A Dreamer's Blog

Mengaobi: The Fair One

2014-08-21T03:07:00.001+05:30

One look at her and you see many emotions reflected through her eyes, serenity, passion, love and most of all, anguish. You still do not recognize or acknowledge her pathos, until you learn that she has not been eating since past fourteen years. And you wonder what it feels like to be force fed through nasogastric intubation, feed her through a tube attached to her nose?

Such people are rare who can demonstrate such relentless courage of conviction and determination in the face of intense pressure and intimidation by this hypocrite system. Irom Chanu Sharmila is rightly called as the 'Iron Lady of Manipur', a civil rights activist, political activist and a poet.

It all started on 2nd November 2000, when ten civilians were shot and killed while waiting at a bus stop in Malom, a town in the Imphal Valley of Manipur, allegedly by the Assam Rifles which is a part of the Indian Paramilitary forces under the comfortable shelter of AFSPA (Armed Forces Special Powers Act). This incident outraged the 'Iron Lady' to such an extent that she resolved for a fast undo death, unless the AFSPA was revoked.

AFSPA is apparently a law that gives the forces the right to raid without warrant, kill innocent civilians, molest them,rape them or just announce them as 'terrorist' and then kill them. Its about barging in a home at midnight and arrest their daughters, kill the males, even the kids and leave the women wailing. But all this is justified, perhaps, because this law is a 'national necessity'. Who are we fighting with? Who are we protecting? And who are we protecting from whom? All this remains a conundrum for me.

Recently a court ordered her release from custody, subject to there being no other grounds for detention. She was under custody for her 'fast' interpreted as 'attempt to commit suicide'. The casual manner in which she walked out of the court and the simplicity in her greatness was intriguing.

'How do you feel Irom?'
'It's God's will.' And her eyes wells up.
'You are crying. You should be happy. Why are you crying Irom?'
'I just got emotional...but it's a draconian law. The fight will continue.'

One often wonders about the intriguing and self-sacrificing nature of activists. What gives them the courage to stand firmly by the causes they believe in, or give up so much of their life for the well-being of others? Perhaps sometimes the inner conscience of people takes them so far that they stop fearing anything. And that's a place of ultimate peace. Irom has always maintained that her struggle is spiritual. Perhaps that's where she draws her strength from.

This particular poem titled 'Wake Up' by Irom Sharmila herself is very apt here.

Wake up brothers and sisters

The savior of the nation

We have come out all the way

Knowing we all will die

Why the fear is

So shaky in the heart?

Yes, myself too

In the impact of this hard step

Overwhelmed with anxiety and fear

With the prayer to almighty

Praising the spirit of truth

Touchily from this frail body

I am bidding farewell

Yet longing for life

Though birth is followed by death

So fond of to accomplice

My desired mission

With excerpts from The Life And Times of The World’s Longest Hunger Striker – Irom Sharmila

Wake Up

Wikipedia

Basanti Ka E-Rickshaw

2014-08-02T11:02:00.000+05:30

The perspiration accumulated right below my nose, started to feel soothing with the onset of cool breeze on that summer afternoon...almost evening. And then the wind gained pace…became ferocious...roaring…and eventually filled my hair and face with the finest quality of Delhi sand mixed with five percent silt. I was going to community center to have a cup of lemon tea and have some party time…alone.

The e-rickshaw driver asked for extra ten bucks as I was el-solo-lobo at that time. And trust me, riding on an e-rickshaw ‘alone’ for just ten extra bucks is a good bargain considering the mehengai-wale-achche-din. And this vehicle was particularly decorated with little neon lights and jhalars around its ceiling. Put a ‘Just Married’ banner and it was perfect for a romantic ride with your special one. The journey started only after he switched on music in his high decibel mobile phone imported from China I guess. The Bollywood movie song about estranged lovers played out loud…saajan mera us paar hai…milne ko dil bekaraar hai…feel like humming na? Me too and I was transformed into a different dimension.

Before we reached Okhla head, it started to rain and within no time it was like downpour. As if the shower that God was using broke down and it was direct flow from the tap. And understandably Okhla head was quite deserted, except for that damsel in distress. There she was…in her salwar suit having 16 million colors…drenched…just enough to let my imaginations run wild…eco-friendly...with those light green frame spectacles...and some gigabytes of attitude. Her eyes were like large sized peas. Man…they were green. Figure-wise she looked like a pumpkin…regular kind of pumpkin…not very big…not small either. An eco-friendly fellow rider for an eco-friendly ride…perfect camouflage.

She approached the e-rickshaw and the driver stopped instantly…paying no regard at all to our el-solo-lobo contract. I didn't mind either. She sat right in front of me…glared at me through her anti-glare glasses…took out her Sony Xperia Z and started browsing her call log. The song changed to…saat samundar paar main tere peechhe peechhe aa gayi…stop humming that gave me a chance to examine her...a little closely. And for some strange reason she seemed vaguely familiar. The combination of those eyes and those fragile specs seemed familiar, while she kept on browsing through her endless call log.

Now I had two guesses. She must be the girlfriend of any of my acquaintance...or she is a witch. The curiosity about a person who seems familiar increases many folds if she is a pretty girl. The potholed road from Okhla head to Tikona Park gifted our clothes with mud. While the rain continued.

"Do you believe that ghosts actually have a gender?"

Now that was obviously not the best conversation starter from my side, especially in those weather conditions. But I guess being different and abstract sometimes work.

"Yes they do. Or else how come some of the ghosts are helpful? Those are the lady ghosts."

"I don't think they are ever helpful. It's just a movie thing. And even if you go by movies, most of the benevolent ghosts are the male ones."

"Yeah it’s a movie thing. They have actually stereotyped the lady ghosts."

"Aww their population must be rising then?"

Now that wasn't meant to be anything naughty, but she did have a chuckle in her face.

"Yeah it is."

"But how is that even possible? I mean ghosts do not have any physical presence."

"A ghost offspring do not have physical presence too."

"Okay point. You seem to know a lot about ghosts. Am I safe in this situation?"

"Ha ha ha. Don't worry. You are safe."

"What about this scaring thing? Do they target random people or they have special liking for certain people?"

"Well...It depends on the mood."

"Hmm hmm."

"I mean if they have nothing to do and are terribly bored then anyone could be the prey. Or else they have specific targets. In general kids are fun to play with."

“Hmm reasonable. And how about ghosts being in romantic affair with human beings?”

“Only if he is six feet two and owns a Ferrari.”

That wasn't funny but I got the message, while she again got herself busy with her call log. The rain slowed a bit, the breeze was amazingly soothing with the drizzle coming to my face. I closed my eyes. The e-rickshaw kept on moving stealthily devouring whatever nature and peace could offer to mankind. And I was about to transform to yet another dimension when I was woken up.

The damsel was gone or perhaps vanished.

“Brother 20 bucks.” He seemed content with a hint of achievement in his face.

I got down, paid him the money and took out my phone. The news Live Tile updated.

Delhi High Court Bans E-Rickshaw

I cried to the same driver.

“Brother take me back. I am done here.”

He smiled, flipped his vehicle, wiped water from his face and put the music back on…kisi ki muskurahaton pe ho nisaar…kisi ke vaaste ho tere dil mein pyaar…jeena isi ka naam hai…

The Banana Theory of Gorillas

2013-04-27T22:17:00.000+05:30

Darwin was right about human beings, as the descendants of gorillas. What he failed to predict was, that, some of the stubborn genes are so resilient like a bacteria, that no mutation can improve them. And unfortunately the tropical climate of India is a favourable host for those genes and help in maintaining the heredity, generations after generations.

Let us understand this through a small experiment.

Bring together a small number of gorillas. Let’s say twenty. Now, throw ten bananas at them. What will they do? They will fight over the bananas. This is understandable. There can be a reasonable hypothesis for that. There is struggle for existence, physiological needs, survival of the fittest blah blah.

Now, bring the same twenty gorillas together. And throw ten million bananas at them. What will they do? Each gorilla will eat a stomach full peacefully and preserve the rest for future? Obviously not. They will still fight over the bananas, eat a small number and spoil the rest rendering them waste. Now, how do we reason that? Are the gorillas psychopaths? Possibly not. Perhaps it’s their basic nature to fight without a valid reason. It’s there in their genes, to fight unnecessarily.

Whatever is happening around us is not much different from the hypothesis, I call ‘The Banana Theory of Gorillas’. God made this beautiful world and more specifically this incredible country, with sufficient resources for the peaceful survival of the entire mankind. There has never been any dearth of resources in here, be it natural or intellectual (or may be pseudo-intellectual). We could easily be energy sufficient by now, given the number of rivers in our country. We could have left polio in the twentieth century with the amount of money we have spent there. We could possibly be earthquake resistant by a large margin with the intelligence available in the country. We could have been an ideal country (or a planet) where people use the resources just enough for their needs and pass on the rest for others.

Instead, we are fighting over practically everything that we can think of. Power, money, women, food, energy and the silliest of them all, religion. People from a different part of this world thought, we were a country of ‘Snake Charmers’. Inferring from what I experience all around, I see, we are even worse. 'A band of gorillas'.

Mahananda Ka Suffer

2013-01-07T02:08:00.001+05:30

Almost a hundred hours long journey deserves to be recorded. Now, before your imagination travels to a round trip of the world over, twice, let me tell you, this wasn't a world tour by a fishing boat. The journey was from Delhi to Kishanganj, a short 10 days winter vacation break and a return journey back to Delhi, all by Mahananda Express.

