The Perfect Analysis

I had once said about Vinod Khare "...one who would give me the coldest yet the brutally sanest advice on any issue", and there he goes again! This is a short conversation I had with him on our reunion at Alfaaz, IIT Kanpur's Literary Festival, which he is gracing as a Judge!!! Beats me how he manages to do that (too!), but however, that is not the point. Speaking of which, here is the point of the pointless conversation, (definitely not the first and surely not the last) that we had today on our time honoured practice of pilgrimage to "THE MT" for chai, samosa and whatnot.

The topic of the chat is the usual, "What is Saumya Jain supposed to be doing", hehe, something in which I have earned a D.Phil., needless to mention that all arguments expounded in which are as useless as the debate of the status of the planet Pluto in the Solar System. so, here goes ...

Saumya (talking about a day in recent forgotten history on which he had a bath): See, it is about perfection, about quality. It is about giving your best in everything you do. When I take a bath, I get an oil massage, a pedicure, a nice little sunbath and then I stand under the shower for ages. That, my friend is the perfect way to cleanse the body and the mind.

Vinod: Uh-huh.

Saumya: Yeah, nothing, absolutely nothing beats the feeling of your legs being soaked in warm water, sitting in the afternoon sun, and a relaxing massage with oil.

Vinod: Uhm! You mean "Getting a massage"? Are you employing people to do that? Really?

Saumya: Ah! No, no no. I mean I am rubbing oil in my hair myself, but, isn't the feeling just heavenly?

Vinod (pauses, thinks and then BANG!): Tumhe pata hai, tumko na Raja hona chahiye. Ekdum tumhaare laayak job hai! [You know what? You should be a king. Its a job just made for you!]

Saumya (Obviously surprised at the skewed parallel drawn between a king and a job desc): Hmm?

Vinod (Coldly, as though working out a case study. You just HAVE TO give it to this guy, he can remain SO indifferent even when he is speaking of such *disdainful* wisdom!) : Haan, na tum kuchh kaam karte ho, na kuchh karna chahte ho, bas pade rehte ho, aish karte rehte ho, aalsi bhi ho, ek hi cheez aati hai, bak bak karna aur morals baantna. Yehi sab toh karna hota hai. [Yes, its obvious. You don't do anything, neither do you want to. You just hang around all day long, making the most of your leisure-time, and you are slothful too. If you are good at something, it is talking crap and moralising. This is all that one requires to be a king.] You should have been born in the medieval times. You'd have done well.

Saumya (the truth hitting him at last): Yeah, I always thought that I was a bit old fashioned for this world. Too sad I missed the window. Waise, meri kundali mein shaayad Raj-yog likha hai. [Astrologically speaking, my fortune favours me to become one of the ruling class] Hehe. Kahan apply karoon? [Where do I sign up for this?]

Vinod (Smiling. Oh thank you holy mother of God): Hehe, chal chal, MT chal, fir bataataa hoon... [Hehe, walk on along, let me explain...]

And so we met again, probably for the last time on IITK soil. Probably for the last time to discuss this dreaded issue which I myself have been taking a bit too lightly (this blog-post notwithstanding). Hopefully though, I see some light at the end of this tunnel.

So anyhow, Ladies and Gentlemen, that, was Vinod Khare, and this, is me, signing off with this little poem, which will make sense to few. At least it does to me.

Adieu, adieu, adieu!
We'll miss you, Radley Boo,
You've been wronged,
and been miscast;
But all of that,
is in the Past.
Go on ahead, make a life,
No more worries, no more strife.
Speak out and you'll be heard,
No longer the caged mockingbird.
Go! Do the thing you wanna do,
Adieu, Boo, Adieu!

Closer, Farther ...

A not-so-random thought ...

Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear to be; objects not in the mirror are farther than they appear to be.

Expounding this thought will go a long way ... hope I complete this article soon. More on this when we return!

Laying Some Demons to Rest

I recently noticed a couple of blogs I have started on my blogger account. This post is primarily to list 'em out and have a retrospection on when/why they were made. Here we go.

1. SaumyäSæz
[http://saumyajain.blogspot.com/] : This is my blog-a-la-originale. The authentic, the real McCoy, the right_from_the_horse's_mouth blog. I like to call it "My Rant". It has everything one could possibly know about me, or rather, at least everything I would let the world know about me. 81 posts including this one. The one that people know about, the one that I advertise. The one, that I write on. The one, that is me.

2. L.o.v.e.s.m.i.t.t.e.n.s.v.i.l.l.e
[http://luvbitten.blogspot.com/] : Once upon a time there was a guy who was smitten with love. Unreturned love. Or so he thought. Or so he did not. And thus he ended up bitten in love. This was supposed to be a "(s)pit-of-venom blog". Something to pour out, to vent out the anger, the inadequacy, the failure, the fall, the times, the promises, the quirkiness, the reality. It still has only one post. It will always have only one post. A post that I regret. A post that I shall never delete. Just to remind me never to write something like that again. Maybe, I guess, till I "fall" again.

