movies in the multiplex on weekends, I will miss them all. Maybe even the irritating tri-weekly online exams. But the most missed will surely be my batchmates. Never have I interacted so much with non-Mumbai folks. The girl from Roorkee, the guy from Dehradun, from Jaipur, the Punjab Engg Coll grads, the lot from Delhi, Dhanbad, Varanasi...never thought such varied cultures exist and yet, astonishingly, we all think alike.

The bus to Pune was to leave the next day evening. It was midnight. I went around the campus one last time on one of the thousand bicycles. Played Counter Strike till 3am. Then had a quick game of Badminton. Kissed goodbye to the pool table. Played cards with the usual group. Got up early at 7am. Went around with my college folks door to door to bid my fellow batchmates goodbye. Some cried, some hugged and some clicked photos. I did all of these. 'Fear from death shows the intimidating part of Goodbye' says a friend's blog. I can't agree more. As the clock ticked away to 5pm, we sat there trying to freeze time and pondering how much these memories will mean to us in our lives.

The bus left the campus at 5pm sharp from the Reception Building. I had seen how previous batches moved out of the campus in a similar way, but somehow the feeling today was totally overwhelming. I held out my N82 and recorded the length and breadth of this wonderland campus from the moving bus. My batchmates in the bus, 43 in total watched in silence as the trees and landscapes whizzed backwards, away from us. 'Summer Of 69' played in my ears, only that, it was signifying the summer four decades later. The Volvo raced out of Mysore in no time and the mood in the bus was now turning slowly vibrant in anticipation of an exciting new phase of life. This Sunday, finally after a break of 7 months I will be back home. I have never been away so long till now. I missed my friends like crazy. Wow, life is indeed being kind to me. Just recently, I had saved 10k in flight fares by not going to Mumbai while all my other friends had gone. For, I was so confident that in a fortnight I will anyways get posted to Pune! Why even think negative. What Rhonda Byrne talks about in his book 'The Secret', is true to the core.

We entered Bangalore around 8.30pm. I swayed to my I-Pod's 'One Step Closer To The End'. Majestic Bus Depot was as chaotic as Dadar Station. Suddenly I remembered how I had first met her at Dadar Station. I will get to meet her now in less than 4 days! Yippieee..! Dinner was to happen now. My lot decided to check out the KFC across the road. After a delightful filling of crisp Chicken, we hopped onto the bus again. My roommate, next to me was already asleep by the time the bus left the city. Linkin Park was now yelling 'In The End'. My thoughts rushed to Pune. It had promised me so much already. Will it deliver all of that? What about the famous [Dome buildings] of Infosys Pune? Will I be lucky enough to work at one of the two Domes? Can I expect bench for atleast a couple of weeks? How will I fit into the corporate world? Too many questions went around in my tiny mind. I simply smiled and thought everything is already decided, destined somewhere up there. Tomorrow morning I start life afresh. The last song in the playlist was 'Stairway To Heaven'. I closed my eyes.

May 22, 2009

Mumbai, India.

A father closed his [newspaper]. Tears rolled down his eyes. His wife lay beside him on the floor. The boy was weeping onto his crossed arms. He remembered the last time he had seen his brother, 7 months ago. They had fought over something trivial and since then they had not been on proper talking terms. He remembered 'The Kite Runner', where Rahim Khan tells Amir, 'There is a way to be good again'. Is it always the case?

[*Newspaper]

5 Infosys staff die as bus overturns

TIMES NEWS NETWORK

Belgaum: Five new recruits of Infosys were killed and 37 others injured when a KSRTC Airavat Volvo overturned after the driver of the vehicle lost control while negotiating a curve on the outskirts of Nippani town.
Infosys Technologies head (HR) Mohandas Pai told The Times of India, “A KSRTC Volvo bus taking 43 of our fresh recruits to our Pune office to resume work after the completion of a training programme in our Mysore facility met with an accident at Nippani town.’’
Reports say the driver attempted to turn at a high speed and lost control, and the bus turned over. Three persons died on the spot, and the other two at the hospital.

Quick Note 1: I thought editing this post will alter the emotions I experienced when I heard about this tragedy. So I didn't. Also, my fellow Infoscions will relate more to this particular post.

Quick Note 2: Sometimes we wait for tragedies to happen and then repent our silly grudges. Forgive And Forget. Life Is Always Too Short For Human Mistakes. (Personal Experience...)

