Month: August 2011

Aug 06: The Art of Dropping Subtle Hints in an Conversation

So todays post is a bit different. Am typing this on the phone. Tough, considering that I can’t format, use html, check spellings (I can but lemme exaggerate), do a word count (all my posts have at least 500 words), type with my fingers (and see my fingers do the jig on keyboard), and worst of all, I would not have the luxury of editing, copy pasting or proof reading this.

But like some things need to be kept sacrosanct, am trying to develop this habbit of penning something each day before I sleep. I have no clue if I would be able to do this in a long run, but I know that I can do it today and here is the post. Am calling it, the mobile revolution (note: changed the title once I started writing). Because, you guessed it, I am using a mobile phone to type this out. And I will write a piece of fiction. Am calling it, The Art of Dropping Subtle Hints in an Conversation.

A: Hi! Ssup? Too late to text? Is it?
B: Nah, not really. Was about to sleep. Have an early flight tomorrow. Wassup with you?
A: nothing much man. Just bored outta my wits.

A: wow! My boredom is infectious. Looks like you’ve slept. Anyways have a good flight. See you around

A: oh ya, get me some fenny while you are there. Heard its really potent.
B: Haha. I will try.

A: Ok. Lemme be blunt here. How does one make a conversation with you?
B: lol. I don’t know. The way you’re doing right now?
A: nopes. Its not helping. Ok, here’s another Q. What’s the weirdest question someone has ever asked you?
B: ummm, tough one.
B: I know. It was “How does one make a conversation with you?” 😀
A: Hehe. Nobbad Ms. Smarty pants! And what’s the weirdest answer you’ve ever given?
B: thank you thank you.

A: so?
B: oops. I don’t remember sorry. But it was to the effect that, dude, get lost. I am younger than your grand daughter.
A: Aha. Some oldie pervert tried hittin on you? Is it?
B: ya. Sorta. Let’s not go there. Anyways. I guess I should sleep. I don’t want to miss that flight.
A: Okies. And where’s your sense of adventure? Dint expect you to be this boring!
B: ya, Mr. Judge o personalities types.
A: How’d you guess? Its actually a specialty!
B: no kidding. Let’s test it. Tell me what am I thinking?
A: Easy! You’re thinking when would this guy come around and actually ask me out for dinner.
B: holy cow! So when?
A: There’s no time than now!
B: 🙂
A: Is that a yes?
B: almost.
A: Define almost.
B: let’s meet at the airport. Am sure they would have some seats left on that plane. Lemme finish the meeting in a couple of hours and then we will talk about dinners and questions and answers.
Oh yes. See you around. Tc

This is day 06 in a series of 31 daily blogposts. Other posts are here.

Aug 05: The God Delusion

We, the people, the children of Gaia, believe that we are strong. We tell ourselves, all the time, that we can achieve anything that we set our eyes on. We are invincible. Its us, ourselves, who hold back any kind of achievement. After all we have conquered the entire planet. We have breached the limits and set foot on moon. That too about half a century back. We have created mammoth structures that can be seen from the outerspace. We can now play God and create life. We are no less than God himself.

I say, BALLS!

We are probably the most fragile of all the nature’s creation. Take us to cold places, our heart stops pumping blood. The brain does not get its oxygen and and we get giddy. Take us to hot places, we start secreting vital minerals. Make our heart work overtime and try and pump more blood, to make up for the loss. Keep us off food, water, air, sleep and we get cranky. And then we get angry. And then we lose hope. And then the mind. And then the body. And then the soul.

We are so fragile, and yet, we bicker over small things like religion, caste, money, authority and other hazaar things. We need to rather realize our place in the universe. Accept that we are as insignificant as a grain of sand in the great Sahara. All this while, we liv our lives chasing greatness. And we refuse to notice supreme greatness, surrounding us, all the time. Everything, from that innocent smile on a kids face, to a smirk on the face of a prankster, to that street dog trying to cross the road, to that new leaf that has just sprung up, to all those rivers, clouds, rains, mountains, everything screams of greatness. Greatness of an artist that no one has known and will never probably know. With all the limitations of this human mind and body, how can we even think about competing with the greatest artist and his greatest creation? Who are we to even touch the magical creations that we can never ever even think about creating? Who are we to stake the claim to superiority when we are mere blips?

