Just as I sat in the car on exiting the airport on Friday evening (a ritual consultants like to follow), I looked up and saw the moon, still in its first few nights. I realized it has already been more than a month since Eid when I had similarly seen the moon, travelling in a car, though in Barmer. This feeling of time flying ever faster has been with me since the 1st of January 1988 when I had thought that 1987 went away much faster than 1986. I think it happens because as we grow up, we take note of fewer things, store fewer moments.
I live in an area of Mumbai which 10 years ago was salt pan country. There are a few in the vicinity even now. Its a thoroughly unfashionable part of town, as has been said by numerous friends, acquaintances and passer bys. However the advantage of the location is space. Space, as you know, is the primary scarce commodity in Mumbai. So the fly, when it exits my house, does not land in the middle of headlong traffic, to be promptly mown by a BEST bus, as is the case with many a Mumbai house in the more fashionable parts of town. Did you turn up your nose at the mention of the lowly fly, dryly remarking that no such creature is granted admittance to your UV cleaned house? Well, then, change it to butterfly. But you get the drift, right. The set of buildings, of which my building is one, are on a private road and there is a 25 acre garden behind these buildings. I really like these gardens, they are very nice for peaceful walks.
Drivers of road public transport in Mumbai are the leaders of a generally rough bunch. Everytime I start on a drive, after the first cuss, I resolve that I will be patience itself. However, what is my resolve when pitted against the recklessness and brigandry of numerous BEST bus drivers, auto rickshaw and taxi waalahs. I fail everytime and return home spent. These drives are an excellent test of your BP and blood cholestersol levels. If nothing happens on these drives, tuck into your chicken tikka with impunity.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
On a rural desert road
On a 50 km ride on a one lane road in rural Rajasthan, I saw (This is all I saw on the road; there were other things on the sides):
1. One tractor without a trailer yet with 9 people sitting on it
2. A bus with four children hanging from the ladder at the back that goes up to the roof. They were a few men on the roof. Whether they were good men or not is between them and their providence.
3. A truck, which was moving so slowly up a slope that only on close inspection could you ascertain the fact that it was moving up
2. Two motorcycles with two men each in spotless white dresses. Where’s the water?
5. Another bus: coming from the opposite direction, so couldn’t see who were hanging from the ladder...
6. A SUV, non descript
I also saw:
1. Two women with their herd of goats and a herd of goats without their attendant woman.
2. A troika of cattle, a cow and its two calves, one of whom wasn’t very keen on moving off the road. They were all skinny and looked fit for long runs.
3. A pair of sheep, evidently lovers, took the cake, or the cud, what ever they like, in terms of not being keen on moving off the road
4. In fact, sheep in general weren’t very keen on moving off the road. There was another bunch, which showed marked reluctance and confusion while clearing off
Further, I also saw stretches of road covered by sand up to a foot deep. In fact, I m assuming there is road underneath.
A well made one lane road in rural India is like a bed sheet spread over a lumpy mattress. The surface is smooth but undulating. If the lurches were to any rhythm one could have likened the experience to riding a beast of burden.
Talking of beast of burden, on the side of the road, and this is the only thing I will mention which wasn’t directly on the road at the instant I saw it; I saw a camel with a man and his child on its back. And this wasn’t a touristy ride but a real ride of business: such as which made the camel the ship of the desert.
1. One tractor without a trailer yet with 9 people sitting on it
2. A bus with four children hanging from the ladder at the back that goes up to the roof. They were a few men on the roof. Whether they were good men or not is between them and their providence.
3. A truck, which was moving so slowly up a slope that only on close inspection could you ascertain the fact that it was moving up
2. Two motorcycles with two men each in spotless white dresses. Where’s the water?
5. Another bus: coming from the opposite direction, so couldn’t see who were hanging from the ladder...
6. A SUV, non descript
I also saw:
1. Two women with their herd of goats and a herd of goats without their attendant woman.
2. A troika of cattle, a cow and its two calves, one of whom wasn’t very keen on moving off the road. They were all skinny and looked fit for long runs.
3. A pair of sheep, evidently lovers, took the cake, or the cud, what ever they like, in terms of not being keen on moving off the road
4. In fact, sheep in general weren’t very keen on moving off the road. There was another bunch, which showed marked reluctance and confusion while clearing off
Further, I also saw stretches of road covered by sand up to a foot deep. In fact, I m assuming there is road underneath.
A well made one lane road in rural India is like a bed sheet spread over a lumpy mattress. The surface is smooth but undulating. If the lurches were to any rhythm one could have likened the experience to riding a beast of burden.
Talking of beast of burden, on the side of the road, and this is the only thing I will mention which wasn’t directly on the road at the instant I saw it; I saw a camel with a man and his child on its back. And this wasn’t a touristy ride but a real ride of business: such as which made the camel the ship of the desert.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
As time goes by
As time goes by, I am less and less sure. There was a time when worldly wisdom suggested it was the right thing to happen. They said it was a sure sign of evolution to grow unsure, surety about anything meant a simplicity, lower level of gyan. And I believed them, until very recently. Now I am not so sure about this as well. This is getting loopy , sorry. But all this vagueness, of explaining everything that doesn't agree by ,"Well you can't be sure. That's another world view", is disquieting. May be, I am just becoming indesicive, lazy. May be, I have gone too far and its time to constrain a few things, become sure about them.
One thing I am least sure about is other people's feelings. Many people are so inscrutable. They will keep smiling through cyclones and orgasms. And its becoming more and more important to understand those feelings, for more and more people come into my life from circumstances- present and past, and motivations that are not in sync with mine and therefore they may react quite differently from me to the same stimuli. Nor do I have time and occasion to know their circumstances and motivations, given the little time we spend together. It happens at work and at play. What has fundamentally changed is the amount of time I spend with people. Till I joined work, I spent time with only a few, all friends of one's own age, and spent lots of time with them. Now I spend time with a wide variety of people and only a little with each of them. To understand them through these glimpses is critical and also what is most difficult for me.
To solve this I decided to pick up a little psychology a little while ago, the scientific study of human behaviour. Sustained struggle, however, is not my forte and after the initial sally, progess has been that of a sail boat in the doldrums. Let's see
One thing I am least sure about is other people's feelings. Many people are so inscrutable. They will keep smiling through cyclones and orgasms. And its becoming more and more important to understand those feelings, for more and more people come into my life from circumstances- present and past, and motivations that are not in sync with mine and therefore they may react quite differently from me to the same stimuli. Nor do I have time and occasion to know their circumstances and motivations, given the little time we spend together. It happens at work and at play. What has fundamentally changed is the amount of time I spend with people. Till I joined work, I spent time with only a few, all friends of one's own age, and spent lots of time with them. Now I spend time with a wide variety of people and only a little with each of them. To understand them through these glimpses is critical and also what is most difficult for me.
