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!

Commemorating today.

Impulsive writing can bring forth a lot of things. Here's some of it.

दुनिया से जब नाराज़ होने क बहाना ना रहा
आजकल खुद ही से गोया परेशान हूँ मैं

जिसके आँसूओं का सैलाब भी सूख गया हो
ऐसा ही एक खंडहर-ओ-वीरान हूँ मैं

खुद पर भी अब किस हद तक तरस करूँगा
अपने ही ग़मों की जीती जागती खान हूँ मैं

जिस शहर में चलती थी कसमें मेरे ईमान की
उसी शहर में आजकल बदनाम हूँ मैं

ज़िन्दगी से हारे हुए बहुत देखे होंगे तुमने
मौत से हारा हुआ पहला इंसान हूँ मैं

जिन कूचों से निकला था काफिला मेरे जश्न का
उन्हीं गलियों में अब अंजान हूँ मैं

मगर इस बात का गुमान आज भी है ...

मिटाने से भी जो नहीं छूटेगा तुम्हारे दामन से
ऐसा ही एक बेगैरत निशान हूँ मैं

Kabhi Kabhi

This is the original version of the sher by Sahir Ludhiyanvi that inspired the beautiful rendition of one of the most heart rending verses I have heard lately.

(Note : A self-attempted glossary follows for words in blue)

Kabhi Kabhi

Kabhi Kabhi mere dil mein khayal aata hai
ke zindagi teri zulfon ki narm chhaon mein
guzarne pati to shadaab ho bhi sakti thi
ye tiragi jo mere zeest ka muqaddar hai
teri nazar ki shuaaon mein kho bhi sakti thi

ajab na tha ke main begaana-ilm hokar
tere jamaal ki raynaaiyon mein kho rehta
tera gadaz badan teri neem baaz aankhein
inheen haseen fizaaon mein main ho rehta

pukarteen mujhe jab talkhiyaan zamaane ki
tere labon se halaawat ke ghoont pee leta
hayaat cheekhti phirti barehna-sar aur main
ghaneri zulfon ke saaye mein chup ke jee leta

magar yeh ho na saka...

magar yeh ho na saka aur ab yeh aalam hai
ke tu nahin tera gham teri justajoo bhi nahin
guzar rahi hai kuch iss tarah zindagi jaise
ise kisi ke sahare ki aarzoo bhi nahin

zamaane bhar ke dukhon ko laga chuka hoon gale
guzar raha hoon kuch anjani rahguzaron se
muhib saaye meri simat bhar aate hain
hayat-o-maut ke pur-haul kharzaron se

na koi raah na manzil na roshni ka suragh
bhatak rahi hai khalon mein zindagi meri
inheen khalon mein rah jaaonga kabhi kho kar
main jaanta hoon meri humnafas magar yunhi

kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayal aata hai ...

Shadaab : Taaza
Tiragi : Andhera
Zeest : Zindagi
Shuaaon : Roshni
Begaana-ilm : Jaankar bhi Anjaana bhi
Jamaal : Husn
Raynaaiyon : Adaaon
Gadaz : Mulayam
Talkhiyaan : Kadwi baatein
Halaawat : Chaen
Hayaat : Zindagi
Barehna-Sar : ...
Justajoo : Longing
Rahguzaron : Raaste
Muhib Saaye : Bhayawah Parchhaiyaan
Hayaat-o-maut ke Pur-haul kharzaron se : Zindagi aur Maut ke dardnaak kaanton se
Khalon : Khaalipan
Humnafas : Dost


By the way ... Here's the much simpler Hindi Version

Kabhi kabhi mere dil main khayal aata hai
Ki zindagi teri zulfon ki narm chhaon main guzarne pati
Toh shaadaab ho bhi sakti thi.
Yeh ranj-o-gham ki siyahi jo dil pe chhayi hain
Teri nazar ki shuaon main kho bhi sakti thi.

Magar yeh ho na saka ...

Magar yeh ho na saka aur ab ye aalam hain
Ki tu nahin, tera gham teri justajoo bhi nahin.
Guzar rahi hai kuchh iss tarah zindagi jaise,
Isse kisi ke sahare ki aarzoo hi nahin.

Na koi raah, na manzil, na roshni ka suraag
Bhatak rahin hai andheron main zindagi meri.
Inhi andheron main reh jaoonga kabhi kho kar
Main janta hoon meri hum-nafas, magar yunhi

Kabhi kabhi mere dil main khayal aata hai.

