Its been a while since something has been written. Either things have been too busy or too boring. But I think all that was just bull. I think it was just lethargy. But whatever be the case. I hope its gone now. So here it goes.
Every time Ive been to Bombay, there has been something to write about. Something to look forward to. Whatever happens, there has always been an ode to Bombay. The same should have been there this time around too.
But, the fact is (and I realized it this time around) - I am done with Bombay. All that had to be done has been done. Even though I might end up there, I don't think I'll have too much of an enthu for it. And its sad. Because Bombay was the one place I wanted to be. Well, after Calcutta it was Bombay. And this brings me to my problem.
After 22 years in Calcutta, I thought I was done with it. After four years in Bangalore, I was sure I was done with the city. And now, after a sum total of two and a half months, I am positive I am going to get bored with Bombay the next time I am there.
I am dead sure its me. I just don't know what. Its weird. And the worst part is, it seems perfectly normal. The only slight problem is that I seem to be out o options in metros. It seems normal. It just does not make sense
Monday, 20 October 2008
Friday, 8 August 2008
life - as it was
Its intresting how the smallest of things can take you back to the most important years of life. A small message here. A reference. Some random gossip. A tad too much alcohol. A nick here. A pat there.
Those were the years when i thought i was finally living. Not wasting life getting drunk or laid, but actually living. Not worrying about money or image, but actually free. Not getting bogged down by responsibilities and people looking up at you, but actually above all the nonsense in the world.
Out of the 4*365*24 hours of my life spent in Bangalore, 4*365*23 hours was spent on theater. Practicing here. Writing there. Helping a juni there again. We used to live it. We had stopped giving a damn about what life would be or could be like and actually knew what life was like. We fought over small changes in the script. We fought over movements. Our power struggles were limited to the stage and our little egos and the places they took us. We didnt ever worry about being the best in business and keeping the image up. We actually did whatever we wanted. It was a some 30 of us in our little world of the fake.
And in this small world I had my small family. By coincidence my onstage wife or girlfriend was always the same. We had done so many plays together that once on stage, we started spinning stories of our life. Arranged marriage. Love sprouting later. Things of that sort that the idiots who teach call "building character". We had done so many plays that we could give each other lessons on love and life.
After college we moved on. Gobbled by the system, we started pursuing whatever we thought best. Having not found the opportunity, I gradually lost my interest in theater and the works. I stopped checking our forum. I stopped asking about plays. I moved on.
Today, I got a friend request on facebook. And suddenly, I can't get out of the last character I was in.
Thank fucking God.
Those were the years when i thought i was finally living. Not wasting life getting drunk or laid, but actually living. Not worrying about money or image, but actually free. Not getting bogged down by responsibilities and people looking up at you, but actually above all the nonsense in the world.
Out of the 4*365*24 hours of my life spent in Bangalore, 4*365*23 hours was spent on theater. Practicing here. Writing there. Helping a juni there again. We used to live it. We had stopped giving a damn about what life would be or could be like and actually knew what life was like. We fought over small changes in the script. We fought over movements. Our power struggles were limited to the stage and our little egos and the places they took us. We didnt ever worry about being the best in business and keeping the image up. We actually did whatever we wanted. It was a some 30 of us in our little world of the fake.
And in this small world I had my small family. By coincidence my onstage wife or girlfriend was always the same. We had done so many plays together that once on stage, we started spinning stories of our life. Arranged marriage. Love sprouting later. Things of that sort that the idiots who teach call "building character". We had done so many plays that we could give each other lessons on love and life.
After college we moved on. Gobbled by the system, we started pursuing whatever we thought best. Having not found the opportunity, I gradually lost my interest in theater and the works. I stopped checking our forum. I stopped asking about plays. I moved on.
Today, I got a friend request on facebook. And suddenly, I can't get out of the last character I was in.
Thank fucking God.
Thursday, 17 July 2008
sex and sensex
All of us knew that the ultimate aim of all our efforts is better sex. We work so that we earn money. We earn money so that our bedrooms are better, our kitchens are better, our cars are better, our bathrooms are better. We make these better so that the opposite (or in some cases, the same) feel more comfortable with us. It is necessary to make the opposite (or in some cases, the same) feel comfortable so that the sex is better. Everything boils down to the same thing - sex, more sex and better sex. What would life be without copulation ?
According to latest studies by some very eminent people, inanimate objects, and even dematerialised entities follow more or less the same principle. The best example would be the Sensex - an exchange with sex as its last name. A few examples would drive the point better.
Rising bottoms are always good for your junk. Your stock is at a better position if the bottoms are on the rise. The opposite applies for falling tops. Falls in tops indicate market malfunctions and are good for people with put options. So if you are hell bent on putting it, please do look for falling tops - from women or the market.
Good markets like good sex, always operate on very strong fundamentals. If the foreplay has not been good, then the (sen)sex goes mellow. These fundamentals would include elements like growth, inflation, money paid (if you know what I mean) etc.
The technicals obviously play an important role too. Exploration and rhythmic motion of the rises and falls would lead to better profits (and better orgasms). If you do not concentrate on patterns like the middle finger (or the head and shoulder) and do not believe in rising trend lines, you're in for trouble brother.
And these days, we are all getting screwed.
According to latest studies by some very eminent people, inanimate objects, and even dematerialised entities follow more or less the same principle. The best example would be the Sensex - an exchange with sex as its last name. A few examples would drive the point better.
Rising bottoms are always good for your junk. Your stock is at a better position if the bottoms are on the rise. The opposite applies for falling tops. Falls in tops indicate market malfunctions and are good for people with put options. So if you are hell bent on putting it, please do look for falling tops - from women or the market.