We should, rather be grateful that so much diversity is at our disposal. To help us get through this passage that we know as life. We should be thanking the mother nature for the sincere and honest creations. We need to try and preserve them. We need to try and give back.

You know, I have no clue if God exists. If he does, he is really unfair. If he doesn’t, good for us. The bottom line is that we need to realize that when we are feeling most heady, that is the time when mother nature (you may choose to call her God) would spring a surprise and show us our tiny little place in the scheme of things. And humble us.

Time for a lot of self-reflection.

This is day 05 in a series of 31 daily blogposts. Other posts are here.
I thought about this first when I was en route to Mumbai. I was travelling with a friend who is very scared of flying and yet has to take more than three flights a week. While talking to him, I realized that we are probably as delicate as glass, or may be dreams, to use a poets metafor. It takes a split second for that blip to disappear.

India of Tomorrow

There was a time when I was an active contributor on this website called Mutiny.in. I was part of tons of bloggers, all spread across geographies and time and each one of us, would religiously take time off to write things for Mutiny. We could write about things that interested us. Business to politics to sports to policy to education to fiction to cartoons to and anything else under the sun. And we wrote things that mattered. There were grand plans for the website. The owner/editor was talking about print publications, subscriptions and what not. But then, I dont know how and why, it slowly faded away. Everything comes to an end, sooner or later. Somehow, the entire bunch disintegrated and we were left with a url that doesn’t even work now!


Coming to the agenda, I want to resurrect Mutiny. Or maybe create a clone. Or a better avatar. I dont know what to call it yet. I will have to ask HK and RN. They are two of the most talented people I know. I take their word without any arguments. If you have any suggestions, please let me know.

The Big Idea.
The idea this time around will be simple. We (everyone that i reach out to and I) will try to imagine a better India. An India that we would love to live in. A India that we would be proud of. We will create content that citizens of this better India would want to consume. When I say better India, I mean a utopian India where elections agendas would not be religion, hunger or poverty. Where youth would not grow up on Roadies, Big Boss or Kyonki Saas … .Where media would not be a mere entertainment channel. Where ideas would get merit over eloquence. Where we would live with morals like equality, freedom and respect. Where we would be responsible for what we do and we would own up to our actions. And more importantly thoughts.

The Details.
To start with, we would create a simple, group blog. Multiple authors post their opinions and make themselves heard. Unlike other outlets, we will not run this as business and money would never be a motive. We would have no political inclination. The endeavor would be to present an opinion and encourage debate. And hopefully stir something within the readers.

The End Notes.
I dont really have the gift of the gab and its tough to get the sentiments across but I am sure this can get started. The Internet gives us so many opportunities to socialize and meet other interesting people. Of the 100 million or so Indians on the Internet, cant I get just a handful to help me with the idea?

Aug 04: Welcome to Africa

So far i have written 3-4 posts under Project 0811 and so far, this is proving to be the toughest. I am back to square one. Where I know I have to write a piece and I am clueless what to write on. I am out of stories, anecdotes, ideas, data that I have no clue what to write. Ideally I want to write a short story, in 500 words, but then nothings coming to my head. And starting today, I wanted each blogpost to have a picture/photograph that best sums up the post! But then, dear sire, we need to have a post in the first place!

Let me attempt a short story. Ok heres the deal. I shall find a random link on google and write a piece of fiction inspired by the content on that page. I googled and I found randomwebsite.com. Let me generate a random website link. Drum rolls, confetti blasts, here we go! So it pointed me to AllAfrica.com. And heres the story.

“You dont understand me at all. I cant tolerate you guys for even a minute now. I am going.”, said my daughter. She is 13. And I had caught her red handed while she was trying to steal money from my office. Moment she said, you don’t understand me, something snapped inside me. I could clearly see what would she do once she leaves home with that money.

She would go buy an ice cream. After all, like father, like daughter. Then she would go for a walk till she reaches the dockyard, which is about 100 meters from our bungalow. No one else but us, call the bungalow, bungalow. This used to be a chawl till about 5 months back before I bought the entire place and created this sprawling landmark.

