Good Morning Mumbai

शहर की इस दौड़ मै दौड़ के करना क्या है

अगर यही जीना है तो फिर मरना क्या है

पहली बारिश में ट्रेन लेट होने कि फिक्र है,
भूल गए भीगते हुए टहलना क्या है.

सीरीयल के किरदारों का सारा हाल है मालूम,
पर माँ का हाल पूछने कि फुर्सत कहाँ है,

अब रेत पे नंगे पाँव टहलते क्यों नहीं,
एक सौ आठ हैं चैनल पर दिल बहलते क्यों नहीं,

इन्टरनेट से तो दुनीया से तो टच में हैं,
लेकिन पड़ोस में कौन रहता है जानते तक नहीं,

मोबाइल, लेन्डलाईन सबकी भरमार है,
लेकिन जिगरी दोस्त तक पहूँचे, एसे तार कहाँ हैं.

कब डूबते हुए सूरज को देखा था याद है
कब जाना था शाम का गुज़रना क्या है.

तो दोस्तों शहर की इस दौड़ मै दौड़ के करना क्या है
अगर यही जीना है तो फिर मरना क्या है

Aur Piyo

Aur piyo beta daba ke Moroccan Coffee, dekha neend nahi aa rahi hai na?? [:D]


*5:00 AM*

Winds of Change?

Man!!! Feels great to write again. It is like I found my glasses after looking for them a long time, those who’ve never worn one, don’t worry, you’ll never know what it means to get back your clarity of vision after temporarily being denied of it.
I couldn’t be in a better ambience, loud music, loud noises all around me, a hookah to my lips, Moroccan caps floating around distributing exotic blends. Ah! Bliss!
A lot of water has flown under the bridge since my last post. If I try to explain the feeling, it’s been like Lady Life has grabbed me by my collars, shook me hard and screamed in my face, “I’M A BITCH KIDDO, GROW UP!”
That was hard! It shook out the last bits of the college kid hanging onto me (you can refer the previous post for oodles of it).
I shall not attempt to dispense the lessons I have been learning the last few days, for then I will sound like one of those world weary cynics, I hate Woody Allen, and have no intension of sounding like his clone.
Well whats been happening with my life recently? Trying to get settled in to a routine life, trying hard to get worried about the same things day in and day out and making sure everyone else gets worried similarly too.

I’ve got a nice little cocktail brewing in my head right now, as business strategy gets mixed with cell phone lights in a Strings concert at TOAT, as cocktail dinners mingle with the bread-butter-chini-chai-sutta at Bhaskar’s, as supply chain gets confused with the cribbings of Mishraji (he of the cycle repair shop at Patel), as marketing tactics become goofy acts on stage, long time since ‘finance’ meant free coupons and arranging treats. Things have changed, being in the limelight will probably never have its literal meaning ever again, how sad is that! Never again will words of wisdom be traded for a packet of cigarettes or a bar of candy. Never again will there be a road that has no beginning and no end.

Now, why did I suddenly talk about the past? Well the aroma and the music did it I guess, the two biggest aphrodisiacs for nostalgia, but soon that will change, soon the new music will no longer take me back to those days, soon the new smells that blow with the wind will land flat on emptiness.



The present has become the past and what was once a distant future has hit me like a runaway truck.


Promise regular posts from now on. Less funda and more fun.

An Elf's Gift

A friend of mine wanted a poem to along with a gift he was presenting someone, he asked me to write one for him. I hadn't tried one for a long time so I said why not. Somehow my poems never grew along with me, they stayed at the age of a 10-12 year old writing a rhyme. I tried something "grown-up" but then gave up.
As I wrote, the rhymes from Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory came into my head, and I decided to give that tone a try...
Not everything rhymes, but I hope you have fun reading it.

Looking high and looking low
That’s me there,
Digging with a hoe,

Searching far and Searching wide,
That’s me there,
By the ogre’s side,

Traveling near and traveling far,
That’s me there,
In that rickety car,

And then…

An elf stops me and says,
“why this hurly why this burly,
Why running for so many days…

Sit with me and have some ale
Take a breath,
And tell me your tale.”

He hears my story,
He scratches his beard,
He clicks his toes,
He wiggles his ears,
He shouts at a gnat,
And tickles a rat,
Then he even eats his hat!

And then…

He pulls out a box,
From the pocket of his little green coat,
Puts it in my hand and says…
“Give this to the lady and hope she will smile,
Or else I’ll turn into a frog for quite some while!”

