Me Vs I

‘OK I don’t know this.’

‘Dude, have a deeper look. Read it properly. Take an intelligent guess. You might just get it right. Remember in school, you were a champ in quiz. Your gut feeling regarding the answers and your intelligent guesses were always right’

‘Hmm. Actually that is right. Wait let me see. Let me read the question. ….OK, now the choices are…..Mmmmmm……..I don’t know head or tail of this! Ok…lemme take a guess…..Answer b) looks right.’

‘No man, look at d). This looks logical.’

‘The answer is obviously between b) and d). But which one? You are saying d). Logical choice you say? What is your logic based on anyways? Bullshit!! On first look it seemed that that the answer is b). Now, is that not gut feeling? When you are analysing, you are not following your heart. I will mark b). Ok Next.’

‘Oh come on. Are you hearing your own logic? I am saying it cannot be b). It makes no sense. Go back and change it, you idiot!’

‘Actually, b) makes less sense. Ok, let’s go back. Mmmm..…Done. I have marked d). Oh God! Please make this the right choice! Now, Next…. Mmmm…What the hell is this? How is anybody supposed to know that? Crap!! What logic do I put here? There is no negative marking anyways. Let me mark something…..Inky Pinky Ponky……

[After 10 Mins and 16 ‘Intelligent Guesses’]

The heady head message..

‘Head message chahiye Sir?’ (Do you want a head message, sir?), the dark chap almost whispered in my ears, while cutting my hair.

‘Nehi’, (No) say I.

‘Acha lagega sir’ (it will feel good, sir), he said with a lot of self-assurance.

‘Kitna lagega’ (How much is it)?’ say I.

‘Oil message 70 hain sir’.

‘Without Oil?’

‘60’.

Well a simple haircut is for 50 bucks. 10 rupees extra for a message is not much, I thought.

‘Thik hain kar do.’ (Okay, do it), said I.

I am always a bit tensed when I am in a saloon. The metallic sound of the scissors against my ears and on my head makes me nervous. What if he becomes a bit distracted? There is high probability of my ears getting chopper off. What if he makes a dent on my head? Almost all my school life, I never ventured to a salon. I would be surrendering my head to my Mom, instead. I believed that if I had to trust somebody with my head, then I would rather put it in my Mom’s hands. Undoubtedly, she did a decent job with my hair. But it was soon that I was not able to blindly trust her with my hair. The result of the hair cut would be directly proportional to her mood that day. Days on which she would be having a rough day at home (lots of utensils to wash, the dog had shed a lot of fur, Dad had said something which Mom did not like, etc. etc.), my head would look like a badly mowed lawn with haircuts on those days. Every time after a haircut, I would look a bit different.

Fiction Vs Non Fiction

It's been a while since I have stopped reading fiction. Fiction these days do not add any value to you. I somehow feel that after I read a book i should know a bit more than I knew before reading the book. Most fiction books do not do that. I used to read a lot of fiction once. In school, Enid Blyton, Hardy Boys, Three investigators and other fast paced adventure tales used to trigger by imagination and would take me to this fantasy world of adventure, thrill and suspense. Then I started reading Bengali Literature. I believe Bengali literature is as vast as English literature. I had full collections of Sarat Chandra Chatterjee, Rabindranath Tagore, Bankim chandra, Shorodindu at home and I had read almost everything while I was still in school. Sarat Chandra was my favorite for a long time. All his stories would be around common Bengali households, about common people going about their lives. What made them extra ordinary was the depth in which he would explore human relations, emotions and ties. All this books are extra ordinary studies of the human psychology. Rabindranath was famous for his short stories. His short stories would be based on very simple or common theme and would almost always leave you with a smile on your face or a tear in your eye.

During later part of school, I started reading thrillers like Alistair Macleen, Frederick Forsyth, Robin Cook, Micheal Crichton, etc. I was specially thrilled by Frederick Forsyth books simply because of the detail that would be there. I remember one particular book which had some 4-5 pages or more, describing how to make an atom bomb. I guess the first non fiction book I read was a book called,"Jesus Came to India". It intrigued me beyond comprehension. No fiction book had made me think and interested me as this book did.   I some became hooked to non fiction since then. "Truth is stranger than fiction", it's said. Very true. Some times, there are news which can beat any well thought out fiction.

Desert Potraits

Rajasthan trip: How it all began.

For oft, when on my bed I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances in Rajasthan sand and hills.