The Revenge (555 Fiction)

2009-05-23T19:13:00.006+05:30

Mood: Been There, Written That

It was one in the night. He had just returned from work. These IT companies literally suck out the last drop of blood from us, he thought. Tired and exhausted, he flung open the door and pushed himself in. She was no where to be seen. But he seemed too bored to even think about her and headed straight for the bedroom. It was empty. He changed quickly and collapsed onto his bed, fast asleep within seconds.

It was then that she came out from the kitchen. Stealthily, she entered his room and approached him from his back, hoping to give him a surprise. She placed a peck on his cheeks. But he slept as if he hadn't been touched. She lingered around him vying for his attention. But she got none, for he was purely oblivious to her presence. Another kiss to his lips and this time he seemed to stir. Half asleep, he signaled at her to get away. The previous night's affair was all too fresh in his sub-conscious mind. He wanted to be all alone after another grueling day at work. But it didn't matter to her for she was in mood for mischief tonight. Again...

The lights were off and she was getting into her best. He lay there trying not to get into a situation again at this time of the night. But one fuss too many and then, he could take no more. He got up cursing, but she just managed to hide behind the curtains. Sleepily he shouted at her to come in front of him, but she always had this habit of playing around with him. After all, he looked so innocent when he was mad at her. Cursing, he rolled the blanket back over himself.

It was now three hours into the new day and she again got back to her game. She approached him, this time from his side. She whispered to him that he could satisfy her all night. But he just changed his stance, uninterested. She switched over to his other side now. How he knew she would! She buzzed that he seemed cuter and sweeter than usual. But he had planned out the next turn of events. Out of thin air, he slapped her, fair and square with his strong hands. She lost her balance and fell. Blood trickled from the corners of her mouth. The job was done. She wouldn't disturb him again tonight. She lay there sobbing and too hurt to respond or react. The guy whom she liked so much had hit her. How many times must they have locked lips...And now, he had slapped her. It was all over, she knew. Least bothered, he was already asleep.

Two weeks later: I woke up. It was the sixth time I was dreaming of this. Like a ghost, I had again travelled back in time and witnessed that night's turn of events.

I knew it was just a matter of time now. I was dying. Dengue was now in the advanced stages. I could hear a knell somewhere. The ringing was getting closer and closer each passing minute. Suddenly, I heard a high pitch laughter and then, Revenge Is Oh So Sweet, said a chilling voice, that of the female Aedes aegypti mosquito I had killed a fortnight ago...

Quick Note: This was my attempt at the now-famous 55 word fiction. I just changed it a ‘little’ to suit my lengthy writing style. And, Eureka!! It turned out to be a 555 word fiction. Always happens with me..Duh..!

P.S. Please leave a comment if this font is too uneasy to read. Thanks.

Nine Years Later...

2009-03-15T17:45:00.007+05:30

Mood: I-don't-want-to-stop-writing.

He logged into his blogger account. There was a comment waiting to be approved. The name spelled ShAiLi - written the way he had always known it. Now he was staring at the screen, frozen and numb. The comment read:

“Hey Nikhil…Heard u r here..Call me. 041743xxxx. And yea, don’t publish this comment!! ;) ”

Nikhil’s mind raced into a flashback. The last time they had talked was 9 years ago, last day of their 12th Board Exams back in Mumbai. He had been searching for her on orkut and facebook for the past few years now. None of Shaili’s friends had her current number. She had probably kept herself out of contact with everyone she knew during those days.

March 12, 2000.

Hotel Ambience, Mulund, Mumbai.

He rushed into the hotel, sternly looking at his watch. “Sorry, I am late.” She blushed, "641 sec to be exact. How could you, Nikku!"

She herself had just made it seconds ago. But of course, she wasn't going to tell him that. She couldn’t let go of this opportunity for some mischief. She pretended anger, hoping to draw a few apologies from him.

But he didn’t seem to be in that mood today. For, he had come with a purpose. He couldn’t let her sweet talk get to him. Not this time, never from now on.

“I want to tell you something Shaili”, his voice drained off. "I think the time has come for me to take the decision, albeit tough. We cannot go any further from here. You don’t realize how much you have impacted me ever since we have met. All I can do is keep thinking about you. Now, I have screwed up my exams. My career has got affected, if you can ever understand what you have done to me.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to see if others were looking at her. In fact all that had ever mattered to her in this world was him, and him alone. They sat in silence. She stared at his deep eyes. The next time she would be doing this would be nine years later, in a far off place.

He continued, “I won’t get a good engineering college here for sure. I will probably move to my uncle's place in Delhi. He has contacts over there. That’s my best chance. And please don't try contacting me...Please.”