Good markets like good sex, always operate on very strong fundamentals. If the foreplay has not been good, then the (sen)sex goes mellow. These fundamentals would include elements like growth, inflation, money paid (if you know what I mean) etc.
The technicals obviously play an important role too. Exploration and rhythmic motion of the rises and falls would lead to better profits (and better orgasms). If you do not concentrate on patterns like the middle finger (or the head and shoulder) and do not believe in rising trend lines, you're in for trouble brother.
And these days, we are all getting screwed.
Tuesday, 1 July 2008
razor sharp images of the energy crisis and paris hilton
The vogue has come out with the top stylish politicians. Lalu ranks above everyone. Professors at Sri Sai institute of humanitarian biographics are now joining the all india ice poker team. My girlfriend ran off with the owner of a St. Bernard. My St. Bernard ran away with my girlfriend. The Commissioner of insititutionalising of geeks and nerds has gone missing since his last visit to the Agra Center for civic awareness. Guatemala plans to have the largest shopping mall and science center. Murder is now legal in West Indonesia provided it is only to save the marriage. Calcutta is to host the first official Ministry of Sound concert at Roxy. David Guetta might be coming down and jamming with Zakir Hussain and Pt. Ravi Shankar. Terrorists are now breeding surrogate babies to just overpopulate the world since killing people is passe now. the first gossip magazine on human rights is out. Arundhati Roy is on the centerfold. A public litigation has been launched against humming birds as they've been seen responsible for the sudden rise in divorces and same sex marriages. Scientists are now trying to genetically modify babies so that they dont have to bear with redundant parts. That includes our little finger, our appendix, and in Paris Hilton's case, her brain. Archies has now entered into a pact with undertakers to sell "Archies party funeral" cards through their stores.
God! It feels good to talk absolute shit.
God! It feels good to talk absolute shit.
Sunday, 27 April 2008
mehndi and other short stories
There is nothing much to be said but.. HERE WE GO..!!
Pune
When they spoke about the pensioner’s paradise, I had an image which was quite contrary to what I noticed in the land of weird names. You would expect pensioners to be over 60, with a constant smile on their faces, taking life easy and walking the walk in the evenings. What you wouldn’t expect were people less than 30, with a constant smile on their faces, taking life easy and getting drunk at every possible corner along with their good-looking women. But in itself, the city is quite interesting and brilliant. You wouldn’t get to hear of places named “pimple”saudagar, shaniwarwada, budhwarwada, or for that matter “anyday”wada or names mouthing obscenities like bhonsdiwada etc. It is fun to just get from one place to another. The heat might get to you, but the city doesn’t. With so many places to drink the evening through, Pune is one place that seems to be at peace with itself. The “don’t bother” attitude is so much better than any other city in India. People are more interested in gossiping, in drinking the quintessential mango juice, in religion. Worldly pleasures and worldly pursuits are not for the gents out there. Life is the breeze that it should be.
Ahmednagar
It is a walk from pune. But a place altogether different in itself. Probably a place with highest density of English speakers, the highest density of et readers, and the lowest density of nokia chargers. The good part is, the other parts of the small town story is still there. There are tum tums. There are tongas. And if you dress a bit formal, people do start thinking that you’re the brand manager of the company you’re interning in. All in all, its a beautiful place and it doesn’t hurt to be treated like a celebrity. It is probably once you come here, that you realise the rationale behind Paris Hilton’s craze for fame.
Srerampore
The tryst with fame continues to srerampore. Apparently, the auto-walas in Ahmednagar knew that I was going to Srerampore before I did. It’s just weird. Not scary, not awesome, just weird. Anyways, if ahmednagar is the sundae, then srerampore seems to be the cherry on top of the icing. Miles and miles of nothing but green fields and rocky hills. The only black spots on the scene were those of the construction equipment. God and the system should have left the place alone. Which brings me to my remorse for not having got my camera.
According to my auto-driver, everything related to the major events in India and the world happened in and around ahmednagar and srerampore. Akbar had attacked the place. Aurangzeb was killed somewhere out here. Great saints and sadhus seemed to have dotted the place like ants. Some of them apparently, have gone on to live for 1600 years. The POWs during World War II were apparently brought here to srerampore. I am sure that Woodstock might also have occurred somewhere near. (Woodstock – ahmedstock J)
Aurangabad
The first comment of my distributor on Aurangabad was that it is a land of fakes. The Taj Mahal, the Ajanta caves, the Gurudwara.. everything has been copied and made in Aurangabad and are now the main tourist attractions in this place. Apparently the copy of the Hanging Gradens somewhere in North India has also been copied and put here- a fake of a fake. Guess that is why most of the FMCG companies are quite cautious while approaching Aurangabad. To top it off, the hotel gave me a fake coke today. However, life seems to be much better than I had imagined. My hotel has a jazz band. Coffee shops and Hookah places do not seem to be more than a mile away. the best part is, Aurangabad has only one main road. Everything that you can imagine should be on either side of this road. If you don’t find what you’re looking for with this guidance, there is something wrong in your character. The city seems to have grown quite a bit since the last time I was here and currently seems to be in the wannabe stage. Give it a few years and you might see a nice stable mature city with good looking women in not-so-blaring clothes and people in not-so-blaring cars.