Well, the journey started with a 15 hour long wait at Old Delhi Railway Station. The wait would not have been much of a trouble, had I not been travelling alone and human beings were not supposed to pee. Each time you have to pee, it would cost you Rs. 2/-. Men's urinals in most places in India is a public affair. Its not that I mind it, but when you pay a couple of bucks, you do expect some privacy. So, each time I bought a coke, I thought of the additional Rs. 2/- as Pee-tax.

You come across people of 4 states in Mahananda Express; UP, Bihar, Bengal and North Eastern State (Spare me for the 4th one; my geography is poor). With 10 years of experience of travelling in that train, I have developed my own way to recognize these people from their respective states.

UP'ites...err...sorry...UP-waale are the disturbances that you encounter, when you want to stretch your legs in your reserved berth. Okay...okay...this is too narrow a definition for the entire population of a state. Let me generalize* this definition (* this generalization excludes one person from Lucknow).

'If you are waiting at any queue, the very person, who slips in the queue somewhere in the middle, is a UP-wallah. The person who tries to stop him is a Bihari. And the person, who silently watches the Bihari and the UP-wallah make a heated argument over this, is a Bengali.'

Didn't get him? Okay...let me give you another example.

'If you come across a person who says, ' neither you help me, nor will I help you', he is a Bengali. Likewise, if a person says, ‘you help me and I will help you too’, he is a Bihari. And if you find (unfortunately) a person who says, ‘you please help me, but I will NOT help you’, is sure a UP-wallah’.

If you ever wondered, who are the people who do not run the flush after using the toilet, the people who spit gutkha at all the places and the people who steal miscellaneous household things from railway coaches; the answer to all your questions is UP-waale. In fact, you could tell about them, with the sheer smell of these people. ‘If shit could shit, fart and pee; it would smell just like a UP-wallah (For one of my nagging friends – this one has been copied and modified from The Dreamers). They have pee in their name too. You see…You-Pee.

I didn’t develop any special technique to recognize the people from North Eastern states, as I could always recognize them straightway. They are lovely people though.

Few things you must know before you start a journey in Mahananda Express. Take extra care of your luggage while you are still travelling in UP. Pay attention to your footwear too, if you are at Aligarh or Kanpur junctions. Any guy might just walk in, get into your shoes or slippers and move out. Protect your hand bag, chains, mobile phones etc at Allahabad junction. And in case, you are travelling via Rampur, protect your chastity as well. Don’t get down at Mughal Sarai junction. It’s a very treacherous station. You might just miss your train.

The best lassi and peda is served at Patna junction. The best tea is served at Barauni junction. You will come across a chai-walla at Katihar junction, who will shout, ‘sab-se-kharab-chai’. Don’t miss a cup of tea from him. He serves nice tea. You will start getting fish a meal at Barsoi junction. The cheapest banana is sold at Naugachhia junction.

Apart from the food items, Mahananda Express is a running shopping mall in itself; if you planned your travel in urgency and forgot to buy gifts. Clothes: Suit piece, shirts, trousers, saris, under garments, shoes; Household items: Torch, table-fan, table-cloth, table-lamp (and in some cases the table itself); Electronic items: Walkman, camera, watches, audio cassettes, VCDs, DVDs, pen drives, charger, memory card and what not, Books, Magazines etc. There’s everything for all kind if shoppers. My recommendation – don’t bring your wife along.

And apart from all these, the kind of friendship you develop with people from Bihar, Bengal and North East, is priceless. You come across so many innocent people. They share their life with you. Their problems, dreams, hopes, fears, apprehensions, faiths and trust are all so pure. The soul of India travels in the sleeper class of Indian trains.

Hussain bhai sells 100 kg of paddy at Rs. 1000/-, which he is going to earn after 4 days of work at a factory in Delhi. He is going to leave his job of cultivation. Mahesh jee used to grow vegetables, cauliflower, cabbage, tomatoes etc. He would sell cauliflower at Rs. 3/kg, cabbage at Rs. 3.5/kg and tomatoes at Rs. 2.5/kg. He is working at a construction site in Haryana since past one and a half year. He has 6 daughters to be married off, and he needs money badly for their dowry. His final remarks were, ‘kaun pardes ja ke rehna chahta hai babu?’ There are many more similar stories. They seem like dialogues of Bollywood movies from sixties. We are in 2013 and they still exist.

Mahananda gives you ample time to bond with people. People who would pass their time cursing the train being late, people who don’t like the politics in the country, people who don’t like the corruption in India, people who do not like the climate of Delhi, people who are extra protective of their belongings, people who would like to borrow your sleepers and return them wet, people who would be dying to tell you about their salary or designation, people who would want to see all the images in your phone, people who would be dying to give you all of their gyaan, people who would share their love/sex story at the drop of a hat, people who would just not let you speak your turn and people who would sit at the upper berths and watch everyone else.

This is what Mahananda does. It brings you among people. All kinds of people. And if you are like me, someone who loves to be among people, you will never mind the train being late.

PS: Just now, I have been cheated by a Magazine seller at Kanpur junction of UP (saale ne 2011 ka magazine pakda diya 2012 ka bol ke) and I decided to write a travelogue.

Dated: January the 5^th, 2013 at 10:10 P.M.

Religion And The Great Indian Melodrama

2012-08-20T05:47:00.000+05:30

Religion is the deadliest weapon ever discovered by mankind. Three things sell in the reel life: Shahrukh Khan, Sex and Comedy. But in the real world, there's only one thing that is guaranteed to sell: Religion. Everybody is selling their religion. They appear like telecom service providers to me. And every religion claims to be the only true religion. How funny is that?

And the funnier thing is, they have scientific justification for that too. How good these people are at manipulating things? They will strongly disagree with Darwin's theory of evolution, but will readily accept when some scientific logical explanation of a natural phenomenon is in agreement with their scriptures. They tell me that, cow's dung or urine can cure cancer, just because cow is the sacred animal. How about trying human urine? They are holier than cows. Or they tell me, that their way of slaughtering the cow is painless. How crass is that? Let me just cut your finger the painless way.

Majority of the people, who can read the original scriptures; don't understand it. And yet, they have a strong faith. And by any logical explanation, I don't understand why isn't it a hollow faith; believing in something, they don't know or understand. In the first place, there are more than a million Gods in India itself. How am I supposed to know, which one is the real one or at least the mightiest one. Most part of the world just inherit their religion. What if Mother Teresa goes to heaven and they tell her.

"Sorry babe. You had the wrong religion. Can't help it. Rot in hell. We are sorry for you."

I have no doubt about the existence of God. But I doubt, he is exactly the way, these people tell me. Faith is good only if it encourages you to do good. What I experience is drastically different from what they preach. Nobody is religious behind closed doors. And nobody dare defy it in public. These people with dual standards are meek, coward and dumb. They tell me to do good, so that God forget their sins, if I turn good. They use the concept of karma so beautifully against me. If I fail at something, they would all blame my karma for it. And when I succeed, they would say that, it is because infidels would get luxuries in this world only. These weak souls try to find a way to justify their poor faith instead of finding and accepting the truth.

I fear death, and I believe, so does everybody else. But my fear is not up to that extent that I would accept each and every crap they preach me in the name of God. I have my share of doubts. And it is my birth right to have doubts. And these people can't deprive me of my doubts, until they have the right answers. Till then, let me have my doubts and let them sell their certainty.

In My Past Life

2012-07-23T00:59:00.001+05:30

This image is really mysterious. Try to figure out why, before you read further.

Gopal Kumar Yadav aka Gopi has got an envious potbelly. And he didn’t grow it overnight. In fact he has achieved it. Fifteen years of monotonous work has earned him a made to order wife from some village of Bihar, a ten year old DPS kid and a 2 BHK flat at Maharani Bagh of New Delhi.

Today he is going to fulfill his long protected dream. He is going to own a 1 BHK flat at New Friends Colony. NFC is not more than 15 minutes of walk from Maharani Bagh. But it took him 15 years to reach there.

“Good Morning Sir. You must be Mr. Yadav? I am Kamal Kumar.” A gentleman in shiny brown leather shoes greeted him. By looking at his tie and shoes, anyone could tell that he was some kind of salesman.

“Good Morning. This place…” The place seemed vaguely familiar to Gopi. It was for sure that he has not visited that compound ever. But there was something familiar about the compound, the streets, the buildings and even the parking.

“Not to worry about the place sir jee. We are giving you the best deal sir jee. Mata Ka Mandir is just five minutes of walk from here. Community Centre is hardly 10 minutes of walk from here. ” He could have continued to measure the distances in units of minutes, had Gopi not interrupted him.

“When was this apartment built?”

“Some 10 years ago sir jee. I am in this business for 15 years now.”

“There’s lift, this way?”

“Yes! Have you been here before sir jee?”

“No. Never”

More than Kamal, he himself was surprised by his own knowledge and memory, which seemed to defy his senses. How could he know such details about a place, he has never been to. He tried to recollect all the memory that lay dormant in some part of his skull. Any relative living in this colony was out of question. Moreover, none of his relatives were rich enough to own a flat at that place. Has he been here in some marriage function of a colleague?

“See. This is your mansion sir jee. And this is your huge hall…”

“We have a kitchen this side. And a balcony to the left…”

“Sir jee, you have come here before. Now I am sure.”