3. A 100 days of solitude
[http://alifeinexile.blogspot.com/] : I will reproduce the only post this blog has, here.

Sunday, August 5, 2007
"An exile?"
"Yes."
"How? You are still around people you know."
"Yes, that is true. In physical terms, yes."
"Then?"
"Hmm... Well, it is an exile. Let's just leave it at that."

Akshay gives me a quizzical look. I smile back.

The idea to launch this blog came upon me a day before I wrote the luvbitten blog. It is after spewing out the spit of venom that I decided to end my 100 days of solitude on Day-2 itself. I realised that I was not ready for it then. A hundred days of solitude were meant as an experience to "grow", not to grow ugly and hateful. Thus ended my hundred days of exile, and so did the blog. (and so began my "Alter-Exile") But, unlike the "spit of venom blog", this is not a closed file. I know I shall come back to this again, although in very different circumstances and a totally different mindset. One day I shall be ready. It is then that I shall return to the blog, and to a hundred days of solitude, and hopefully, to a life in exile, away from "all this". What's "all this"? You'll know. Soon enough.

4. Posts on Love and Freedom, and Related Stuff :D
[http://luvandfreedom.blogspot.com/] : As the title says. This is for posts on Love, Freedom and Related Stuff. Hahahahah! Basically, it started out as an outlet for appreciating the finer things in life. It was there to remind me that I was not the only enlightened mind writing about human emotions. There have been lesser mortals before me who have succeeded in capturing intense emotions and packed them in words, mostly poetry. Basically, a place where I posted others' compositions centered around the strongest of human emotions, love and freedom. Sadly, given my age and circumstance, it boiled down to love more than freedom at that time, and soon I got so entangled with love that I actually stopped thinking about freedom, and if that was not enough, my posts on love too went on to merge with my rant blog, and so this blog became parched. I guess its time to renew this blog, now that my alter-exile is also over. And what better a post than Faiz's "Mujhse pehli si muhabbat mere mehboob na maang"

5. Science and Technology Council IITK
[http://scitech-iitk.blogspot.com/] : Originally meant as a General Secretary (I was "that" once, :D) writing about his council in IITK, I guess it had one discussion and everyone soon forgot about it. Maybe because it was seen as a propaganda thingy back then. It was an honest attempt to bring in some people to life. I guess IITK was not ready back then. With lately my intent of doing something crazy with the IITK junta having found a supporting voice with Arvind Kothari, the currently outgoing PREJIDENT SAAHIB ;), I guess this blog may be used to complete a much awaited discourse on "What ails IITK" and also in the future, become a platform for my thoughts about Science and Technology as well as my days of being the "Scitech-Oh Seven" in IITK, the time and place where I gained, lost, learnt, became, befooled, did, undid, follied, jollied ... myself. All by myself.

6. The Techkriti Blog
[http://techkriti-ohseven.blogspot.com/] : "Wake me up when Techkriti Ends" ... This was Rakshit's status message. Techkriti was the brand, Oh Seven was the catchline, Us, the salesmen. I am absolutely immodest when it comes to this. It was THE Techkriti. Honest to God, great intentions without any fear of what will happen. For most of the people, where it was "just another tech fest", for us it was a matter of life, prestige and passion. Still is. There will be better ones I am sure. But one thing that no one can take away from Oh Seven is, it was the one that started it all. Nanda's Techkriti, to a large extent, inspired us. It was a benchmark. But we had a better base with the participants, and so by the end of it, I can safely say, we made Nanda proud. True, it had its glitches, it had its misses, they all do. I take all responsibility. Truly. I do believe I was the weakest link in the whole chain. BUT, I was also the superglue, heheh. Anyhow, this blog was made around the run up to the fest but soon discarded just like the scitech blog. There is still time before I fill it up with "How-to-organise-a-students-fest" guideline. (I have actually thought of doing so. Call me crazy.)

Aww shucks. This too has become just like all the old ones. Filling me with remorse over all my past life. [life. or something like it ;) ... Now where did I pick that one up from?] Anyhow, I am learning to live with it. I am learning to live with myself. The bottomline is, I am learning. That, I guess, is enough for me.

IITK - Book of Institutional Harassment [3:14]

... and then the powers-that-be said, “and thou shalt hence be known as The Academically Deficient One, and by the instrument of this name thou shalt be treated as a lowly mongrel, and looked upon with suspicion wherever you go or in whatever you do, and any attempt that thee shall strive to make to clear thyself of this name shalt be trodded down upon sans mercy by us who are invested with the clout to do so.”

To Each His Own

Scene : High Speed Aerodynamics Laboratory, Indian Institute of Technology Kanpur, India
Players : Saumya Jain and Ashish Vashishtha
Mood : SLEEPY!!!

Saumya is working on the computer, fiddling with the Quotations page. Apparently a day to think up something profound. Picks up a Shakespeare quote and puts it across on the blog. It goes something like this...