Surat
Surat was perfect in most ways a small town should be – a bit too perfect I guess. The city seemed to have a personality that spanned only in some parts of the city. The old buildings looked good, with a certain degree of dilapidated humour. The new ones looked more like boxes without any character, built only for existence and nothing else. There are always some premonitions with which someone enters Gujrat. All outsiders, especially people who are not businessman are very sceptical of the place before entering it. However, Surat does dispel this doubt. People are generally nice as most people should be – as we imagine in utopia. Sure, money is the culture out there – but that is not really a bad thing. The pursuit of money is quite entertaining and spectacular – if you do not have to undertake any monetary transaction. Gujrat would probably be the one place that would not be affected even if every country in the world undergoes a subprime crisis. Gujrat in recession would be like cockroaches under a nuclear attack – unaffected. Its awe-inspiring to see the level of business and the intelligence in business followed in Gujrat. And its not only about the Patels. The Reddys and te Sheikhs and the Biswas’ are equally in it. There is something about the air that turns people so. CNBC is on 24*7 and stocks are followed with the same intrest as the IPL matches. Everyone knows every news presenter in CNBC – from the son to the grandmother. Kirana shops that sell only biscuits and soap have hotlines to brokers. It is crazy, the amount of liquidity infused into the market from Gujrat. Trade in commodities is also pretty big. Wholeseller sitting on cartons do trade worth crores in a day. i found an assistant wearing an Armani tee. The owner of the shop said that he had heard about Armani once and had tried it out and did not like it and so gave it to the assistant. The owner himself wears a locally made shirt. You can very well see the order in chaos there. Its absolutely brilliant. A week under the apprenticeship of one of the wholesellers would teacj one more than a month in the IIMs! No wonder, the one in Ahmedabad is doing so well. Brilliant.
Ahmedabad
The story follows in ahmedabad. If something like mehndi sells in values of rs. 10 crores per day, then you can imagine how competitive the market must be and how entertaining it must be for an innocent bystander like me
Rajkot
you must have started believing in the entertainment called the Gujarat market by now. However, the story takes a different turn at Surat. With afternoon siestas being the main purpose of life here, business takes a backseat between one and four and the streets are deserted by three. If there was one place in India which could have the capacity to turn into Madrid, this would be it. A little sauce and a few hot women thrown in, Rajkot would have turned into a perfect Spanish summer. Moreover, it also has a scent of the Bengal communism in itself. Whenever the businessmen feel too lazy to open stores, they call a strike. It might be regarding anything – a strike against inflation, a strike against recession, a strike against work – whatever be the reason, I totally sympathise with the blokes out there (one of the strikers did not know why he had closed shop when asked). Moreover, there is the extra entertainment thrown in with police arrests and resistance to the same. Bloody brilliant.
Lucknow
Lucknow takes me back to the summer afternoons under the lemon trees – lethargic and sunny. Fuck all that people say about UP – fuck the politics, fuck the casteism, fuck the corruption – lucknow is brilliant simply because of its food and the buildings. If the good folks have the sense to make a school look like one of howard roark’s architectures then you can simply imagine.
Kanpur
It is only when you reach Kanpur that you realise the ruin caused by the parties and governments of the present and the past. The city is dying. The last remaining rotting pillars are those of the small time businessmen who have almost retired into their kirana shops. It is hard to imagine that there is a market and that there is consumption going on in this city – and to think of it, it is one of the major cities in UP, not a village, not a town, but a Tier II city with its own airport and railway station – embarrassing. This is the only station where I was mobbed by autowalas and taxi drivers before I even set foot in the city. And it was more of a desperate call than opportunistic. You could see the hunger in their eyes. Unemployment has created dissent, dissent that sends short bursts through the lanes of the city. In 15 minutes I had witnessed two fights and that too for petty reasons. Its sad to see people and cities being wasted away by dysfunctional governments that are more interested in quotas and caste systems than real development. Logic seems to have taken the back seat as the quest for political mileage drives this rickety old caravan.
Varanasi
The story is quite different in Varanasi although its not really the opposite. The temple economy seems to have just overcome the shock of turning into a tourist spot and being perpetrated by signs of globalisation. Varanasi is always one place where you have to go out, no matter how afraid you are of the touts, agents and false godmen. God seems to have left this place a long time ago. Whats left are firang wannabes who believe that Varanasi is going to make them one with their soul and all that nonsense, and the agents and touts that constantly cheat them. There was so much that I had expected of the city. Seeing two and a half lakhs getting stolen from an old man ruined all that. There are probably a few good men left. But they seem to have been effectively locked in their memories. Once the beautiful subject of NatGeo photographers, the city and the river are now dirtied by hypocrites (which basically includes all us fucks who want to show off that we believe in God. Its stupid and disgusting.
Delhi
There is not much to be added about the city. Whatever I have seen is probably pretty ordinary in itself and doesn’t demand much attention. This however, shouldn’t really belittle the city. Among others, and I know that I will have my critics for this, this is the city where I found truth. Whatever is said does not have a second meaning to it. Whatever is shown does not have to be interpreted twice. The heat prevents the hypocrisy in a certain way. People have a certain temper about them and as we all know, temper brings out one’s true self. All that notwithstanding, Delhi has been dear to me for one simple reason – the city has grown from a nightmare to one of the most comfortable cities ever. Two examples would suffice – CNG autos and the Delhi Metro. Everything in Delhi looks new, feels new. There is a certain blend of modernity that cannot be pointed out but is definitely felt.
Ludhiana
Punjab has been dear to me for all sorts of reasons – history, food, women, jokes on sardars, everything. I landed in Ludhiana in the morning at around 5 and went to sleep an hour later. I woke up at eleven for the news and the shit. As a result my first glimpse of Ludhiana and its people was seven hours after I landed in the city. And by God it was brilliant.
You wont find a sad person in Ludhiana. Whatever happens, everyone is damn happy about the way of things. Everything is said with a smile and a certain innocence – even if the person in front of you is damn pissed and is abusing the shit out of you, he would do it with a brilliant wide-eyed smile. Everyone is happy with whatever situation they are in. Two autos passed one after the other in front of me. One of them had the bumper sticker – “pyaar mein hi hai khushi”, and the one following it had the all famous – “no girlfriend no problem”. My customer survey was one of the best Ihad ever done. The women were so happy to divulge their mehndi secrets to the evil corporate that they pulled out all the stops and even gave samples. I was invited to lunch on more than half the occasions and all the pampering led me to have three meals within a span of 2 hours. The women are beautiful – with brilliant hair and a personality that brings out the innocence in you. Even if you were Mephistopheles himself, you would not want to harm them. Their pride over their innocence is so powerful.
