“If a musician wants to blossom into a full-fledged person, it’s not enough if he knows only classical music; nor it is enough if he’s well-versed only in raagas and techniques. Instead, he should be a knowledgeable person interested in life and philosophy. In his personal life there should be, atleast in some corner of his heart, a tinge of lingering sorrow.” — A.R.Rahman
Just thinking why this should be the case…
It’s not always that you wake up at 3 AM in the morning hoping to have a day that could potentially be etched in your memory forever.
In my office, over the past weeks, all my non-Indian colleague’s had been pulled into the cricket frenzy given the craziness a select few of us showed. You could say that given the drop in productivity amongst the hand full of Indians, they had to take notice. If you were to have asked them how many players played in a cricket team, you would have, in all probability, drawn a blank expression. They din’t know a single thing about cricket. But they just saw what it meant to us. In fact during the India Pakistan clash one of them was curious to know if the match was fought to decide the ISD code of kashmir. It was made in good humour but the intensity was no less. With the latest news confirming that Indians account for 17% of the world population It could be quite possible that atleast 20% of the world population ,comprising a mix of direct believers like me and indirect supporters like my firang Team Lead, was praying for India.
We had decided to watch the WC finals, India vs SL , at the local theatre. And it was time to wake up my colleagues. Not that it was with any noble intent in mind but just to make sure that those guys din’t fail to pick me up on the way to the theatre.
4 AM – It was almost as if time had frozen. Nothing much moved apart from the car that we were in. The music was loud with the woofer thumping beats wildly.
4 30 AM – As we walked into the theatre, the menu said Upma and Vada. Awesome. Indian breakfast after more than a month. But time to get a seat. Break fast can always wait.
The National Anthem – The entire theatre stood up in unison. I had never felt more Indian before.
4 55 AM – SL had won the toss. They were going to bat first. Sanga says “ Any total we put can be good enough” . The Indian in me felt like saying “Puke You”. Puke has been used to avoid getting the post R rated. Readers can use their imagination to replace a suitable word that could rhyme with a duck or a Queue. Any body for “Halls to sangakarra”? No typo . I meant the cough drops, you know, and not those round things. You know ppl always mistake me.
And the changes they had rung in.
@ Dhoni – I only prayed your gamble with Santhakumaran Sreesanth paid well or alteast dint cost us a bomb.
@Sanga – I liked kapugedera’s name on the playing XI. SA can look at him as a potential hire given his affinity to Choking. Kulasekara and perera’s names , for some reason reminded me only of those papers in Engineering, those that you had to deal with after placements. You never cared a shit about them but they turn out to be a pain in the butt.
5 AM – SL innings
Zak with that white new ball in hand. Now, the Mind is a dirty thing to control. It kept reminding me of the 2003 finals where his bowling was as much off target as Daruwala’s predictions (Munaf for Player of tournament in 2007? Even Munaf would have appreciated DARUwala’s humour.)
I think we in the theatre were more nervous than the players themselves. But a few solid overs from the Indian bowlers helped us calm our nerves. Thanks to tharanga and the ‘ring of fire’, kohli, yuvi and raina. The fielding was truly live wire like drying the lankan’s scoring oppotunities in the first few overs. The first half had proceeded like a bout between two equal boxers. You could only distinguish them on technical points. No body delivered knock out punches. BTW, a few booundaries in between from Sanga and Mahela helped us spot the hand full of SL supporters by their meek applause in otherwise abject silence.
I should thank the SL team for one thing though. Midway down the innings, they played such boring cricket that I got reminded of Upma and vada waiting outside. I helped myself to the best breakfast in 40 days. (I was to later discover during the innings break that they had run out of upma)
Back to cricket. Kappu and Samraweera din disappoint me. Well done boys.
But time for Kulasekara and and the pain in the other butt , thisara perera to make their presence felt. A bad finish with zaheer’s spell rearranging like timber disturbed by a shoaib Yorker. 5 – 3- 6- 1 to 10 – 3- 60-1.
I must spare a couple of lines for Munaf aka Munni bhai. Munni had silently kept pegging away at batsman through out the tournament. Not that he was devastating. But batsman had to earn their runs against his accurate bowling. His ball to razzak in the Semi’s was fabulous.
SL had set India 275 to win.
I walked out of the hall during the innings break. The last few overs were disappointing but nothing to panic though. All we had to do was bat through the 50 overs. The world cup was just 50 overs away from us I thought.
9 23 AM – Indian Innings
Sehwag and Sachin walking out. I just mumbled a Silent Prayer.