To solve this I decided to pick up a little psychology a little while ago, the scientific study of human behaviour. Sustained struggle, however, is not my forte and after the initial sally, progess has been that of a sail boat in the doldrums. Let's see
Friday, March 27, 2009
An early morning watching test cricket
I don't like test cricket on flat pitches very well. Matches I like most are where top innings score is about 300 to 400, two batsmen score centuries and a couple of bowlers take five fors. Basically I like the perfect test matches most. Fairly remarkable, one would say, isn't it. Matches I like second best are ones where a team is bowled out for under a hundred and the other team gets out for 189 and so on and bowlers end up with ten fors for the match. Run fests come a distant third. Of course, T20 comes after all this and they should just eliminate one dayers, now that they are neither here nor there.
In this context, waking up at 3:30 in the morning to watch the third day of the Napier test match was an unusual decision, particularly after a sloshy Friday evening, thanks to Vikram V. But I had reason, Tendulkar and Dravid were batting. 110 runs in 31 overs for the loss of 1 wicket reads pretty unspectacular but, boy, was I rewarded. Shots of such exquisite beauty are rarely to be seen in a two hour passage of play. Securing these memories is the reason why I want to describe these shots knowing fully well that words will never describe what was experienced.
Let me begin with Tendulkar, as all cricket conversations have begun in India for the last 20 years. There were the two cover drive to begin with. Commentors described it very well when they pointed out how Tendulkar moved his feet to make the cover drive into a straight drive. Then a pulled/ hooked a ball off his face, my favorite shot of his for the morning just because he doesn't play the shot all too frequently. I knew he was in nick. When Patel came on to bowl there was the delicate deflection that entirely his invention. Then there was the slog sweep and the cover drive against the spin in that same over of exhilarating batting against spin.
Dravid began with an on drive, his signature shot. Then there was the cut between gully and point, hit down in the ground. There was an excellent camera shot of how Dravid had rolled his wrist to keep the ball down. It was also the only shot that infrared showed to be not hit of the middle in the two hour session but just slightly off centre towards the ground. At this point, I was pining for the pure square cut hit perfectly perpendicular to the pitch. It was once, in the middle to late nineties, when Tendulkar used to play it a lot, my favourite shot. And guess what, I got it. In the very next over. Once again it was hit straight in the ground. Dravid rounded off the session with a cover drive of his own.
Laxman was at the crease for only 20 minutes or so but he had four beautiful strokes of his own. The first two were wristy on drives off the spinner Patel hit through increasingly narrow gaps between mid wicket and mid on. Then there was the square drive off the first ball of the last over of the sesion. And just as the over was winding down, I was wishing how a straight drive would make it a perfect session. I must have done some good somewhere for, for the second time in the space of an hour my wish was granted. Of the last ball of the over Laxman hit the most thumping of straight drives.
None of these shots were hit with brute power. Even the slog sweep, which is necessarily a shot of violence went all the way for six on the strength of timing rather than power. In fact, the camera showed that Tendulkar had tried to hit the ball down. All but the first square cut from Dravid were hit off the middle of the bat. Each shot seemed to contain exactly the right amount of power. It was classical batmanship at its very best.
The past and the future stretch interminably on both sides of the narrow isthumus of the present. Hence, life is half memories and half hopes. However, at times like these, when the present is so beautiful, it carves out its own space. And the delicious thought of these memories staying for ever. Ah!
In this context, waking up at 3:30 in the morning to watch the third day of the Napier test match was an unusual decision, particularly after a sloshy Friday evening, thanks to Vikram V. But I had reason, Tendulkar and Dravid were batting. 110 runs in 31 overs for the loss of 1 wicket reads pretty unspectacular but, boy, was I rewarded. Shots of such exquisite beauty are rarely to be seen in a two hour passage of play. Securing these memories is the reason why I want to describe these shots knowing fully well that words will never describe what was experienced.
Let me begin with Tendulkar, as all cricket conversations have begun in India for the last 20 years. There were the two cover drive to begin with. Commentors described it very well when they pointed out how Tendulkar moved his feet to make the cover drive into a straight drive. Then a pulled/ hooked a ball off his face, my favorite shot of his for the morning just because he doesn't play the shot all too frequently. I knew he was in nick. When Patel came on to bowl there was the delicate deflection that entirely his invention. Then there was the slog sweep and the cover drive against the spin in that same over of exhilarating batting against spin.
Dravid began with an on drive, his signature shot. Then there was the cut between gully and point, hit down in the ground. There was an excellent camera shot of how Dravid had rolled his wrist to keep the ball down. It was also the only shot that infrared showed to be not hit of the middle in the two hour session but just slightly off centre towards the ground. At this point, I was pining for the pure square cut hit perfectly perpendicular to the pitch. It was once, in the middle to late nineties, when Tendulkar used to play it a lot, my favourite shot. And guess what, I got it. In the very next over. Once again it was hit straight in the ground. Dravid rounded off the session with a cover drive of his own.
Laxman was at the crease for only 20 minutes or so but he had four beautiful strokes of his own. The first two were wristy on drives off the spinner Patel hit through increasingly narrow gaps between mid wicket and mid on. Then there was the square drive off the first ball of the last over of the sesion. And just as the over was winding down, I was wishing how a straight drive would make it a perfect session. I must have done some good somewhere for, for the second time in the space of an hour my wish was granted. Of the last ball of the over Laxman hit the most thumping of straight drives.
None of these shots were hit with brute power. Even the slog sweep, which is necessarily a shot of violence went all the way for six on the strength of timing rather than power. In fact, the camera showed that Tendulkar had tried to hit the ball down. All but the first square cut from Dravid were hit off the middle of the bat. Each shot seemed to contain exactly the right amount of power. It was classical batmanship at its very best.
The past and the future stretch interminably on both sides of the narrow isthumus of the present. Hence, life is half memories and half hopes. However, at times like these, when the present is so beautiful, it carves out its own space. And the delicious thought of these memories staying for ever. Ah!
Friday, March 13, 2009
House Help
My house help is a remarkable person. Now, one may call it a womanly topic but we are a household of men and somebody ought to introduce the wider world to the remarkable aspects of our house help. Also, people living in parts of the world other than India may completely miss the point, so please ignore.
Our house help believes in a five day week, although is not averse to take complementary offs on weekdays if you insist on service over the weekend. I sense though that she considers the Sunday evening as sacrosanct. She believes in all the world's religions and celebrates all the festivals, big or small, that these religions have to offer and refuses to work on any of them. All the world's children are hers and when you have so many and they are children one or the other is liable to be sick at every point of time. To take care of this, she has 30 casual leaves and medical leave of course is unlimited.