“No. I haven’t. Even I am surprised. May be my past life connection.”

“Sir jee. This is your bedroom. And the kitchen is to that side.”

“There must be a shaft besides the kitchen.”

“Yes sir jee.”

“Oh! This beam. This is the beam. How is this behaving in shear?”

“What? Sir jee” Kamal was puzzled to hell.

Now Gopi remembered everything, every minute detail of the building. Every beam, every slab panel, every column and every foundation below the columns; including that erratic beam which simply would not pass in shear…this was the building he had designed…some 11 years ago.

Blank Pages

2012-06-03T03:57:00.001+05:30

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 28; the 28th Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The topic for this month is 'BLANK PAGES'.

Garmi ki dopehri me,
Us purane makan ke chhote se kamre ke andar,
Shayad bahut andar,
Din ke do baje hain...
Ek toot ti si khidki hai,
Jis se kabhi haseen nazare dikhte the,
Barish ka mausam bhi hota tha,
Aur kaghaz ki kishtiyan bhi hoti thi,
Wahin paas wale parchoon ki dukan ke saamne se,
Ek pagdandi si nikalti hai,
Door pagdandi ke mod pe,
Ek jugnu ka ped bhi hai,
Jab bhi kabhi aandhi aati,
Us ped ke saakh is qadar ek doosre se lipat jate,
Goya ishq me mubtala hoon...
Ped ki chhao me,
Mohalle ke kuch bachche,
Gilli danda khelte,
Un ke beech aksar taqraar hua karti,
Shaam ke waqt beshumaar shor hota,
Haat se wapis aane wale musafiron ke cycle ki ghanti,
Bachcho ki bewajah kilkariyan,
Ek fakeer jo zor zor se chilla kar gata,
Kabootaron ki gutur goon,
Teetar bateir aur hudhud,
Mano sargam ke saaton sur chhed rahe hoon...
Aaj udhar dekhte hi nirasha hoti hai,
Jugnu ka ped ab sabz na raha,
Khada hai,
Adiyal sa,
Us ped ke khushk shaakhon ke beech se,
Ab electricity ki wires guzarti hain,
Jis pe aksar kauve baithte hain,
Kabhi kabhi ek giddh bhi aata hai,
Khamosh hi rehta hai,
Neeche pagdandi par taktaki lagaye,
Jane kya dekhta rehta hai,
Ab zyada musafir bhi nahin aate jaate idhar se,
Bas wohi fakeer dikhta hai,
Jane kya badbadata rehta hai,
Jaise is khamoshi is khalipan ko kos raha ho...
Kya tha bachpan,
Chand safed panne hi to the,
Jin me tedi meri kuch lakeerein kheench dali,
Do char rang,
Hara neela surkh syaah,
Youn hi jaldbazi mein idhar udhar bikhed dale,
Jo aaj rang birangi yaadein ban gayi hain,
Lekin,
Aaj anginat panne hain,
Jo har subah youn hi mil ja rahe hai,
Wo sab Korey kyon hain...

A tribute to all the great poets of India.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

The Gift

2012-03-11T14:54:00.000+05:30

The original idea behind this blog is of Sharique Noorul Hasan. Its just that, he is too lazy to move his fat ass.

Both the hands of my wall clock embraced themselves and my phone rang.

"Happy Valentines Day."

"Happy Valentines Day Payal. I was just going to call you."

"Yeah, I know that Shona. So, what were you doing?"

"Nothing much. Was just missing you."

"Office tomorrow?"

"Have taken off darling. Special day, special plan for tomorrow."

"Oh, I love you my cute teddy."

Girls have a different way of treating boys. At first, they are just friends, then they become boyfriends and then they become 'Toyfriends'. Well the conversation didn't end there. Somehow, the network connection went sick, then I had to call her back and it lasted for good couple of hours. Next day, I promised to meet her at Nehru Place.

Nehru Place was not much crowded today, except for the few pizza burger eating techno freaks, who surprisingly happened to own a girlfriend too apart from their iPhones. Payal arrived, clad in some form of dressing that made her look bit funny but really sensuous. I still don't know, what that dress is called. She brought a extra large bouquet and something else packed inside a velvet box. After the mandatory love greetings I said.

"We are going to see a special couple today."

Gopal Jee and Savitri Jee stay at Nehru Place bus stop. Gopal Jee must be around seventy years old. Long grey beard and wrinkles running from everywhere to everywhere on his face. Savitri Jee must have been ten years younger, but she looked the same as her husband. I have been watching them, living there, in that bus stop, for almost couple of months. They would spend their entire day staring at each others eyes. And at night, they would light a fire somehow and rest in each others arms.

They are so weak that they can't walk for begging also. Neither they have the energy to cry out loud and ask for it. And without melodrama, people don't give a penny to beggars. Poverty, winter and old age is a cruel combination. Sometimes, I used to pay them twenty rupees and they would ask for someone else's favor to bring them food. Mostly they survived on water. Sometimes I would lit my cigarette using the fire that they light up in the evening and have a chat with them. They didn't speak much though. That old couple, for some reasons caused me depression, everytime I met them. Today I met them again.

The weather is warm and sunny today.

"Ram Ram chacha..." I greet him with a smile and sit on my knees. Payal is standing beside me.

"Ram Ram beta..."

"Khana khaya ki nahin chacha?"

He didn't say anything. That meant no.

"Aur Valentines Day mana rahe hain ki nahin?" I asked.

They looked perplexed. Perhaps, they weren't aware of the new festivals that are being celebrated in the country these days.

"Aaj office nahin gaye?" He asked me.

"Nahin, aaj main ne chhutti le liya hai. Aap dono ko ghumane le aaye hain. Yeh meri girlfriend hai." I just hoped, they knew, what girlfriend meant. Payal was still standing beside me silently.

"Beta hum log ghoom ke kya karenge. Yeh to chal bhi nahin pate hain."

"Chaliye na chachi. Main inko le chalunga."

Gopal Jee smiled and that signalled his agreement. I held his arm, he got up, partly supported his weight on my shoulder and we moved to SONA restaurant.

SONA restaurant was not more than hundred meters from there. But it was like a different world for them. I asked them to order whatever they liked. Very hesitantly, he asked for 'Aloo Parantha'. And she just asked for the same. I insisted them to have Roshogulla and then Lassi too. They had everything pretty fast. She wiped the Lassi that got stuck in his moustache with the help of her Sari.

I bought two shawls for both of them. And I offered the shawls along with a five hundred rupee note to them. That old man had tears in his eyes. He almost cried, when he said.

"Beta..." He could not speak anymore.

"Arey chacha..." I just hugged him tight. And I hugged his lady love too. Gopal Jee had a twinkle in his eyes and Savitri Jee had a smile on her face. Payal too had a brief smile. Then, we said the couple good bye.

Payal and I moved to a restaurant called Barista or something. She didn't speak much, which was rare. So I grabbed the opportunity to speak.

"Valentines Day, the way we celebrate these days, is more about fashion than about love. It seems more like an Archie's Gallery promotion activity to me. India is not that poor a country to have people dying of hunger. We all can chose to make little efforts to cause big differences in others lives. A large part of our money is spent on maintaining our lifestyle and social status, which we can chose to avoid or at least cut short. I wanted to do my little part with my meagre salary. And more than that, I wanted to gift you the twinkle Gopal Jee had in his eyes, the smile Savitri Jee had on her lips and the feeling of 'I am a good human being', which is a source of absolute happiness and a bliss in solitude."

Payal listened very patiently and seemed to be in a pensive mood. I guess she was really feeling bad about the poor people for their being poor. Without much fanfare, we said our goodbyes for the day.

Next morning I had a text message from Payal, when I got up.

'Hi!

Yesterday I had a wonderful experience. My gift for this Valentines Day is due.

Love you.'

When Journey Meant More Than Destination

2012-03-04T11:22:00.001+05:30

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 25; the Silver Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The topic for this month is 'When Journey Meant More Than Destination'.

This is my first attempt at Fiction 55...

After applying the vermillion, the pundit started swinging the plate in front of the videsi memsab.
"Hurry up bhaiya!"
"You town people, hurry for everything. Are you in a hurry to live this life? Are you hurrying to die? Life is all about the journey, not the destination beta."

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7 Reasons To Prefer A Smartphone Over Girlfriend

2012-02-06T03:51:00.000+05:30

Smartphone is obviously a better choice over a Girlfriend, if you are within a 20k budget! If your budget is more than that, you should better go for a laptop or a bike or may be a car. My budget is within 20k. So I better talk about Smartphones.

Now, the first very important thing…when I say Smartphone I automatically imply a Smart boy using a Smartphone; not the ones, who buy a phone worth 20k and use it for calling and texting only. It’s like playing ‘Snakes and Ladders’ with your wife at midnight in your bedroom.

Coming back to the issue, here I present to you 7 reasons why, you should prefer buying a Smartphone than buying a Girlfriend.

1. One Time Investment: Well, you might feel for once, a little jealous with your other friend who got a Girlfriend just by investing on her all the ‘Free Text Messages’ that Airtel provided him. But trust me, his expenses does not end there…as, after that begins a series of expenses on Archie’s ugly but soft bears, dogs, cats, puppies, pigs, bitches and what not…treat for her birthday, love anniversary, her dog’s birthday, start of her periods, end of her periods…while in your case, you just feed her electricity every day for couple of hours which does not cost more than 10 bucks a month. (Do the calculations yourself.)