(Stolen from William Wordsworth; changed according to context)

As I sit now reminiscing about the past week, it all seems like a big jigsaw puzzle of memorable events which somehow has become all jumbled inside my head. As I write this blog I would try to solve the jigsaw puzzle and present a comprehensible picture of the Rajasthan trip to anyone who ventures to read.

It all started one day morning, maybe a week and a half before the trip. I had planned for a 6 days trek from Manali, a hill station in the Himalayas, during this vacation when almost all of my friends gradually dropped out of it. There were various personal reasons for that, which I don’t want to go into the details. I had applied and got leave from office. My trains were booked. Suddenly the trip was cancelled. I had gone to sleep the last night all dejected. As I opened my eyes in the morning, this brilliant idea came to me. I immediately called up Avinash. He did not pick up the phone, later when he called, I could not pick up the phone, but when I did speak to him I told him my idea. I had always wanted to go and explore Rajasthan. And he was based out of Jaipur. I humbly asked him for his time and company for a Rajasthan trip. And he said yes!

Whatever happens is for good.

Jo bhi hota hain acha ke liye hota hain....

'Whatever happens is for good,'said dad.
'Really?' Said I after a little pause.
'Of course not,'said he, with a small giggle. 'These are fundas to fool your mind. All that happens to you is not and cannot be good. But just to keep you from going into permanent depression, you say such things like this. These are all mind games that you play which helps you to move on. Everything are mind games.'

Rains in Kolkata...rains in Bangalore...

Here i am in abhijit, hari, anand's place with no work. Enjoying a leisurely Saturday evening. Abhijit is getting ready to attend his friends reception. Hari went and Anand has left to repair Anand's bike (For the inquisitive, who is asking the obvious question of why Hari had to go with Anand to repair a bike; Anand and Hari are inseparable brothers, Anand does not go any where[other than his office and washroom] without Hari).

And here i am scribbling thoughts. Let me come to the topic. Before I start with the 'bakar', let me say that when Hari was leaving, I asked him for a topic, on which I can write something and this is what he told me. 'Rains in Kolkata...rains in Bangalore...'. And me being the talented guy I am i knew i can write something at least on this, somehow I'll connect this with some gyan and will make a happy ending also.

Time and Commitment

Humans are such that they can solve any problem posed in front of them. The only thing that is needed is time. And to give time to something you need commitment. So it all boils down to how much committed you are to solve the problem or to see to it that the problem at hand reaches a logical conclusion.

And if you cannot commit yourself to this problem then it only means that there are other commitments which are taking precedence. As long as you can pinpoint your commitment and be committed towards it, there is no issue. But more often than not, we remain confused about our commitments.

Blessed be the Lazy, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven...

I think being lazy is good. As most of the problems that we face today are because of over enthusiastic active people. Had the Megasthenes’, Vasco Da Gama’s and Columbus’s stayed at home we would have had a much better society today. Watched Helena Norberg’s Ecomomics of Happiness some days back. For the last few days I was thus observing how consumerism has taken over our mind, soul and body. And what I saw and realized out of observation and self-realization was quite alarming.

Helena Norberg-Hodge (hereby referred as HNH) made her case as she demonstrated how globalization is actually disrupting the carefully grafted local communities, cultures and traditions which has developed over some thousands and millions of years. She demonstrates how the so called messiah called ‘Globalization’, who was supposed to be the panacea of society’s ailments has actually increased manifold the problems of poverty, communalism and other social evils. Most of our society’s problems are because of causes which were sown in the last century with the advent of mass production, industrial revolution, globalization and the mad drive to promote consumerism.

Grandmothers....

The Selfish Giant by Oscar Wilde.

There was this giant who had a big garden. Many children came to the garden to play. The giant was very selfish and wanted to keep all the beauty of the garden to himself, so he shooed the children away. Till then the garden which was always filled with children’s laughter and joy became empty. All the plants started dying off. In all other gardens there was blossom but in the giant’s garden there was winter always. The giant wondered what had happened to his garden. One day through a hole in the garden some children came in and seeing them and their joy and laughter all the plants and trees also came back to life and started blossoming. The giant saw all this from his window and understood how selfish he has been and from then on he also started playing with the kids.

“What is wrong with her,” whispered Rajib in my ear, “why is she telling us these cute stories all of a sudden?”