You may believe my story or you may not,
But this be the way this gift I got.


I leave for those who know me to guess what I asked for in return for my services...

What do you have to say?

In view of the recent happenings in Kgp :


Should you get stuck in semantics and assume any sort of interaction between a senior and junior can be categorised as ragging?
What happens to a 2nd year guy entering into Patel Hall of Residence or any hostel in IIT Kharagpur cannot be called ragging.
Ragging, especially in case of engineering colleges has gruesome images of countless slaps till you are red in the face, and acts that are meant to degrade the individual.
When a second year enters a senior hostel for the first time of his life, he has been told enough number of horror stories to have more than just an apprehension of entering the hostel, he is petrified, I know because I have been through it myself.
Since the initiation to the hall is carried out almost surreptitiously it gives the impression that people carrying out the activities are fulfilling some sort of carnal desire in troubling the new entrant.
Here is what is expected of a second year to do and I would like one individual to stand up and tell me that this is not something that one doesn't need in life, or for someone who's been through the process, that he would have learnt all this all by himself:

1. He's expected to participate in as many sports and socio-cultural events as possible.

2. He's expected to know each of his batchmates names.

3. He's expected to know all his seniors names
It is an extremely proud moment when a senior comes upto you and says, you don't have to call me sir or bhaiya or anything of that sort, the only difference between you and me is that I was born a year or so before you. When a guy you look upto, comes to you and says this, believe me it feels really great. Almost each and every senior of mine in Kgp said this to me. I still can't forget the feeling.

4. He's expected to know the names of all the hostel staff including the mess staff and refer to them by their name and with proper respect.

5. He's expected not to stay glued to the computer at all times.

If learning all these is called ragging, well then I've been ragged all my life, first by my parents, now at work, but then again i'm having a ball of a time being ragged and consider myself a better individual for it.


Anyone reading this and not agreeing to what I say is free to get in touch with me.

Who Let the Dogs Out?

Hello all!

Long time since I started writing something, and well a lot has happened at my end. I finally bid goodbye to my home for five years, good old Kgp. Had an amazing weekend at Pune. Gorgeous city. It’s called the Oxford of the east and very suitably so, it feels like one huge college campus. Young, inherently beautiful, people all around, shops that suit the palates of youth, in all …quite nice.
Well there is one incident I encountered Pune, which I would like to share with you (being me, I had more than my share of such incidents but this one is really something, it was life threatening and it was only my high intellect and ingenuity which helped me escape…read on o enchanted reader.).

Well I was staying at Mohit’s place and the day I was supposed to come back to Kgp was a Monday, so Mohit left me the keys to his place (the ground floor of a duplex in a residential area) with instructions to drop in the key through a window after I had locked the place, he had his own copy of the key so the plan seemed quite alright to me. This was around 10 am. Around 1 pm I decided to go for lunch to a place 15 minutes walk away. Had my fill and came back to see, two ferocious, and I mean it when I say ferocious, dogs, huge fangs, frothing mouth, the whole works, roaming in the backyard of the house. As they saw me approaching the house they came charging at me, fangs, froth and all. I backed off, rang the bell, called the landlord down and made him put his dogs back into the kennel. The landlord admonished Mohit for bringing unannounced guests to his place and scolded me for …well …being the unannounced guest.
The story ain’t over yet.
This was around 2. At 4 pm I pack my bags and decide to leave for station after dropping in on Chhaavi. So I have a reconnaissance mission around the house to see if the dogs are out yet. I see a bit of dog poo but no dog, hence coast clear. I lock the door. Drop the key into the window, it clinks to the floor, everything going a-ok. And then…I turn around…

THE DOGS HAVE BEEN LET OUT!

They have their backs to me and havn’t seen me yet. I back up to the end of the backyard.I look around in panic. My mind races through the options.

1. Take a chance with the dogs, might have seen their owner let me in and hence realize that I’m a character to be trusted.
Assumption: Ferocious dogs capable of complex logical conclusions.
If Things Go Wrong Scenario: End up horribly mangled, loose out on limbs and generally disturb the peace of the land with blood curdling screams (believe me, I’m capable of that).
Final Conclusion: Option not viable.

2. Call up M and ask him to call up his landlord and ask him to recall his dogs.
Naah! I end up making a fool of myself in front of too many people.