"It is not important to know who you are, than to have faith in what you can become."

Thus satisfied, he is about to fall asleep on the keyboard when Ashish returns from MT. With an eclectic, jovial and recently-had-something-to-eat mood, Ashish comes and sits next to Saumya. Saumya, beaming from inside at his recently plagiarised quote, points out the verse to his mate.

Ashish looks at it, grows serious, and remarks with a straight face...

"A call-girl is better than a girlfriend."

Silence. Ashish looks at Saumya; Saumya looks at Ashish. They laugh. Period.

P.S : What an anti-climax!

saummy's back!

saummy's back, and back for good.

wayy back down the annals of old father time, there was a guy, studying, slogging it out for prestige. there was a saumya jain who did not care who or what. emotions was not what he was carved out for. pure performance, impeccable perfection was all he knew, and all he cared for was his goal and the means to achieve it.

soon, it changed. he fucked up.

he started noticing people around him. people with selves, with hopes, aspirations, with dreams. he started respecting that. he started learning that people need to be taken care of, attended to, loved. he started to love them. he started to see to it that they felt important. that their egos got tingled every now and then. people like that you know. he fell in love. with the whole of humanity. yes, he fell in love. with that one girl who meant the life to him. was it love? he still doesn't know. but whatever it was, it changed him, nurtured him for well over four years and brought out a side to him that he never knew he had. did it really nurture him? or was it him who was nurturing this idiotic farce that he thought was love? he had become vulnerable, he had become weak, he was pitying himself for the first time in his two decades of existence.

and then it happened again. things changed. he fucked up again.

he was never a change-happy guy. that part of his personality, ironically, had been the same since his childhood. he screwed up whenever things changed. he had the capability of screwing everything up BIGTIME. things that weren't even related to the change, got fucked up at his hands. he had lost everything once more. everything. and he went back in a shell. from his recluse he could see everyone bubbling around, moving on with their lives. he hated himself, hated the world. he hated and hated and hated. and then he slept.

he slept the whole of summers away.

it was a summer hibernation. he went to the point of no return and stay put. in his sleep, he could listen people coming up to him and try to waken him up. he wanted to, but couldn't. and then one fine day, he met a flock of angel-sisters. some of them seemed familiar, some of them were strangers. he reached out to touch them. they opened up to him. they told him their stories, as he told them his. as he heard about their pain, he realised what an ignorant fool he had been all this time. what he had was no pain at all. it was his own undoing that was lashing back at him all this time. saummy knew now what he had to do. he woke up and started working. from the depths of his heart saummy felt thankful to the angel-sisters. they had shown him how to feel love and still not corrupt his mind.

he was back.

Tongue-in-cheek?

Aloo ke paranthe.
Tawa Pizza.
Mooli ki bharwa roti.
Butter Toast.
Daal Baati.
Moong ki daal ki khichdi.
Makhani Daal.
Dahi Bhalle.
Besan ka Chilla.
Aate ka halwaa.
Thanda Mathha.
Sem ki sabzi.

Aaye Haaye.

I'm at home, and my tummy is in tummy heaven. :)
The tongue can't leave the cheek though!

Was it you?

Was it you or was I dreaming?

***

the late phone call at night
the stupid idiotic worthless fight

the million lines of online chat
talking about anything, everything, this n that

and then came the time, the first meeting
seeing you was enough, the rest was fleeting

the one when i became deaf and dumb
you saw me trembling, actually i was numb!

the bangles and the sarees, all that too,
was i dreaming or was it really you?

***

it wasn't you, now i have known
everything was a dream, all of my own

it was a picture that i had drawn
it was a dream that is now gone

it was a silly heart and a stupid man
doing and thinking only what stupid things can

its not your fault, you never knew
heh 'cause for me "you" were not you

from the outside, in the mold you fitted right in
but the silly me forgot to look within

you weren't her, umm maybe close
but just not her, the one that i chose

that doesnt send the real you any afar
you're a wonderful girl just as you are

but i'm a simple man and thus i opine
couldn't want something that was never mine

it wasn't you, i was dreaming all along
and then i heard the Pope singing his song

"How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind;
Each prayer accepted and each wish resigned"

the reverie is over, the dream is gone
but just don't yet talk about moving on.

From the 90s and still there.

I am a retro.
I grew up in the 90s.
A good part of me still lives in those times. No matter how much I try to keep pace with the times, I am stuck!

Wanna know why? Here's 50 reasons, in no particular order...

1. The never ending mythical cultural dose of Mahabhaaaarat, Ramayana, Shri Krishna, well maybe even Alif Laila on DD1

2. Oh yes and talking about DD1 ... Surabhi, Tehkikaat, Byomkesh Bakhshi, Nukkad, Circus, Hum Log, Chanakya, Shanti, Swabhimaan and the Saturday waali fillum and the Sunday shaam waali fillum.