“Class. We are going to enact this play for our annual function this year. And all of you are in the play. I want you all to participate and we’ll all have a lot of fun! Right boys?” said our Bengali teacher with a lot of enthusiasm. We did not share the enthusiasm. I looked at Rajib with bored eyes and returned me back the same look.

The curious case of Forgetfulness

I keep forgetting. I have always had this habit of forgetting very obvious things about life. On the other hand I also had this uncanny and surely weird habit of remembering some genuinely minute detail of some objects/events/persons. People usually attribute these eccentricities of people to their genes. And I can proudly say that this is one thing that I have inherited ditto from my parents. And I have already beaten them hands down in the game of forgetfulness. Because I took it to levels which they can never imagine.

In early childhood, I had a story in Bengali literature book of mine, which had mention of a very forgetful person. According to the story, this person had once gone out with an umbrella in the monsoon. He came back and instead of putting the umbrella in the corner of the room, he himself stood at the corner of the room and put the umbrella on the bed to rest.

Well the story sounded very stupidly funny at that point of time but it feels like a genuine possibility some time in my life. You must be wondering by now why I am being so hyper about forgetfulness and what disaster i have been through recently and stuff. For all of you just one request, please read on and all your questions would be answered.

The beautiful business of the Auto.

From Infosys campus, Hyderabad, to a place called Kondapur is Rs 32 by meter. The autowallah stuffs in 5 people in his shack of a vehicle and charges Rs 15 per head for the distance. That is a profit of 134% over and above the stipulated profit included in the meter fare.

Let’s delve down a bit deeper.

Typical mileage for an Indian-made auto rickshaw is around 35 kilometers per liter of petrol.

Kondapur is a distance of 3km from Infosys.

Therefore in 1 litre, the auto makes around 5 up down trips to kondapur.

Thus, for 5 trips,

Cost: Rs 70.

Revenue: 75*10=750.

Profit: Rs 680.

Assumptions: 1) auto driver enjoys life and does not make more that 5 up down trips.

                            2) His vehicle needs a maintenance of Rs 30 everyday.

                            3) He does not work for more than 20 days in a month.

His monthly take home is Rs. 13000. Considering that he did not go to engineering college he has saved some 2-3 lac Rupees with which he can buy another 2 autos and rent it out to a driver. If he keeps 50% of earning for himself then he earns Rs 13000 for the 2 autos. Considering he did not also go to MBA college, he had saved another 7-8 lacs, with which he can buy another 5 autos which gives him another Rs. 37500.

Thus at the age of 23-24, he can easily earn Rs. 63500 per month.

I am 28 and an MBA, and I am feeling like an utter fool. This calculation cannot be true. Where did I go wrong in the logic? Wait till I find it and come back.

Shit, this cannot be true!!

Serendipity

The jetty service cutting across the Arabian Sea would save us around 70 kms of drive. The sea has cut in sharply inside the land. The jetty service was meant to ease the pain of the long travel along the water body. Cars, vans, small busses all parked inside the compact steamer as it slowly trudged its way across the sea water.

Visibility was limited to a bend and till the bend all we could only see were cars parked one after the other. We parked our car behind this long line of cars, came out and ourselves trudged along to see how many cars where there before the jetty. There were not many cars. We were the 11^th car. In the morning we had crossed through another similar jetty and we knew that there would be space for 9 cars, maximum 10. We would just not make it. We found out that the steamer was due in another 10 minutes or so. While Abhijit, Mihir and Satyam waited to test their luck, I ventured on the opposite direction to quench the basic need called hunger. It was already late afternoon. Adventurous spirit and late breakfast could only feed me up to a certain limit. After that my stomach behaves in a very rebellious fashion.

That day when I flirted with poetry...

A Hypothitical Situation
Place: Hypothepur.
Location: Campus of a college, Room in 6th floor, 2nd bench.
Weather: cloudy, stormy wind, drizzle is on.
Situation: A class is in progress. The protagonist dozes of. His friend in the next seat pokes and wake him up. He wracks his brain for methods to keep awake. He picks up his pen and poetry flows out like water flows through a hilly cascade in full monsoon.

.....