3. Go back into the house.
Rush back to the window stretch my hand in, nopes, not a chance. I had done too good a job of throwing the keys in.

4. Climb nearby parapet and sit around like a monkey till the landlord comes out.
Makes me look more like a suspicious character, the dogs might not like that. Moreover, not sure if the dogs can’t reach the parapet. Mental image of me sitting hunched up on the parapet while the dogs snap at my feet. Aaargh! No! Option kataa.


5. Salvation. A chest high steel net fence separates the next lot. Hallelujah!

Quick! Victory dance later, escape first.

I drop my bag over, it lands with a heavy clomp. Wince, waiting for the dogs to come charging in at the sound. Nothing. Put one foot onto the flower pot and one on the fence. Turn around and see the lesser ferocious dog staring at me with head cocked to one side. As if asking, “…and what do you think you are doing?” I look around, no sign of his partner. I stand still and look into his eyes. He keeps looking, no barking, no charging. Good dog. I climb over and land next to my bag. Hope no one’s looking, I look so like a burglar now. Dog now looks alarmed. Still doesn’t bark. Maybe he recognized me after all. Maybe I should have taken my chances. Anyways, I am safe now, that’s all that matters. Wave a goodbye to the poochie, brush my clothes, straighten my shirt collar and walk out the gate as cool as a cucumber.
And I’ll have my martini shaken not stirred, thank you.

Infiniti

This post dedicated to my very own HCL Infiniti. Yesterday I bid it goodbye *sniff*. Not upto a full blooded post... Thats all for now...
*boo hoo*

E-Mail

If you have two email accounts and you give each account instructions to auto-forward the messeges to the other, would things get stuck in an infinite loop? Anyone who's tried it out, please let me know.

[:D]...havn't slept for 2 days...something like this was bound to happen.

Answer this...

Just one question:

If an NGO asks permission from the Director of our institute to set up a free condom vending stall inside the campus, knowing him as someone highly protective of tradition and at the same time always politically correct, would he say yes or would he say no?

Tagged!

Tagged again! Double whammy this time fundoome and souvik.

This reminds me of school, when I was this plump kid with super short legs and would get tagged in every game of chase or hide and seek. It almost made me believe that these games were invented so that everyone else could have fun at the expense of short fat kids. Out here too I guess I'm vulnerable to being tagged, but well, even back then I would huff and puff and desperately attempt to catch my classmates, all of whom seemed to be direct descendents of Carl Lewis. Here too I shall huff and puff and try to fulfill the desires of people who have tagged me.

The rules of the game

1. The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover
2. You have to mention the sex of the target.
3. Tag 8 victims to join this game and leave a comment on their comments saying they've been tagged.
4. If tagged the 2nd time, there's no need to post again.

Well here goes:

First I'll list the only two points for a perfect partner I had decided long back in school:

1. Should be cool enough to share a joke and a high 5 with me.
2. Should have no problems in touching my parents feet.

I still stick by these two points. But after school, life turned into a bitch, I decided to follow suit and got more picky and choosy about what I liked and what I didn't. Women are high on my priority list so I was pickiest and choosiest about them. Hence, continuing...

3. Should be a WYSIWYG kind of stuff.

No hidden agenda, no hidden layers of personality jumping out at the least expected moment to surprise and shock you. No Ogres are like Onions type funda.

4. Should be an optimist.

I'm almost a paranoid optimist (if such a thing exists). My favorite movie dialogue happens to be in 'Shakespeare in Love' :

Tom Wilkinson: "So what do we do? "
Geoffrey Rush : "Nothing. Strangely enough, it all turns out well."
Tom Wilkinson: "How? "
Geoffrey Rush: "I don't know. It's a mystery."

So, I'm a firm believer in the fact that things mysteriously turn out well if you don't worry about them too much. Pessimism and pessimists spontaneously combust in my vicinity and I definitely can't have one as my partner.

5. Yes, if I haven't already made it very obvious, should love watching movies. Not someone who acts like an out-of-job film critic, going around telling everyone what was wrong with what movie. Someone who has fun watching a movie, period.

6. Someone who has a million watt smile. The kind that short-circuits away all your gloom.

7. Someone who is smart enough to appreciate the fact that I am hell smart.

8. Someone who is patient enough to live with a smart and narcissitic pig for a lifetime.

Hey, you stopped it just as I was having fun! Got lots and lots more to write.

And ya, my partner should most definitely be a female.