Her working style is not the only remarkable thing about her, her cooking is no less. Regardless of the vegetable she cooks, she can make them all taste alike. I believe its the strength of the process that inspite of widely varying input she can churn out consistant output, day in and day out. I heard the Japanese did something similar and earned a big name for themselves making cars. Our house help is just waiting to be discovered. She is not just after the Japs, the Russians are also on her radar. Her chapatis are almost like vodka, they are odourless and tasteless. I think she is working on making them colorless.
Our house help is very reasonable in terms of her pay increase demands. She has simply linked it to the indices. In 2007, it was the equities, through most of last year it was the Brent crude while currently she is tracking Gold.
Now tell me, shouldn't have I told you about this remarkable woman.
Our house help believes in a five day week, although is not averse to take complementary offs on weekdays if you insist on service over the weekend. I sense though that she considers the Sunday evening as sacrosanct. She believes in all the world's religions and celebrates all the festivals, big or small, that these religions have to offer and refuses to work on any of them. All the world's children are hers and when you have so many and they are children one or the other is liable to be sick at every point of time. To take care of this, she has 30 casual leaves and medical leave of course is unlimited.
Her working style is not the only remarkable thing about her, her cooking is no less. Regardless of the vegetable she cooks, she can make them all taste alike. I believe its the strength of the process that inspite of widely varying input she can churn out consistant output, day in and day out. I heard the Japanese did something similar and earned a big name for themselves making cars. Our house help is just waiting to be discovered. She is not just after the Japs, the Russians are also on her radar. Her chapatis are almost like vodka, they are odourless and tasteless. I think she is working on making them colorless.
Our house help is very reasonable in terms of her pay increase demands. She has simply linked it to the indices. In 2007, it was the equities, through most of last year it was the Brent crude while currently she is tracking Gold.
Now tell me, shouldn't have I told you about this remarkable woman.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Ode to a girl
Meeting extraordinary people is life’s reward for so many things we bear. There are four things that strike me about these people. Firstly, they show you what one ought to be. Yet, their quality is such that they do not belittle you with the realization. You can celebrate their greatness without feeling small yourself. Secondly, there is no prototype for extraordinariness. All extra ordinary people I know are of different kinds. Thirdly, not all kinds of extraordinariness result in performance or achievement. People can exhibit/ experience extraordinariness without performance and/ or achievement. Lastly, there are far more extraordinary people that one would think.
I once met such a girl. As I think of this girl, I am reminded of Ganga in Bhagalpur where I spent many an evening watching the river flow by. Here, after Ganga has already travelled more than 1000 kms from its source, she has a calm beauty, maturity; dignity and inner strength (ask somebody who’s tried rowing a boat through the apparently sluggish waters).
Of course, this girl is beautiful. And she smiles a lot. It’s what attracted me to her in the first place. But it’s the least of what makes her extraordinary. There are many more beautiful people than extraordinary people. It’s the other three qualities that she shares with the river and in such measures, which make here extraordinary. In a place where attention seeking and self promoting behavior are rampant, in deed have been converted into an art form and are considered necessary for success, she never resorted to them. She may be the star of a show but she would never be in the limelight. Not once in my two years of knowing her, was her behavior anything but dignified.
She takes her time to open up. I don’t think she ever opened up to me. However, were you to talk to her, ask her questions, her responses would always be considered and full of common sense. She would participate in and enjoy the many idiosyncrasies of campus life but you could see that she knew them for what they were. Such balance and measure is rare from anybody and on first observation, particularly from her, one who had led such a sheltered life. She shattered the misconception I had around tough life experiences and perspective.
Where I met her, she was clearly out of her depth, initially. She persevered, never indulging in self pity. Hers would be the light that burnt the longest; she would be the last in the group to give up. The challenge she overcome required immense strength of character and she has it.
I haven’t met the girl in six months, haven’t spoken to her at any length for two years. Things are likely to remain this way. Yet, she, the way I know her, is one of those people that help retain faith in human kind. Thank you!
I once met such a girl. As I think of this girl, I am reminded of Ganga in Bhagalpur where I spent many an evening watching the river flow by. Here, after Ganga has already travelled more than 1000 kms from its source, she has a calm beauty, maturity; dignity and inner strength (ask somebody who’s tried rowing a boat through the apparently sluggish waters).
Of course, this girl is beautiful. And she smiles a lot. It’s what attracted me to her in the first place. But it’s the least of what makes her extraordinary. There are many more beautiful people than extraordinary people. It’s the other three qualities that she shares with the river and in such measures, which make here extraordinary. In a place where attention seeking and self promoting behavior are rampant, in deed have been converted into an art form and are considered necessary for success, she never resorted to them. She may be the star of a show but she would never be in the limelight. Not once in my two years of knowing her, was her behavior anything but dignified.
She takes her time to open up. I don’t think she ever opened up to me. However, were you to talk to her, ask her questions, her responses would always be considered and full of common sense. She would participate in and enjoy the many idiosyncrasies of campus life but you could see that she knew them for what they were. Such balance and measure is rare from anybody and on first observation, particularly from her, one who had led such a sheltered life. She shattered the misconception I had around tough life experiences and perspective.
Where I met her, she was clearly out of her depth, initially. She persevered, never indulging in self pity. Hers would be the light that burnt the longest; she would be the last in the group to give up. The challenge she overcome required immense strength of character and she has it.
I haven’t met the girl in six months, haven’t spoken to her at any length for two years. Things are likely to remain this way. Yet, she, the way I know her, is one of those people that help retain faith in human kind. Thank you!
Monday, November 10, 2008
Oh Captain! My Captain!
Sourav Ganguly retired today. For my generation of Indian cricket followers, it is, as aptly put by Sidhartha Vaidyanathan on Cricinfo, http://content-ind.cricinfo.com/magazine/content/current/story/376791.html, like the beginning of losing my religion.
To begin with, Sourav was a quota selection, from the then unsporting east. Not once, but twice. The first time is best not spoken of, the second is too often recounted. Even after that dream start, I took my time to warm up to him, having always been a sucker for technical virtuosity. Rahul Dravid, excepting this last phase, has always been my favorite. Sourav was God like on the off side but was always susceptible to give third slip or gully catching practice. He couldn't get a run on the leg side. Then there were the problems with the short ball. There was a period around 2000 when Sourav was most certainly the most destructive batsman in one day cricket but then one day cricket does not earn you respect with true believers. At this stage I should mention that I wouldn't be talking of one day cricket at all in here.