She will then board the vessel docked farthest from the shore, scared that I might find her and fight with her again. She would get curious with all the instruments, compass boxes, wheels, navigators, maps, logbooks, pens, radio sets, levers, cranks, the tunnels and will get lost in her world where she would play the pirate and fend off the crusaders. She has to be the pirate. The kingpin. Nothing else would do. There is something intriguing about being on the other side of the law. I, I even went to the extent of patching my right eye.

Without her realizing it, the ship would set sail. It would take her to Africa. I could see that cloth banner, that read the most dreaded words I had ever laid my eyes on. Welcome to Africa. She would be surprised at first. Then she would feel lost at a place where everyone is topless, dark, smelly, humid and cold. Then she would be surprised for a bit.

And when the reality would hit her, she would not flinch, leave alone crying. She would be brave. Probably braver than her father. She would take less time, far less to make her fortune in the land of black gold. I dont know what business would she pick but whatever she does, she would survive and reach the top of the game. All the while, slogging, to teach her father a lesson. No other emotion makes a person work harder than hatred.

And sooner than later, one fine day, just like that, she would decide to head back home. And see that banner, the Welcome to Africa banner, for the last time. Ever. And come back, to claim her place. To erect the tallest skyscraper the city had ever seen. At a place where I built a majestic home. Where my parents rented a 6 feet by 8 feet, shared toilets with 30 other “homes”.

I could see everything. As clear as you could see things.

History, as they say, repeats itself. I was determined to keep history at bay this time. Just this time. For once. I fought back the tears, ran after my daughter. And dug my head in her neck and allowed that lone tear to roll down my bearded cheek. And I had no clue, who was more surprised. She or I.

This is day 04 in a series of 31 daily blogposts. Other posts are here.
Note to self: Need to fix my woulds and wills, coulds and cans, so on and so forth.

Happy Birthday Kishore Da


Did not realize that today was Kishore Kumar’s birthday. While reading for this post, I realized how little I know about him. Like, I dint even know his name! Or the fact that he was a Bengali by birth. But then, better late than never. Did read some interesting tidbits about him and absolutely adore the guy.

I dont know how many songs he would have sung during his long career but he left us with so many wonderful hits that its really tough to put in a list. In fact if you asked 100 people to choose their favorite Kishore Da song, I am sure you would get 100 different songs. Thats how Kishore Da is. To each his own. There are so many facets to his life, his personality, his work, his talents that its tough to even summarize his achievements. He is one those, jinka naam hi unka resume hai.

From his work, Pal Pal Dil Kay Pass remains my favorite. Then there is O Saathi Rey. And Mere Saamne Wali Khidki. And Jhumroo. And Musafir hoon yaaron. And Saagar Kinare/ And the list can go on and on. The wikipedia article actually does a good job of summarizing the list. And burrp has a good post as well.

He is one of those people who I really wanted to meet. And like all the other people I want to meet, I would not know what to ask him. And here an idea drops into my head. What if I make a list of people that I want to meet, along with the questions I want to ask them?

May be later. But for the time being, happy birthday Kishore Da. You truly rock!

Aug 02: Dear Humans

Dear Humans,

Before anything else, without any further ado, let me clarify. I did not cross the road. Not this road. Not that road. Not any road for that matter. And I never thought about crossing any roads ever. And I checked, my cousins also, had no fancy thoughts of doing such a ridiculous thing. And nor my forefathers and their forefathers. No one is interested in your roads. No one in my family and extended family wants anything to do with you guys and your roads. You may please keep them to yourself and create your own jokes.

You see, we are peace loving … things. We just want to be left alone, to do out little jig with the torso, the neck, the beak and the chicken dance. I know you guys must find it amusing, the way we bump our head into ground all the time. But then like us, you guys have tons of rituals that our race hasnt been able to understand. I mean what could be so interesting about a naked, saffron loincloth clad man, dancing in weird postures that lakhs of women try and imitate all his actions? What happens on that night every year when you guys almost burn the entire city down with so much fire and lighting that it actually hurts.

May be it hard to believe for you guys, but we do have sleep cycles. We dont really have those REM cycles but we do have our chicken cycles and we need to spend a large part of our lives sleeping. And when we sleep, we want to sleep in peace. In one piece.

Thats grudge no. 2 btw. The last letter, listed in great detail, the tortures that every single one of us goes through all the time. The impending cage. Ofcourse it is really tough to spot your relatives in that huge a bunch of while haired things, all looking the same. The lucky ones reach the pressure cookers fast and they happily melt away with all the spices and gravy. The unlucky ones, us, the ones looking at all those of us being carried away, that sight is scary.