Her tear-filled eyes twinkled from the reflection of lights flashed by the vehicles outside. He had expected a reaction here, but got none. He was irritated now. First, she spoils his exams, and now she acts as if she is not at all at fault. He got up. She didn’t change her guard.

“Do you want to say anything?” His voice was now as harsh as any all evening.

“If you have decided what needs to be done, Nikku, do you leave me with any choice? I am just an outsider in this, right?” she whispered in a sarcastic, but shaky tone.

With one hand swirling his Nokia 7110 and the other placing a 100 rupee note on the table, their eyes met, one now lined with rage and the other swelling with tears. And then he turned around and walked.

Over the years, he had consciously lost contact with Shaili and her group of friends. All this while, he had made his career. Professionally he now was all he wanted to become, when he had left her. He was now working in a MNC in the Services sector which returned a handsome pay. Currently he was in Sydney on an assignment for a short term That was when he read this message from his Shaili. He wanted to call her, but couldn't muster the courage to do so. All he did was to leave a voice message. Minutes later he received a text with the location of the biggest Coffee Club outlet in town and the time of the meet.

March 12, 2009.

Coffee Club, Park Street, Sydney.

He was running now. He was late. “Sorry I’m late.” She was already there, “It’s ok Nikhil. I myself came in just now. Sit down.”

He ordered for both of them and then checked her out for a quick second. She hadn’t changed much, very little for nine long years. Of course, she was more beautiful than the last time he had seen her. She wore a white tee and blue jeans. He himself was in the same colors. Then they looked at everything around, the furniture, the TV, the waiters, the vehicles on the road, everything, except each other’s eyes.

“How are you Shaili?” He initiated the talk.

She smiled, “I’m really doing great. I’m completing my Masters here. Just about done now.”

She paused, “It feels so strange to sit in front of you again! I never thought I would get to meet you ever again and that too somewhere far away from Mumbai.”

“Oh it surely is strange. But somehow I always felt we were destined to meet, talk again, atleast one more time in life after all these years.”

They sipped their coffee in silence. She looked into his eyes, the depth in them. It looked more troubled than the last time she had checked them.

She tried to be cheerful, “So, How’s life? How’s Aunty? Girlfriends?” she winked.

“Mom is no more..seven years now. Girlfriend? You really think I could have one, Shaili?”

Preferring not to answer the latter part, all she could say was “Oh, I’m so sorry about your mother.”

So he had no one in his world now. She got lost in a memory of a certain incident with him when he suddenly brought out what he wanted to, all these years..

“I am so sorry Shaili. I was an idiot back then. I was too immature to handle a girl. It should not have ended the way it did. You were no where at fault. I understand I hurt you a lot. Men do that when in love. But believe me, I was struggling myself. You were the only person who ever understood me properly and to-date you remain so. It pains to feel that I could trouble such a person. It has pained every single day throughout the last nine years, Shaili…” His voice fell silent.

“It ok Nikku. Relationships do go wrong. Nothing one can do about it. Somethings are just destined to happen.” She maintained eye contact - with the coffee cuppa.

“No Shaili. I watched my heart die all these years. And now you suddenly come along. There’s got to be a reason for this. Not everything can be left to destiny. We have the power to change things. I can change everything. Can’t we try again…!”

She looked at his face. She could sense intense pain. “It is too late now Nikku. I cannot allow that to happen.”

“Allow? Wow, what a word to use here! And why is it so?”

“Somethings should not change, Nikku. I know how I felt when you left me. I know how much I struggled to get over you, to get you out of my life. It took me 2 years to do that and looking back now, those 2 years were probably the most important period in my life. Pain that doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. And I did emerge bruised, but a lot stronger to face my future.”

“Nine years is a lot Nikku. Situations change, things change, people change. You have to change yourself. Don’t keep holding on to likes and dislikes you had years ago. Cause they are just not worth so much time of your precious life. If you couldn’t get them on day one, you will never get them, no matter what. The person you love the most also has the power to hurt you the most. It is bad initially; but slowly the hurt turns into anger. You realize that life is yours and you should live it your way. Time heals, and one fine day the anger goes off and you realize that person just doesn’t affect you the same way anymore. And life just goes on!”

“I remember every moment we spent together, every second I had thought of you. I don’t want to forget any of that. I never can. That’s the thing with memories. They will always be the same, never change, no matter how much the people involved in them change. I love my life the way it has been, I will love it in future, no matter what, cause I love myself the most. And then life is always fair.”

Men do cry. He wiped his tear. She was too engrossed to do it for herself. “Did you find someone after I...I…left you?”