In test cricket, he played a few innings which earned him my respect. The first two centuries are hazy in memory and they didn't change much in terms of India's prospects in the match, the series or the immediate future. India continued to lose abroad, in England, in South Africa, in West Indies and in Australia. The first innings that sticks in memory, is the 98 he scored in Srilanka when India successfully chased down a target of 268. It's one of India's better run chases and it brought us victory on foreign soil, rare before then. He performed consistantly, if unspectacularly in West Indies. The the famous Brisbane century, when he scored 144, is by common agreement, Sourav's best. The ball was bouncing and moving and Sourav before then wasn't known to play well under those conditions. He played the innings of his lifetime, driving, cutting and most importantly, pulling the ball.
In terms of sustained performance, the phase after he returned to the team for the last time was the best. He had lost the fluency on the off side but what he had gained was solidity. In South Africa, in India against Pakistan, the first two tests in Australia, against South Africa in India and his last series against Australia, he was solid. This is when he became an Indian great for me, a solid, reasonably techincally accomplished, gifted Indian batsman. It is no coincidence that his batting average is the best over this period. A little sadly, but only just a little, for Sourav still accomplished enough, the solidity, the calmness came as the physical abilities were waning. Sourav was at his best as a batsman just as the body was tiring. A bit like Srinath, who also peaked close to his end. Sourav ended with the fourth highest tally of runs in test cricket by an Indian batsman and I would rate him thereabouts in my ranking of Indian batsmen.
Sourav's gift to Indian cricket though, was his captaincy. He is the most successful Indian captain ever, the first Indian captain to win abroad consistantly. This can, however be an accident, India simply have had their best team ever in this period. Ganguly wasn't tactically brilliant either, his most celebrated tactical move of irritating Steve Waugh by arriving late for toss began as an accident. He didn't always lead from the front, all his life he ran slower for other people's run than his own, his fielding was never international class. Still Sourav's captaincy was a boon for Indian cricket. What he brought to captaincy of the Indian cricket team were three things: faith, pride and ambition while playing for India, elimination of parochialism from Indian cricket and backing new comers. India began to gain respect for their test peformances, at home and away. Home victories were not always coming on doctored pitches and foregin victories were altogether new. What's more, these changes have come to stay. The team talks of becoming world champions, nobody speaks of regional quotas anymore and the newcomers whom he backed will back future generations of newcomers. This is Ganguly's lasting legacy. To the captain of the Indian cricket team of my youth, good bye and thanks for all the fish.
To begin with, Sourav was a quota selection, from the then unsporting east. Not once, but twice. The first time is best not spoken of, the second is too often recounted. Even after that dream start, I took my time to warm up to him, having always been a sucker for technical virtuosity. Rahul Dravid, excepting this last phase, has always been my favorite. Sourav was God like on the off side but was always susceptible to give third slip or gully catching practice. He couldn't get a run on the leg side. Then there were the problems with the short ball. There was a period around 2000 when Sourav was most certainly the most destructive batsman in one day cricket but then one day cricket does not earn you respect with true believers. At this stage I should mention that I wouldn't be talking of one day cricket at all in here.
In test cricket, he played a few innings which earned him my respect. The first two centuries are hazy in memory and they didn't change much in terms of India's prospects in the match, the series or the immediate future. India continued to lose abroad, in England, in South Africa, in West Indies and in Australia. The first innings that sticks in memory, is the 98 he scored in Srilanka when India successfully chased down a target of 268. It's one of India's better run chases and it brought us victory on foreign soil, rare before then. He performed consistantly, if unspectacularly in West Indies. The the famous Brisbane century, when he scored 144, is by common agreement, Sourav's best. The ball was bouncing and moving and Sourav before then wasn't known to play well under those conditions. He played the innings of his lifetime, driving, cutting and most importantly, pulling the ball.
In terms of sustained performance, the phase after he returned to the team for the last time was the best. He had lost the fluency on the off side but what he had gained was solidity. In South Africa, in India against Pakistan, the first two tests in Australia, against South Africa in India and his last series against Australia, he was solid. This is when he became an Indian great for me, a solid, reasonably techincally accomplished, gifted Indian batsman. It is no coincidence that his batting average is the best over this period. A little sadly, but only just a little, for Sourav still accomplished enough, the solidity, the calmness came as the physical abilities were waning. Sourav was at his best as a batsman just as the body was tiring. A bit like Srinath, who also peaked close to his end. Sourav ended with the fourth highest tally of runs in test cricket by an Indian batsman and I would rate him thereabouts in my ranking of Indian batsmen.
Sourav's gift to Indian cricket though, was his captaincy. He is the most successful Indian captain ever, the first Indian captain to win abroad consistantly. This can, however be an accident, India simply have had their best team ever in this period. Ganguly wasn't tactically brilliant either, his most celebrated tactical move of irritating Steve Waugh by arriving late for toss began as an accident. He didn't always lead from the front, all his life he ran slower for other people's run than his own, his fielding was never international class. Still Sourav's captaincy was a boon for Indian cricket. What he brought to captaincy of the Indian cricket team were three things: faith, pride and ambition while playing for India, elimination of parochialism from Indian cricket and backing new comers. India began to gain respect for their test peformances, at home and away. Home victories were not always coming on doctored pitches and foregin victories were altogether new. What's more, these changes have come to stay. The team talks of becoming world champions, nobody speaks of regional quotas anymore and the newcomers whom he backed will back future generations of newcomers. This is Ganguly's lasting legacy. To the captain of the Indian cricket team of my youth, good bye and thanks for all the fish.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Friends III
Time went by and I hopped over from IIT to IIM. As to taking leave from IIT friends, we sadly and completely failed our motion picture ideals and a visit to Surd shop, which was incidently never owned by a Surd in my time at IIT, a brief, awkward hug and a shake of hands did it.
I had come to IIM full of noble intentions, determined to do my best, realize my potential, stuff of that sort. As such, building and maintaining a wide social circle wasn't exactly top most on my agenda. A friend or two, to borrow notes or discuss the finer points of Gaussian distribution governing stock returns (nobody will believe this in these days of free falling stock markets but back then we had a most romantic attachment to the theory) was the basic idea. However will power, of seeing the thing to the end is something that I have always found wanting in me and this occasion was no different. Soon I was thrown headlong in five irreversible friendships, with my co residents in the dorm. Considering that each of these aforesaid five guys were also saddled with five irreversible friendships, it made fifteen friendships in all. If you find the calculation taxing, use a calculator. Fifteen is a large number and one would think that we had nothing else to do but make friends. Yet as anybody who's gone through it and has also watched a few Hollywood movies of the right sort can tell you, the first year at IIM Ahmedabad is to academia what the US marines is to military training. One would also wonder that if six guys; three of whom were fat, three wore glasses, plus a fourth whom even glasses couldn't help, one who was going bald at 25, one who had been short ever since 15; to summarize, if six perfectly useless guys can generate so much warm friendship, why are we still having terrorist attacks? I think the world needs more friendships, particularly in early formative years.