The next on agenda is all those filthy cartoon films. Do we really look that yellow? that furry? that tiny? that fragile? Do we deserve to be sold at traffic signals? And not just sold, but renegotiated on and bickered about. And its not even a genetic clone. It is made up of plastic! I know you guys are 7 billion and we are mere a few thousands but this is no way to treat us. If Noah had his way, you and us would have been in equal number. And since we dont have to wait for 9 months to produce the next generation, we would have grown faster. Mmmm, that could have been interesting. Imagine the menu reading butter aadmi, aadam musallam, aadmi changezi, aadam shawarma etc.

So, I am short on time. I understand that roads hold a special place in your life, lores and development. They connected you guys and helped moved faster. They allowed movement of people, things, thoughts and stories. Including the one about me crossing the road. I mean, who could even think of it? And why? Can you even imagine a chicken on the road?

Guys, can we please cut it out? Dont you guys think you have stretched this one, a little too much? Isnt the joke now too old, too predictable and too boring?

Sincerely,
The Chicken

This is day 03 in a series of 31 daily blogposts. Other posts are here.

Two down. Two to go.

Time for a small update on the Project 0811. I like the ring of it. Every month, I think I need to think of some interesting things and call it Project . Anyways, we shall cross the line when we reach there.

Coming to the update, its just the third day in the month and I already broke a rule (of the 4 I made for this month). I ate outside today. An iced tea at a CCD and some Chinese food from Yo China.

The second rule, the Rot 13 one, I was supposed to start it on day 1, I havent even started on it.

Not happening Mr. Garg. Time to pull up the socks!

Aug 02: Love Letter 101

Dear You,

You know who you are. I am not sure if you read this blog. Nah, you dont have to be ashamed of the fact. No one does. Its one of those pointless things that people love to engage in. Actually I am not sure if people blog anymore. After all its the twitter generation. If you cant say it in 140 characters, not even words, characters, you are taking too much time and your audience has already moved on to the next effervescent thing. Effervescent. I think that is the word that defines conversations and relationships in this generation. Side note. Its funny how within my lifetime, I have seen multiple generations come and go. From the days when chatting on yahoo used to be in vogue, to orkut, to blogs, to facebook, and now to twitter. Wow. Thats 5 generations. Within the last 10 or so years. Anyways, coming back to conversations and relationships. Split second decisions and short term view is the name of the game now a days. You decide on drop of a hat and you move in an instant.

I, however, am still an old timer. I still love the fuzzy feeling of holding hands while walking on a long road. I still want to send flowery and cute greeting cards. I still want to write letters. I still want to read out long narratives on life and living when I am with someone I love. I want to do all those things to you. And more.

I am the kinds who thinks that 140 characters are too short for professing love. For that matter, even 140 words, or 140 letters, or even 140 long walks are too short to express how I feel about you.

Come to think of it, you and I, its really funny. If I was to ever describe the kind of woman I would want to be with, I could have never ever thought of someone who would resemble you even a bit. And now that I know you for a while, I am sure if someone asked you for your kind of man, I would probably be the last man on this planet!

You know, it was not love at first sight. When I first saw you, I dismissed you as yet another woman who was different from the crowd. But then like all different women, you had something that was, different! Slowly but gradually I was hooked. To you. The way you talked. They way you dressed. The way got the sunshine to peek through the clouds. The way you made things simple. The way you reassured that things would be better. Eventually.

And once I realized that its you, I started making those foolish attempts at trying to woo you. And was it difficult? Phew!

I have dropped hazaar words, hints, gestures, things, all trying to get your attention. All in hopes of telling how much you mean to me. You, however, refuse to catch the line. Is it me who is trying too hard or is it you? Too smart for someone as hopelessly in love as I? Anyways I believe that hope floats and wishes do come true. They take time, but they do.

Pray tell me that you understand. Tell me that you are just acting up and acting pricey. Please give me that smile that can brighten the gloomiest of the days. Give me that touch that can make all the pain in the word go away. Give me that sign.