3. Do I hear more? Yeah, DD2, the Superhit Muqabla, the Rangoli, the Chitrahaar, the video "albums", the non-stop 24 hour channel, the Govinda and Rajnikant movies, the Regional language films, the late night English flicks from the 70s, the NFDC art films! Heck even the "Munna zara paas ki dukaan se namak toh le aa" (IODISED NAMAK campaign), "ORS ka ghol", "Mile sur Mera Tumhaara", "Ek Titli, Anek Titiliyaan"

4. The Kiddie specials - Talespin, Duck Tales, Tom and Jerry at 7:00 a.m., Guchha, Daanu Danasur, Alladin, Disney Hour, Alice in Wonderland (Tap tap topi topi topi jo duube), Potli baba ki, Mulla Nasruddeen :)

5. Taking "money" to school to buy Crax from the DPS-EOK canteen, making a very long face in case you lost the money, and trying to explain how you would make up for it.

6. Watching jingles like : Washing Powder Nirma ... , Lifebuoy hai jahan ... , Bol Sakhi Bol tera raaz kya hai ;) ... , Humaara Bajaj ... , Vicco Turmeric nahin Cosmetic ... , Babool babool paise wasool ... , Dhoondte reh jaaoge ... , Joote mein hai light ... , Hum do humaare do ... , Melody khaao khud jaan jaao ... , Coffee or toffee ... , Maggi hot and sweet tomato "chilli" sauce, its different ... , Jab main chhota bachcha tha ... , Asli masaale sach sach ... , Liril girls ... , Lux adverts ... , Haan bhai haan, Coldarin li? ... , Saatth saal ke boodhe ya saatth saal ke jawaan? ... , Raju tumhaare daant toh motiyon jaise chamak rahe hain ... , Bhala usski saaree meree saree se safed kaise? ... ,

7. The aampapad/chooran waala who used to sit in front of the school gate. Or the Kwality icecream waala, hey even the Kwarly or Quality icecream waala. And how can one forget the 2 rupees ki kulfi.

8. When V.P (Singh) caused a nationwide bandh (Mandal Riots) and then P.V. (Narasimha Rao) took over and got us a stable government. What the heck, did we even care? ... Economic Liberalisation by the sardar uncle in the Blue pagdi (Manmohan Singh) whom Papa and Joshi uncle would ardently listen to every March for some strange discussions on "budget"

9. Speaking of budget, Ma and Papa writing their daily hisaab at night and doing the books to see how to plan for our bright future.

10. The Cricket World cup of 1996, the Eden Gardens burning, Kambli crying ... Azhar, Kapil, Sachin ... Match fixing, Cronje getting killed, oh man!

11. Nasnal eleksons, all the time, post PVNR ... I.K. Gujral, Hardhanhalli Dodde Deve Gowda (I memorised this one for my GK exam) ... Pa and Ma proudly showing off the black tickmarks on their fingernails everytime they voted (and probably it was all the time) ... Photo Voter I Cards.

12. A time when a telephone in your house was a luxury. Oh and wait, there was these long queues at the local STD-PCO after 9:00 to talk to my Nanaji in Kanpur or Tauji in Muzaffarnagar.

13. Knowing the mohalla waalaas as "16 wali aunty" and "17 waali aunty" ... "Roorkee waale tauji", "Modinagar waali buaji" ... "Pinky didi" ... "Bittoo bhaiyya"

14. School "picnic" to Lodi Garden or Humayun's tomb. Planning in advance and ending up just rolling down the slopes. Or Maybe Appu Ghar, Delhi Zoo, Or the National Science Center, Rail Museum, Bal Bhavan, Shankar's Library, Doll's Museum.

15. Chacha Chaudhary, Billoo, Pinky, Saboo, Raman, Channi Chachi.

16. Manorama, Sarita (with Shrimatiji) and Grihashobha (Bunai special) and then Ma became "mod" so Women's Era. Heh heh heh ... and then "we" grew up a bit so, adieu to Champak, Nandan, Nahe Samrat, Balhans and hello to Cine Blitz and Filmfare. Super Commando Dhruv and Nagaraj stayed, though.

17. Endless games of scrabble with Ma, Pa, me and Joshi uncle. Loads of board games with KJ, I DO mean LOADSSSSS! Still have more than 20 games saved.

18. Garmiyon ki holidays!!! Chhutti chhutti and Tarramtoo on DD, Nani ke ghar ki trip (Sleeper class mein half ticket, hahaha!), last week mein holiday homework!

19. Cricket with the muhalla. Fighting for batting, and then howling when getting out ... and then when all else failed ... threatening to go away 'coz the bat was mine :)

20. Making charts for the class board, giving the thought for the day or the news in the morning assembly, then later on debates, declamations, quizzing, clay modelling, "spring house" prefect, bombs going away in school toilets, class monitors, forgetting the tie in the assembly, nail size checks and duster waali punishment, "go stand at the back of the class", and oh yes ... moral science classes!