“Please Nikhil…” She paused, “I actually was never interested after that."

A painful silence followed; one which could have easily lasted their lifetime. Finally she broke it, "Anyways, it’s been long now. My God! 3 hours since we started! I thought I had a better sense of time after all these years!”

He was staring at her eyes now. She kept herself unnecessarily busy with the handbag.

“Forgive me”, whispered one heart to the other. “Forget me” was all the reply it got.

She stood up, “Love we knew can never die; not this moment, never in the future. All the same, here’s my wedding card. It’s an arranged one of course. Due for next month in India..Do attend...” She could say no more.

With one hand swirling her Nokia N82 and the other placing the card on the table, their eyes met, both now swelling with tears. And then she turned around and walked.

Quick Note: You might already have guessed that this can not be entirely fictional! Actually except the philosophy part, which is in a way true in everyday life, everything is unrelated to me. I prefer to leave it at that..

Update: Ok...Clarification here! This is a medley of a few real life stories I have known. And I most definitely am not the guy here; that is the reason I made him 3 years elder to me!! ;)

The FF* Blog Award!!

2009-03-06T22:46:00.006+05:30

Mood: Obnoxiously Boastful, Obscurely Humorous.

Fifty days into this new world, when I was too lazy to even think of a topic for my next post, my dear friend, Arshat has decided to bail me out. In a month of Indians winning BAFTAs and Oscars, I have been awarded something myself. Was a real experience, I tell you. Head held high, and with a weird accent like Freida Pinto's (Now two international superstars from the same suburb - Malad, Mumbai!) I answered all the questions posed by the international press. Feel free to mail me for the video of the red-carpet, people. While the name of the award might not be widely spoken about in your family yet, make sure your mom, dad and your galfirends, guyfriends come to know of me and my blog; Thanks.

For those who had missed the live telecast on Harryfication TV, here is an excerpt of what actually happened.:

Arshat (Presenter) : "And the award for the Fucking Fabulous Blog goes to...Any guesses?? Yes! It's the bookies favorite - Harryfication!!

***Applause, Applause, Applause***

Harish, on the dais to receive the award, "I want to thank myself for irregularly writing such crap, my readers for even having the courage to venture into this blog, Arshat for giving the-lazy-me the Viagra to start blogging eventually and also for presenting this award, my friends, my family, my PC, MTNL Triband net, blah blah, blah.." (Emotional, with moist eyes..)

"Shut Up now, and get going, There are four more people sharing this award. Off the stage, now!", the sponsors were suddenly witnessing their Ad rates plummet during my speech. Grrr!!

Now, the way the award is to be accepted:

a. Put the award image on your blog.

b. List 10 truths about yourself.

c. Give the award to 5 other bloggers.

d. Provide a meaningful quotation.

a) The Award Image:

b) The Ten Truths:

I believe in 'A bottle in hand is better than a crate on the table', (Open to interpretation)
I used to be obsessed with Aishwarya Rai during my Junior College. I had a life size poster in my room. My first poem was dedicated to her. My friends renamed me HALT - Harish Aishwarya Lavan Thangaraj.
Me and Arshat were the only 'enlightened souls' back in the 9th grade. Round table conferences they used to be. Obviously only boys were allowed to attend and the topic was a run-away hit.Our knowledge back then was greater than what most guys have even today at this age..
I have been told that I am one of those few people who can live on an island for years without any people around. I agree; I would just need a PC, Internet and my N82 (Keep the SIM with you). Ooops, a power source.
I love analyzing people. It comes naturally to me. Certain images and sketches are created in my rather impressive brain (Joke!!) within seconds of meeting someone. Hmm...
I have a certain list of 3-4 people with whom I can talk about any and every topic on earth. I have bored them by advising heavily at times. Others are luckier, I mind my own business and let them mind theirs.
I consider the yellow full moon against a dark and cloudy sky to be the most beautiful thing in the Universe.
I topped my school in the 1st and the 10th grade. Wonder what I was doing in between!!
During school, I wanted to be an Architect; used to sketch buildings of weird shapes and sizes in my free time.
I keep changing my hairstyle every now and then. That btw, is just a trailer of how I try to keep changing far more important things.
This is my idiotic blog and I set my idiotic rules and I also get to break them; I am extending the list. More crap to follow.
I have spent atleast 10 hours on most posts here. I suck at keeping stuff short, so I make them long and boring!
The 'lucky' number on the left is my Birthdate.
Michael Schumacher, Lance Armstrong and Sachin Tendulkar, in the mentioned order, are my life heroes. The last time I 'kinda cried' was when Schumi announced his retirement.
I like to talk about Life, Death, Life after Death, Death before Life, and such stuff. I just love sensible late night hard talk. My friends will know.
My Mom used to want me to get married as soon as I finished college as she was kinda afraid I would end up in an affair. Surprisingly neither of the two came true...Duh..
I realise it's fun to write about yourself.

c) Award five other bloggers:

I will actually skip the third part of the tradition here. I am too new myself in the blog world to give away awards to others. Surely sometime later.

d) Quotation:

Live for the person who will die for you,

Smile for the person who will cry for you,

Fight for the person who will care for you,

And love the person who will love you more than you!!