And while I am at it, if you would listen to the song, here's the best stanza

Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayaal aata hai
Ki jaise tu mujhe chaahegi umr-bhar yun hi
Uthegi meri taraf pyaar ki nazar yun hi
Main jaanta hoon ki tu gair hai, magar yun hi

Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayaal aata hai.

Random Thought No. 001 : Brutal honesty eh?

"Being too honest reflects a serious lack of tact"

[Reader warning : Rant coefficient almost unity. For most of the visitors, the quote above should be all that they take away from here. Still the whole story follows for the inquisitive ones.]

One need not be too honest, neither with others, nor with one's own self. This has been pointed out to me time and again by a lot of people around. I am told that being honest just for the sake of telling the truth as it is is really not the name of the game. Or rather than calling it a game, we have a very good word for it, it's called TACT.

One needs to have tact, to be able to put things across in the most slightest of manner, and in a way that they would be noticed and still not be taken offence of. That cannot be achieved by a single minded quest for the truth itself. No sirree, that's not the way to go about it at all! All it requires is a little thinking on your part and a little knowledge about the other party in the vocal or physical transaction.

For a person like me who is definitely *tactless*, let me try to analyse what this attribute really is. I'll start with some questions and build it up. Let's see where we go from here.

1. Is it about being dishonest? Not so. I wouldn't call a tactful person a dishonest one. But at the same time, would I call him/her guileless? No, I wouldn't (Yes. You might, so what, we can always disagree!) The way I see it is, its like using the truth as a tool to reach an end.

2. Is it about being smart? Very much so. If one is smart, one WILL be tactful. If one is not tactful, then one is dumb. At least that is what is on the face. I'm blunt, and I'm called an idiot on multiple occasions, and yes, I'm on first hand familiar terms with the word dumb! I don't know how to treat people well, and I hurt them for no reason at all, but for my philosophy of serving the pie as it is. And it is true to a large extent. One should have enough brains to know what to say when and to whom, even though it is the truth, but one should exercise some restraint sometimes. So, yes, it IS about being smart. Which I do not claim to be.

3. The technical alibi. I had noted back there, that tact is basically empoying truth as a tool to reach an end. Whether the end is good or bad, selfish or selfless, right or wrong for that matter ... all that is very subjective and depends on how one approaches the whole thing, but as long as you are on the right side of humanity (whether or not the right side of morality, which itself has its own unique definition to every individual), you're allowed to use the truth to reach that end. The means of using the truth to your advantage might not be morally correct, but then at the end of the day, you are not dishonest, you are not hurting anyone, so you come clean.

4. (Most interesting) Does one really need to be tactful? Well, I have survived 22 years (minus two) sans tact. I have had rough time, paid my share of dues for not having this "vital" component on today's sociehety and it is now that I am having second thoughts about this which is precisely the reason why I am writing the post.

<Diversion 1 : Why this post?>
So I am sitting in my room, and just randomly thinking when I think about how tactless I am and how blunt I am taken to be. For the past few months, I have been using what I later discovered is called 'mindwriting'. Umm, not exactly mindwriting, but the concept is similar. When I am brewing over with some philosophical dilemma, or just some question troubling me, I start writing, spew out everything I have in mind on the paper, or the keyboard. Most of the time, I start seeing some way out of the dilemma or the problem at hand. The trick is to write everything that comes to your mind and then read it. As one writes, as one's thoughts are formed, one starts analysing the good and the bad, the strong and the weak, and then the situation clears up by itself.

So the reason I am writing this random thought is to clear up my stand on my being tactful, or the lack of it. Let's see how it develops. I have no idea as I write this. True, once I am through, I shall edit it out and remove the really crappy things, hehe, but yes, I want to record this process of clearing up my mind as an overall exercise in mindwriting.
</Diversion>

So coming back, does one need to be tactful?

Well, that depends.

That depends on what kind of a person you are. One thing that I can definitely say, if you are not tactful, you'll not be able to befriend everyone coz you'll be too blunt to make everyone happy, but the ones who do become your mates, will have very deep bonds with you. On the other hand, a tactful person would always have a couple of people around to share a joke with, have a laugh and move on in life. They are the happier lot. Or at least, they do seem to be.