Bald head with
a beard on the chin,
A little more fat
and he'd be Alladin's Jin.
Have you seen Dufus
of that show "Duck Tales"?
Dufus is now talking
about how services sells.
There he is lost again,
out of the window he stares,
Then he dances, makes faces
and strangely glares.
Voila!!Raman wakes up
and asks a question,
Is it a question? A Statement?
We wonder in vain.
Sir has no clue either,
about the question or the answer,
He says something, raman nods his head,
it's all a blur.
Singapore Girl, Ramdev Baba...
I really do not care,
The class goes on like
a boring nightmare.
He checks his laptop
making last of his points,
Everything seems blurry
like after 4-5 joints.
I so want to go
and dive into my bed,
Sleep in peace with
all tension out of my head.

*Resemblence with any real life character or situation is purely coincidental.

Feeling Hot Hot Hot !!!!

Keshpur happens to be one of the most politically sensitive areas in West Bengal. "They caught the man with his hair and chopped his head off. One hand held the head, the rest of the body fell down in a heap. There was blood all over." 

He had lost one eye in a freak driving accident. So one of his eyeballs was white. He had a thick mane of black hair on his head. 48 year old, Mr. Deep Chowdhury, had one of the most expressive smiles i have ever seen. Small wrinkes formed over the side of his eyes when he laughed. The matter of fact manner 

he said everything and the way he ended every sentence with that smile left me speechless in many of the cases. 

Keshpur, a village 140 km from Kolkata has become a place synonymous with political vendetta and bloodshed. 

"I wanted to study, i liked studying you know. When I was in class 7, my dad told me come to the field for the harvest. He needed a helping hand for the harvest. I said i have to go to school for an exam. He hit me on my back with the plough. And I ran away from my house." 

"I ended up in a circus in Orissa. I was a helper with the elephant master. Used to help out in this and that. I never could do anything special. So I left that place also. I came back home. Those scenes that you see in movies like father crying and hugging a son as came back, never happens in real life. Life is hard. So as i came back, touched the feet of my father, he just said, you have come back son? Good. Let's go the field, i'll need some extra help."

"How are you doing, son?", down came uncle from number 24, the next side upper berth. He was a manager in a small hotel near bangalore.

"Let's have tea", before anyone can say anything, he had already paid for three teas."I have earned a lot, and also spend a lot. U are small children let me pay." Actually, there was a lot that had followed from uncle's side. There were mango juices, then sweet curd, and many things more. "I have a salary of 5000 Rs per month. And food and lodging is free. So I save a lot. My son is also well settled. Earns around 7-8000 permonth. I am happy." He later added. 

Uncle, had a waiting list ticket. He had got on the train anyways. He found an empty upper berth and perched on the same. He was well above 60, a super senior citizen or a very senior person (VSP) one can say. The ticket checker approached. He reached out his hand towards the upper berth. Uncle extended his ticket. At that  moment he was an epitome of innocence. The checker did not have the nerve to harass the VSP in front of a coup full of brooding passengers. He marked the seat in his sheet as occupied and moved on. Uncle rarely came down from his upper perch. When he came it was always treat time for us.

Deep Babu continued, "In front of my eyes, you know, right in front of my eyes. They shot 7 people. They had lined them up against a wall. And they shot them. Why? They had the audacity of voting for green. It is very difficult for the red party to loose you know. Because they know if they loose, they would suffer the same fate, bullets or chopped by the axe. When you see these your blood starts boiling. But you have family, parents, u know. So if u protest maybe you can protect yourself, but your family would die. They hear you talking, next day morning you would find a red flag on your field. That means your field has been confiscated. No more farming for you. You can either die in the village of starvation, or come to the city and work as a labourer."

"I had driven trucks all over the Andhra, Maharahtra, MP, Orissa, Karnataka. I can speak Kannad, Tamil, Telegu, Punjabi, Uriya." I got proof of the same in some of the stations where our train halted, which was incidentally quite a few. "I have enjoyed a lot during this time. But I stopped everything after I got 

married. I returned home, opened a small garage, settled there. Then I lost one eye. Next I developed heart problems." He lifted his shirt and showed me the cut. It streched from around the upper chest to lower part of his stomach. " There was a total blockage of some viens, so they had to take some from my leg, and use them here. His leg had a similar foot long cut. "All my savings, garage, are now gone. I am left with 5 bighas of land. I love farming you know. Now that I am regaining my strength, I'll start farming again."

"Where were you?". Deep babu's son in law, who had accompanied him for his treatment in Bangalore, had appeared. "I made a friend in AC compartment and was sitting wih him. This place is a bloody furnace." True, it was around 45 degree plus, and we were passing through the arid Andhra region. We were on the 1st day and had another of travel before us.