So that's it then. My first blog awards night. Excuse the award images if you found them offensive. So better give me more decent awards all of you...Anybody listening??

Quick Thought: Although, I do agree these blog awards are similar to those networking spam mails, it's fun to write about, and feel good about yourself once in a while. I also realise everybody might not relate to this particular post, especially after the previous post :D Perfectly fine with me..A different day, a different mood! Besides some sarcasm and change is necessary in life!!

When The SlumDog Beat The White Tiger...

2009-02-28T23:22:00.023+05:30

SlumDog Millionaire v/s The White Tiger

Mood: Critical & Analytical.

This post is an exploration of the glorification of India's negativity, an analysis of the western mindset behind it and also an attempt at a book and movie review. For starters, both the movie and the book have similar story lines – the same old rags-to-riches kinds. However, the style and the after-effects on readers are radically different. Read on…

When the Man Booker was announced, I immediately craved for The White Tiger. After all, the writer was from Mumbai and was also born in Chennai. Having got a copy for as low as Rs.60 (at least I didn't read an e-book!!), I read it during my painful tonsillectomy post-op. Well, have to admit it made me feel worse.

Page after page of pricking abuse and distasteful mud-slinging at India leaves you a bit angry and irritated. But that’s the reality and reality does bite. Agreed, all that Adiga writes is not uncommon in India, but it is put in a hard-hitting and on your face way. The crude and often dry narration style gives away the probable end quite in advance. Cause you know this writer can never climax in a Bollywood-ish happy-go way.

TWT does not give out anything positive all through its 304 pages and sarcastically defends the protagonist’s way of life. A life, which is mutinously 'successful', but at the cost of the ones who love him. Break the law at every point, no matter what, to reach the top – that is the end message, with lots of India-bashing along the way.

SM on the other hand tells you the story of a kid, again from my Mumbai, who goes on to win millions on a TV show. The stuff and style might be new for international audiences, for which it was targeted, but was too predictable for India. India loves movies in which stories are unrealistic, sets are lavish and lifestyles similar to the western world. In a way, we love to see on screen what we crave in reality. Movies like DCH, RDB, Black, K3G or most other movies you think of, portray characters which hardly 10% of Indians can even relate to, forget about matching the lifestyles. SM however shows the shit that 80% of India really is. And we obviously find it a bit difficult to accept.

To me, SM is as Indian a movie I have ever seen. And with that in mind, it seems decent. Definitely watchable compared to the other crappy movies releasing of late. The characters are a delight to watch and the story-line albeit not being smooth, is agreeable. The flow of the movie is always towards daylight and not towards darkness. 'Darkness' is in fact, a word all too common in TWT, used to indicate Indian villages. That is where SM differs from TWT - Positive v/s Negative tone in describing India’s mess.

Both have now swept awards in their respective categories. And they have a common theme. When was the last time, works as Indian as these, grabbed such worldwide attention? No rocket science to understand what the world makes out of it. Catch BBC/CNN sometime - a rioter attacking the police in China will get more coverage than say, a similar case in Algeria. Similarly, India's gutters will draw more attention than Ethiopia's. Will anyone be interested in SM if it was based in Ethiopia? Obviously No. The reason is simple. The world has been told that India is on the rise, to be wary of India, and so on. When the same world is exposed to something degrading in the new challenger, it laps it up in its entire splendor. Not that it is always meant to ridicule, but also for the awe and shock of it. A kid in NY who has been told India is the next big thing is bound to be astounded by a way of life as bizarre as the one shown in SM.

For an Indian critic, SM was pathetically mediocre to deserve 8 Oscars (LOTR-Fellowship of the Ring won just 4). But the fact remains that out of the 8 Oscars, 3 were won by Indians, for their previously unknown talent in the international scene. A star is made only when people recognize someone to be one. In this way, the movie is a god-sent for India. Actors, artists and technicians from India who always deserved bigger bucks will now indeed start commanding them. Just FYI, Frieda Pinto now is worth twice as much Ash. Rahman status won't change much in India after this (genius has a superlative term?), but the world will look at him completely differently, a double Oscar winner.