Amritsar
my last destination got me thinking over a lot of things. The entire trip had culminated into somewhere near the golden temple. Amritsar is known for its chunnis and its sherbets and it was a brilliant experience to have the local speciality – chicken fried rice and schezwan mushrooms. The city is also unique in many ways. I can now claim that I had an international trip. I waved my hand through the other side of the wagah border and had interviewed a Pakistani soldier on mehndi. Bloody brilliant.
Last thoughts
Travelling alone is much like playing the guitar – pissing off at first, but very personal later on. 12 cities in 24 days has been and will probably be one of the most philosophical and entertaining journeys of my life. There is a lot that we can run away from when we live in a group. There is a lot about our past that we can easily forget when we are with friends or family. People being around helps us to ignore the closet and the bones inside. It is only when you spend so much time alone that you come face to face with them. You try to run away and forget all that nonsense. But things once in your head stay there if you stay silent for a majority of the day. it is then that you face them, fear them, try killing them, and then live at peace. Everyone, no matter how connected should travel alone at some point of time. There is a lot about us that we don’t know.
Peace.
Pune
When they spoke about the pensioner’s paradise, I had an image which was quite contrary to what I noticed in the land of weird names. You would expect pensioners to be over 60, with a constant smile on their faces, taking life easy and walking the walk in the evenings. What you wouldn’t expect were people less than 30, with a constant smile on their faces, taking life easy and getting drunk at every possible corner along with their good-looking women. But in itself, the city is quite interesting and brilliant. You wouldn’t get to hear of places named “pimple”saudagar, shaniwarwada, budhwarwada, or for that matter “anyday”wada or names mouthing obscenities like bhonsdiwada etc. It is fun to just get from one place to another. The heat might get to you, but the city doesn’t. With so many places to drink the evening through, Pune is one place that seems to be at peace with itself. The “don’t bother” attitude is so much better than any other city in India. People are more interested in gossiping, in drinking the quintessential mango juice, in religion. Worldly pleasures and worldly pursuits are not for the gents out there. Life is the breeze that it should be.
Ahmednagar
It is a walk from pune. But a place altogether different in itself. Probably a place with highest density of English speakers, the highest density of et readers, and the lowest density of nokia chargers. The good part is, the other parts of the small town story is still there. There are tum tums. There are tongas. And if you dress a bit formal, people do start thinking that you’re the brand manager of the company you’re interning in. All in all, its a beautiful place and it doesn’t hurt to be treated like a celebrity. It is probably once you come here, that you realise the rationale behind Paris Hilton’s craze for fame.
Srerampore
The tryst with fame continues to srerampore. Apparently, the auto-walas in Ahmednagar knew that I was going to Srerampore before I did. It’s just weird. Not scary, not awesome, just weird. Anyways, if ahmednagar is the sundae, then srerampore seems to be the cherry on top of the icing. Miles and miles of nothing but green fields and rocky hills. The only black spots on the scene were those of the construction equipment. God and the system should have left the place alone. Which brings me to my remorse for not having got my camera.
According to my auto-driver, everything related to the major events in India and the world happened in and around ahmednagar and srerampore. Akbar had attacked the place. Aurangzeb was killed somewhere out here. Great saints and sadhus seemed to have dotted the place like ants. Some of them apparently, have gone on to live for 1600 years. The POWs during World War II were apparently brought here to srerampore. I am sure that Woodstock might also have occurred somewhere near. (Woodstock – ahmedstock J)
Aurangabad
The first comment of my distributor on Aurangabad was that it is a land of fakes. The Taj Mahal, the Ajanta caves, the Gurudwara.. everything has been copied and made in Aurangabad and are now the main tourist attractions in this place. Apparently the copy of the Hanging Gradens somewhere in North India has also been copied and put here- a fake of a fake. Guess that is why most of the FMCG companies are quite cautious while approaching Aurangabad. To top it off, the hotel gave me a fake coke today. However, life seems to be much better than I had imagined. My hotel has a jazz band. Coffee shops and Hookah places do not seem to be more than a mile away. the best part is, Aurangabad has only one main road. Everything that you can imagine should be on either side of this road. If you don’t find what you’re looking for with this guidance, there is something wrong in your character. The city seems to have grown quite a bit since the last time I was here and currently seems to be in the wannabe stage. Give it a few years and you might see a nice stable mature city with good looking women in not-so-blaring clothes and people in not-so-blaring cars.
Surat
Surat was perfect in most ways a small town should be – a bit too perfect I guess. The city seemed to have a personality that spanned only in some parts of the city. The old buildings looked good, with a certain degree of dilapidated humour. The new ones looked more like boxes without any character, built only for existence and nothing else. There are always some premonitions with which someone enters Gujrat. All outsiders, especially people who are not businessman are very sceptical of the place before entering it. However, Surat does dispel this doubt. People are generally nice as most people should be – as we imagine in utopia. Sure, money is the culture out there – but that is not really a bad thing. The pursuit of money is quite entertaining and spectacular – if you do not have to undertake any monetary transaction. Gujrat would probably be the one place that would not be affected even if every country in the world undergoes a subprime crisis. Gujrat in recession would be like cockroaches under a nuclear attack – unaffected. Its awe-inspiring to see the level of business and the intelligence in business followed in Gujrat. And its not only about the Patels. The Reddys and te Sheikhs and the Biswas’ are equally in it. There is something about the air that turns people so. CNBC is on 24*7 and stocks are followed with the same intrest as the IPL matches. Everyone knows every news presenter in CNBC – from the son to the grandmother. Kirana shops that sell only biscuits and soap have hotlines to brokers. It is crazy, the amount of liquidity infused into the market from Gujrat. Trade in commodities is also pretty big. Wholeseller sitting on cartons do trade worth crores in a day. i found an assistant wearing an Armani tee. The owner of the shop said that he had heard about Armani once and had tried it out and did not like it and so gave it to the assistant. The owner himself wears a locally made shirt. You can very well see the order in chaos there. Its absolutely brilliant. A week under the apprenticeship of one of the wholesellers would teacj one more than a month in the IIMs! No wonder, the one in Ahmedabad is doing so well. Brilliant.