Our common interests were: carrom, cricket and conversation. Well, there are other things but they don't start with a 'c' and will have to appear elsewhere. Carrom was our game, traffic was so heavy that the boards withered like cricket pitches do in India. Talking of Cricket; cricket is, well, cricket (I have become an expert in doing things in three, learning on the job you see) but the expertise resident in the dorm was extraordinary. The channel nine commentary team is no match to the group that had gathered. Conversation was mostly pointless, therefore highly entertaining and often indulged in post midnight. Now that the c's are done, lets move to other things. Can't keep important stuff out just because of some stupid alphabet. Studying together (yes, no use hiding that shame), movies, eating out (we had some impressive physiques to maintain and the mess food, though the best in Asia Pacific was simply inadequate), eating in, throwing water at random people passing the dorm, throwing water at each other (this had welcome hygiene consequences), singing songs raising the profile of our dormitory representative or simply singing songs in our cacophonous voices were other group activities that received our patronage.
There was depth of emotion, that's the easy bit. Which true relationship doesnt have it. What characterized these friendships was maturity, by a shared appreciation of living the small details, by a shared willingness for being children again. We were all adults, on the cusp of the final plunge in to the world of jobs and responsibilities (indeed most had had the first taste) and fully appreciated that this was our last chance of living freely. So, when we were dunking each other with water, or going for a cup of tea at four in the morning, or playing carrom for hours, it was with the knowledge that all this will soon be over. We lived every moment, knew it was great and knew it will be over. That to me is what made it special: often one doesnt know a great thing when one has it or isnt conscious of the fact that it will end, circumstances ripe for grief. No, this was satisfied happiness.
Saturday, September 06, 2008
Breakfast with Reema Sen
After attending a brace of three hour long FGD’s in Hyderabad on Friday, which were, of course, designed to suck the life blood out of keen observers, I took the Saturday morning flight back. At the gate, they upgraded me to business class. I said a polite (usual service, I assure you, unlike the upgrade) and for once, heartfelt thank you and hopped in.
The business class, as the core group has experienced and the junta class has observed, has wide seats, plenty of leg room (though what I can do with extra leg room is a pertinent question), good cutlery and a pillow for every passenger. This pillow I did not like, it seems to give pain to the part of body that rests on it. Just as I had started savouring the business class bar the pillow, a beautiful girl came and stood next to me. Now, moments like these are always moments of tribulation for me. A bit like the case of those Israeli kids who where stuck with a lot of water around them until Moses came around. Boys’ school, long years in IIT, the works, you see. Turns out the lady wants to access her seat, which, as it happens, is the window seat that sits cheek by jowl with my aisle seat. I have already alluded to the ample leg room and the inadequacy of my legs in dealing with them and now wondered as to why the lady doesn’t just sail in. Anyway, since she keeps standing, I politely ask, “Would you like me to step out?” Since she doesn’t say no, I understand it means yes (always a useful policy). I step out. She throws a bunch of magazines on her seat, one of which is the Vogue and shoves her shiny crocodile leather bag in the overhead baggage bin and sits down monopolizing the common armrest between the two of us with her papers. I am feeling much annoyed but being an ardent admirer of Bertie Wooster and inspired by his ideal of preux cavalier, I hold my peace, leaving my arm hanging in mid air. I was looking darkly at the papers that had encroached upon my space when my eyes fell on the name on the boarding pass. I was sitting next to Reema Sen. For those who don’t know her, (Oh! the presumption of wide readership), she is an actor of Hindi and Bengali movies.
Now I have previously been upgraded to business class. But so far, my lot always has been politicians. What else would you expect if you fly business class to Patna, where, I am told by well informed sources, actress of any kind, hue or disposition have not set foot since Ashoka was spreading Buddha’s message of peace and love around these parts. Anyway, the lesson learnt is that one should never stop dreaming, for, guys: ‘the dreams of men, the seeds of commonwealth, the germs of empire’ (Book: Heart of Darkness. Author: Joseph Conrad. And no, the book isn’t about Bihar).
I thought whether I should ask her for her autograph but then the pride of an elite consultant reasserted itself and I desisted. Did you say, “you fool”? I agree. I spent the rest of the flight trying not to embarrass myself in anyway, ate my breakfast with minimal movement, careful not to elbow her. I did squirt a little of the Fruit and Dahi in her general direction but that was faulty packaging, not me. And, mark you, I made no attempts to wipe it off. As for conversation, you are already aware of my chivalrous offer to step out, to which she gave mute consent. Next she asked me if I minded her taking my TOI, to which I replied, in my typical foot in mouth style, “Yes, yes, take it. I only read TOI when I am feeling particularly stupid.” This was of course before I knew she was Reema Sen and she didn’t catch the import of my words anyway.
For those who care, Reema is about five feet four, is dusky in complexion and had bags under her eyes that morning. I would definitely recommend more sleep. She was wearing a black blouse, khaki cotton skirt and flat leather sandals. As for accessories she had Dolce & Gabbana glasses in her hair and a beaded wrist band, this on her wrist. Early morning attire I guess. No nail polish on fingers and faded nail polish on toe nails. And in case you want to ask her out for a casual tête-à-tête over tea, she likes her tea with milk but no sugar.
The business class, as the core group has experienced and the junta class has observed, has wide seats, plenty of leg room (though what I can do with extra leg room is a pertinent question), good cutlery and a pillow for every passenger. This pillow I did not like, it seems to give pain to the part of body that rests on it. Just as I had started savouring the business class bar the pillow, a beautiful girl came and stood next to me. Now, moments like these are always moments of tribulation for me. A bit like the case of those Israeli kids who where stuck with a lot of water around them until Moses came around. Boys’ school, long years in IIT, the works, you see. Turns out the lady wants to access her seat, which, as it happens, is the window seat that sits cheek by jowl with my aisle seat. I have already alluded to the ample leg room and the inadequacy of my legs in dealing with them and now wondered as to why the lady doesn’t just sail in. Anyway, since she keeps standing, I politely ask, “Would you like me to step out?” Since she doesn’t say no, I understand it means yes (always a useful policy). I step out. She throws a bunch of magazines on her seat, one of which is the Vogue and shoves her shiny crocodile leather bag in the overhead baggage bin and sits down monopolizing the common armrest between the two of us with her papers. I am feeling much annoyed but being an ardent admirer of Bertie Wooster and inspired by his ideal of preux cavalier, I hold my peace, leaving my arm hanging in mid air. I was looking darkly at the papers that had encroached upon my space when my eyes fell on the name on the boarding pass. I was sitting next to Reema Sen. For those who don’t know her, (Oh! the presumption of wide readership), she is an actor of Hindi and Bengali movies.