Now I rate SM and TWT based on not just the quality of the content, but the significance and sensibility of the two works:

SlumDog Millionaire: 4/5

The White Tiger: 2.5/5

Quick Suggestion: Look forward to SM, while do read TWT. Both expose things which we push under the carpet all too comfortably. However IMHO The Dog beats The Tiger.

Midnight, at the Andheri Station Bus Stop, I snapped up this interesting coincidence through my N82. Yeah, it's my Indyeah!!

Bell Bajao, Ring The Bell...

2009-02-20T11:32:00.024+05:30

A real life story with minor liberties:

Vinod Kumar never felt so miserable. This, in a life full of sufferings and a troubled childhood. From the slums of Chennai, he had risen like a phoenix often does - this, after his parents’ death at a tender age. The meritorious boy he was, he paid up for schooling through scholarships. Along came college and Vinod had outshone others and eventually, secured a handsome paying job at a private firm in Mumbai. Wanting to start his life afresh, he left Chennai and headed for the city of dreams.

Day one of his first job, and it was there that he met Richika Gupta. Now, she was as beautiful a girl he had ever seen in his life. Not that Chennai doesn't have cute girls, but he instantly knew there was something special in her which he had never found in another of her kind. A Southie who had never ventured outside Chennai all his life and a Northie who had all along been in Roorkee! As diverse as they were, they hit out instantly. She liked him for his intelligence and more so for his childish innocence. And he liked for he didn’t really understand what. They went around, to the cinemas, to the parks, to the lounges. Marriage was now not a question of if, but when. And sure it happened, she proposed and he couldn’t have disposed in a thousand years.

The Guptas were a liberal lot and the marriage was grand. They moved to a comfortable 2BHK flat in Goregaon, like the one he had always dreamed of owning in his childhood, back in the Chennai. She continued working as that was what she always intended to do and he could never have said no to anything she ever wanted. Life was all that he had wanted – A house of his own in the great city, a wife as beautiful and caring as he could ever have hoped for. And then, one day he came to know that he was to about double that joy. He was about to become a father. And when he did arrive, the baby boy, the couple found a new meaning to life.A feeling of playing God, which they cherished beyond words. Life was indeed being dangerously kind to him.

A month passed, and then two and then six. She had been thinking of joining back at work for quite some time now. Career was after all, as important as family to her. Besides, the baby no longer lived off her anymore. On a particular day, she casually informed Vinod about her decision to join work. The man who had let her be her own on every single matter till now, somehow could not accept this. This was the first time he was going against her, because this time it was not about him, not about her, but about his son. He blankly vetoed her decision. She on her part could not understand what this was all about. The baby was growing up; she can’t forever be like this. A few years in a crèche and he would be on his own then. Why was Vinod being such a jerk all of a sudden? The tempers rose so did the decibels. And then it happened. He slapped her straight and square on her face.

She stood shell-shocked for a few seconds only to be engulfed by a pulse of blinding rage. The princess of her parents, had been slapped by someone who had come just yesterday. She wept, ran into the bedroom and locked herself in. By now Vinod was regretting his deed; how could he ever hit a female, that too his wife. This was something totally against the principles he stood for. Impulsively, he rushed to the gardens to calm himself down.

An hour later, he was slowly walking back. All this time, he had sketched out the plan to apologize, to pacify her. Back at the house, the door was left unlatched; he pushed it and entered. The baby and the mother were nowhere to be seen. The bedroom, empty. A paper on the bed shouted out to him to pick it up, and he did. Tears trickled down his eyes - she had left him, with the baby.

He simply collapsed on to the floor. He despised his moment of rage but hoped that she had understood his intentions better. She hadn't taken her mobile along, for he had gifted it to her. He lay there with his eyes staring at the chandelier awaiting her call. Hours later, the door was being knocked. She was back, he thought. He was right. She was standing right there, but not with the baby, but with a relative. And behind them were the men in khakis.

They kept him in the cell all through the night and it was in the morning that he was bailed out. The whole society was shocked when they came to know of the domestic violence case. It suddenly dawned on him how life had taken such an ugly turn. The dream he was living in was over. Reality - the great leveller. He decided there was no point in wanting to lead a life with her again, now that she had approached the courts directly, without caring to even speak a single word. He would now fight - for his son in the courts, alongside the domestic violence case filed against him.