21. And yes ... Vinod reminds me ... sex education ... reading the agony aunt, vyaktigat samasyaaein, "sharmaayein nahi humse poochhein" (Thanks to Vivek for this!) etc. columns of newspaper to expand our sexual knowledge, chhup chhup ke :)

22. On the same note ... a short skirt was a treat to the eyes, a mini skirt on TV and ma would cover your eyes, and a bikini was blasphemy! Beyond that, we couldn't even imagine!!! Our share of titillation? Karishma Kapoor singing "sexy sexy sexy mujhe log bolein" in skimpy nothings ... Govinda crooning "meri pant bhi sexy" with his gyrations, et cetera. ... oh and how can I forget ... Madhuri (the queen of seething hearts) and her "choli ke peechhe" uproar! For the real perverted guys, there was the morning show listing on the Hindi newspaper, while the classy ones like me preferred "watching" Delhi Times (oh once an NIE volunteer told us ... everyone "watches" DT, no one "reads" it ... that is the way it is to be used). By the way, just for the ones who are interested, DT started out as a Tuesday supplement, then gradually from a 2-day to 4-day it became a regular, remember? :)

23. Stapoo, Pitthoo, Chhupan Chhupaai, Pakdam Pakdaai, Vish-amrit, Four corners, beech ka bichhoo, Chain-chain, Tennis ball se football khelna, "Jab miss mary chhoti thi toh unki aadat aaise thi...", "Das patte tode ek patta kachcha...", "Posham pa bhai posham pa, lal quile mein kya hua?...", "I sent a letter to my father, on the way i dropped it ...",

24. Saanp seeddhi, Ludo, 3-2-5, Rummy, Laad, Patte-pe-patta, Rang-mila-le-rang, Business, The Game of Life

25. Maggi, Thums up, Citra, Gold Spot, 7UP, Canada Dry, Tawa pizza, Brown Bread, Mother Dairy ke doodh ke sikke, Wimpys, Nirulas, Nice Biscuits, Monaco,

26. Aishwarya, Sushmita, Aamir, Shahrukh. On another level there was Sunny, Sanjay and Salman, Akshay. Babes? Karishma, Raveena, Rambha, Ramya, Divya Bharati (and her sudden death) ... Goddess? Madhuri.

27. Paras, Odeon, Priya, Amba, Regal.

28. Alaknanda, Kalkaji, Tara Apartments, Lajpat Nagar, Palika Bazaar, South Ex.

29. Maruti 800, Maruti Gypsy, Maruti 1000, Maruti Zen, Maruti Esteem. All Maruti. Or maybe the FIAT Padmini and the 118NE, Ambassador and Nova.

30. Then ... Santro and Matiz!

31. He-man, GI Joes, Trump Cards, Barbie doll sets, Hot Wheels!

32. The weekly movie that used to play at 16-waali-aunty's "imported" VCR and the whole of the mohalla's aunties with their chunnus and munnus sitting round to watch.

33. Janmashtami ki jhaankis made by all the didis and bhaiyyas of the neighbourhood.

34. Clandestine love affairs between the same didis and bhaiyyas of the mohalla, one of them even had a marriage :)

35. Aaloo ke papad and aam ke achaar being put out to ferment in the sun.

36. Pakistani plays on Mamaji's VCP, which he had got in "dahej" when he married my beautiful Mamiji.

37. The joint family met at least once a year. Every year played witness to more than 3 marriages (of my cousins or someone!) Every marriage used to go on for weeks, and it would mean meeting up my cousins and loads of comics and chocolates! and Gende ke phool ki fights, gende ke phool ka cricket match, sleeping with cousins on terraces, Bittoo bhaiyya ki ragging ke kisse, Chunnu bhai ki kahaaniyaan, Nishu ki girlfriends, ha ha ha!!!

38. Sans shopping malls, the only places we bought our clothes were from Chunmun, Ritu wears, Snowhite or Shyam's. The only places we did go to eat was Sagar and the likes ... we had pet shops for all purchases ... and the major ration used to be bought from Khari Baoli in Old Delhi.

39. It was a time when everything was semi-automatic ... Refrigerators that required defrosting through the little red button, Washing machines that saw mom wrestling and jostling out all over the house with clothes ... In fact, even now, years later since she has gotten herself an automatic front loading version, she still plays out her old schedule everytime the clothes are laundered.

40. A microwaves oven, a personal computer, a dining table, a new bed, a fully automatic fridge, a water purifying system other than the ceramic-candle-filter, were all items that were put on the wishlist every year and then were pushed down in priority because of other pressing expenditures, like children's clothing, children's books, children's fees, children's savings. We really owe it to our folks for what we are. They missed out on the best years of their lives so that we could enjoy ours.

41. Suraj Kund ka mela!

42. Begging and crying for a T.V. Video Game on my 9th birthday. Exchanging cartridges with friends. Endless Tennis, Mario, Street fighter and Spartan bouts. Oh, and Double Dragon and Contra!