2. Interactive and Intelligent: Your Smartphone is intelligent, interactive and obedient…always…while his Girlfriend is non-technical, dumb and mostly irritating. Perhaps, that’s why he is seen playing with his phone on his McDonald dates. And the best of all, your Smartphone comes with a warranty for one year.

3. Beautiful and Sexy: Your thing is beautiful and sexy too. You don’t believe me? Just check out the latest Nokia Lumia 800. You just can’t take your eyes off its screen...neither your fingers. While his Girlfriend is causing a hole in his pocket for her millions of non-ecofriendly cosmetics, you just smile with your polycarbonate uni-body design chiseled to your choice and color with the right amount of curves and bulges in the right places.

4. Getting Better with Age: While your Smartphone goes on updating herself with time and getting more productive & valuable day by day…his girlfriend starts getting boring, ugly and off course nagging.

5. Loyalty: My Smartphone does whatever I ask her to do. She manages my daily schedules, my emails, my social networks, sings, dances, plays games with me…basically manages my entire life. I rely on her for everything, and she never complains for my taking her for granted. How many of those who has a Girlfriend can claim that? Especially with the ZIGGY application (SIRI for iPhone users), she talks to me, listens to whatever I say, understands my taste and choices…and obeys. My Smartphone is just mine. ‘Infidelity’ is simply out of question.

6. No Social Complications: You can just choose any phone for yourself without worrying about her religious belief, faith, caste, creed, color, ethnicity, height, weight etc. Every phone readily agrees to be with you, only if you promise to pay a certain amount. You can be with her as long as you wish. And despite all her love for you, if at all you want to separate with her, she comes up with a big heart and accepts another master…silently…without any crocodile tears and emotional drama.

7. Saves from Girlfriends: If all the above things could not convince you, then certainly this one will. If you make the right choice, it will save you from billions of irritating things that your girlfriend uses to irritate you, ranging from…random item relocation in your place…unwanted ‘Organization’ of your stuff…constant overdressing…she’s late for everything…the sheer amount of toiletries she needs…she whines about everything (Work, another woman’s hair, her own hair, her thighs, another woman’s thighs, the weather, her mother, your mother, your socks; it really doesn’t matter what the subject is, because she can and will whine about everything. Things that guys don’t even think about seem to irk women, and they all come out when a girlfriend takes root in your life)…and then...millions of pillows and soft toys…her ‘Tears’ at the drop of a hat (It could have been because she stubbed her toe, or it could have been because she thought she stubbed her toe, and the idea of stubbing her toe was stressful enough an event to cause her to cry. Whatever the case may be, she cries at least once a week for what seems like no discernible reason. Technically, there’s always a reason, but it almost always winds up existing solely in her own head)…her selectively perfect memory…her constant guilt-tripping…somebody stop me please…I can go on…

So, the next time you have some surplus money, make the right choice. And besides, who knows…you might go to buy a Smartphone and you get a Girlfriend free.

A Lady Ghost In My Bedroom

2011-11-10T23:40:00.001+05:30

See I am not going to argue on this. The confirmed gender of ghosts is 'female'.

Perhaps, that is why, ghosts have always fascinated me.

Recently, I had an extra ordinary...ekdum dil ko dehla dene wala...encounter with a real ghost.

I have a strong faith that, a ghost is residing with me, in my room… bedroom actually. Inanimate things play ‘hide and seek’ most often. There’s always someone playing with the bathroom tap, kitchen utensils and million miscellaneous things inside the shaft. The lady upstairs produces strange moaning sounds at almost unthinkable hours of the day. I always make sure that, all the lights of my flat are switched off before I leave for office; only to find them switched on when I return home.

My roommate has thousands of possible justification for all these activities. This is the real problem with science and education. They sometimes make things unnecessarily complicated and boring. Why enter the vicious circle of reasons, logic and explanations, when you can simply choose to believe. ‘There’s a ghost in our room.’ Ignorance is such bliss and most often vastly interesting.

Only if, we had known, that, this scientific knowledge is not only complicated, but far more dangerous too. To cut the long story short, we decided to keep track of the ‘light’ thing.

Day 1: We both switched off all the light before going to office. Nothing happened that evening.

Day 2: No miracle happened.

Day 3: Same story repeated.

Now, this made him conclude, that, it was nothing but the usual ‘chemical locha’ in my head.

Today was the fourth day. My roommate was still in his office. I came home early, only to find all the light switched on this time. And not only that, this time, the fan was also running in full speed. The same fan which was not repaired throughout the entire summer.

I narrated the story to my roommate. He expressed his concern in perfectly religious terms, but I guess, he didn’t actually believe in the story. So, I decided to write a blog on the incident.

I clicked the above picture. Now, in order to give the readers, a real feel of the spookiness of the place, I opened the window and then clicked the image.

‘The image could not be found in the gallery.’

I checked all kinds of settings that my phone could afford to have. I checked memory status, battery status and everything. I took almost ten trials…no success. Somehow, I gathered courage, took my roommate’s phone and clicked. Still no image in the gallery could be found. Now, I was so afraid, that, I used the hand fan to shut the window and then I clicked using my phone. Crystal clear image in 3.2 mega pixel was the result.

After all these, I have two questions.

1. Are you really able to read this blog?

2. Are you able to see the above image?

Do tell me, whether I am actually writing a blog, or it’s just hallucination. Or at least pinch yourself once. If you think, that you are sitting in front of a real computer and reading a real blog, then maybe you should…think again.

PS: My Supernatural Girlfriendwas perhaps the sister ghost of this ghost.

Pops I want to Marry

2011-09-02T01:07:00.000+05:30

Dear Pops,

What is the upper age limit for marrying?

This is an inevitable question and you can’t procrastinate it anymore. And please don’t tell me, there isn’t any. Well the Indian constitution does define the lower limit of 18 for females and 21 for males, but I guess that needs an amendment. There must be an upper limit as well. Or else, we would continue to see those hateful 40 something beasts marrying the under 20 damsels.

I hope you do remember all those qualifications we were looking for, while we were finalizing the groom for my sister. We made sure; he was not very aged and balding. The girl that you will decide for me is also someone’s daughter.

I know, you still think that I am not mature enough and you will continue to think the same way all through your life. After all I am your son. And so does every Indian father for their sons. But trust me; our whole life is a journey of growing up. People get mature by experiencing things, not by just attaining age. Some desires also are inevitable and unfortunately they lead people towards profane behavior. I hope; you do understand what I mean.

Financial stability and social security are just a state of mind. Life will always seem to have urgent temporary issues to deal with, everyday. Life will never tell you that you are financially stable and socially secure enough to marry. So, please don’t tell me that, when marriage is destined (programmed) it will happen spontaneously. We are human beings, not programmed devices. We have to decide and actualize our destiny.

I know; sad memories of some marriages haunt you, which were performed at early age. But I have thousand examples of marriages, which were performed at later stage of life, and even they weren’t successful. Honestly age doesn’t determine the success of a marriage. What actually does is the conviction.

People should marry at an age, when they are still young at heart, mind, body and soul. And I am totally convinced that this is the perfect time for me.

So please, take your time (considering the urgency of my emotions) and decide what is suitable for me.

Also remember that the latest iPHONE is amazing and it would look great in your hands.

Love

Your Son.

My Anna-shan Against Hypocrisy

2011-08-25T13:10:00.002+05:30

‘Jaanu…what are your plans for this Sunday and the holiday on Monday? Let’s do something different na…’

‘Yeah baby…I was thinking of joining the ‘Anna-shan’…You see corruption is at its peak.’

‘That’s a great idea. Let’s go shopping today. We need to buy few Indian flags, a carpet, candles etc.’

‘Yeah…Certainly…Please remind me about the ‘I am Anna’ Gandhian cap also.’

‘Please do check in Google for some of the catchy slogans going around there.’

Indians are very poor, less creative and hypocrite when it comes to protests, in support of or against something. We are left with very few ideas;ranging from Bhookh Hadtaal Till Death (Which rarely capitalize to death), Candle March (Blame the Rang De Basanti bells, still ringing), Jail Bharo (The Munna-Circuit philosophy that, going to jail is not bad at all), Dharna (I won’t move my ass till you kick on my butts) and the evergreen Peace March (No comments on that), whenever it comes to protest against some social (read politically active) cause. And the real problem is, we don’t even realize, how boring our ‘Anna-shans are.

The latest hot flavor is the ‘Anna led Anna-shan’, against corruption or black money or the ruling government or something…I really don’t give a damn to their agendas. That’s an issue for high ‘Pseudo-intellectual’ debate. This old man is refusing to eat. I guess because, he has reached an age, when he needs to fulfill his self actualization needs. Or maybe, after the death of the father of ‘Anna-shans’ (I am sure you know the name), after almost 64 years, there is a void for the post. This old man is just filling in for him. I really don’t know how this is going to benefit the so called common man. Or, how he is going to stop me from giving undue advantage to the sexiest colleague I work with. Or, how he is going to stop all mediocre boss shitting over their smart juniors. Shit reminds me of another ‘Anna-shan’.