We lost Viru and Sachin cheap. Being a Sachin fan I wanted Sachin to score in the Finals . It would have been an icing on the cake. But not all your prayers are answered. ( Yeah. I keep praying for an end to my hair loss. It never stops . And worse , as though balding wasn’t enough it’s only the black ones that decide to take the plunge, leaving the silver ones happily mocking at my age)
At Around 2 PM- Dhoni Hoicks Kulasekara into the crowd. Magical. I was trying to decipher what that shot meant and I was struggling to realize that we had won the world cup.
Somewhere, An Indian wouldn’t eat breakfast cos India won whenever he skipped them.
Elsewhere , An Indian who had never prayed even during his board exams would pray for his team to win.
‘The Superstar’ had flown to mumbai to cheer for the Men in Blue.
An Indian who had started rebuliding the indian team but now a commentator. DADA
An Indian who lead us admirably in the sydney test,2008 and served indian cricket for more than a decade. Anil.
Rahul, Laxman.. pick any player who had donned the uniform of the game.
An Indian who has been the servant and the beacon of the game. THE GOD HIMSELF.
Different ppl..Different Stature.. But they had all made their own contributions .. little or large…towards this victory..The victory that meant the realization of dreams of millions of which the above mentioned are a subset.
Note: I felt like documenting this for I am an average Indian Fan. I may complain about this very team’s inability to win consistently on their next loss. I may fail to understand that I am being unrealisitic expecting them to win ‘comprehensively’ everytime. But I want to remember this….. Remember this as a story to tell my children someday….if god permit. grand children too…
As I have already posted before. Music has a strange way of recreating memories associated with it. This is the song that played in our car as we pulled out of the parking lot, immersed in complete sense of euphoria.
There’s something about his music. Years after being made it still sounds fresh. This is something which even A R Rahman with his rich sound scape has failed to achieve. Though I am still a fan of Rahman I still think this trait of Raja to remain appealing across generations keeping the soul of the music intact is unparalleled in film music.
There was once a heated argument a few years back. I don’t exactly remember with whom. But it was about black money. Correct. Not having black money is the most ideal scenario but given the prevailing scenario, is it really a bane? I had felt that though black money would never be accounted it would be good for the nation because it’s something that you can’t save. The only way is to spend the damn thing. That would definitely boost consumption. But I believed that the expenditure would be more towards the ‘desire’ category of produce rather than a ‘necessity’ category of produces. To name a few : consumer electronics, travel , ornaments (Gold could still be a necessity in India ,though given its importance in marriages) etc. Well, the issue is more with the understanding that it is ‘want’ more than ‘need’ that spurred such scams.
The recent 2G scam reiterated nothing but only my naiveness.
I honestly don’t understand what these guys would do with multitudes of crores. This makes me wonder if it’s just about a matter of necessity vs desire that forces such scams. My little knowledge draws blank as to what could be done with this money. It’s like your illegitimate wife. There’s only so much that you could do with her lest you are prepared to draw social/legal flak.
Or is it just a case of not knowing when to stop? … May be that’s the cost of running politics. You always needed a ready inventory of so much crores to cover your costs of booth capture, MLA/MP trading, insurances against whatever and what not. Can’t rule out the possibility of peer pressure too. After all you are in India where good or bad is always and only relative to someone. That’ why Raja thought he needed to prove his mettle by making everyone around him jealous. Last but not the least along with the oath these guys take while starting offices, I suppose they are introduced to the concept of ‘going concern’ and that their family would live forever to see inflation so high that the value of their savings would have depreciated to be handy enough to feed them one loaf of bread every day.
If I am disillusioned as usual and they indeed intend to spend it…. I bet there’s secret expedition to some distant planet where all the goodies have already been sent and it’s only left for the Swiss bank account holders to board the space craft and start a new civilization.
And for the initial hypothesis that black money can be good….. I still dunno what percentage of it is good. Depends on how much is ploughed back into economy viz a viz spice jet ishtyle.
It’s been a while… travelling.. jet lag.. wanted to say hello to my blog.. and some work… and some more work on a new story… hope to post it soon.. I mean.. I hope too 
“Winnie what’s that rumbling noise?”
“Must be someone playing a Himesh song in the neighbourhood” Winnie said twisting her neck in all possible directions to capture the possible source of the sound.
“Stop joking Winnie. It’s your stomach again. Can’t you be a bit diligent about what you eat?”