43. Back to DD. Forgot to add the ones that we never watched. The UGC programs, the Akhil Bhartiya something something which showed classical dance and music, Krishi Darshan, National News (Papa was the only one who watched it). And the ones we did ... Turning Point, Living on the Edge, The World This Week, Kya aur Kaise. Once again, the first ever TV soap for children ... Hint? "Jungle jungle baat chali hai pata chala hai ... chaddi pehen ke phool khila hai phool khila hai!"

44. "Chandrakaanta (ting a ding)... ki kahaani (dham!) ... yeh maana (ting a ding) ... hai puraani (dham!) ... yeh puraani (ting a ding) ... hokar bhi (ting!) ... badi lagti (ting a ding) ... hai suhaani (dham!) ... sorry people this thing warranted a special place! So did Krur Singh and Shikha Swaroop (who has been immortalised in this role, coz this is the only one she ever did!!!)

45. The Pragati Maidaan fairs ... World Book Fair, World Trade Fair - toys section, books sections, food section!

46. Kumar Sanu, Anuradha Paudwaal, Udit Narayan, Mohd. Aziz, Alka Yagnik, Kavita Krish.

47. That reminds me of "Yeh aakaashvaani hai, abhi studio ki ghadi mein shaam ke aath bajkar chhabbees minute ho rahe hain. Abhi abhi aapne Manju Sharma se hindi ke samachaar sune..." and "...geet gaaya hai Kumar Sanu aur Anuradha Paudwal ne, bol hain Sameer ke aur sangeet Anand Milind ka hai" and "Yeh hai VIVIDH BHARATI!" ... Speaking of which, those little Transistors which everyone used to glue to their ears, especially when a cricket match was being aired. AIR rocked!

48. Katti-Abba :)

49. Dekh Bhai Dekh and Zabaan Sambhaal Ke. Street Hawk and Knight Rider. I Dream of Jeannie and Bewitched.

50. "Teri Chopsy ho gayi!" :)

I could go on and on with this one. Haven't even started out on the Zee TV programs and the Star Plus with its humble beginnings, heh.

Too high on nostalgia right now to continue rambling. If there is ANNYTHING you feel I have missed out ... continue the list on the scrapbook!

Adios!

Time cannot be turned back, and words cannot be taken back.
I am not what I was, and I hate what I am.

But I'll no longer hurt anyone. I'll just shut up till I get back to myself.

I'm sorry.

Daddu speaketh...

For all that matters, I could have also chosen this post to be titled, "Vinod Khare and the girlfriend, the lover and the whore". Here's why ...

One good friday, when we were all ready to throw Rakshit out of the campus with an awesome party, this is when Daddu was hit by one of his creative bolts and said something which went like this...

"Your girlfriend is someone you have sex with, while a lover is someone you make love to." Then he paused, waiting to see everyone's reaction, when at once, Saumya, hit with an equally intense bolt of curiosity asked, "then whom do you fuck?" "Oh that?!" said Daddu, "obviously, a whore."

That's more than just wordplay. I'll leave you to figure that out.

"Us"

Here's a short piece I just wrote randomly. I don't know in what genre of literature I should basket this one, but here goes ...

Beyond the mazes of time,
Beyond the veil of reality,
Beyond the spaces that be,
There exists an ‘us’

There’s an ‘us’;
Waiting.
Breathing…
Silently, Patiently, Serenely.

One day,
I shall meet ‘us’
Will let you know.
Just keep in touch.

:|

Early morning vibes...

The following transpired between me and Praty on our way to the morning chai at MT, worth a blog.

Scene : The half-asleep duo of Praty and Saumya trudging along the Hall of Residence Avenue, crossing the Hall 2 gate towards MT. As they see, a localite lady is boarding a Rickshaw. She'll be around 30, attired in Saree and with a voice as shrill and as loud that is associated with my perception of the Kanpur babe. The rickshaw puller and the lady soon start making small conversation, and both of them laugh.

Saumya (feeling sorry for the lady's hardworking, bread_winner_for_the_family, middle class husband) : Dekh yaar, aunty toh rickshaw waale se hi las rahi hain! [Behold thine eyes to this scene my friend, this fine young lady here is categorically "flirting" with this gentleman rickshaw puller here!]

Praty (...) : huh? [huh?]

Saumya (still inquizitive) : Yaar dekh na, aunty lase hi jaa rahi hain ... kyun? aakhir kyun ? aakhir kyun praty!!! [See, she is still flirting, why why why oh WHY!]

Praty (! - which means he is on the verge of getting to a big time earth shattering realisation) : Simple hai, aunty soch rahi hain, thoda lasne se agar 6 rupay ki jagah 5 rupay dene ki ho jaaye toh kya nuksaan? ['tis but simple, for she thinks what is the harm done if for a few moments of her sweet chitchat, this foolish rickshaw puller would charge her a rupee less for the ride?]