Another recent bullshit was the ‘Besharmi Morcha’ aka ‘Slut Walk’, performed by around 500 odd girls and few human beings of the middle sex. The very mention of Slut Walk brought the pictures of the march, that was celebrated in Toronto, Canada and the world over; in some part of my highly responsive retina. I was so excited about the march, that I made so many changes to my ever busy schedule to make sure of my presence there (Obviously I don’t give a damn about their hypocrite issue. I just wanted to see the abundance of fatness in right places). For the first time in my life, I felt that India is really growing up. And, what I was presented, is well known to you all. I have aptly named it as ‘Delhi’s Behenji Morcha’. I felt so cheated by all those hypocrite women. None of the girls could be seen in anything better than jeans and t-shirts. All you ‘Besharmi’ supporting girls, if you really want me to change my thinking about your issue, pay me back all my money and time that I have wasted in that wild goose chase.

The only creative protest march that I came across, off late, was the Chaddi March done by young kids in the movie 'Chillar Party' Something like that has to be done, to bring back India on the tracks.

PS: Top 5 wacky ways to protest (Courtesy: www.google.com)

1. Mismatch and wear the most outrageous coloured clothes (eg pink pants, parrot-green shirt and orange shoes).

2. Wear funny hats (with horns, bells or mushrooms) to work or school.

3. Stage Eat-all-you-can strikes (but still call it a 'Hunger Strike').

4. Spray perfume at places with stinky walls.

5. Mass meditate under the Peepal tree in New Road.

6. Build whatever was broken down during previous protests such as pedestrian bars.

7.Symbolic demonstration: carry broomsticks and make everybody sweep the streets to signify 'cleaning up whatever needs to be cleaned up'.

8. Go swim in Bagmati, Bishnumati, or Tukucha.

9. Hug, shake hands, and give a candy to all the policemen you meet.

10.Wear a tyre (truck, car, cycle, according to your size) around your waist and do a collective hula dance in Tundikhel.

Friends Freedom and Magic

2011-08-16T18:36:00.003+05:30

It’s 12 a.m. of 15^th August2011.

Sharique is explaining to me about the pros and cons of a bureaucratic organization. What is the real meaning of bureaucracy and how bureaucracy forces the employees to work in their level of incompetency? You keep on getting promoted to the next level, if you are efficient in the previous level. And your promotion gets stuck or delayed at a level where you are most incompetent. So you end up spending more time at your level of incompetency.

This is definitely a privilege to be friends with an IAS aspirant.

‘Let’s go out yaar…’

‘Yeah sure… Let’s call Aariz, Chunni Babu, Naiyar Jaan & Sabahuddin.’

We reached Okhla head, only to find out that none of the faggots has reached there before us, and it started raining. As usual, Pillu bhai’s tea aggravated the sensible bakwaas that is always present in abundance inside my newly found cute pot belly. It was still raining, and that was slowly, but certainly killing the chances of our esteemed night out. We were hiding inside a shed, puffing out the frustration when I spoke.

‘You know something. When you give unlimited authority to someone, there are 100% chances that he will misuse it.’

‘Yeah…that’s true.’

‘See the case of God. We did give him unlimited authority. Now you see his cheap trial at ruining our night.’

‘Poor fellow…He does not know that our spirit can’t be shaken.’

‘Yeah…make a call to those faggots.’

He rang Aariz, who is still a male person.

‘You fucking bitch…why haven’t you come yet?’

‘Yaar…it’s raining!’

‘Are you a ‘maati ka putla’ that you will dissolve in the rain? You slut, come soon.’

‘Okay…15 minutes…Well…10 minutes’

Who says, only your girlfriends can be demanding? He did come within 10 minutes, all drenched, and suddenly, all my fears of getting wet, vanished. We voluntarily moved out of the shed and hugged each other. It started raining heavily. We started walking in the rain from Okhla head to Jamia College to Batla House to Zakir Nagar to Bharat Nagar.

Bharat Nagar was calm and silent except for the music of the rains. Strangely I was feeling as if I was marching towards eternal peace. We moved, splashing, jumping, and singing; rather yelling at the misfortune of those cowards who were rotting in the comforts of their rooms. We weren’t walking as if we were the king, rather as if we didn’t give a shit about, who the king was. It is one of those times when you really feel that you could conquer the world, but you don’t give a damn about the world too. You feel as if you are at the top of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.

We went to a shop in Zakir Nagar called ‘Javed ki famous Nihari’…famous indeed it was. Literally people were bustling and jostling to get the ‘Paaya’ and ‘Nihari’ as if this was some delicacy which would make them immortal. You could not buy it, you had to achieve it. We got a coke bottle, cigarettes and moved further.

That was one time of the day, I felt really free. If I wished to piss on that bottle and throw it at someone, I could do that too, though we didn’t do that. But we did piss to irrigate the saplings of trees, nicely protected by MCD officials, with both our arms wide open and looking up above the sky. I tell you, you can never match the joy of pissing like that in such a situation.

The rain slowed down a bit. We were walking silently now. A thought crossed my mind. I was just arranging the words to make a sentence, when Sharique spoke before I could.

‘Yaar…this is more entertaining than fornication.’

I was dumbstruck. A loud, but a half shout came out of me. This was exactly what I was going to say. Before Sharique could realize the amazing coincidence, Aariz yelled even louder, and this time a full shout.

‘God damn it…even I was going to say the same.’

We all started hugging each other in disbelief and frenzy. A loud shivering commotion followed. And then, we started enjoying silently, getting a feel of the chilling breeze. Some integral part of my body shrunk to a couple of inches, almost one third of its normal size.

Perhaps out of shame.

Perhaps I will always remember this night, when we celebrated the true spirit of Friendship, Freedom and ‘Paaya’…

Pathos of an Engineer

2011-07-17T22:36:00.001+05:30

Engineers are one of the most underrated professionals in India. And the reason behind this, are the Engineers themselves.

“Engineers have made the life of people unnecessarily easy and simple.”

Any retard becomes eligible to use a smart-phone, just because he has enough bucks in his wallet. This is just not done. You have to be smart to use a smart-phone.

Take the case of Doctors. These useless creatures used to carry some herbs in a jute bag and used to roam around in villages to loot ailing people. We gave them stethoscope, syringe, needle, forceps, X-ray machine, ECG machine and what not. And today, these buggers are making twice the money we make.

Any common retard is enjoying all the luxuries, we engineers developed after years of hard work. And then, they underpay us for our genius efforts. We just won’t let their life be simple anymore.

How easily they read the number displayed in a bus, and cause unnecessary unimportant crowd? The number displays of public buses should read like this.

First solve the above equation and then get to know the bus number and the desired route. And obviously, if you are unable to solve the above equation, you do not qualify to use a calculator either. To buy a gel pen, you have to tell the chemical composition of the pigment used and the working mechanism of the ink reservoir and the barrel. To get a bottle of mineral water, you at least have to know the atomic numbers of hydrogen and oxygen. All the cold drink cans should be password protected after you buy them. You can get the password only if you solve the puzzle printed on the can itself. And you will get only three trials. After the third trial, the cold drink will turn into shit.

To buy a calculator, you at least have to be a diploma holder in any engineering discipline. To buy a smart-phone, you have to submit your B. Tech mark sheet along with a written test. To buy a laptop, you should have a PhD. thesis in your name. To be able to sign up for Facebook, you should have invented something of large social use or given any scientific theory duly acknowledged by Massachusetts Institute of Technology. And to be able to sign up for Google+ you should possess all the above qualities.

Jokes apart. India is not a very technologically advanced country. And the reason is that, we do not celebrate technology or creativity. We celebrate politicians. We celebrate movie stars. We celebrate cricketers. And then we celebrate corruption. We celebrate money (The commerce guys make a living out of that). We celebrate kinship. But we never celebrate technology. Mark Zuckerberg is a celebrity in America. I don’t think Sir Chandrasekhar Venkata Raman, Venkatraman Ramakrishnan, Dr. Har Gobind Khorana and Dr. Subramanyan Chandrasekhar were ever considered as celebrities in their own country. They are often referred as boring creatures in the cool language. And that is why we don’t see a Mark Zuckerberg in India. Very rarely people want to go to the research field. We are alienating ourselves from the real deal and making ourselves dependable on the cold countries.

Today, as a part of my anti-boredom campaign, let’s celebrate the spirit of technical education and let’s celebrate being engineers.

All Izz Well...2

2011-07-08T12:26:00.002+05:30

Every morning I get up and decide.

‘Today I will stay happy.’

On most of the days, I am happy. But as a matter of fact, there are days when I do not live up to my expectations. And that is because; my happiness is related to the happiness of few more persons. So today, I take the pain to educate all these ignorant people about the simple fact in life that, ‘Situations may not be at your control, but staying happy is completely your choice.’

Let us understand this by using Stephen Covey’s 90/10 principle.

10% of life is made up of what happens to you. 90% of life is decided by how you react. We really have no control over 10% of what happens to us. We cannot stop the car from breaking down. We cannot escape getting drenched or falling in a ditch while going to office. We cannot escape getting stuck in a traffic jam. We cannot sometimes escape bird shit falling over us. (My bird shitting accident rate is 3 Nos. per year.) We sometimes also cannot escape our boss shitting on us. We cannot escape a flat tyre, a common cold, an ATM failure or a pimple. We have no control over this 10%.

The other 90% is different. We determine the other 90% by our reaction. You cannot control a red light. But you can control your reaction. Don't let people fool you; YOU can control how you react. Let’s take an example.

Your boss is shouting at you for no genuine reasons.