Furthermore, if one is a puritan, then any form of manipulation of the truth is a falsehood, an illusion and an attempt to deceive. Whereas for a practical person, truth cannot be manipulated, but it definitely can be shown to someone in a manner he or she wants to see it. That's tact.

It's like advertising and marketing. You need to sell what they'll buy. If you don't have the goods they need, package them in a way that they are tempted to buy. If even the packaging doesn't lure them in, offer a discount!!! There's nothing wrong in that as long as they are buying it out of their own free will, isn't it? For the salesman, its just ringing in the cash registers that is important ... for the consumer, consuming is important. In this age when individual demands are much more important than societal development, this automatically becomes the thumb rule. Sell and buy. I've been told that this is how the human mind works. Everything's a transaction. Is it? Well maybe, but why isn't it so for me? Was I made differently? I can't believe it to be true. I think we are just closing a channel because its either too difficult to follow, too unrewarding in this present world, or maybe yes, too impractical!

But I believe in absolutes. The fact that there are no absolutes per se, doesn't hold here because I believe that every human being knows where to draw the line between moral and immoral, the right and the wrong, the truth and the lie. Everyone of us knows what is the truth and what is not. Sometimes though, we just grow up and teach ourselves new definitions. Maybe we brainwash ourselves away from it. But yes, ab initio, we all know. I don't sell, I don't buy. I don'r market. I don't advertise. I just cut the truth up in little little cubes and ration it out to anyone and everyone who cares to notice.

At the same time, one needs to be careful in distinguishing ideas and opinions from the facts. In being brutally honest about the facts, one cannot be very judgemental about one's own opinions, that would definitely be unjust. Opinions don't count. The facts do. Maybe later than sooner. They hurt, they pinch, they remain static for long after they have been put forth, but they are just that, the facts. Nobody can deny them. That is why an argument based on facts is solid as a fortress. So, being brutally honest has its own takes as well.

All said and done, its basically about your own comfort. The only person you have to be comfortable with after all, is your own self. One may be comfortable by stating the truth on an as-is-where-is basis and then leave it to the sensibilities of the other party. For someone else, their viewpoint of being comfortable might to see to it that everyone around them is happy and they have a role in it. That's a very genuine concern as well. Its basically a difference of ideology. While the first one is more like a traditional reformatory approach, the other one is like a modern indulgent soft approach. Both work. Both are acceptable. It depends on you. It also depends on whom you apply it to. As well as when.

Hmm, now for the results.

Honesty? Yes.
Brutal honesty? Umm, maybe not so brutal.
Tact? Not really my piece of cake.
Self regulation? Definitely.
Solution? Look inwards, introspect and improve. Once through, then look outwards and demand a better world. But first, one needs to prepare oneself to be able to be justified in making that demand.

On the opening quote, 'Being too honest reflects a serious lack of tact', I agree.
Couldn't care less though!

That's it for now.

Child's Play

"This should do it. Another couple of cupfuls of sand and this would be complete." He had marked the boundaries of his castle with shells he had come across his strolls on the beach. The castle itself had been made by his little hands, decorated with all the things he had loved. Everyday he had brought along one of his favourite things and given it a place in the castle. He himself imagined moving into his 'home' very soon. Not that he did not realise it was very small for him. But still, when he slept at night, he could see himself living in that home, with all his favourite things around him. All his toys, his books, his playthings. He was building a home for himself in the sand. Life would be so wonderful in that house. Such were his thoughts!

He lifted up his eyes and saw that the sun was setting, its golden rays bouncing off the silent waves of the ocean and tickling his vision. "Time to go home." His mom's voice rang in his head. He pulled out the big cardboard box which read in all the English he could scribble. "Varun's hause. Pleze do not distrub" and covered the castle with it. Inside his mother had made cookies. Munching the fresh and hot confectionery, he switched on the television and watched Popeye beat up Bluto. His father came back from office soon, and then he spent the evening chatting to him about the new factory that he was setting up. Not that he understood a lot, or at all, of what his father used to say, but he liked talking to him that way. After all, he was grown up. Very soon he will be 10 years into the world. He was definitely a grown up now.

The next evening, he lifted the box to resume the castle work. It was just a few days away from completion. Today, he was going to put in his most cherished toy in the castle. He opened his bag and pulled out his little red ferrari. He placed it at the entrance gate. To him, it never seemed illogical as to what a ferrari would be doing in front of a castle. But all the same, it was his house, and this was his car.