Saumya (still doubtful) : Lekin yeh baat toh rickshaw waala bhi jaanta hoga na? Wo kyun las rah hai? [Yes my friend, but would not the same realization dawned upon the rickshaw puller aswell? Why is he playing the game?]

Praty (!!! - which means that he got a time slice of clear vision and spoke the ultimate truth) : Dekh rickshaw waala soch raha hai, mere 6 rupay toh kahin jaane nahin doonga, woh toh wasool hi loonga, ab tab tak agar lasne ko hi mil raha hai toh main kyun mauka haath se jaane doon [He knows that he will anyhow take the exact fare from the woman, so why not enjoy the ride with a little spice?]

Well, that's the world for you, as we realised it one sleepy Spring morning on our way to the MT.

Random Thought no. 42 : what do we learn at IIT

Yep, this is a new thing on this blog, and I'll post 'em under the title "Random Thought"s. Each "random thought" will be assigned a not-so-random_ number ... wait, wait wait ... well that's debatable, at the end it IS a random pick from a finite list of numbers I have in mind :| ... anyhow, back to where we were ... so a not-so-random number shall be assigned to the incumbent thought while it is being posted on "the blog".

Each random thought, as it were, would have a short but precise idea thrown upon at the reader to (hopefully) stimulate his (or her, if you may so please) senses/ego/spirituality etc. and shall also carry some background about its origin. Well, if I am in a good mood, I'll also post the significance of the random number so assigned to the random thought.

So here's this time's dose. Ladies and Gentlemen, Random Thought number 42.

Scene : Vivek Madnani and Saumya Jain, sipping away Sprites at MT (that dingy, stinking place frequented by early risers, late sleepers, class bunkers, samosa seekers ... basically one and all from IIT). Kaboom! Madnani gets a flash of insight and thus he spake...

One thing that IIT teaches you is to accept defeat.

We come in here as heroes, each in his/her own right, struggling through school, all lamps burning, all engines fired, all horses on ... oh well yes, in short, we come in after a good fight, as champs.

Then, the dream-run ends.

Everyone starts expecting/assuming/presuming that yeah this guy is a slog-horse. Let's just get him. Everyone. Friends, society, teachers, professors. Everyone! "Oh yes you are an IITian, blah blah blah ... should know ... blah blah blah ... should handle ... blah blah blah ... should slog away like everyone else ... blah blah blah ... should do this ... blah blah blah. What they forget, the IITian included, is that this is at the end of the day, an "educational insititution". It is expected to provide education, not distribute it away and expect people to lap it up! We slog horses, slog as expected, slog slog slog slog and slog.

And then, we lose. We lose to ourselves.

We just lose. BIG TIME. And what do we feel about it? Nothing. That's what we are taught here. Lose and stay down. Don't fight. It's not gonna change anything. As long as you get your degree in time, its all fine. Stay hungry, stay foolish, stay selfish. Be a jerk all your life!

Enough random rant. Don't you think so?

---
and 42 ... next time folks, my head's starting to hurt a bit.

A compliment?

Today I was talking to one of my friends about (who else?) myself when he said this about me vis-à-vis another common friend of ours.

"People like you are meant to change the world, but people like him were made to survive in it"

:)

I really don't know if I should take it as a compliment or a judgement. Any ways, it was quite thought-provoking. So much merges into what I am into these days, self realisation (/mockery /denial /discovery /pity) All things self, though.

Confession

This post for a very selfish reason.

Today was a bad day. And I am writing this so that I remember everytime I see it, that how bad it was. Maybe I will look back at it someday and have reassurance that it wasn't THAT pathetic, or at least something good came out of it all.

In the end, its every man for himself, and it's never too late to work towards a better life. Maybe this is it.

The feeling of remorse for letting down a close friend shall always pinch. I'll have to do something about it.

I am sorry, Sumeet.

<...>

As I push the door, it opens with a creek, almost poetically. As I enter, I can distinctly smell the smoke of a freshly stubbed out cigarette. Strange, because it has been quite some time since anyone has been here. The tinge frolicks around with my nostrils for a few moments before they get used to it. Is it really the smell, I ponder, or my mind playing around with the memories I have of this room, his room.

The room is dark and gloomy, still I can make out the faint outlines of the furniture inside. There isn't much of what can be accommodated in a hostel room, but still, his room has quite a lot of stuff, all randomly placed inside. Because of the darkness, I cannot see it, but it is there, I can feel the obstacles. Almost like they have an aura around them, his aura.

As I flick up the button of the bulb, the room is immediately filled up with soft gloomy yellowness, pushing the darkness to the corners, making it hide in the shadows. There is a chair immediately in front of me, a cluttered workdesk to my right, a pile of unlaundered clothes on the bed, a couple of suitcases unwelcoming me into their owner's domain, a wheezy typewriter stashed away in a corner, tons and tons of paper everywhere: class notes, correspondence, his "idea" pages, the "festival material"; all strewn about. Everything looking back at me just like I am looking at them. Without passion or emotion, devoid of energy, just us gazing at each other. A feeling of statis grips me. It seems nothing has been touched since then.