Reaction 1: You start an argument, trying to justify your point. You forget that your boss is an ass. You come to your desk. You punch over your workstation. The coffee spills over important documents. You shout at the housekeeping boys. (Next time, they spit on the coffee before they bring it for you.) You leave from office. You shout at the driver for traffic jam. Your roommate has arranged a surprise for you. You shout at him too. He does not allow you to have pleasure with him that night.

Reaction 2: Graciously you accept whatever your boss says. You come back to your desk. You make a cartoon of your boss and upload it on Facebook. (There are many other ways too:Fire your boss.)You get numerous funny comments on it. All your friends curse your boss together. You show the cartoon to the housekeeping staff as well. They sympathize you. You feel nice. You leave office, enjoy the drive. You get stuck in a traffic jam. You enjoy Facebook. You reciprocate the surprise arranged by your roommate. And you spend the night with pleasure, with your roommate.

Always try to make yourself believe that, things could have been even worse than they are. Your daughter has failed in exams. You can choose to curse her, shout at her and cut down her pocket money. Or you can choose to believe that things could have been even worse. She could have been addicted to smoking, drinking, drugs, boyfriends, had sex with a stranger and get pregnant and stolen all your money and gave it to the stranger. You can choose to encourage her or promise her an i-phone. She can do exceptionally well in her exams next time.

Never let the ‘It’s okay’ attitude die within you. Always remember, life is what we make it. At every point of your life, you will have only two options. Either you react with a smile or you react with a frown.

The choice is yours. Learn to say.

All Izz Well....!

Imperfect Love Story

2011-06-22T01:59:00.000+05:30

Old Delhi railway station never looked so beautiful. I had my semester exams after 36 hours, and I had not slept since past 36 hours. The entire electrons in my body were violating the basic law of atomic physics. They were in the outermost orbit, all of them. I had never felt more alive than today. And all of these were, because I got a text message, a couple of hours ago.

“Hi
Going to Jaipur via Delhi…
Just boarded Rajdhani…
B-6”

20 more hours to go… Could not wait at home…What if there happens a vehicle strike. What if I fall asleep and never wake up. 20 hours is nothing. I have waited 7 years.

7 years must have changed a lot of things. Let me close my eyes. Let me picture, how she would look. What she will be wearing. Blue was her favorite color. But she looked divine when she wore white. And that 440 volt smile in her entire face. Those ever twinkling eye would be absolutely ethereal.

Does she still remember those crazy moments and those silly fights, which always gave us a reason to like each other? All the time spent beneath the trees, disputing, agreeing, bullying…growing up in love. I remember every bit of it, every single minute detail…

10 more hours to go…Someone has come here with a bouquet, may be to receive his regular wife. Why the hell I haven’t brought anything for her. She likes public display of affection. Oh God she will speak nonstop, about nothing. Why the hell the gap between the two trains is only 4 hours. I want to listen to her nonstop. I can do this for my entire life.

Why the hell, even Rajdhani Express has to be late for 4 hours.

The cacophony of one siren brings my heartbeat to maximum. The jostling and bustling seem so immaterial. Why can’t I move my feet. Why does everything seem to move in slow motion? Why there are so many people in this world. I must make sure I am in front of B-6.

There she stands in all her glorious pink. I look into her eyes…deep, very deep. She does not smile. She does not even say any socially accepted greetings. Why the hell I am not saying anything. She has applied ‘kajal’ in those already beautiful eyes. How come her face is almost expressionless? Or may be, I don’t know, what this particular type of expression is called.

Another siren brings my heartbeat almost to a stop. I rush to take her luggage; we both run to another platform…another train…perhaps another 7 years.

Why the hell is she still silent? She takes out a gift from her bag for me. It’s a watch…like the one shown in Rang De Basanti. I look at it, with clinical detail. The train starts moving. Oh God, my vision has blurred. I look up to see. A teardrop falls from her eyes. And finally she speaks.

“I love you.”

The train moves…far away from my gaze. I look up in the sky and speak, almost silently.

“I love you too.”

Bhookh Hadtaal Till Death

2011-06-06T18:46:00.000+05:30

Baba Ramdev is more popular than Facebook these days...!

Reason: He does not want to eat.

This reminds me of my own childhood days. Whenever I needed to get approval for some of my illegal expenses or wishful demands, this was the easiest weapon. Just refuse to eat or drink anything. Sooner or later the demand was met with. Oh those were the days. But I guess I could not milk those days properly. I should have asked for much valuable things. I wasted all my trials in silly ice candies, chocolates or video games, while I could have asked for land property, a flat or a bride.

But no worries...Now I have the government of India to fulfill my demands, which is much more powerful and richer compared to my parents. Now I can ask for real big things.

Thus here is my list of demands which has to be satisfied within 24 hours as per any standard quartz based clock, failing which I will obviously go on a hunger strike undo death.

1. I want all my white money back, which I have lost throughout my life either due to pick pocketing of my wallet, stolen by a thief or being deliberately given to the corrupt officials in order to gain some favor from them. Also in the same line, I want all the persons responsible for stealing my money to be traced, arrested and sentenced for life imprisonment.

2.Sanskrit should be accepted as the official and national language of India. Facebook should be redesigned in Sanskrit. In the same line, all the programming languages like C, C++, and Java etc should be rewritten in Sanskrit. Companies like Microsoft and Adobe should be banned to sell their products in India unless they release their software in Sanskrit. All Bollywood movies should be made in Sanskrit only. Anyone who cannot communicate properly in Sanskrit should be treated as an outsider and later on should be considered as a traitor.

3.All notes below the denomination of Rs. 500/- should be banned. This will encourage people to give more and more money to the beggars, as they will not be having any chillars left with them. This will also help in transferring the black money from the rich to the poor. And the most important thing. All currency notes should have my photo on one side and my photo with my girlfriend on the other side. The currency note should be a symbol of youth, not old age baldness.

4. All the persons responsible for corruption in the country should be traced, arrested and sentenced to life imprisonment.

My earnest request to the countrymen is to support me in this national cause. My appeal to my disciples is to join me in large numbers in the hunger strike undo death and make it a success, so that I get popular and bag more and more brands to endorse.

PS: Any political party who want to cash on my hunger strike as their agenda to curb the ruling government in the name of corruption can contact me through my Gmail account.

Being 'Bad' is not 'Bad'

2011-05-28T11:24:00.001+05:30

Love is an overrated emotion. It’s high time we start giving value to emotions like jealousy, greed, hatred, lust, anger and ego.

The Mahabharata says; jealousy is the purest form of emotion. Quite true I guess. I am not sure about my feelings for my girlfriend, but I definitely know that my feelings for that every single boy she talks to, is quite from the heart. Making others jealous is a cool thing and it certainly gives pleasure. The boy lying in the lap of a sexy lady at some deserted corner of India Gate seems so happy; because the lucky bastard is genuinely damn happy, as he is making lot others jealous. Forget a sexy lady man, even a cool gadget, smart phones; a cool t-shirt can be helpful in making people jealous. Jealousy is also a marketable emotion. Look at the brand advertisements, which have their punch lines like, ‘Make them Jealous.’ Jealousy is not a bad thing.

There is a very thin line between Greed and Ambition. If I had to define greed I would say, it is the ambition of all those successful people who make us feel jealous of their success. Whatever is ambition for my well wishers; is greed for my not so well wishers. By the way, I don’t understand why it is wrong to desire to acquire more?

Love and hatred are like sisters. And it’s really unjust to value one sister and curse the other. More often we find hatred in more things in our daily lives than we find love. Hatred is a more powerful and intense feeling. For example I hate people who honk unnecessarily while I am stuck in a traffic jam. Am I wrong in hating them?

Anger is very necessary, if you want your manhood to be intact. Anger brings courage in human beings. If you discourage anger, people start taking undue advantage of your non harming nature. If anger was a bad thing, how would you justify lord Shiva, the God entrusted with the act of destruction?

Lust is the climax of love. When our love for a person reaches its paramount, we develop lust for a person. Lust is also a very pure emotion. People can sometimes adulterate love, but they certainly can’t adulterate lust. During the Satyug, the Gods came up with such a brilliant idea of procreation by recreation. How can people say, it’s a sin?

It was ego which once saved Napoleon’s life. Napoleon was about to commit suicide. But then he thought, normal people take one glass of poison, and they die. But I am Napoleon, a great warrior. One glass of poison can’t kill me. So he took six glasses of poison. And then he vomited out the poison. See. Ego saved his life.

And likewise, many other emotions are given a stepmother treatment. Things like theft, molestation and extra marital affairs are not bad either, else how would you justify my favorite, lord Krishna? This disparity should stop.

Accept the bad, because bad is the latest cool thing.

Fire Your Boss

2011-05-07T10:15:00.001+05:30

There are so many recreational things (other than all the ‘beeped’ activities) which most of the people usually underestimate and ignore.

If your boss is busy in a meeting with some client during lunch time and keep you waiting, steal his lunch box, eat the food and fill the box with used ‘Fevistick’. If you can’t find used ‘Fevistick’, use anything that resembles your middle finger. Oh God! I love the middle finger. I wish I could turn all my fingers into middle finger. If you can’t find anything, just borrow my socks.

I completely understand, how important checking the ‘Facebook’ notifications is, while you are in office. After all ‘Facebook’ is the second best word starting with the letter ‘F’. (Some retard is thinking the first best one to be ‘Fox’. Strangle him, if you find him.) Well the trick is very simple. Buy some ‘Jamal Gota’(laxatives), bribe the office boy and add it to your boss’s morning coffee.