Your’s,
I

P.S.: Anyone is free to use this letter, in any form they deem fit. If you do use this letter, please let me know. Thank you.
This is day 02 in a series of 31 daily blogposts. Other posts are here.

Aug 02: On Samosa

Samosa, ladies and gentlemen, happens to be the best thing that has happened to mankind, since the discovery of fire. For the uninitiated, two things. One, if you dont know what a Samosa is and if you havent had one, you have wasted your life. Its divine. The crunchyness of the thick crisp shell, the smooth thick and hot potato paste, the tinge of chillies on your tongue as you bite in, the texture of the chutney inside your mouth, all of it is an experience par definition. Its actually a sin to try and capture it in words. I should be castrated for the sin. No kidding.

So, typically you buy a samosa from any of those million nukkad shops selling all kinds of savories and sweets. Invariably, the shop would be called Agarwal Sweets or Agarwal Corner. Or any other combination of words Agarwal and sweets. It looks like that all those Agarwals descended from some other planet and create a base on all the busy intersections and markets and now they have monopoly over them. I challenge that you goto any habituated locality in India and you would find at least one Agarwal doling out sweets and samosas by dozens.

Coming back to samosas, my love affair with samosas goes all the way back to my childhood. Ever since I can remember, I dint really have a sweet tooth (I could face a court-martial and can be charged with conduct unbecoming of a true Baniya, and disowned by my family, if my dad was to read this. Sweets and Baniya are like dagger and clock, like Batman and Robin, like Sherlock Holmes and Watson, like Razor and blade, unthinkable without each other). I liked things a little salty, a little tangy. And no wonder when all my friends were clamoring for that jalebi, I was happy with my samosas.

To put things in context, I dont really have the luxury of statistics here but I bet, India sells more samosas that America sells hot dogs. Per capita. A samosa infact has as much impact on the fabric of our country as much as a chai ka cup or a golgappa has had. Samosa transcends generations, genders, race, age, location, political inclinations, castes and all other such frivolous word that divide our society. Everyone loves samosa. There is no bias. Its like alcohol. If Harivansh Rai Bachchan was alive today, and if he was asked to pen a piece on samosas, the outcome would have been a more convincing case in favour samosa than his seminal Madhushala made for alcohol and bars. I am sure an entire generation would have converted into alcoholics after they would have read Madhushala.

Samosa, typically is made with potato but then there are people who innovate. They put in everything from peas to minced meat to eggs to even ice cream. Yes, ice cream. Apparently, the shell is that hard that the ice cream does not melt when the samosa is deep fried. To be honest, I havent had the icecream variety but I do not doubt for a single instant that the ice cream samosa exists, and is as good as its other, more famous and common cousins. I detest cooking to the extent of actually going without dinner, if there are no options, otherwise I would have tried making the ice cream one for sure.

Anyways the samosa rant has been stretched to the extent of becoming intolerable and its not even half funny. I wanted to write 500+ words and with this line, I am sure I have met the deadline.

But, next time you happen to be close to an Agarwal something, please do order a samosa and dig in. And do share your thoughts on what I think should be our national savory. Wait, do we even have a national savory?

This is day 02 in a series of 31 daily blogposts. Other posts are here.

Aug 01: Of Writing, Reasons and Promises

Like I promised myself, that this month, each day, I shall update this blog. Here is the first post.

And guess what! I am stuck on line 1. I thought writing came pretty naturally to me and I could write more than the longest epic of our times but I was wrong. I have been staring at this page for more than twenty minutes now and I have no clue what to write. In fact as I write, I have not even filled up the title of the post, apart from the customary “Aug 01:”. Once I finish writing this, I would get down to the title – which in my humble opinion should not be that difficult to pull off.

So let me talk about why I want to do the 31 day challenge. Quite a few reasons actually. The single biggest reason being that I want to create some discipline in my otherwise haphazard life. There are some things that are under my control and there are some that I cant control. Over the past few months, I have tried to work on things and have seen some good results. Not that I am a changed man but I do believe that taking baby steps does help become that giant that you always wanted to become.

Second, I realized that writing de-stresses me. Even though I am belting crap that no one in the world would care for, I still find pleasure in writing. I love the feeling when my fingers dance by themselves on the keyboard (I have used the finger dance metaphor at-least thirty times in past five years) and they end up producing a piece that is coherent. The piece may be grammatically flawed and factually incorrect but then I dont mind it. After all, no ones reading it. Not even you anymore.