A crunch beneath my feet. A used up matchstick. A box of matches on the desk. Depressing amounts of cigarette stubs in the waste bin. Stubbing-out marks on the desk drawer. An empty box of cigarettes.

Then I see it.

On a small bedside table I see a stubbed out cigarette. Perfectly left untouched. The ashes are there, the insignia of the brand intact, as he used to keep it. The filter a bit crooked with the pressure applied on the top and still standing in the little pile of ash. Beside it is a letter pad, with the impressions still there of the note written on the page that must have been above it, the page that must have been hastily torn apart by him. A page that he was carrying with him when he was found.

A suicide note. In my dead friend's pocket.

I can feel my eyes getting moist. I must go away now. I give one parting look at my friend's last smoke, and close the door behind me.

-Pratyush

Psst ... Pratyush doesn't know I wrote this story in his name. :)

Nobody.

I am nobody.
I live in all of us.
Come to think of it, almost everybody is a nobody at some point of their life, and I am one right now.
Why? I don’t know, but I have this feeling that I am slowly pushing myself back into the darkness. While the world around me is bubbling and thriving, I am getting more and more secluded, an outsider, a lonely onlooker to the party.
This too, shall pass.

The Strange Case of the Birthday Card...

Well, just read this.
(Information : Certain parts of this presentation are inspired from real life.)

Once I sent a birthday card
for a lady extraordinaire
’twas a plain and simple electronic card
"To show that you love and care"TM

After googling for a hour or so
Oh! Finalising it was so hard
For a special lady on a special day
A cute-ish birthday card

The forgetful that I am, I knew
It might happen, with fate,
That I forget to send the card to her
On the correct d-date!

So I thought up a little plan
And set up the card thus
To be delivered to her on the right date
No worries and no fuss!

There was an option on the card
to tick on the place that said,
Tell me when this card is sent,
And also when it’s read

So I put a tick mark each
And press the button to send
The card that wished a happy day
From a very happy friend

I should’ve avoided the ticks, I feel
should've sent an unmarked card instead
'coz I got a message saying the card was sent
But never got one saying that it was read

So boys and men, and all such fellas
Keep this in mind I hark
Either do not send a greeting card
Or send one without a mark.

These days, my literary standards have taken a plummet from their erstwhile summits. (Mt. Everest? No, more like the top of Faculty Building, heh heh!) Anyways, I am trying out a new way of writing that is impromptu, thoroughly unrevised, one go, straight-from-the-gut-through-my-fingers-and-on-the-screen kind of writing. I'll stick to this for the time being till the "literary standards" hit a Mariana Trench. Then maybe I'll contemplate on a new way to tease the world.

Till then. Smiles.

Suicide Note : It starts all over again...

Life, they say comes a-round-a-full circle.

This semester is no better than the previous. Same story, pre registration time, full of enthusiasm in choosing courses, courses that seem interesting (in the long run, they DO turn out to be!), courses with the best facutly teaching them, courses that would require me to think and learn. But these are courses which would also need me to attend classes.

Why I do not attend a lot of classes, I cannot figure out. Maybe I have lost that trait somewhere. I don't attend classes, lose out on the course, finally end up either passing with a poor grade or flunking (Yes have done it a couple of times yeah!) Is this life? Is this the way things should be? Is this what I wanted to be?

No.

The worse part is ... I scripted it myself. I am becoming exactly the same kind of person I loathed when I entered the institute gates for the first time. You know the one, Mr. Seem-to-know-it-all, Mr. Blabber-mouth, Mr. I'm-an-IITian-so-I-must-be-bright, those types. What it actually means, is that I haven't learnt ANYTHING after my JEE preparations got over. The trouble is, I haven't tried to, as well.

I was never a fighter. When it becomes too much, I just lie back and leave it. unfortunately that is not what works. I postpone/procastinate/or just ignore everything till it becomes too much to handle, at which point I just shirk it off. But but but, I am in a system that doesn't appreciate it, and it shouldn't either. I end up being more miserable.

I am thinking right now, that I would start studying this particular course (the mid-sem preparation for which triggered this post) after my midsems get over. But i have too much on my hands to make this commitment. As such I am going to have a hell lot of work in the next two weeks, there is also the CAT exam on 19th november after which we have, lo! the End sems. When does Saumya study? Saumya doesn't, gets an F, grinds his teeth harder, becomes a bigger sore loser, starts complaining around and then again goes into depression, something only a very few close friends can prevent as well as cure me out of.

Had it not been for them, I'd have been a major wreck already, not that I aint, but a bigger mess would have existed in the space currently allotted to Saumya Jain on this planet. If you know you are one of them, I should also let you know that I value your presence in my life and would always remember you people as my saviours.

...to be continued, hopefully.