Capture a photo of your boss (for special effects, try to capture him when he very pissed off.), do little Photoshop work on it, maybe you can make him a B-grade movie actor, a Tamil movie star, Superman, Auro or Suhaas Tandon and upload it in ‘Facebook’. Even better would be, make a slideshow of all the photos and upload in ‘Youtube’.

Well! These were tricks for the weak hearted, career oriented and diplomatic (basically retard) guys who lost their guts since the office mouse lost its ball. These people don’t deserve much recreation. There are more cool things in life to do than doing the above.

Now, for those who have kept their balls password protected, there’s a new dimension of entertainment for them. When your boss is giving some presentation to the client, with profound humbleness (and utmost privacy), go behind him and shut his mouth using both your hands. (Again you can use my socks for the obnoxious effect. Socks are a very useful human invention.) Don’t let him speak for a couple of minutes. At the same time, you can use his obviously bald head for some desi music. Now your boss will try to retaliate. First of all use the stapler to staple both his palms, and then use the paper punch to create tiny little holes in his palm. (Please make the holes in an artistic way. I love artists.) Now use the practical file thread to create imaginative knots in those holes. There are hundreds of things available in offices which can be very effective in torturing your boss. Now drag his hands behind his head. In the meantime, go and bring a permanent marker and write all the ‘beeped’ words in his forehead. (Please knowingly or unknowingly, don’t make spelling mistakes. Leave the message loud and clear.) Then say these words.

“With due respect, I resign from your office. Sir!”

Trust me; this would be the coolest thing you could ever do with your publicly sarcastic and privately polite boss.

Now, that same retard (remember the ‘Fox’ guy) is very angry. I have a very polite answer for him.

“Shut the ‘beep’ up! I decide what is cool.”

PS: My boss is a true gentleman. In Bihar people say, ‘My Dear’ kind of person. It’s just that, he dared to disagree with my philosophy of working in office, and violated both my rules.

Rule 1: Working overtime (without getting paid) does not show your devotion towards work. It just shows that, you are a lazy, dumb and retard fellow, who could not finish his work in time and didn’t do his job in a time when he was supposed to do it.

Rule 2: Punctuality does not only mean coming to office in time, it also means going from office in time. If you don’t reach home in time regularly, you are still not punctual.

PPS: Fire your boss before he fires you.

Three Levels of Happiness

2011-04-26T13:00:00.003+05:30

Level 1

Happy: You are ‘Single’. Though your Facebook relationship status keeps fluctuating from ‘It’s Complicated’ to ‘Separated’ to even ‘Committed’ sometimes, but at the base of it all, you are still ‘Single’. You are actually in love with the idea of falling in love. You show your highest degree of courtesy to anything that is remotely female. You share your rare incident of meeting a girl, with all your friends, along with the minutest possible detail. You happily play an escort to your best friend’s girlfriend. And you are the best friend of all those girls who already have a boyfriend. This part of life I call, ‘Being Happy.’

Level 2

Happier: You are ‘Committed’. There is nothing more musical and soothing than those four words – ‘I love you too’. People who are still in ‘Level 1’ can never imagine the beauty of this level of happiness. Lots of things, actually start becoming ‘Personal’ in your life. You despise your bachelor identity and lead a semi-married life. (Married life without the worry of buying diapers is amazing). You gradually reduce the radius of your huge friend circle and zoom in your focus to a single human being. You are prohibited to have any favorite actress or lady sportsperson. You address the feelings of people of ‘Level 1’ as infatuation, waste of resources and most of the times crap. You go to the movie theater just to watch movies like ‘Toonpur Ka Superhero’ & ‘Ghatothkach’ on any of your ‘Promised’ dates. A large part of your Facebooking hours is spent on checking the people in her friend list. Arguments become an integral part of your life. And you are the envy of all the people of ‘Level 1’. This part of the life I call, ‘Being Happier.’

Level 3

Happiest: You are ‘Separated’. Breakups are in fashion. And the latest in-vogue thing is the ‘Mutual Breakup’. Gone are the days of classical ways of breakups, which were incomplete without the use of f-word and b-word. Even in those times the happiest part of a love affair was ‘breakup’. May be you never celebrated when you entered ‘Level 2’ from ‘Level 1’, but you’ll definitely party when you enter ‘Level 3’. You actually start realizing the value of freedom. You start reinventing your lost identity of bachelorhood. You relive all your fantasies, passions and dreams. You eat your favorite food in a restaurant. You watch the movies you like in a theater. You can openly like a beautiful girl, a lady sportsperson or an actress. You can spend money on your friends. (No big deal actually…! Just a coke and few cigarettes satisfy them.). You spend fruitful quality Facebooking hours. There develops a mutual sympathy between you and people of ‘Level 1’, while they genuinely consider you a ‘love-guru’. You look at people of ‘Level 2’, and simply smile at them; and now you become the envy of all those people. You are at peace, experienced and confident enough to choose the right partner for your next venture. This part of life, this short intermediate part I call, ‘Being Happiest’.

Farewell Jamia

2011-04-21T23:00:00.003+05:30

It's been almost nine months (enough time for a non living being to transform into a living being), and I can still feel the buzz, the clapping created that day. The scent of a blend of multiple perfumes on different human bodies is still fresh in my senses. I said good bye that day and literally it's been good till date.

I owe you, my Alma-mater. I owe to that juncture which transformed me from a boy to a man. May be I am out of that place, but my soul still roams there. Somewhere outside the physics labs, the canteen, the architecture building, placement office or may be in the spirit of hundreds of exuberant engineers...

My Supernatural Girlfriend

2011-03-11T18:11:00.003+05:30

Supernatural things do exist in this planet. It’s just that a very few lucky people get a glimpse or sometimes a feel of some paranormal activities. But that does not give some of the cynics the liberty to declare that they don’t exist at all.

It was an usual office day with lots of facebooking and little work. Yes, they pay me for facebooking and I work there for free of cost. After almost ten minutes of paid torture in bus number 534, I got down in Jullena bus stop. TATA Magic service had not started yet. And the rickshaw pullers used to be like kings then. It was winter and it was already 8:30 p.m.

I was smoking, sitting in a rickshaw and was patiently waiting for a fellow passenger for Okhla head. And like every male I was hoping for a lady. A lady who would share the journey and lead me to my destination.

She was wearing spectacles having a vibrant red colored broad frame. And that was the best part about her face. And if I become little modest, she could be called ‘beautiful’; considering the facts that I have an engineering background (where most of the girls just fulfill the minimum eligibility criterion to be considered a girl) and I didn’t have a girlfriend.

Before she could look at anything else around her, she scanned the cigarette in my hand through her super powerful glasses. And she gave me a look, which commanded loudly, ‘I am the most beautiful girl in this universe. How dare you sit and smoke in front of me, that too at a juncture when I have no other means to go home, except to sit with you.’ Her look made me feel, as if I was the guy who abducts and rapes the hero’s sister in our bollywood movies. The rickshaw puller somehow convinced her, that she didn’t have a choice.

I was already in tremendous guilt. So I contracted myself at molecular level and vacated almost 70 percent of the seat and I tried to show her the utmost level of courtesy. And she behaved as if it was her birth right to be treated in such a manner. We started our journey. The dew had brought down the visibility to few meters. The rickshaw puller went slow.

I guess, potholes and speed-breakers on the roads have been vastly instrumental in bringing people closer. Her first verbal communication was completely unexpected.

‘Sorry…uff the potholes…please sit comfortably.’ She said as the rickshaw jerked a little.

She really didn’t need to say sorry. I quite enjoyed that jerk.

‘It’s okay madam. You don’t have to say sorry.’

‘And you don’t need to call me madam.’ She smiled and said. ‘Do I look like a madam to you?’

It was futile to explain to her the cultured ways of addressing woman irrespective of their age. So I just smiled back and said.

‘Sure. So, you work somewhere?’

‘Yeah…I have recently joined HDFC bank as a business development manager.’

‘Okay…that must be very difficult, considering that you are a girl…and beautiful too.’

I was little apprehensive about my last three words. But I guess, this tried and tested method works most of the times. She just smiled and answered.

‘Really?’ Then, on a serious note, she said. ’Yeah...it’s very difficult. I am looking for a job in the HR line. By the way…what do you do?’

‘Well, I am an engineer, working with Simplex Infrastructures Limited.’

‘Yaar…don’t they have any vacancy in the HR department there?’

It was amazing. I could not believe that she was the same girl who, a few minutes ago was staring at me like the snake of Mallika Sherawat’s movie. But I liked it when she called me ‘Yaar’.

‘I am not sure. I will have to ask people in the HR department.’

‘Can you please refer me there?’

I just smiled and said.

‘I have also joined the company recently.’

‘At least can you please inform me if there’s any vacancy?’

In fact I could not do that also, because I am honestly not aware when the HR department has any vacancy. But I said.

‘Yeah…sure. Can I have your contact number?’

‘Wait a minute.’ She giggled and said.’ Actually I don’ remember my own number.’

She took out her Nokia 5800 Xpress Music and sent her number as a ‘business card’. I thought if she really doesn’t remember her number or that she wants me to know that her phone supports ‘business cards’. I saved it on my phone. Thankfully my phone supported ‘business cards’. And with that I came to know about her name as well.