Third, more I write, better I get. Like everyone who can speak English, even I have a budding author hidden somewhere inside me, amongst a hidden cricketer, commentator, guitarist, businessman, film maker, philanthropist, teacher, polymath etc. Writing is something that I can work on and improve. Of course story telling is a gift that you are born with, writing on the other hand, you can work on it. Did I come with the gift, time shall tell. But I will ensure that by the time I hang my boots pen, I would be an accomplished writer.

Fourth, once I start writing, my otherwise dead brain, the vegetable bit of me, starts functioning. I get ideas that I never thought I could come up with. Well, most of the times. Like right now, I dont really have any ideas that can potentially make that dent but most of the times, I do get those ideas. And I park them in another document. Or scribble them on a piece of paper. Its funny how our brain operates. In terms of creating new things, I dont think it can. I think it can only link up things that it had processed earlier and then make new links and then tell us on the surface about the new idea.

Five. There is no five! I mean I am sure there is a five but I cant think of it right now. May be some other day.

So what all would I be writing about in the coming days? I do not want it to be boring. I do not want it all to be too similar to each other. Although I suck at it, I would try my hand at writing different genres. Humor, Fiction, Non-Fiction (I think this piece may qualify for non-fiction), Personal, Rant, Review etc. I would try changing the way I write. I want to write something in third person (most of the things I write are in first person). I want to write something like a letter (I did try my hand at a fictional letter once up on a time. It was that bad that my friend had to drop the damn project!). Actually now that I am writing about writing letters, I realize that I want to write a lot of those. A love letter, a hate mail, a ransom letter amongst other things.

I think thats about it for the day. The wants got too much no?

And, the title. I will call this post, Of Writing, Reasons and Wishlists. Why? Go figure!

This is day 01 in a series of 31 daily blogposts. Other posts are here.

August – 2011

August 01, 2011

Beginning of a new month. And like all new months (and years), something inside me tells me to create a goal list. Goals and I go back very long. I have been making lists since 1947 and I haven’t been able to finish a single list, since 1947! What a coincidence. Anyways, as they say, “koshish karne wale ki kabhi haar nahi hoti“, today while driving to work, I decided that I would make a goal list for this month. Rather than making long plans that never fructify, I will make small, measurable

So here are the goals for August.

  1. Write at least one blog post each day on this blog. I do maintain a few other blogs (all of them as not famous as this one) and though I do update them occasionally, they dont give me as much pleasure as this one does. So the goal is, to update this blog, atleast once each day, for rest of the month.
  2. Stop eating out. I have been maintaining a rather complex excel sheet that keeps track of where my money is going. My top three expenses each month, month on month, have been Misc (this is where all my gadgets, gifts etc go), Petrol and Eating Out. I know I cant stop buying gadgets. I know I have to buy fuel to be able to reach office (my office does not pay for my travel. Boss, are you reading this?). And I can easily cut down on the Eating Out bit. It will save me some money (which I desperately need) and help me reduce weight (again, I desperately need to do that as well). All the coffee shops in and around Delhi would hate me for this but a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.
  3. Travel. Thankfully, my work makes me travel a lot. But then travel is one of those things that a man cant have enough of. If all goes as planned, I am supposed to goto Goa and Mumbai this month. Both trips are for work but I will try and squeeze in some bit of personal travel post the Mumbai trip. So anyways, the resolution is that each month, I have to have to make one trip (of at least two nights) somewhere that is not related to work.
  4. Secret. Jevgr n obbx ol raq bs guvf zbagu. Gbbx vafcvengvba sebz uggc://jjj.anabjevzb.bet/ naq znxr Nhthfg zl Abiry Jevgvat Zbagu. Gb or ubarfg, ba qnl 1, V qbag ernyyl unir n fpevcg be n cyna. Ohg V jvyy jevgr n 50, 000 jbeqf. Naq yvxr Zngg (Phggf, bs gur Tbbtyr snzr), fnlf, qb rirelguvat va fznyy fgrcf naq V jvyy jevgr 1650 jbeqf rirelqnl. Hint: Rot13.
And thats about it. If there is more, I shall add on here. Or maybe push them to September. Right now, let me try and close these 4.