That day before leaving, he saw the skies turning red. It occurred to him to raise the fence. He had ample shells with him. It would have taken him only half an hour to scatter them all around the castle, safeguarding it from the waves. It could get stormy in some days, he had thought. Deciding to do the reinforcement the next day, he ran back to his mother, who was waiting for him with snacks.

That night, the storm hit the sea. Giant waves made their way to the house. He saw from his window how badly it was raining. The winds blew away the cardboard cover. The castle was all at the mercy of the wind and the water. He wanted to run out to the courtyard and protect his "home". His mother had forbidden him to do that, fearing he would catch a cold. He had shouted out to his father to cover the castle as he drove in after work, but he couldn't listen to the boy's voice above the thunderclaps.

He saw from the window as the "fence" crumbled. "I should have raised the fence," he thought. The castle's top was blown off the next. And then to his horror, a large wave approached the castle, menacingly as though it was determined to crush out all his dreams tonight. He ran downstairs, pleading to his mother to let him out in the courtyard. She didn't know why he was so desperate and crying. His father took him inside to the television and switched on the cartoons. They didn't interest him anymore. All he could think of right now, was the castle. A giant splash at their doorstep made him rush frantically to the window.

The castle was gone.

So were the books, the GI joes, his ferrari. Everything.

His mother called out to his father to take care of the porch. He heard him talking, "Its nothing, it'll soon be over. Don't worry. It was in the weather report today. Just a minor tropical disturbance, it'll be over by the morning."

He was sent to sleep. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't believe it was gone. He went to his mother. Climbed alongside her in the bed. She could see the tears going down his cheeks.
"What happened beta?"
"Mamma, the house is gone. MY house is gone."
"Don't worry beta, it was really very bad weather. It could not have survived."
"No mamma, I should have raised the fence"
"It was only a castle made of sand. Raising the fence would not have helped. It had that fate."
"No mamma, it was my house!" She just couldn't understand!
"Arrey beta, it was only a week that you have been building it. Tomorrow, we'll start again, OK? Now sleep."
Only a week? It was 7 days of his work. Full seven days! The mother could not understand the difference of the duration which she had perceived and what it meant to her little boy.
We'll build it again? But what will I put inside the new one? My GI Joes, my ferrari all went away with this one. What will we put in the new one, mamma?

He knew he could not make her understand all this. He sulked back into his room.

The next morning, he woke up and rushed out. The place was flat. No signs of the castle, or its inhabitants. No ferrari, none of the books, no toys. He suddenly felt a rage. At himself, for not raising the fence, at the weather for being so ugly, at his mother, for talking as if it was just another sand castle. He just felt very angry.

When you are 10, and very angry, you cry. He ran towards the ocean, screaming that he had taken away his house, tears running down his cheeks, his hands trembling with anger, his feet working up a sprint and then tiring themselves on the sand. He kept shouting and cursing the ocean. His mother looked at his father. "Child's play," they nodded to each other in affirmation.

The ocean just moved to and fro, smiling at the little kid.

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.

Closed.

I'm gonna close my body now. And my heart too. This makes sense.

Die Another Day - Madonna

I'm gonna wake up, yes and no
I'm gonna kiss some part of
I'm gonna keep this secret
I'm gonna close my body now

I guess, die another day
I guess Ill die another day

Sigmund freud
Analyze this

I'm gonna break the cycle
I'm gonna shake up the system
I'm gonna destroy my ego
I'm gonna close my body now

I think Ill find another way
Theres so much more to know
I guess Ill die another day
Its not my time to go

For every sin, Ill have to pay
I've come to work, Ive come to play
I think Ill find another way
Its not my time to go

I'm gonna avoid the cliche
I'm gonna suspend my senses
I'm gonna delay my pleasure
I'm gonna close my body now

I guess, die another day
I guess Ill die another day

Another day.

Mirza Ghalib, mera Dil-e-Naadan aur असमंजस

This is a very famous ghazal by Ghalib, which (strangely) I stumbled across today. Its a sweet piece, describing very beautifully the असमंजस of a man in love. (Oh yes, I had promised, there wont be any further mush on the blog, but wtf, read this and you'll stop being so picky about my words) Anyhow, I was saying, this one describes the whole situation so perfectly that I couldn't resist putting it on the blog. The actual ghazal has more verses, but I have chosen to present here the ones which I could connect to at some level.