Ahmedabad
The story follows in ahmedabad. If something like mehndi sells in values of rs. 10 crores per day, then you can imagine how competitive the market must be and how entertaining it must be for an innocent bystander like me
Rajkot
you must have started believing in the entertainment called the Gujarat market by now. However, the story takes a different turn at Surat. With afternoon siestas being the main purpose of life here, business takes a backseat between one and four and the streets are deserted by three. If there was one place in India which could have the capacity to turn into Madrid, this would be it. A little sauce and a few hot women thrown in, Rajkot would have turned into a perfect Spanish summer. Moreover, it also has a scent of the Bengal communism in itself. Whenever the businessmen feel too lazy to open stores, they call a strike. It might be regarding anything – a strike against inflation, a strike against recession, a strike against work – whatever be the reason, I totally sympathise with the blokes out there (one of the strikers did not know why he had closed shop when asked). Moreover, there is the extra entertainment thrown in with police arrests and resistance to the same. Bloody brilliant.
Lucknow
Lucknow takes me back to the summer afternoons under the lemon trees – lethargic and sunny. Fuck all that people say about UP – fuck the politics, fuck the casteism, fuck the corruption – lucknow is brilliant simply because of its food and the buildings. If the good folks have the sense to make a school look like one of howard roark’s architectures then you can simply imagine.
Kanpur
It is only when you reach Kanpur that you realise the ruin caused by the parties and governments of the present and the past. The city is dying. The last remaining rotting pillars are those of the small time businessmen who have almost retired into their kirana shops. It is hard to imagine that there is a market and that there is consumption going on in this city – and to think of it, it is one of the major cities in UP, not a village, not a town, but a Tier II city with its own airport and railway station – embarrassing. This is the only station where I was mobbed by autowalas and taxi drivers before I even set foot in the city. And it was more of a desperate call than opportunistic. You could see the hunger in their eyes. Unemployment has created dissent, dissent that sends short bursts through the lanes of the city. In 15 minutes I had witnessed two fights and that too for petty reasons. Its sad to see people and cities being wasted away by dysfunctional governments that are more interested in quotas and caste systems than real development. Logic seems to have taken the back seat as the quest for political mileage drives this rickety old caravan.
Varanasi
The story is quite different in Varanasi although its not really the opposite. The temple economy seems to have just overcome the shock of turning into a tourist spot and being perpetrated by signs of globalisation. Varanasi is always one place where you have to go out, no matter how afraid you are of the touts, agents and false godmen. God seems to have left this place a long time ago. Whats left are firang wannabes who believe that Varanasi is going to make them one with their soul and all that nonsense, and the agents and touts that constantly cheat them. There was so much that I had expected of the city. Seeing two and a half lakhs getting stolen from an old man ruined all that. There are probably a few good men left. But they seem to have been effectively locked in their memories. Once the beautiful subject of NatGeo photographers, the city and the river are now dirtied by hypocrites (which basically includes all us fucks who want to show off that we believe in God. Its stupid and disgusting.
Delhi
There is not much to be added about the city. Whatever I have seen is probably pretty ordinary in itself and doesn’t demand much attention. This however, shouldn’t really belittle the city. Among others, and I know that I will have my critics for this, this is the city where I found truth. Whatever is said does not have a second meaning to it. Whatever is shown does not have to be interpreted twice. The heat prevents the hypocrisy in a certain way. People have a certain temper about them and as we all know, temper brings out one’s true self. All that notwithstanding, Delhi has been dear to me for one simple reason – the city has grown from a nightmare to one of the most comfortable cities ever. Two examples would suffice – CNG autos and the Delhi Metro. Everything in Delhi looks new, feels new. There is a certain blend of modernity that cannot be pointed out but is definitely felt.
Ludhiana
Punjab has been dear to me for all sorts of reasons – history, food, women, jokes on sardars, everything. I landed in Ludhiana in the morning at around 5 and went to sleep an hour later. I woke up at eleven for the news and the shit. As a result my first glimpse of Ludhiana and its people was seven hours after I landed in the city. And by God it was brilliant.
You wont find a sad person in Ludhiana. Whatever happens, everyone is damn happy about the way of things. Everything is said with a smile and a certain innocence – even if the person in front of you is damn pissed and is abusing the shit out of you, he would do it with a brilliant wide-eyed smile. Everyone is happy with whatever situation they are in. Two autos passed one after the other in front of me. One of them had the bumper sticker – “pyaar mein hi hai khushi”, and the one following it had the all famous – “no girlfriend no problem”. My customer survey was one of the best Ihad ever done. The women were so happy to divulge their mehndi secrets to the evil corporate that they pulled out all the stops and even gave samples. I was invited to lunch on more than half the occasions and all the pampering led me to have three meals within a span of 2 hours. The women are beautiful – with brilliant hair and a personality that brings out the innocence in you. Even if you were Mephistopheles himself, you would not want to harm them. Their pride over their innocence is so powerful.