Uncle suggested, "You know you can easily start a business. There are so many people who go from your place to Bangalore for medical treatment. You know the language, you have had your treatment there so you know the system there. You know a hotel there. My hotel. You take 1000 Rs. and relieve them of the hassle. 

You accompany them to Bangalore, stay with them, arrange all contacts, etc. Bring them to my hotel and I will pay you commission. Later you can arrange with doctors also for commission from them."

"I cannot take money like that,"said Deep Babu.

Uncle debabted,"You know you are taking money to provide convinience to people. What is wrong in that? People actually make money of inconvinience to people."

"I can never do any such thing," later Deep babu whispered to me. "I am a simple farmer, you think I can be a businessman like that?"

There was a commotion that was developing towards the end of the compartment. It was sometime before I understood the reason. I was in S10, it was the last sleeper compartment and the next compartment was AC 3 tier. The AC guys has closed the shutter in between and as a result the ticket checker, pantry guys were all trapped in this side. And was battering the door and shouting to let them in and carry on with thier duties. 

"Bloody buggers," said Deep Babu. "What we are not humans and they think if we touch their AC air then we will pollute them?", uncle jestaculated. He gave his smile again...

There he was sitting a feet away from me..on the opposite side of the berth. But he seemed to be very far away. Almost like he lived in a world apart. Murder, extortion, poverty, they are something that is so far away from the protected life that we lead. Our life with jeans, pubs, malls, electronic gadgets have somehow insulated us from all those realities of life. I cannot do anything, but stare at him, at that man from the other side of the world.

Of Vision and Illusion

VJXKM Sukumar was an astronaut. We'll call him Jack. Why? Well why not? He is a decent guy. Of course we can call him Jack. Ok jokes apart,we'll call him Jack beacuse he looks a lot he looks a lot like Jack Nicholson. The famous hollywood actor. Only Sukumar was darker in complexion, coming from the southern parts of Inda, his face was different, and he was thin, very thin. But otherwise he was exactly a Jack nicholson look alike. On the IGS(International Global Spaceship) he was testing the new american discovery, the USITC(Ultra spectacular inch telescopic camera). This camera could take pictures of stuff that were of an inch size from the space.


He was an extremely patriotic guy. He had decided never to forget his roots when he left his small village of kapapideru...

When told to test the camera, he decided that the first picture he would take would be of his very own coutry, the country that he came from. India. He would use photoshop to write 'I Love India' below the picture. He would take the picture and send it home to his parents. They would laminate it and hang it on the wall. And be proud of his sons achievements.

He started humming 'jana gana mana..'as he fixed the camera on the octapod. 'Damn it what was the 3rd line? Why do they write national anthems in local languages? They should have written it in engish. It's damn hard to remember something without understanding a word of it. Bloody India, nothing but stuffed with hypocrisy.'

'You lift my spirit, take me higher, make me fly,

Touch the moon up in the sky, when you are mine

You lift me higher, take my spirit, make it fly,

Where all new wonders will appear'....

he started humming...



What the hell, I am is going to take a picture of something 1 inch in size. Who is gonna care whether it is of indian soil or soil of sahara desert. Lets pick something from US. After all, that is the soil that gave some meaning to my life.

Lets see...USA, District of columbia, Washington DC, there is the NASA HQ...well lets move a bit awy towards MT Rainier. Zoom in more....there it is...wow its a stream of ants...very symbolic thought jack..he was not sure of what but he knew it was symbolic....he took the picture...picture of a proud ant red with passion..why should it not be red? after all it is a plump and posh american ant...not the poor hungry ants back in india....he makes a crooked face as he looks out of the SHMG(Special hardened magnifying glass) towards india...the sun was rising on INdia...yuck, people will by now start looking for a suitable place beside the railway track to shit..disgusting...he looked with forlorn eyes towards US. He could see the other side of the earth too with his SRP(Satellite refracto panograph). NIght in america...the people are kissing and partying and drintgin beer...what a life...



He opened the letter from his parents about a week frm the time, he had returned from space.. Its about 8 months from the day he took that picture of that ant. He had seen the letter last week, but he had a very busy week. He had just returned from IGS and the successful testing of USITC was among the many feathers in his cap.