दिल-ए-नादाँ तुझे हुआ क्या है?
आख़िर इस दर्द की दवा क्या है?

हम हैं मुश्ताक़ और वो बेज़ार
या इलाही ये माजरा क्या है।

मैं भी मुँह में ज़बान रखता हूँ,
काश! पूछो कि "मुद्दा क्या है?"

जब कि तुझ बिन नहीं कोई मौजूद
फिर ये हंगामा, ऐ ख़ुदा! क्या है?

हमको उनसे वफ़ा की है उम्मीद
जो नहीं जानते वफ़ा क्या है।

जान तुम पर निसार करता हूँ
मैंने नहीं जाना दुआ क्या है।

Its just so very smooth and satirical, I am almost falling in love with Ghalib, lekin, "humko unse hai wafaa ki ummeed, jo nahin jaante wafa kya hai" Heh! Naah, Mian Ghalib can wait till I finish reading the complete Diwaan-e-Ghalib in Urdu, which will take time (since obviously Ill have to learn to read in Urdu first, ha ha!). I have a copy of the book somewhere, courtesy my dad, who's probably the one who unconsciously got me hooked on to urdu poetry. All that, for laters.

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.

Back?!

Yep, it seems I couldn't stay away from this place for long. The blogging vibes soon got back to me and thus I am here! It's almost an addiction. No mater how much you try to quit, it sucks you back right in.

I feel I owe an explanation for all the hulaabaloo going on. Sometime back, I had decided to stop blogging for good. The reasons, I did not know exactly, however, I kind of figured I had to stop my blabberings. Maybe it was the old going-into-a-shell syndrome that keeps happening to me again and again, or maybe because of the turn of events that I have been witness to recently, really give meaning to < quote >...as things stand now, there's nothing to say, nothing to think, nothing to discuss, absolute zilch.< / quote > The "turn of events" is a bit inolved story and I wouldn't bother you with that. Just that it wasn't something I would be boasting about to my grandchildren, hehe!

Anyhow, whatever it was, it has passed, and soon with my proverbial life proverbially back on the proverbial track (henh!) I am all ready to start off again.

To the casual reader, this (15 odd days) is the typical time gap between posts on my blog generally, and with which information someone might just assume that nothing actually happened, I'll differ. It is definite that the comeback to blogging is just as serious as the decision to quit. When I had quit, I really wanted to. The blogs and the posts lately had been too specifically oriented in one direction and truly lacked my overall profoundness (yes, i am a narcissist, so sue me!) In simple terms, I was writing either only about mushy things, or only about depressing things (one and the same). That is something that is just not me. Although if you would know me, I have been so for quite some time now. Depressed and mushy. Just like a blob of deflated candy floss. At which point I think, I could take it no more, and told myself, no more depressing and mushy things to talk about. At least not the depressing part. And at the same time, try to get over the fixation for the cutie, pinky stuff.

And once the machine was stopped, things started improving on other fronts, independent of this event, and I kinda got hold of myself. Life cleared up, I again have things to tell, ideas to discuss, people to deconstruct, events to describe, emotions to dissect, and rants to get out of my system. Who knows, maybe more.

So, Saummy's back. Hopefully to stay for long. Hopefully having more to talk about than just his mindless rantings about himself and his life. Maybe something meaningful as well. Definitely something worth your time. Whoever you are, wherever you are. We promise to deliver hence(TM). Or, as the Tatas would put it, more blog per blog. :)

Keep reading, and commenting.

P.S : Or if you may so believe, it was a cheap publicity trick to garner awws and tcho-tchos from the readers of this blog, and then I could have been back "on public demand". But unfortunately, I got only 3 responses, one of whom was visitng my blog for the first time (!), hence whatever the trick was, it bombed! :) So, I am sheepishly trying to restart the machine. Hate me, Kill me!

P.P.S : Love you Ravi, love you Vinod. At least you guys noticed me (or the lack of me). (sniff!) Respects even towards the kind lady who had been on my blog after I had visited hers, and managed to write something good back here. The rest of you, who are just too busy or find Saumyasaez too boring, I think you have a surprise coming up in the next few weeks. Watch this space.