“Minnie, it’s not my fault. Basheer’s wife had cooked up Biryani. Saro Mami had decided to make kheer. Why does it have to happen on the same day. It’s not my fault really “ Winnie said flapping its wings and opening its beak to indicate the yumminess quotient of the heavy lunch she had had.
Two crows that had grown up together had perched on top of a tree for their routine after meal chat.
“Nice excuse covering up for your indulgences.”
“You always take my case. Don’t you Minnie?” Winnie said with what looked like a smile. Well it’s difficult to figure if crows are smiling or not. Isn’t it?
“Never mind. Do something about that rumbling stomach of yours” Minnie retorted.
“What do I do? I have been trying hard to make vegetarian dishes co exist with non veg in my stomach but it’s looking like a difficult ask. Too bad they don’t go well together in my system” Winnie winked. “Life’s unfair. All good things come with a price it seems.”
“Now there. Someone’s getting philosophical” Minnie said.
“Yeah. Off late I have been observing so many things. There’s always a flip side to every damn good thing.”
“Like?”
“I dunno. I can’t think of anything right away. “
“Let me help you” Minnie said almost sounding sarcastic. It’s not often that Minnie got a chance to catch winnie on the odd foot. And she wasn’t gonna let go of this.
“What about the guy who’s parking his bike under this tree, privy to its generous shade. He get’s the shade while the poor old man has to park his scooter in this blistering sun. Now you could say that life’s unfair to the old man and not this guy with the bike. Where’s your flip side?? “ Minnie had never felt so confident.
“Hey Basheer’s wife. She makes amazing biryani but snores like a man. That’s an example of flip side right?” winnie sounded adamant.
“That’s a convenient example. The bike’s still waiting.” Minnie could smile. Again subject to the same doubts about being able to spot a crow smiling.
Winnie slightly bent both her knees into what seemed like a war ready position.
“I think you popped the question on the wrong day Minnie. “ winnie seemed to grin this time. Oh, I must be getting really good at crow gazing.
There was precision. Plop.
“I dunno if this answered your question. But it has for sure answered the SOS call from my stomach” Winnie flew off.
Cooking up reasons for not doing something and sounding convincing at the same time is an art. An art that I have been trying to perfect from the day my pre kg teacher asked me to bring my mom to school. And if you wanna know why, I won’t be telling you what exactly prompted this sudden urge in the teacher to meet my mom. That’s 26 years ago right? I don remember. Honestly. Well I can swear too
The point is .. I have been trying to figure out an excuse for my not posting anything for a while. The most convincing one seemed totally uncool.Work. So I own up to having been lazy. You know being lazy is cool.
If I look back at the past 1 month or so the most interesting thing happens to be the potluck that we had. Myself, Dinah, Vaibhav and Maya. January 8th. Impressive array to start with.
Chicken curry – Dinah’s hand work. I must say the pick of the lot.
Prawn fry – Thanks to Dinah’s mom. The prawn travelled all the way from Mangalore and battled 7 gruelling days in Chennai , warding of assaults from Dinah’s hunger induced attempts to devour them.I thought that’s taking undue advantage of the fact that we agreed to leave them in her custody for 7 days. And by the way thank goodness it’s her tv that doesn’t work and not the refrigerator.
Prawn curry – By yours truly and only. Lot of things could have gone wrong in my experiment. And a few did too. But hind sight , in the interest of others, I think I should have run out of gas before I had started cooking at midnight. For the poor things had to down litres of water to douse my prawn inferno.
Potato fry – Vaibhav had done a really good job as I think it’s one of the rarest veg dishes I thought I felt like having a second go at.
Chocolate Brownie – This one was by Maya. I thought and I still think she got it from some bakery. Nice to go with vanilla ice cream.
To sum it up it, the potluck went a long way in making me contemplate shifting one size up on my trousers.
And my recent crush. Another convincing excuse for me being not able to write. And we got so noisy that my neighbours had to complain.
PS: I promise that i shall make my best effort to keep writing. Ok. If not writing atleast coming up with actually interesting excuses, unlike this post, for not writing.
Yes. you may be justified in telling me no one’s worrying that there was a lull on your blog.
Hope is like water. Taken for granted despite its indispensability for survival.
In a way, hope is a kind of ignorance. Ignorance of the fact that we could fail. Ignorance of the fact that things could go wrong. And surely, every one of us does carry some hope or the other for we all go to bed expecting to wake up the next day. Don’t we? That’s plain simple hope.