Son,

We are so happy for you. We have not heard your voice for a long time. But we see your pictures. In magazines, newspapers. You have become thin. We are very proud of you. When sugandha showed us the picture u had taken from up there, it came in all the newspapers here, we were really very surprised. It was written that it was a picture of something in america, but though the picture was not very clear, we could understand that it was the picture of our small red house. We knew the first picture u take cannot be anything other than your house. And u proved us right. U so loved your house in clidhood. We still remember that day when u creid u r eyes out when u r father got a transfer and u would not go anywhere leaving the house. And then the transfer got cancelled. We expalined to sugandha that u had to tell them that it was something american becuase u work for them. Then everyone saw the picture carefully and agreed that it was the picture of our house alright. But u made a good joke of them. U know u r bravery have become famous here for how u took u r house's foto and passed it for something american. The young people one day took out a procession in your name. The local communist leader has also said that he would donate 4 lakh rs to us in your name for u r patriotism and anti-american stance. God bless u son.
Mom and Dad.

LA DON BOSCO LIGA

Don Bosco School, Liluah, Virtus et Labor, Mrs Maiti's Disciple 1st, Discpline 2nd, Discilpline 3rd...they form some of my most cherished memories. No, i don't remember my first day in school, but one thing i do remember is that i did not cry, i was actualy very excited. Dad took me to a smiling, bearded old man,'This is chacha, and everyday u are to take his bus to school and return to him after the classes.'


My uncle, borda for me, used to take me to the bus stop on his cycle (this continued till my 10th class). From there chacha's bus to school. School was from 9 to 2:30PM. And school was fun.

Today I am only left with some scattered memories of primary school. Actually our primary school and a major part of high school revolved around football. We played football all the time. In the morning we got some free time before classes started, then there was the small tiffin(15 min break after the 1st 3 classes), big tiffin(about 50 min break after 5th period), and another half an hour before senior school got over. We filled these free time with lots of football. We played with small rubber balls, balls that were actually made for cricket. Sometimes even tennis balls. In senior section it was on very rare ocaasions that we actually played with the object that is actually globally known as a football.

We had two almost fixed teams. The main players of the opposite team were Tanmay and sinchan. Whereas our team had Rakesh, Arindam, Rahul and me as the main players. Other players used to come and go. These were tales of primary school. In high school, all of our students got jumbled up in sections. And these best friends of mine became a bit scattered. Rahul and me were great buddies in primary school. We shared a great understandin in the field also. Same with rakesh and arindam. High school saw new friends coming in. And old friends drifting apart.

Slowly the warring football teams evolved into a bengali and a non bengali team. Almost always, the bengali team was much stonger the nonbengali faction. And we had to lend them players to maintain a balance. As a rule we always won.

We had a strange custom in our football. Let me elaborate on the bell stucture of our school. Big tiffin ended with a bell. About 5-10 min after that bell was another bell by which we were all supposed to be in our respective lines in the assmbly hall. If you are still found to be loitering, dire consequences await you. So coming back to football. As soon as the first bell was rung, football transformed to rugby. The person who had possesion of the ball in his foot used to pick it up in his hand and made a mad rush towards the opponent goal. And it was then that anarchy used to break loose. Torn buttons, shirts, sleeves were commonplace occurances during the rugby period. Thankfully this rugby lasted for only 3-4 mins, because we all had to return to assembly hall by the 2nd bell.

We had great moments and great plyers in our league. Rajib, Santaneel, Ritwik, Subhayu, Abhishek, were other stars that our league was proud of. Rajib was famous for his 'Gola' shot. That was a directionless, meaningless yet immensely powerful shot. The diretion of the shot depended on the direction he was facing when he recieved the ball. If he was facing the side line, he would hit it towards the side line. If he is facing his own goal he hit it towards his own goal. And he used to hit it with so much power that it was actually like a canon ball. Hence 'Gola'.

Arko and Soumabho were famous for thier bull like tussle. Both of them were huge. And invariably, both were placed on opposite sides. When they came face to face, the ball was lost somewhere and they were left wrestling each other like two sumo wrestlers or like two african bisons.

Ritwik used to run like a bull. You give the ball to him and he used to dart through the field like an angry bull. He was always as straight as a dart.

Subhayu broke his leg sometime in between. In the later stages of his healing process he used to walk around our goal with that plaster in his leg and any stiker from the opponent knew that they may as well have thier leg broken if they get a kick from Subhayu. The safest defender our team ever had.