Now I have previously been upgraded to business class. But so far, my lot always has been politicians. What else would you expect if you fly business class to Patna, where, I am told by well informed sources, actress of any kind, hue or disposition have not set foot since Ashoka was spreading Buddha’s message of peace and love around these parts. Anyway, the lesson learnt is that one should never stop dreaming, for, guys: ‘the dreams of men, the seeds of commonwealth, the germs of empire’ (Book: Heart of Darkness. Author: Joseph Conrad. And no, the book isn’t about Bihar).
I thought whether I should ask her for her autograph but then the pride of an elite consultant reasserted itself and I desisted. Did you say, “you fool”? I agree. I spent the rest of the flight trying not to embarrass myself in anyway, ate my breakfast with minimal movement, careful not to elbow her. I did squirt a little of the Fruit and Dahi in her general direction but that was faulty packaging, not me. And, mark you, I made no attempts to wipe it off. As for conversation, you are already aware of my chivalrous offer to step out, to which she gave mute consent. Next she asked me if I minded her taking my TOI, to which I replied, in my typical foot in mouth style, “Yes, yes, take it. I only read TOI when I am feeling particularly stupid.” This was of course before I knew she was Reema Sen and she didn’t catch the import of my words anyway.
For those who care, Reema is about five feet four, is dusky in complexion and had bags under her eyes that morning. I would definitely recommend more sleep. She was wearing a black blouse, khaki cotton skirt and flat leather sandals. As for accessories she had Dolce & Gabbana glasses in her hair and a beaded wrist band, this on her wrist. Early morning attire I guess. No nail polish on fingers and faded nail polish on toe nails. And in case you want to ask her out for a casual tête-à-tête over tea, she likes her tea with milk but no sugar.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Bohemia!
I grew up with typical middle class values like:
1. Do things for a purpose. There is no point in doing something only because you like doing it.
2. Spend only on necesscities. Everything else is wasting hard earned money.
3. Pleasure is frivolous/ sinful/ wasteful. Time and money and energy spent on pleasure could be used for more purposeful activities.
4. Plan and work for the future. If its needed, bear pain in the present so that you may rejoice in the future.
Slowly as I grew up, doubtful thoughts emerged. Why should I do everything for some purpose? Why shouldn't I take a walk in the park if I feel like it? Or read a book through the night even though the morrow is a working day? Why not spend on something I don't really need but which I may enjoy, like a car? Why not seek pleasure, purely for itself. It may heal the soul. As for planning for the future: Aren't we always planning for the future? Isn't the present also worth something? In preparing for the future, we ignore the present and remain with unfulfilled wishes. Live for the moment, for pleasure, for non purpose: Bohemia.
I may outgrow this phase as well and my roots may call again. After all, whats learnt early dies last. Do we stop breathing?
1. Do things for a purpose. There is no point in doing something only because you like doing it.
2. Spend only on necesscities. Everything else is wasting hard earned money.
3. Pleasure is frivolous/ sinful/ wasteful. Time and money and energy spent on pleasure could be used for more purposeful activities.
4. Plan and work for the future. If its needed, bear pain in the present so that you may rejoice in the future.
Slowly as I grew up, doubtful thoughts emerged. Why should I do everything for some purpose? Why shouldn't I take a walk in the park if I feel like it? Or read a book through the night even though the morrow is a working day? Why not spend on something I don't really need but which I may enjoy, like a car? Why not seek pleasure, purely for itself. It may heal the soul. As for planning for the future: Aren't we always planning for the future? Isn't the present also worth something? In preparing for the future, we ignore the present and remain with unfulfilled wishes. Live for the moment, for pleasure, for non purpose: Bohemia.
I may outgrow this phase as well and my roots may call again. After all, whats learnt early dies last. Do we stop breathing?
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Intelligence
I am reading 'Life of Pi'. Haven't finished, so this isnt a review. I would like to quote though,"When an animal decides to do something, it can continue doing it for a long time". When compared to us, animals are so much more powerful. A chimpanzee has five times the upper body strength of humans (so I read at the Basel zoo). Many animals are far more powerful than us. Many are quicker. Many have stronger senses of smell, sight and hearing. I often wonder, were it not for our greater mental faculties, we would long have been as dead as dodos. Its almost a slight, of nature or God, to have made us weaker in body and then to have given us our intelligence, for us to conquer, dominate and bring to the doorstep of annihilation all animals but ourselves, and even ourselves, going by the way we are destroying our planet. Its like those stories in scriptures where the weakling has that one immortal weapon with which to vanquish all adversaries.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Growth in a democracy
I have increasingly been shunning politics, both as a person and as a citizen. However, the recent energy crisis, my stock market investments and the work I am doing these days has set me thinking. In this context, I have been thinking, historians will struggle to explain the mistake we are making as a nation.
I am talking of the nuclear deal. Why won't we sign it? In an conventional-energy starved country such as ours, nuclear power is the only viable alternative. And that nuclear power is currently locked behind the deal. We won't sign it because some political party will make the government fall. Its infuriating. This same party welcomed the chinese attack on India, saying that the revolution is coming.
I came across this website,http://www.growthcommission.org/ . Havent read the papers yet but seems interesting.
I am talking of the nuclear deal. Why won't we sign it? In an conventional-energy starved country such as ours, nuclear power is the only viable alternative. And that nuclear power is currently locked behind the deal. We won't sign it because some political party will make the government fall. Its infuriating. This same party welcomed the chinese attack on India, saying that the revolution is coming.
I came across this website,http://www.growthcommission.org/ . Havent read the papers yet but seems interesting.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Choices
In my school library there were books in which you made your own story. What happened was, that after every few pages, the book would present a choice: go to page 23 or go to page 47. If you went to page 23, the story will proceed in a certain way and if you went to page 47, it progressed in another.
Life, if one thinks of it, proceeds in a similar fashion. After every few pages, one is confronted with a choice which affects the rest of it. Ofcourse, real life is far more complex and there's a choice after every breath so to speak, but if one were to single out the really important choices, one can reach the 'every few pages' analogy.
What were these choices for me, so far? I would exclude chance happenings which deflected me one way rather than the other but include the one decision taken by others to have substantially impacted my life.
These decisions are:
1. To admit me in the best school in town back in class 3.
2. To leave the town for my plus 2 and decide to do it at my uncle's place.
3. To not go to Calcutta for final prep just before JEE.
4. To work really hard at IIM.
5. To not ask the girl I thought was perfect for me if she fancied me.
6. To accept a domestic job and decline going abroad.
In the next post, I would list the chance happenings that have had the greatest impact on my life. These chance happenings, if one were to keep the same cut off vis-a-vis impact, are many more than the decisions. Importance of chance in life!!