‘So, you are Kanan Gupta.’ Then after a pause I said. ‘This is Danish.’

By this time we reached Jamia University. I told her about my engineering from there. I also clicked a photo of her and applied it as the contact image to her number. Then I synced her contact details with my Windows Live, Gmail and Yahoo account. We talked about mobile phones, 3G services and Ovi store. And when she was leaving, she said.

‘It was nice talking to you. Do call me sometimes.’

I wished her good night and she got down at Okhla head. I was damn excited to share this incident with my roommate. I checked my phone almost hundred times for her contact number and her photo.

I reached my room, put my phone inside my pocket to knock at the door, entered the room and started explaining the incident. Then I took out my phone to show him the photo. And my senses failed me.

It was not there. No trace of that girl was there. The contact number, the ‘business card’ in my message inbox and the photo also was missing. I was going to lose my senses. I rushed to open my Hotmail, Gmail and Yahoo ID’s for the synced number. It wasn’t there too.

My friend said, it was all because of too much work stress and a sort of ‘Chemical Locha’. May be he is right. (After all he is a doctor’s son.)

But I am unable to accept that it was a hallucination. Man…I have physically touched that lady…or perhaps…that Witch.

Bengalization

2011-01-17T16:58:00.001+05:30

Before you read any further I would like you to know that Bengalis are one of the finest people I have ever met in my life. I really love them, but in my own special way.

There always exists a Bengalized version of everything that you come across. I don’t know why, but they certainly have an affinity with the English letters ‘B’ and ‘O’. They can always replace almost every letter with ‘B’. How? In their case, Vivek becomes Bibek, Verma becomes Borma, Vimal becomes Bimol and Vinay becomes Binoy. And most certainly ‘O’ is their most adorable vowel. They have the liberty to use it in place of the rest four. See, how they have transformed my Kajal into Kajol. And to summarize the two, Mr. Satyavrata Vardhan has become Mishtor Sotyabrota Bordhon. Moreover, this particular kind of dyslexia (I call it regiono-lexia) is not limited to human names only. They have Bengalized almost every animate or inanimate things also. The cute little paper punch is called Paonch, simple lunch becomes Laanch, Calcutta has become Kolkata and the very innocent Bhatinda has become Bhotinda.

Unfortunately these people have not got the enzymes to digest Chapattis. One of my friends had to eat Chapattis and consequently he had to be admitted to a hospital, that too in emergency. And on the contrary, they have got some extra cellulose digesting enzymes which can digest even the rarest breed of rice ever known to mankind. No surprises that rice is the staple diet in Bengal. Besides, I am sure you are quite aware of the old joke that Bengalis don’t drink anything. They eat everything. Be it cold drink or bidi, it has to be eaten rather than drunk or smoked. Fish is also one of their favorite delicacies. Let me correct it. It’s actually fish curry as they proud fully call it Maacher Jhol. And yes, when I say curry it means curry only i.e. without any actual fish in it. The common practice is that they cook fish curry, and then they take out the fish pieces from it and store it safely to be used next time. And they relish rice with fish curry. Discussion of Bengal without discussing sweets will be totally unjust. Bengalis love sweets, so much so that they name their children as Mishty. Or for that matter may be Shonali, Monali, Roopali….really sweet.

Bengalis are the people who are really bad at fighting. It’s an amazing sight watching at two Bengalis having a hot argument. I am sure, you can just video record it, and telecast as a comedy serial. Bengalis are also a football crazy community. In fact they are crazy about anything that is round, be it Roshogulla, the football or the letter ‘O’, or may be something else. No wonder they have got a different category of ‘Bengali Beauties’ in almost every traditional Indian Internet sites.

This is becoming nasty now. Before you guys start burning my effigy, let me confess that Sourav Ganguly is my favorite cricketer and I would buy him even at the cost of my life.

All Izz Well....!

2010-12-23T18:27:00.002+05:30

ALL IZZ WELL…!

Stress sometimes is not just, reaction per unit area of application of force.

Sometimes I do feel I could hide in some distant corner of this huge world, with no boss, no work and no mobile or internet. Where I can get food and water and that is all. No remorse of the past and no planning for the future. And I get endless time to do what I love to do the most ...Dream. Just eat, dream and live.

But then this is real life!

Recently I have been talking to most of my friends over telephone. And one thing I found common is that they are not happy. They are not satisfied with the job they have got after so much competition. Well they are unable to precisely figure it out, but certainly they are not happy. Flashback to few months ago...they could do anything to get a job.

Two things that keep coming constantly are Stress and Work Pressure, which are basically the same things. I have been reading Mr. Bhagat a lot these days and was really influenced.

And you will not believe at first that I have started staying really happy.

There are a few professional and a few personal things which cause stress. And the very first demon that comes to my mind is Disappointment; not getting results as expected. And to fuel the disappointment we have Competency. Remember the ultimate lines of Virus....Life is a race.... and then....Life begins in murder....that's nature.....Bullshit!

Then comes frustration, and it may come for the smallest reasons. Oftentimes we are frustrated for reasons people might have a hearty laugh at. For example I get frustrated when I am unable to fetch something from a five feet tall rack. Then we all have to face at some or other point of time, the strongest demon called Unfairness. People with sugar daddies and sugar mummies, pedigree and beautiful faces take the credit for things they don't deserve. Regionalism, communalism, nepotism etc. have always been an integral part of India. I don't dream of an India without these. Then we have dysfunctional relationships and poor health adding to our woes.

These are the things that take the spark away from your lives. And you become an irritated, bitter and boring kind of person. You don't enjoy anything in life. Not good food, not beautiful movies, not soothing music, not the romantic weather, not good humor.....not even sexy woman!

Some of the guru mantras that I have realized in life may be helpful in killing stress. And the very first thing is self realization. You need to introspect and find out things that you really enjoy. Well it's easier said than done. Exact realization may take a second, a minute, a day or even a lifetime. And then be spontaneous and be yourself; whatever you are. My friend said an ultimate line for this. "Real pleasure lies in spontaneity, Planning leads to stress." Never plan too much for anything, because it is most certain that things will not go as planned; and you invite disappointment. I have often seen people overstressed and tensed on their holiday tour as they have over budgeted. The basic purpose of a holiday is spoiled then. Someday, wake up, pack your little bag and just move.....Trust me adventure gives you real fun. Well if things go well, it’s a bonus and if they don't you are not disappointed at least.

Second thing is expectations. Expect the worst in your life at times. When I was going for an interview, for some strange reasons I believed that I would be molested, abused, harassed and beaten there. And when the receptionist told me very politely that I was not selected; I was really happy. I have a friend who was stressed because he said, 'Why can't I fly? The birds can do it easily.' People find their strange reasons to stay stressed. You have to be satisfied with whatever you have. What if I can't fetch something from a five feet tall rack, I can cook delicious food. What if I am not as handsome as Shahrukh Khan, I have friends who love me more than they do to Shahrukh. We need to find our own strange reasons to stay happy.

Make small goals in life; however you are always free to dream big. Nothing disappoints more than failure of self promised goals. Besides achievement of goals, however small; always gives you pleasure. Try to enjoy little silly things in life. Sometimes do act like a child. (After all we are all children in the eyes of GOD). Remember happiness is just a state of mind. It has got nothing to do with success or failure or age or time. If you feel like hugging a stranger, go for it. (If she is a girl, better first ask for it). Do everything to your heart’s content. There was a time when I always used to stay frustrated because of my height. Then one fine morning I uploaded a picture of Rehan (read the great khali) in my computer, resized it and saved it, allowing a height of few inches only. And surprisingly that gave me pleasure. Sometimes just surprise yourself by doing things which you never think you could do. For example if you feel like flirting with a lady, just do it. Come on, nobody is going to judge your character based on that. And even if they do, just f**k it, you live only once.

Sometimes pamper yourself. Be selfish. Go to a spa. Enjoy your favorite food or music or movie. Go for shopping. And shop till you go bankrupt. Eat your favorite chocolate or ice cream. Remember every human being is a distinct individual and enjoying is not a sin at all.

Discover yourself from within. Might be you always wanted to be singer. So sing. The oneness of mind, body and soul is very necessary. May be you want to enjoy, but you have a headache. May be you are brimming with energy and you want to dance, but you fear about the tiles. Sometimes to overcome stress; maybe you just need to relax, stay calm, silent and completely in peace to rejuvenate. But you engage yourself in a suspense or horror or violent movie. Ultimately you re-stress yourself, worrying about the climax. So you need to peep within to know your soul’s exact wish.

Sometimes we are too obsessed for a successful career which many a times is the reason for most of our stress. Remember, you need a balanced successful life. In our primary school I was told, ‘Stomach full of food is not a balanced diet.’ Exactly. Only a successful career won’t give you happiness. You can’t enjoy a promotion on the day of your breakup. You can’t enjoy a movie, if your back aches. Really, life is like that Marble Spoon race you had in your nursery class. Reaching the destination first; without the marble in the spoon is valueless. In our life also, our relationships and our health are like the marble. So if you are lucky enough to have a girlfriend, give her time, take her out for a shopping, pamper her and show her some love. Because, trust me, if she is not happy; you can’t be happy.

Last, but the most important thing is humor. Never let the humor within you ever fade away. Even if that means to having to listen to silly jokes. Or even if that sometimes means to making fun of yourself only. Go for it.

Whatever be the situation. Say….All Izz Well…..and move on.

All Izz Well……!