Amritsar
my last destination got me thinking over a lot of things. The entire trip had culminated into somewhere near the golden temple. Amritsar is known for its chunnis and its sherbets and it was a brilliant experience to have the local speciality – chicken fried rice and schezwan mushrooms. The city is also unique in many ways. I can now claim that I had an international trip. I waved my hand through the other side of the wagah border and had interviewed a Pakistani soldier on mehndi. Bloody brilliant.
Last thoughts
Travelling alone is much like playing the guitar – pissing off at first, but very personal later on. 12 cities in 24 days has been and will probably be one of the most philosophical and entertaining journeys of my life. There is a lot that we can run away from when we live in a group. There is a lot about our past that we can easily forget when we are with friends or family. People being around helps us to ignore the closet and the bones inside. It is only when you spend so much time alone that you come face to face with them. You try to run away and forget all that nonsense. But things once in your head stay there if you stay silent for a majority of the day. it is then that you face them, fear them, try killing them, and then live at peace. Everyone, no matter how connected should travel alone at some point of time. There is a lot about us that we don’t know.
Peace.
Sunday, 16 March 2008
dialogues at three in the morning
The other day a friend of mine needed some help in the philosophy behind U2. She had written in her SOP and now she needed something to support her statement during the interview. Just before I had started writing this, we had this extended conversation about how important and personal U2 was and how they reflected what we thought and our moods sometimes. The whole discussion was not about the songs, but more about the music and a line here and there. This was how the conversation went:
SHE: wht u doing up so late?
ME: nothin much had some work now watchin a movie plannin to write something into my blog don feel like sleepin off wat r u doin ?
SHE: i thought i'd come and dig some more info about u2, cos i have very nicely written in mica form that i admire u2's philosophy but i stiilll havent found somethingi dont know.
ME: lol yeah n wat is their philosophy exactly ?
SHE: i have no clue. bloody hell as if i knew i was gonna make it to the inetrview.
ME: hehe u said u knew some things so was just wondering
SHE: yeah, but philosophy?
ME: but then something made u think u liked their philosophy right ? which means there must b some link which u like evn though u wrote it just 2 get mileage
SHE: ahh , basically the whole thing about experimenting in the 90s.. they have albums and videos which pathetic and superb... and the constant humanitarian effort.. cant recall anyone else doing it. these two, thats all.
ME: wat bout their songs ? the lyrics theres a lot on wiki probably n the way they make u feel SHE: yeah there is yes, the way they make me feel is taken care of.. i was looking into lyrics n stuff now.. so basically time n again the have used their 'star power' to voice their concerns.. sarajevo, nelson mandela, suu kyi, martin luther king..
ME: yeah more like a political statement n if u don mind
SHE: haan
ME: how do they make u feel ?
SHE: yes? ooh. some of their songs have struck a connection with me, because maybe i was goin thru that phase or something... but they are special because , u know.. they voice my longings n irritations sometimes..so thats all.. nothing deeper you?
ME: i dunno
SHE: how do they make you feel?
ME: they do strike n the music sometimes does feel like it was exactly suited for me
SHE: yeah
ME: n most of their songs are pretty accurate representations of my confused state n my longing to b as simplified as possible and they are more of a personal thing true.. their shows r brilliant SHE: totally
ME: but i'd much rather listen to their songs with an ipod and the earphones on they seem to b only for me
SHE: same pinch.
ME: n don rly find a need to share them in public kinda feels like an invasion of privacy then
All this leads to another bigger question. What is the philosohy behind music ? Why do people say that they identify themselves with a certain song or a certain kind of music even though, when you ask them, they have absolutely no idea? Why is it that we keep playing the same song over and over again when we are in a certain mood. What is the philosophy behind music? What do we think about when we think about music? Why do some of us hate listening to Floyd after a certain period of time and switch over to something as stupid as John Mayer? What is the philosophy behind music? There a loads of references to the logic behind and the interpretation of certain songs. Most of us got a rude shock when we learnt that "Stairway to heaven" was about a hooker on drugs or that "every breath you take" is about a stalker talking about his/her victim. Which leads us to the question, would things have been different if these songs had not been spelt out? Would we have ever thought about the hooker if Rave did not come out with its list of misinterpreted songs. Is the philosophy the property of the singer or the listener?
Music is supposed to free us, or at least thats what the good ol folk at Woodstock said. But, with the dissection of music, is it possible to be absolutely free any more?
People say that piracy is what is killing the music industry. I think Rolling Stones, Rock Street Journal and Rave are killing it. Whats the use of your own identity if someone else does the thinking for you.
SHE: wht u doing up so late?
ME: nothin much had some work now watchin a movie plannin to write something into my blog don feel like sleepin off wat r u doin ?
SHE: i thought i'd come and dig some more info about u2, cos i have very nicely written in mica form that i admire u2's philosophy but i stiilll havent found somethingi dont know.
ME: lol yeah n wat is their philosophy exactly ?
SHE: i have no clue. bloody hell as if i knew i was gonna make it to the inetrview.
ME: hehe u said u knew some things so was just wondering
SHE: yeah, but philosophy?
ME: but then something made u think u liked their philosophy right ? which means there must b some link which u like evn though u wrote it just 2 get mileage
SHE: ahh , basically the whole thing about experimenting in the 90s.. they have albums and videos which pathetic and superb... and the constant humanitarian effort.. cant recall anyone else doing it. these two, thats all.
ME: wat bout their songs ? the lyrics theres a lot on wiki probably n the way they make u feel SHE: yeah there is yes, the way they make me feel is taken care of.. i was looking into lyrics n stuff now.. so basically time n again the have used their 'star power' to voice their concerns.. sarajevo, nelson mandela, suu kyi, martin luther king..