When things start looking bleak , when happiness starts challenging the lower thresholds of probability and there’s no running away from it then a subconscious summon is sent to a hope that could be termed audacious. This is when the boundaries between stupidity, confidence, and arrogance all blur.
All hope is good for it saves time spent on worrying.
A play and a miss on a cricket field , could mean a missed boundary or a missed wicket depending on which side you are in. It’s for the mind to make up what one wants to see.
On this happy occasion of Christmas, I am reminded of the carol that was taught at school.
Verse 1
Joy to the world! the Lord is come;
Let earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare him room,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven, and heaven, and nature sing.
Verse 2
Joy to the world! the Saviour reigns;
Let men their songs employ;
While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat, repeat the sounding joy.
Verse 3
No more let sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found,
Far as the curse is found,
Far as, far as, the curse is found.
Verse 4
He rules the world with truth and grace,
And makes the nations prove
The glories of His righteousness,
And wonders of His love,
And wonders of His love,
And wonders, wonders, of His love.
Am going to forget everything that isnt going well and going to make an effort to move forward with hope, with face ever smiling like a child caught in a toy store.
Merry Christmas!!!
“Why the hell can’t I figure out the number of blades on a fan when it’s turned on?”
That’s the kind of questions you would get when the best thing around you happens to be the screeching winged machine above you. Drips, blood bottles, bandages, the uneasy silence, nurses walking in and out with an assortment of dull colored forms. There were so many devices, and I could safely say I had never known before that such devices ever existed. Not an enviable environment.
“Kaise lag raha hai ab? Are you feeling better now?” Asked the nurse flipping through what I assume was the case sheet. My case sheet.
I nodded to indicate I was feeling better. Heck.I was too weak to talk. Delhi was as alien to a south indian as smiling was to Narashimha rao. I could only say two words when I came to think of the fact that my first ever accident had to happen in this alien land, with no known faces to support.
Life Sucks.
#
4 and half years back
“Dude how could you?” Krishna gave such a disgusting look as though I had walked over a dead frog.Or more apt. As though he was suffering from constipation for the past one week. I hated that look. And especially if it was when were discussing answers after the exam.
“How could you even think that the square root of 3 is 1.414.?”
Shit.
“I cant believe your carelessness man. You know how competitive entrances are.” He kept shaking his head in disbelief.
I felt like asking him to cut the crap and find a way to stuff his thing into his hinds. I wanted to go home smiling .This guy had derived the sadistic pleasure of denying me a happy ride back home. But I knew he was right. What an occasion to get the simplest of square roots wrong.
Life Sucks.
#
3 and half years back
“What’s this?”
“Why. Is the answer wrong?” asked Arun with some sarcasm. The asshole knew very well that my preparations for the exam weren’t enough even to figure out one answer from the other if he hadn’t put the question numbers against them. Let alone knowing the right one from the wrong one.
“It’s black ink . how do you think I can write peacefully with this ink proudly showing off like the lone mole on the profs bald head” I said with my voice barely audible and scurrying to accommodate his answer sheet amidst the loose halfwritten blue inked ones of mine.
“shut up n get on with it” He retorted with his hand covering his mouth, trying to suppress a giggle and I think I saw him trying to look at the professors head. Well, I had no choice. Risk of failing the exam assumed greater significance compared to the risk of getting caught.
But somedeed that I had done in my last 20 years apparently seemed to have earned me brownie points with god. The prof decided to grade his papers, seated away from me, far enough that I could have even taken a smoke break in between the exam.
“I am going to buy you a blue inked pen man. This is not happening.” I said as we walked towards the hostel.
“Screw you man. You’re such a pain. If you could bother to study even a bit, my life would be far easier and risk free” He said.
I didn’t know what exactly he got out of being my friend. But he was my best buddy. And I knew the seat behind him in the next exam would be promptly reserved for me even if I were to turn up late.
#
2 and half years back
“Adi” . Why did my name sound better when her vocal chords were the ones producing it? I could hear the familiar railway announcement in the background amidst the cacophony of vendors on platform.
“Do you remember the first words you ever spoke to me? It was on this very platform last year. ” She punched my tummy mockingly. “Duffer”
She was in my class and we had never spoken until before that day. Both of us had missed the train to Cannanore which had our classmates. I had missed the tour I so badly wanted to be in.
“Life sucks” she said imitating me. The first words that I had spoken to her.
There was another prompt over the PA system for Pandian express. That was her train.
She would be leaving home and I knew it would be 2 months before I could see her again. I felt a sudden rush of blood. It had to be now or never. Why? I wasn’t going to wait for an answer.