Epilogue:

Four years later: Young Shashi is about to join his first day at preschool. His father and mother alight from the car and kiss him goodbye. Seconds later, Richika turns to Vinod and bursts into tears. She had returned to him a month back. She could no more live without her son and husband. The way she had been doing so for the past 3 years after the court had granted the boy’s custody to the father.

The ending describes the current real life status of the case. The epilogue is what I hope the family would be like with time. But sometimes this life is too short to forget the silly grudges we hold.

Quick Opinion: The law is being wrongly put to use in this particular case.

I Killed Her...

2009-01-31T21:03:00.016+05:30

She had been such a sweetie. As beautiful as you could imagine with a complexion as pink as a baby's. I was indeed lucky to have her with me. She always stuck with me, in my joy and my grief. Like honey on the horsetail as they say. We had always been together and the world knew it all along. Her earliest memories stretch as far as my memory itself.

But like all strong relationships, ours was also strained at times. Sometimes to the threshold. There were times when I just wanted to get her out of my life, forever. Our fights were never private and frankly they could never have been. But we always sorted it out somehow in the end. More of my patience and persistence I would like to believe now. Then, I shouldn't be digging the dirt up again, now that she has left me forever.

But of late, it was indeed getting difficult to manage her. The relationship was more strained than ever. The fights occurred and it was for the whole world to witness. And she was getting more violent. Everyone from the society watchman to the office colleague came to know what was happening between us. The sweet girl I had known for years was slowly turning up against me. The decision, albeit hard, had to be taken. It was time to end it, end her, once and for all.

I went around searching for men I could trust, who could do it the way it needed to be done. However sad I felt, the other half in me wanted me to witness it in all its gore. And it did win in the end. My rage made me decide that I would see through it. The plan was made, the money exchanged, the date decided. Poor she, could never have imagined what was in store for her, especially after all these years. But I had it all planned out.

The day I was so eagerly awaiting for, finally arrived. She was as innocent as ever, difficult to say if she was faking it or otherwise. In fact, I had started doubting everything about her these days. But it was certainly I, who was faking it that day. Early in the morn, when the roads were empty, when the sun was still in its slumber, I took her out, out to the place where I had planned for it to happen. We were walking together, next to next, touching each other one last time.

And then it happened. We ran into four men, my men, the men who were contracted to do it. She stopped in her tracks, but still had no clue of what was to unfold. Suddenly out came the knives and they approached her menacingly. And it was then she looked at me in disbelief. I said nothing, simply turned away, expecting to hear her curse. But gracious she was, said nothing, just stared at me in the eye. A needle pierced me, more through my heart than anywhere else. I closed my eyes, for I could no longer bear to look at it all. Seconds later I suddenly passed out. And then they started. She bled a hell. The sharpies pierced through her blood again, and again. But she was silent, stunned by my betrayal. Blood flowed freely and then she was all but stationary...

Hours later, when I would wake up, she would not be next to me. No more would I get to see her, no more would I get to fight with her. All of a sudden a sharp current of pain rose up my head and I felt sick. Before I knew I threw up blood. I could eat no more. Every mouthful reminded me of her. Of how I used to touch her, pat her, caress her. Was trauma beyond anything I had ever known, had ever endured all these years.

It still hurts. Fair. After all, 23 years it was...before I killed her. But should I repent it? Do I miss her? The other half, as wicked as it always was, tells me, "She deserved it. No regrets, in fact, joy". But I am not as stone-hearted, I do miss her, although not always. What has to be done, should be done, and was done. But now she is gone. Gone forever, my Tonsils.

Quick Gyan: Adult Tonsillectomy has one of the most painful and frustrating post-operative periods. Ten days of the worst pain you can imagine with your throat feeling as if it is slashed with a dozen razor blades and then sprinkled with a liter of Tabasco sauce. Also the adventure horrifies with age.
Conclusion: A Tonsil causing problems even at the age of 15 should be cut out asap to avoid the crappy ordeal later in life.

Banned Worldwide, But not in India!

2009-01-11T23:17:00.009+05:30

Here is a list of medications which are house-hold names in India, but are banned in most countries. So now, before you play doctor-doctor with your life again, and pop up a pill all by yourself, ask your doctor if it is safe to do so!!

Specifically note Nimulid, D' cold, Action 500 and Analgin.

ANALGIN: Pain-killer.

Reason for ban: Bone marrow depression.

Brand name: Novalgin

CISAPRIDE: Acidity, Constipation.

Reason for ban : Irregular heartbeat

Brand name : Ciza, Syspride

DROPERIDOL:Anti-depressant.