I tag arnav, guta, sunny, sudarshan, iyer, swati, dash and last but definitely not the least chhaavi.

I'm sorry you guys, but rules you see, and probably one of the rare opportunities I get to tag someone, be it in a school playground or blog sphere.

Sirf aur sirf ... ek chocolate ke liye!!!!

THE BACKGROUND:

Guta Singh, my wingie, ate a chocolate that I had been preserving for many many days. On discovering that my prized possession was now all gone, I guess I was a little harsh on him.

When I came back I saw this on his blog. Check out my reply and especially check out my hindi :D.

sirf aur sirf ..ek chocolate ke liye!!!!!!!!

@uddu..
do read sandeep rath's comment after this..

kaise kaise dost hote hain jo hote hain sirf aur sirf ......
ek chocolate ke liye
dhikkar hai unki jindagi pe jo hote hain sirf .......
ek chocolate ke liye
dost ne dost ko kuch bhi bak diya sirf aur sirf...........
ek chocolate ke liye
4 saal ki dosti pal me bhula di sirf aur sirf.....
ek chocolate ke liye
saala chutiya types roya sirf aur sirf .............
ek chocolate ke liye
bolta hai tune khaye..ab paise do, sirf aur sirf..
ek chocolate ke liye
saale ne sharm haya sab bech khaayi sirf aur sirf
ek chocolate ke liye


Maine bhi soch liya,rone do saale ko sirf aur sirf
usi chocolate ke liye.....
Nahin dunga ek bhi paisa....
us chocolate ke liye!!!!!! :D

MY REPLY:

aisa hua ki 3 din se tha aankh sek rahaa,
khaane ki chah ko daba ke baitha rahaa

lekin ek din, jab wapas ayaa karke apna kaam,
toh poore 100gm mein bache sirf 2gm,

sutte peene waalon, aisa laga ki aakhri sutte ko koi pee gayaa,
mere cadbury orange chocolate ko koi behrami se kha gayaa,

lekin dost, agar gusse mein maine ho aisa kuch keh diya,
dubara aisa na karoonga yeh maine pran liya,

to yeh dost tumhara hai maangta maafi,
ab hans bhi do gussa ho gayaa kaafi :D

A Day Ends

"Look at the stars, Look how they shine for you, And everything you do..."

I enter my hall of residence, back from facing the cruel world. Sometimes upbeat, sometimes low, sometimes hopeful, sometimes dejected. Squinting from the sun, I park my cycle.

"I came along, I wrote a song for you..."

I wave noncommittally at someone and walk in, thinking about all that needs to be done and all that I couldn't. I wonder if there would ever be an end to all this.

"..all things I have done."

I'm now in the bowels of my hall. My favorite C block, memories of an innocence long lost come rushing in.

"...drew a line for you."

I climb the stairs, the same stairs, so many years, 8 steps to the first landing 8 to the next. I open my room. My tasks for tomorrow stare at me. One more day ends.

"...all Yellow."

Thank you Iyer for providing me a soundtrack to my life in your innumerable practice sessions. Not always appropriate but always beautiful.

Keep rocking!

Six Men of Indostan

Couldn't think of anything original to come up with, so decided to share this with you.


One of my all time favorites, have quoted this everywhere from dinner tables to interviews, to kids and to self styled "grown ups".

It was six men of Indostan

To learning much inclined,

Who went to see the Elephant

(Though all of them were blind),

That each by observation

Might satisfy his mind

The First approached the Elephant,

And happening to fall

Against his broad and sturdy side,

At once began to bawl:

“God bless me! but the Elephant

Is very like a wall!”

The Second, feeling of the tusk,

Cried, “Ho! what have we here

So very round and smooth and sharp?

To me ’tis mighty clear

This wonder of an Elephant

Is very like a spear!”

The Third approached the animal,

And happening to take

The squirming trunk within his hands,

Thus boldly up and spake:

“I see,” quoth he, “the Elephant

Is very like a snake!”

The Fourth reached out an eager hand,

And felt about the knee.

“What most this wondrous beast is like

Is mighty plain,” quoth he;

“ ‘Tis clear enough the Elephant

Is very like a tree!”

The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear,

Said: “E’en the blindest man

Can tell what this resembles most;

Deny the fact who can

This marvel of an Elephant

Is very like a fan!”