ME: yeah more like a political statement n if u don mind
SHE: haan
ME: how do they make u feel ?
SHE: yes? ooh. some of their songs have struck a connection with me, because maybe i was goin thru that phase or something... but they are special because , u know.. they voice my longings n irritations sometimes..so thats all.. nothing deeper you?
ME: i dunno
SHE: how do they make you feel?
ME: they do strike n the music sometimes does feel like it was exactly suited for me
SHE: yeah
ME: n most of their songs are pretty accurate representations of my confused state n my longing to b as simplified as possible and they are more of a personal thing true.. their shows r brilliant SHE: totally
ME: but i'd much rather listen to their songs with an ipod and the earphones on they seem to b only for me
SHE: same pinch.
ME: n don rly find a need to share them in public kinda feels like an invasion of privacy then
All this leads to another bigger question. What is the philosohy behind music ? Why do people say that they identify themselves with a certain song or a certain kind of music even though, when you ask them, they have absolutely no idea? Why is it that we keep playing the same song over and over again when we are in a certain mood. What is the philosophy behind music? What do we think about when we think about music? Why do some of us hate listening to Floyd after a certain period of time and switch over to something as stupid as John Mayer? What is the philosophy behind music? There a loads of references to the logic behind and the interpretation of certain songs. Most of us got a rude shock when we learnt that "Stairway to heaven" was about a hooker on drugs or that "every breath you take" is about a stalker talking about his/her victim. Which leads us to the question, would things have been different if these songs had not been spelt out? Would we have ever thought about the hooker if Rave did not come out with its list of misinterpreted songs. Is the philosophy the property of the singer or the listener?
Music is supposed to free us, or at least thats what the good ol folk at Woodstock said. But, with the dissection of music, is it possible to be absolutely free any more?
People say that piracy is what is killing the music industry. I think Rolling Stones, Rock Street Journal and Rave are killing it. Whats the use of your own identity if someone else does the thinking for you.
Sunday, 9 March 2008
of dandruff and the universe
Spring is finally here. With the globe and its stupid warming, lets very well say - summer is here. Life is finally better. Moreover, the latter half of the day becomes better. With all the urban animals out of their hibernation, life seems to be back in the nights. Go out. Drink well. Eat a little. Stop worrying about jackets or shivering. Summer is brilliant in so many ways.
And the best part is up there. Its seems ages since I've looked up and seen a clear nightsky. Thankfully, city lights have not spoiled its interesting randomness. Stars have always been part of corny lines, of midsummer nights dream, of creation and creativity, of joining the dots, of dandruff, of big bears and half-horses, of beautiful women and messages from the other world, of the part of life that everyone has always taken for granted.
And this, precisely is what is brilliant of them. They are just points. Shiny points with a hint of mystery. You can do anything with them. Pick one up here and another there and create your partner's face. Laugh about them as parts of the latest Head and Shoulders Ad. Seek deeper meaning. Get sick of the deeper meaning and simply go to sleep under them. The big bluish black sheet with glitter thrown all over it is all you need. You can do whatever you want with that glitter. It helps you dream (and fuck the whole theory about rapid eye movement.. dreaming is a good thing). It helps you create something that is yours and entirely yours. Even if you're a show-off you wouldn't ever be able to explain or make someone else see what you see in the aforementioned fabric. Feels like a customised God of the self. Feels like the center of this huge semi-sphere.
Someone said that nature loves symmetry. I think nature loves chaos and randomness.
And the best part is up there. Its seems ages since I've looked up and seen a clear nightsky. Thankfully, city lights have not spoiled its interesting randomness. Stars have always been part of corny lines, of midsummer nights dream, of creation and creativity, of joining the dots, of dandruff, of big bears and half-horses, of beautiful women and messages from the other world, of the part of life that everyone has always taken for granted.
And this, precisely is what is brilliant of them. They are just points. Shiny points with a hint of mystery. You can do anything with them. Pick one up here and another there and create your partner's face. Laugh about them as parts of the latest Head and Shoulders Ad. Seek deeper meaning. Get sick of the deeper meaning and simply go to sleep under them. The big bluish black sheet with glitter thrown all over it is all you need. You can do whatever you want with that glitter. It helps you dream (and fuck the whole theory about rapid eye movement.. dreaming is a good thing). It helps you create something that is yours and entirely yours. Even if you're a show-off you wouldn't ever be able to explain or make someone else see what you see in the aforementioned fabric. Feels like a customised God of the self. Feels like the center of this huge semi-sphere.
Someone said that nature loves symmetry. I think nature loves chaos and randomness.
Saturday, 1 March 2008
organised chaos
Apparently, Indians are obsessed with chaos. Apparently, nothing ever works unless there is confusion around us - may it be the politics, the public transport system, the bazaar, the family or any other aspect of our life. This might be what has actually worked for us. This might be what has baffled "thinkers" in and around everywhere. This probably isn't a myth once you're in Bombay.