“How would you like to be my pillion rider for life?” I asked her abruptly. “I know it’s gonna be a long ride. Could be bumpy too. But would you be interested?” It certainly hadn’t come out that way I had rehearsed. If a graph had been drawn for the modulations on my voice, it would have come out straight. “I shall promise my earnest effort to keep it a lively one” I finished.
I kept searching for any signs of reaction. A twitch of muscle to frown or a curve of the lips to smile? No her eyebrows propped up with a faint sense of surprise. She walked towards the coach entrance with her bag, all packed for the vacation. Now a grill separated us as she seated herself on her side lower berth.
“I think I asked you a question” I reminded her as she settled down.
Her eyes which were looking at the platform now looked up to me.
“Adi… Do you remember the first auto ride that we took after we had missed the train? She paused and looked at me. Her tone had softened. “I wanted the auto driver to take a longer route. I din know why. I felt good talking to you. I wanted that ride to extend by how much ever was possible. I must admit that from then on every moment in my life has been different. I know it’s because of you. And now you ask me this.“A few seconds must have passed and I din’t know what to make of the words she had spoken. Did she really mean what I thought she meant?
“Duffer. Cant you see I am feeling shy to say it. I don’t think I can refuse.” She said , regaining her bubbliness and pulling my collar mockingly through the grills.
I took her hands in mine and said “I am not gonna leave this hand now”. Suddenly I seemed oblivious to the chaos around me.
“And, wait for my train to leave is it?” She loved mocking at me. And I loved her mocking at me.
“No, I thought you wouldn’t mind missing the train again”
#
2 and half years back
“I know I am acting sick.” Arun said. “But I cant talk to you with this thought that the girl I like actually loves you. I don’t think I can be true to our friendship even with an iota of jealousy. And unknowingly you have started to make me feel inferior. I think we should tread separate paths to save ourselves embarrassment.” He din’t wait for an answer. He turned away and all I could do was watch the person whom I thought was the most genuine of all, walking away from me.
God, I thought was cruel, for he had chosen me when he had wanted to experiment with the most delicate of situations. I could only hope that Arun would understand and forgive me someday.
Life Sucks.
#
Today
I could hear someone asking for my name. And the voice sounded familiar. I opened my eyes faintly. It was Mridu. What the hell was she doing in Delhi? Was I dreaming? Or did the Delhi metro run services to Belgium?
“Idiot. Couldn’t you ask them to call me? Thank goodness the doctor had dialed the recent number from your phone.” Her voice defied the sternness of her words. She was scared.
I could see that tags of airlines on her bag. Lufthansa. She had flown down all the way from Belgium leaving her work as is.
I beckoned her closer to me.
“Mridu.. You know what?”
“What?” she seated herself next to my bed holding my hand.
“Nice perfume. I thought you would have left in panic and the perfume wouldn’t have figured on your mind. ” I said in my now barely audible voice. “Looks like wasn’t the case” I smiled.
“Duffer” Did I see a smile?
When she had got a job in Belgium and I had to go for my MBA to Delhi, she was upset that she couldn’t stay with me.
“Adi, You joker” Second time in a short while, a familiar voice. I was dead sure it was Arun.
I looked at Mridu as Arun approached my bed. Her eyes told me that she had informed Arun.
“You still are a pain man. Couldn’t you have prepared better to get into IIM Bangalore.? My life would have been easier. Bangalore to Delhi, I spent more time in the car getting to and from the airport than the actual flying time. Tell me what could I have done wrong to be stuck with a bugger like you as friend?.” He said taking the chair Mridu had offered him.
Were my eyes getting moist? I was hearing him talk in first person to me after more than a year. Someone else had told, true friendship comes without expectation.But I was chosen to experience it.
Not every one gets an opportunity to be shown how much he’s really loved. I had got this. This moment was worth all the ‘life sucks’ incidents that I had to go through to get here. And I wanted to google the person who had said ‘everything happens for a reason’. Because the next time I would have to say ‘life sucks’, I would want to remember him.
And if someone were to ask me the difference between 1.7 and 1.4, I could go on. It’s the difference between the Square root of 3 and the square root of 2. It was the difference between the right answer and the wrong answer. It was the difference between Electronics branch and Computer science branch. More importantly it was the difference between having two wonderful people and not having them.
 | Josephine on Lost and… |
| Josephine on A Walk to Remember |
 | Vijay on April 2nd, 2011 Cary , North… |
| Vijay on ‘Scam’ble |
 | Ajith on Idling |