Life, if one thinks of it, proceeds in a similar fashion. After every few pages, one is confronted with a choice which affects the rest of it. Ofcourse, real life is far more complex and there's a choice after every breath so to speak, but if one were to single out the really important choices, one can reach the 'every few pages' analogy.
What were these choices for me, so far? I would exclude chance happenings which deflected me one way rather than the other but include the one decision taken by others to have substantially impacted my life.
These decisions are:
1. To admit me in the best school in town back in class 3.
2. To leave the town for my plus 2 and decide to do it at my uncle's place.
3. To not go to Calcutta for final prep just before JEE.
4. To work really hard at IIM.
5. To not ask the girl I thought was perfect for me if she fancied me.
6. To accept a domestic job and decline going abroad.
In the next post, I would list the chance happenings that have had the greatest impact on my life. These chance happenings, if one were to keep the same cut off vis-a-vis impact, are many more than the decisions. Importance of chance in life!!
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
As I finish college
I had written this about 13 months ago, about the time I was graduating. It is incomplete but I will leave it as such since it cannot be finished in the same frame of mind.
I have completed my college education, at least for now. For the first time since I entered school on 21st February 1985, I will not be student.
In the meantime, USSR fell and the Soviet communist propaganda magazine in Hindi that we used to get at home stopped coming. Its Hindi was quaint and I used to like it. All the stories were of workers great struggle against the elite. How the façade fell in a couple of years. Around the time, Doordarshan showed a serial on Nadia Comaneci and I was in love with her.
I was at my Mausi’s place when Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated. I was the first in the household to look at the newspaper at 5:40 in the morning. Of course, the magnitude of the event was beyond me. A couple of years ago, in the 1989 elections, Rajiv Gandhi came to campaign in Bhagalpur. I wanted to see him but nobody was ready to take me to the ground where he was going to make a speech. I was miserable and, if I remember correctly, even cried. My Uncle took pity and we set forth for the meeting ground. Only we were too late and Rajiv Gandhi’s helicopter was already in the air by the time we reached. Thus I was never to see him. I might not see a lot of India’s Prime Minister’s but I don’t think I will miss seeing any of them as I missed seeing Rajiv Gandhi that day. Such are the emotions of childhood, brief but intense.
I had started reading the newspaper a couple of years before Rajiv Gandhi’s assassination when there were communal riots in my town and for one whole month I had nothing to do. I could only read the Hindi newspaper then and don’t remember what I read. I was in awe of a cousin of mine who would copy passages from the English newspaper. This prowess of his was a matter of discussion in the extended family.
Somewhere around the time petrol and LPG became scarce. Kuwait war was on. I remember going with my grandfather to get petrol for his car. Some days we will not get petrol. Similar was the tale with LPG; only that it was my mother who was more worried this time.
The 1988 and 1992 Olympics gave me my first idea of India’s position in the comity of nations. Sporting success and country’s well being became intrinsically linked in my mind. All the economic progress of recent times has only dimmed the idea.
A lot of changes happened after the liberalization of 1991. Lehar Pepsi had come to the market. Coca Cola followed suit. Soon it bought out the Parle group. After initial attempts to shelve the Parle brands, Coca Cola found out that it cannot do without Thums Up. However, the rest of them, Gold Spot and Limca did die a quiet death. Cable television came in. For the first time we had five instead of one channel on TV. Oh, the allure! I used to wake up at 3 a.m. in the morning to see India being blown off by New Zealand, a nation of 3 million people but I could see India play in foreign grounds all right.
Economic progress became the watch word. Newspapers started giving GDP growth numbers, inflation statistics and stock index movements more prominence. India was soaring by the mid nineties. The space program was also making decent progress. It was the first round of hope.
There were problems too, chiefly relating to violence. Kashmir kept burning although the fire in Punjab as put out, partly by force, partly by statecraft but majorly (not a word) due to the fact the inciter found a better incitee (not a word). Babri masjid was demolished. There were riots in Mumbai, not once but twice. Only a nation as desperately poor and ill-educated as ours could die and kill for religion.
I have completed my college education, at least for now. For the first time since I entered school on 21st February 1985, I will not be student.
In the meantime, USSR fell and the Soviet communist propaganda magazine in Hindi that we used to get at home stopped coming. Its Hindi was quaint and I used to like it. All the stories were of workers great struggle against the elite. How the façade fell in a couple of years. Around the time, Doordarshan showed a serial on Nadia Comaneci and I was in love with her.
I was at my Mausi’s place when Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated. I was the first in the household to look at the newspaper at 5:40 in the morning. Of course, the magnitude of the event was beyond me. A couple of years ago, in the 1989 elections, Rajiv Gandhi came to campaign in Bhagalpur. I wanted to see him but nobody was ready to take me to the ground where he was going to make a speech. I was miserable and, if I remember correctly, even cried. My Uncle took pity and we set forth for the meeting ground. Only we were too late and Rajiv Gandhi’s helicopter was already in the air by the time we reached. Thus I was never to see him. I might not see a lot of India’s Prime Minister’s but I don’t think I will miss seeing any of them as I missed seeing Rajiv Gandhi that day. Such are the emotions of childhood, brief but intense.
I had started reading the newspaper a couple of years before Rajiv Gandhi’s assassination when there were communal riots in my town and for one whole month I had nothing to do. I could only read the Hindi newspaper then and don’t remember what I read. I was in awe of a cousin of mine who would copy passages from the English newspaper. This prowess of his was a matter of discussion in the extended family.
Somewhere around the time petrol and LPG became scarce. Kuwait war was on. I remember going with my grandfather to get petrol for his car. Some days we will not get petrol. Similar was the tale with LPG; only that it was my mother who was more worried this time.
The 1988 and 1992 Olympics gave me my first idea of India’s position in the comity of nations. Sporting success and country’s well being became intrinsically linked in my mind. All the economic progress of recent times has only dimmed the idea.
A lot of changes happened after the liberalization of 1991. Lehar Pepsi had come to the market. Coca Cola followed suit. Soon it bought out the Parle group. After initial attempts to shelve the Parle brands, Coca Cola found out that it cannot do without Thums Up. However, the rest of them, Gold Spot and Limca did die a quiet death. Cable television came in. For the first time we had five instead of one channel on TV. Oh, the allure! I used to wake up at 3 a.m. in the morning to see India being blown off by New Zealand, a nation of 3 million people but I could see India play in foreign grounds all right.
Economic progress became the watch word. Newspapers started giving GDP growth numbers, inflation statistics and stock index movements more prominence. India was soaring by the mid nineties. The space program was also making decent progress. It was the first round of hope.