Everyone has his or her experiences in Bombay. It is said that you always carry a piece of the city with you wherever you go. Everyone is baffled by the mere functioning of day-to-day life of the city, leave alone it being the commercial capital and one of the cities with the best growth. It makes you think a lot - about life, about travelling, about survival, about persistence, about organised chaos.
the chaos
To realise the criticality and the extent to which we Indians have been horny, all you have to do is be at the Dadar station at six in the evening on a spring Friday. I, for one, have not seen so many people at a single place (apart from live shows and Reliance stockholder meetings). The entire city seems to be infested by humans. Everyone swarming around in their respective directions without really thinking much about how they affect things around them. This is probably necessary. This is probably required. Probably, the only way you can help being at peace with chaos around you is to stop thinking about it and go in the flow of the direction. But it is all very wierd to people who are not really used to the pace. All that we poor souls can do, is to take advice from whoever remotely credible. But even then it takes conditioning. For instance, you are always told that, at the station, to stand with the exiting crowd and that you would be pushed along with the flow. What they don't tell you, is that the move horribly backfires at you if it is not done right. Having taken the advice a bit too lightly, I stood at the end of the outgoing crowd and thought things would proceed as normal. Alas, I had hardly placed a foot on the station, when I was pushed back into the stupid locomotive by people rushing in. It was only by fighting and suffering a few minor injuries that me and my bag were able to get down at the same station. Probably, it takes getting used to. But then again, that is the last thing that goes on in your mind if you're in that situation.
the civilisation
But a few hours into the city and on the central railway, and you'll start finding logic in it. You might probably even appreciate the entire situation. The system is filled to capacity. It takes a minimum of two hours to travel from one point to the other. But then again, given the expanse of the city, the system is pretty robust. Moreover, people are nice when they have the time. The problem is, most of the times they don't. But whenever they do, they would stop to talk to you and help you out. It doesn't really matter who you are or what you do. On the train and at the office, everyone is pretty polite and nice. I was helped throughout my stay by people at the Pan shop and at the gates of offices. The good folks at Business World helped me out with the other addresses I had to visit in that area (I was there on media work). Having noticed my famished state, the good (and good looking) people at The Times of India offered lunch and tea. Trust me, if you have only two days and loads of travelling to do, all this is a luxury. Moreover, no one is really out there to judge you. Your girlfriend might wear whatever she feels comfortable in and you would not really have to be worried about passing glances - when there are none.
In general, everyone should go there at least once. There is a lot more to it than people write about. You can't really talk much about the experience of catching sight of a Rolls and Porsche showroom side by side when all you are thinking about is water. But then these are the small things that Bombay is all about. Thats what makes it wierd and brilliant at the same time. Much like Buzkashi.
Everyone has his or her experiences in Bombay. It is said that you always carry a piece of the city with you wherever you go. Everyone is baffled by the mere functioning of day-to-day life of the city, leave alone it being the commercial capital and one of the cities with the best growth. It makes you think a lot - about life, about travelling, about survival, about persistence, about organised chaos.
the chaos
To realise the criticality and the extent to which we Indians have been horny, all you have to do is be at the Dadar station at six in the evening on a spring Friday. I, for one, have not seen so many people at a single place (apart from live shows and Reliance stockholder meetings). The entire city seems to be infested by humans. Everyone swarming around in their respective directions without really thinking much about how they affect things around them. This is probably necessary. This is probably required. Probably, the only way you can help being at peace with chaos around you is to stop thinking about it and go in the flow of the direction. But it is all very wierd to people who are not really used to the pace. All that we poor souls can do, is to take advice from whoever remotely credible. But even then it takes conditioning. For instance, you are always told that, at the station, to stand with the exiting crowd and that you would be pushed along with the flow. What they don't tell you, is that the move horribly backfires at you if it is not done right. Having taken the advice a bit too lightly, I stood at the end of the outgoing crowd and thought things would proceed as normal. Alas, I had hardly placed a foot on the station, when I was pushed back into the stupid locomotive by people rushing in. It was only by fighting and suffering a few minor injuries that me and my bag were able to get down at the same station. Probably, it takes getting used to. But then again, that is the last thing that goes on in your mind if you're in that situation.
the civilisation
But a few hours into the city and on the central railway, and you'll start finding logic in it. You might probably even appreciate the entire situation. The system is filled to capacity. It takes a minimum of two hours to travel from one point to the other. But then again, given the expanse of the city, the system is pretty robust. Moreover, people are nice when they have the time. The problem is, most of the times they don't. But whenever they do, they would stop to talk to you and help you out. It doesn't really matter who you are or what you do. On the train and at the office, everyone is pretty polite and nice. I was helped throughout my stay by people at the Pan shop and at the gates of offices. The good folks at Business World helped me out with the other addresses I had to visit in that area (I was there on media work). Having noticed my famished state, the good (and good looking) people at The Times of India offered lunch and tea. Trust me, if you have only two days and loads of travelling to do, all this is a luxury. Moreover, no one is really out there to judge you. Your girlfriend might wear whatever she feels comfortable in and you would not really have to be worried about passing glances - when there are none.
In general, everyone should go there at least once. There is a lot more to it than people write about. You can't really talk much about the experience of catching sight of a Rolls and Porsche showroom side by side when all you are thinking about is water. But then these are the small things that Bombay is all about. Thats what makes it wierd and brilliant at the same time. Much like Buzkashi.
Monday, 25 February 2008
catching the ram
It is interesting how a game in a so-called "uncivilised" world becomes so relevant and so in sync with the times of the civilised. We are all running around trying to catch the ram. For groups of us, the ram is the same. Simultaneously, different versions of the same game are being played by all of us. What is even more interesting is that on quite a few occassions we oursleves play the ram. We all run after what we love most without any consideration for the perspective of the entity itself. We are all stuck in consequent races and runs while assuming different roles. Its not sad. its not exhilerating. It cannot really be described by any emotion in the English Dictionary. The closest word that comes to it is probably 'confused'. One big mess. And it is this confusion that drives us around - that disappoints us, irritates us, pushes us further, makes us give up. In all our efforts at evolution and the increasing the power of the human brain, we still pursue something we are not really aware of - atleast I am not aware of (if someone else is then please do tell me). We still do not know whether we run for money, love, lust, family or just plain survival. But even without this knowledge we keep running - running in fear of the fact that we might not be able to achieve the unknown if we stop, running with hope of some arbitrary ray of light spelling it out for us, running because we have nothing better to do in life. But then again, there could be an alternative we've overlooked in our incessant running. Brilliant.
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