Subhayu once hit the ball very hard and it landed perfectly on the head of some faculty of the technical section. It had definitly hurt. He pocketed the ball and waited for the culprit to come forward. A ball those days used to cost 2 rs. But even that was a luxury for us. after a lot of pocket hunting we realised that the whole team did not have a cumulative amount of 2 rs. And we sent Subhayu to face the noise. And he did go to that sir. And came back with a solid print of a hand over his cheek. He was bhagat singh imporsonated for us.

Kuntal was the mudmaster. He was a average player in ordinary. But he rose to extraordinary echeleons of football as soon as it rained. He was a wizard with the ball in the mud. He slided and slizzled past hapless and apprehensive defenders to safely deposit the ball in oppenents net. He was the MVP during the monsoon.

In monsoon most of the times we used to play in the assembly hall. However this was not allowed. Balls often drifetd in to the technical section and was gone for ever. On quite a few occasions people were caught and punished. Me? Well, i was a 100m sprint specialist.

Football was what we went to school for, atleast till ninth grade. Actually after all this football, the fittest of us became extremely tired. This showed during tutions and homework. As board exam neared,parental pressure increased, chaos increased in life. And hardened footballers slowly started to lessen their zeal in the field.

I too took sanyas dring my +2. I plyaed on rare occasions. But the madness remained. Football had crept in our veins. Whenever i see a field i feel like jumping in. Whenever i see people playing football in that field i stare at them, till they move out of sight. Football still causes viens to become excited. It still causes the adrenaline to rush. Today, my legs shout with protest and plagues me with muscle pull, strain and stuff whenevr i become ambitious enough to step in to the field. But memories of that time of 'soccer all day' never fails to bring a smile in my face and cheer in my heart.

I wish we could take the field once again, one more time and see to the end of that non bengali team, or that team of sinchan and tanmoy, once and for all... What say rakesh, rajib, arindam, sourav, subhayu, santaneel, ritwik....What say guys???

(If all of you were in our team then who hell was in thiers????)

Hyderabad Blues....

This one is called . . THE BIG BANG...

Yes that was his ambition. To become an astronomer. In his early days, the sky fascinated him. So, in moral science class as his teacher asked, what do you want to become when you grow up? He said, "I want to be an astronomer." Sounds boring. Sounded interesting to him then.....


Well as fate would have it, he turned out to be a short, fat, mechanical engineer, who converted to software industry. Sounds even boring?? Well it really was.... :(

It is 6 'o' Clock at hyderabad now. And the hero of our story is waiting for completion of the mandatory 9.15 hrs in office. He minimises the window, stares at the desktop for sometime. Nope, hopeless even the scecnic beauty of the himalayas fails to motivate our hero to work some more. He gives a cursory glance towards the bottom rght corner of the screen and does the calcualation that he has been doing every 2 min now, frm 5:30 pm.

Another 1 hr has to be spent..then he can go back home. Lie down embrace the only lover he has, close his eyes and relax for some time. He would mumble all his days woes. But for his chivalrous character he would have even shed some tears embracing his lover. He simply loved his pillow, the only lover in the world our hero has at present. :'( ..

The article he was reading mentioned that every now and then, you should try to focus your eyes at the farthest object that you can see from your cubicle.....Just to reduce strain in your eyes...strain that is generated when you stare at you monitor for a long time...

The farthest thing??!! Can he see the sky from his cubicle?? he never noticed or tried...he suddenly wanted to see those varied constellations that he once searched in the night sky....ursa major, minor, andromeda, hydra.......when was the last time he looked at the night sky for those???He could'nt remember...He suddenly smiled, laughed at himself.....the farthest he could see was the HR's cubicle, yup his PM's cubicle was also visible......The Sky.....nowhere in sight..........

ATHOS, PATHOS AND CHAOS
eWork - no works. That’s how my project is known among onsite folks. What is eWorks? Well it is a cluster of 7 applications which are used for tracking various marketing needs in . (This is how I introduced my project in front of the client during their recent visit to Hyderabad).


- What is work that u do from here?

- We maintain and support these 7 applications. Add new functionalities to the already existing applications in the form of change requests, handle several data issues, and take care of tickets that the actual users raise when they face any problems while working with the applicarions.

What followed was a twist of the lips and nod of the head.

- Great said todd. Keep up the good work. We depend on you people. A forced smile and then they move on to the next cubicle.

Big deal!! They go back home with remembrance of several brown girls in salwar kameez and even more blurry brown faces of over enthusiastic, smartly dressed guys who talk in a funny English accent about God knows what….But they love India, Poor hungry India. Incredible India!