The Sixth no sooner had begun

About the beast to grope,

Than, seizing on the swinging tail

That fell within his scope,

“I see,” quoth he, “the Elephant

Is very like a rope!”

And so these men of Indostan

Disputed loud and long,

Each in his own opinion

Exceeding stiff and strong,

Though each was partly in the right,

And all were in the wrong!

And the moral? I could say paragraphs about this piece, but the poet himself puts it in the most concise way possible:

So oft in theologic wars,

The disputants, I ween,

Rail on in utter ignorance

Of what each other mean,

And prate about an Elephant

Not one of them has seen!

Aakhon hi Aakhon Mein

With the recent shaadi season looming large and people taking breaks half way through the semester to complete their responsibilities as guests to the Great Indian Marriage Ceremony(GIMC, pronounced Gymyk), a discussion sprouted in our wing: The nayan matkaing sessions during marriages/receptions.
It's the harmless flirting one indulges in such ceremonies lasting a ephemeral hour at max with a girl from the other side.

Here's how it progresses.

Step 1: Guy spots the cutest chick in the arena and stares relentlessly.
Result: Girl sees him ogling at her, gets a bit nervous.

Step 2: Guy continues Step 1
Result: Girl takes a few sideways glances with increasing frequency to check if he's still looking at her.

Step 3: Guy continues Step 1, but eases it a little bit.
Result: Now it is the other way round, girl is staring at him when he looks at her.

Surprise Step: Turns out guy and girl have some common relative/friend who brings them together, introduces one to the other and departs. But sadly, with all the previous non verbal communication, guy's lost the opportunity to start a decent hi-hello type of talk, and just stands there in awkward silence. Girl walks away even more awkwardly, pretending to find a long lost acquaintance in the other end of the arena.

Step 2 and 3 alternate for some more time.

The End: Girl departs with parents, inevitably it's the girl who departs, it's like some corollary of Murphy's law taking effect here. But here comes the sweetest moment in this short lived love story, the girl turns back to look at guy one last time from the gates. Eyes meet, Guy looks, sighs at the lost opportunity to start something beautiful and buries his face in his food.

Well who said Indian Marriages are boring affairs, it's for opportunities like this that I used to frequent marriage parties.

Yes, if you haven't guessed it yet, this account was completely based on personal experience. Laugh, if you found the above experience totally unlike you, but I'm sure there must be similar not-so-suave friends of mine who would be sympathizing with me.

Of course the point of view is totally male and I would really like some experiences from my women readers to complement the account.


PS: My story turned out a little differently once, the situation was not quite the GIMC, but the ambiance was similar, thus, similar steps were attempted but some drastic turn of events took place half way through. More on that in a later post.

My Table

*yawwwwn*
*stretch*
*scratch*
*yawwn*
*stretch*

hmmm...

*scratch*
*blank stare at winamp equalizer*

(Be yourself)
Oh-k.....

*blank stare at the clutter on table*(!)
Yes!
My table!

Ok.. the title....

hmmm....

Sandeep's Table...naaahh

Inventory of My Table.....blah!

My Table [:)] yes...chweeeet...

Two toothbrushes(or teethbrush???), i never can find it in time if there's only one.
One packet of bourbon with one last biscuit remaining.
One Brylcream Hair Gel.
One Business Today on top of monitor, suitably being warmed.
Three ties, two my dad's, one I jhaapoed during placements.
One bottle of emptied "Jovan Musk", love the smell, and works wonders on women so can't get myself to through it away.
One half empty bottle of listerine to complement a packet of 'special' bought during trying times.
CAT score card peeping at me from beneath my keyboard.
One cycle key of some poor soul I borrowed it from.
One jute bag, I have to return to somebody.
One school bag, I have to return to somebody.
One "MODERN CONTROL ENGINEERING- Katsuhiko Ogata" resting on or rather threatening to break into two a Compact Disc, whose contents I'm not aware of.
One packet of "WilmanII Premium Wilkinson Sword blade" (Where's the razor, I've been buying gillette presto-s for so long)
One Oxford Advance learner's Dictionary.
One rolled up poster of "Computer Terminology Explained".
One half of my 1.2 speakers.
One calculator I have to return to somebody.
One pen cap.
One more cal-c beneath jute bag!
One pair of scissors I have to return to somebody.
One wrist watch sans band.
One casette my sis recorded for me and sent me by courier [:)]
One cinthol orange soap.

My table
[:)]







I've got to find something better to do...