Reason for ban : Irregular heartbeat.

Brand name: Roperol

FURAZOLIDONE: Antidiarrhoeal.

Reason for ban : Cancer.

Brand name : Furoxone, Lomofen

NIMESULIDE: Painkiller, Fever.

Reason for ban : Liver failure.

Brand name : Nise, Nimulid

NITROFURAZONE: Antibacterial cream.

Reason for ban : Cancer.

Brand name : Furacin

PHENOLPHTHALEIN: Laxative.

Reason for ban : Cancer.

Brand name : Agarol

PHENYLPROPANOLAMINE: Cold and Cough.

Reason for ban : Stroke.

Brand name: D'cold, Vicks Action-500

OXYPHENBUTAZONE: Non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug.

Reason for ban : Bone marrow depression.

Brand name : Sioril

PIPERAZINE: Anti-worms.

Reason for ban : Nerve damage.

Brand name : Piperazine

QUINIODOCHLOR: Anti-diarrhoeal.

Reason for ban: Damage to sight.

Brand name : Enteroquinol

Perhaps our Dear Health Minister would do well to act on this, rather than going after filmstars. But then, when was the last time you got media attention in India for doing the right things!!

A New Blogger In The New Year

2009-01-03T23:00:00.024+05:30

New Year's here, finally we kicked 2008 out of our lives. Err..actually it kicked itself out (??)

Hold on now, we have a BREAKING NEWS..Another gaint step for mankind!! We required forty years after 1969 to take the second step?? :O

Scroll down to enter the new world.

Yes, and finally I have a blog of my own. Hope this one is indeed final, I have created and crapped away three such attempts in the past few years!!! It has been an ordeal in itself. Spent Six hours arriving at this idiotic blog name from a self created list of twenty odd ones. Thanks to a few friends of mine, onebyteofme.blogspot was vetoed out, albeit against my wishes, and this it how it ended - Harryfication, 'Inspired' by Californication!!

A Harryfied flash back of 2008 awaits you below:

OneByteOfMe:

Got the all important desired posting location. Pune seemed a decent enough place to spend one year of your life. Having done that, is it worth anything more? Probably not, but hey, my boss says he won't pay me the cashewnuts (oh! really?) he usually does, if I work from Mumbai. Duh! Live on!!

The nation:

ISRO's moon mission meant that this 'poor nation' is now the 6th country to launch its own space vehicle. For pessismists, we actually will be in profit once we carry out a few outsourced launches in future. Weird these westerners are, outsourcing everything to us, from simple phone calls to complex IVT and baby-making!!

2008's biggest success was the end of the nuclear isolation for India. The US-led initiative is a definite sign of power balance in the decades to follow. As MMS put it, "All Indians love you, Mr. Bush". My inside sources tell me that he had watched 'Dostana' the day before. Eeeew.. :D

*** Joke ***

/* Last heard on Jiyo TV, minutes after the Indian satellite launch, the Fakistani President, "We are a responsible nation now. We are sending a manned mission to the sun now." To which US Secy Of State has responded, "We are sure Fakistan would fulfil its promise. While we keep on waiting and waiting for it to do what it says, we throw a few more billion dollars at them." */

Yuck..so much for self-made OTS jokes..but if these two can laugh at my joke like idiots, so can you. :p

The economy:

Huh!! It's in doldrums to put it, the way it is. Shameless human greed was exposed and as it is so often the case, the mistakes of the super-rich will hit the super-poor the hardest.

Personally after all these years of 'learning the markets', (as if, such a thing exists), I took the plunge, and Ouchh!! Lehamann collapsed the day after. Bigger Ouchhes followed.

The nightmares:

While Mumbai is the first thing on everyones minds because of the nature of the attack, more people lost their lives in the other countless acts of violence we have witnessed. Unfortunately I really don't have a reason to say that this won't continue in 2009 unless we stand united aginst terrorism. So I say this - Till the next time, do what we do best and F the rest.

The joy:

Sports has the power to do the unthinkinable. To me, it makes humans appreciate humanity better, leaving aside all differences. Olympics 2008 was all that dreams are made of. Phelps and Bolt are now names etched in memory forever, more for their determination and courage than their actual achievements itself. Such is the joy of sports that it levitates you beyond the superficial demarcations of nationality, religion, color and sex. Pity, many people, especially girls miss out on all this. Anyways..

Here's wishing one and all a very Happy New Year!!

And hoping against hope that this tiny li'l endeavor lives on to survive 2009.

P.S. New Year Resolution Time:

I will reduce the insane number of images/glitteries in future blogs.