That was my fifteenth, in a row. A big wide one, bringing tears to my eyes. The yawns are going beyond my control. Tears are now flowing down in a steady stream from my eyes. Suneela notices that.

- Why are u crying? What is wrong? She is epitome of concern and care.

Rajeshwar, rajesjwari every pounces on me with interest.

- i am sad, says i.

- Do not joke, since u have come back from home, u have become quite, u do not speak so much, and now u are crying. What is wrong?

- i bbbbroke up with my gg ggg girlfriend...i cannot control myself anymore..i break down..sob sob...

Show is over. People go back to staring at their respective monitors while the restless hands plays on the hapless keyboard.

The startling green of the Khajjier valley stare at me from my desktop. There was a light drizzle. Annie stayed back in the car. The great boss(a frnd) lingered through the pine his lower back imitating a pendulum in action. The umbrella looking teenie compared to his humungous physique. Borda, sourav,

me ventured into the wet meadow. A little appehensive of the tricky mood of the many roaming horses.

Sourav unleased is always a treat to watch. He was dancing and jumping in the rain, borda always edging him on, reminding me of mera naam joker. I the quintessential photographer, was ever alert of the crazy antics of sourav and borda, to capture them in my camera.

It was fun, dancing around in the rain, barely using our umbrellas. Mountains have their own serene, mystic beauty in the monsoons. The huge moutains playing hide and seek with the clouds, creates an eerie atmosphere.

A cup falls and breaks somewhere in the floor. Some people clap and rejoice at the destruction. The species who can rejoice at destruction. We all rejoice at destruction. Not only Taliban or Al Quaeda. Some rejoice when their worst enemy gets destroyed in that football match against that some XYZ team, some are more sadistic and rejoice when they could successfully decimate some foriegn captives. Animals are much simpler. They only know love or hate. They do not know to disguise love with hate or hate with love.

My desktop again stares back at me. Almost with a sarcastic laugh. It's the laugh which the girl gives to her endless list of lovers, who know she'll never be their's. Khajjier mocks me. Tells me. O u pseudo adventurer..that is all u will ever have of me. An hour of ur life u have spend in admiration on my meadows. u have admired my grass, my mountains and how those clouds flirt with me. Then u capture me in a camera. Sit in that sophisticated cage of ur s. And u think of me. If u like me so much, then come to me...profess u r love for me..and stay close to me..and i'lll show u that i can also love u back. I may not be the brainy, self rightous species u r. But i have my ways..I can make u happy...come to me..if happiness is all u want.....

'Something is really wrong with this guy...now he is blankly staring at his desktop'

To Do or Not tO do That iS thE prObLeM...

"All the talk about balancing work and  personal life is bullshit. If you like what you are doing then it is all your
personal life."
The thought is about doing what you really like to do in life. It's about following your passion. Trying to build value around your strengths. It is said that it is better to build on your strenths than to try to better your weaknesses.
To turn your strength your weakness is the worst thing you can do to yourself. The thought makes you think. There are many people who love what they are doing and most often than not they are the successful ones(or the successful ones are the ones with rich dads). The very fact that we are stuck doing something we do not like is testimony to the fact that we are mediocre.
Difficult to digest? Some people may say that maybe you are stuck with something that you do not like now, but later you started doing something that you really liked and you became very successful. Does it mean I am still mediocre? Of course not. If you have attained success in a field that you are passionate about then you have potential to be the best. And you are no longer mediocre. But if you get success in some field that you are not passionate about then it is more likely that that success is momentary. And it is for sure that you will never be the best in that field.
There are people who say that you need to go through the grind to be able to do what you like. I may like to farm, I may like to teach. But to farm I need a farmhouse and land which requires money to buy. To teach I have to pass exams and get degrees and build credibility.
Yes that is how it is for us, the mediocre. We have to go through the grind to follow our passion at a later point of life. But that was not the case with "Will Hunting" of Good Will Hunting:The movie. He is a genius who works as a janitor and solves assignments of MIT students for timepass. When asked how he manages to do it like that, he says that when Mozart played the piano he did not have to think of the notes and
decide which note to play after the other. He just played. It came naturally to him. Will said all this mathematics came naturally to him. He did not have to think of steps.
I guess we all should strive to find out what is that we are a natural at. What is that field that we can do without thinking and stressing our grey cells. That is only way out of mediocrity. And one of the ways to Happiness.