There were problems too, chiefly relating to violence. Kashmir kept burning although the fire in Punjab as put out, partly by force, partly by statecraft but majorly (not a word) due to the fact the inciter found a better incitee (not a word). Babri masjid was demolished. There were riots in Mumbai, not once but twice. Only a nation as desperately poor and ill-educated as ours could die and kill for religion.
Monday, May 19, 2008
My first car trip
I drove down to Pune last weekend. The car's new, the driver's inexperienced and was a little scared. Well wishers scared him further by talking of the rashness of the traffic on the expressway and the distance to Pune (220 Kms against the actual 160). Nothwithstanding I started. A hiccup near Panvel, the symbol on my luggage space lever and fuel tank lever are swapped resulting with the tank mouth not opening and the fuel running too low to go anywhere, resulted in fair amount of panic and an hour of delay. Once this was resolved and my car was fed and its pressure checked, I was on my way.
What a joy it was. Once the expressway starts its sheer joy. The road is good, surprizingly people maintain a fair degree of lane discipline, and, if you can dare to look sideways, the view is also spectacular. I, of course, had my sights firmly on the road and my foot on the throttle. Normally somebody who's accused by friends of being too slow on the road, even I could hit 140ks. Most of the way, except for the Ghat section, I could drive at 100+ and the entire 93 kms stretch took an hour ten. At times, on curves and at higher speeds, one can feel the steering wheel shaking against the arms. The whole body is focussed at the task, there's nothing but the road and the machine and you. In that one hour, I got the essence of motor racing. God! I wish we have more roads like these. Doing Mumbai Goa in five hours would be an experience. :)
In Pune, I met up with cousins. We talked, ate, roamed around and watched Narnia. Its so easy to talk with cousins probably because you have been doing it since you were in shorts. All in all a very pleasant weekend. The second Narnia is as good as the first one. I love fantasies anyway.
The way back was every bit as enjoyable as the onward trip. If anything because I was anticipating it, I enjoyed it even more. At the end of the day, the trip left me very tired. But it was the good kind of tired. I am itching to do many more such trips. Ofcourse the road wont be as good everywhere but we will live with it. Sadly, I am going away for a month. Let's see when the next opportunity comes up.
What a joy it was. Once the expressway starts its sheer joy. The road is good, surprizingly people maintain a fair degree of lane discipline, and, if you can dare to look sideways, the view is also spectacular. I, of course, had my sights firmly on the road and my foot on the throttle. Normally somebody who's accused by friends of being too slow on the road, even I could hit 140ks. Most of the way, except for the Ghat section, I could drive at 100+ and the entire 93 kms stretch took an hour ten. At times, on curves and at higher speeds, one can feel the steering wheel shaking against the arms. The whole body is focussed at the task, there's nothing but the road and the machine and you. In that one hour, I got the essence of motor racing. God! I wish we have more roads like these. Doing Mumbai Goa in five hours would be an experience. :)
In Pune, I met up with cousins. We talked, ate, roamed around and watched Narnia. Its so easy to talk with cousins probably because you have been doing it since you were in shorts. All in all a very pleasant weekend. The second Narnia is as good as the first one. I love fantasies anyway.
The way back was every bit as enjoyable as the onward trip. If anything because I was anticipating it, I enjoyed it even more. At the end of the day, the trip left me very tired. But it was the good kind of tired. I am itching to do many more such trips. Ofcourse the road wont be as good everywhere but we will live with it. Sadly, I am going away for a month. Let's see when the next opportunity comes up.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Alcohol or survival of the fittest, drunken stupor
I love alcohol. In the otherwise conformist life, this is one streak of rebellion. With the growing acceptance of social drinking its not much of a rebellion anyway. But my case, I would like to believe (vanity you know) is different. I love alcohol, as against consuming it to observe social protocol. I don't like the taste, rather mask it by making cocktails. What I like are the after effects. Not the ones in the morning. Those I avoid by drinking humongous amounts of water during the night. I like the immediate after effects. The relaxation, the heightening of the senses and the slowing of the movements, the courage and the abandon.
Of course, according to public wisdom, a drinking habit is a flaw. I dont quite believe in the wrongness of it. It satisfies my needs and I fulfill it of my accord, just like an animal sourcing its own food and drink. What makes anything wrong or right any way? There are three answers to choose from:
1. Rules of the animal kingdom (but we arent animals, vain descendants of chimpanzees)
2. Universal ( of course, the Homo sapeins universe) ethics
3. Laws of the land
Most people would say number two. It is human vanity, belief in the species superiority over every other, despite the fact that we live in a way that is going to destroy our very existance within the century. Let it be. I quite like the animal. Survival of the fittest.
Of course, according to public wisdom, a drinking habit is a flaw. I dont quite believe in the wrongness of it. It satisfies my needs and I fulfill it of my accord, just like an animal sourcing its own food and drink. What makes anything wrong or right any way? There are three answers to choose from:
1. Rules of the animal kingdom (but we arent animals, vain descendants of chimpanzees)
2. Universal ( of course, the Homo sapeins universe) ethics
3. Laws of the land
Most people would say number two. It is human vanity, belief in the species superiority over every other, despite the fact that we live in a way that is going to destroy our very existance within the century. Let it be. I quite like the animal. Survival of the fittest.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Friends II
It's been a while and the fact will show, one fears. Therefore I pick a topic closer to heart than most so that the piece is not altogether rubbish. Alternately there's the danger of not doing justice to something important but I will take it.
I came to IIT Delhi on 19th July 2000 and stayed there for the next five years. Stayed more than studied but no regrets, it did not leave me ill prepared for life . Life is made agreeable not only on the basis of skills acquired in the past but also on the basis of pleasures and warm memories acquired in the same past. Importance of having a good time and gathering warm feelings is something we often ignore, at our own perils, in our preparation for the future. For then we are left extremely capable but also extremely empty with a lot of time gone by. It's a delicate balance: prepare for the future by working but also by having a good time today. It is a philosophy that took me many years to learn although I was, unconsciously and due to institutional tensions, living it ever since I joined IIT. Of course, the awareness of it makes life all the more sweeter now.
Pardon my digression and let me jump to the topic. IIT has vast expanses, of space and time. There are many places and much time to sit and talk. And there's nothing like talk, drink and food come second and third, for forming deep, life-long friendships. My core group was made by the intersection of the department and the hostel but it was clearly the hostel that was the determining factor, for then, we were spending practically all our hours together. A second part of the group was made of hostel guys from other departments. There were other people, unrelated through bonds of either hostel or department, that are friends. As I said, there was enough time and space to form as many friendships as possible. Glad to have made full use of the resources.
We attended classes together and often agreed together to bunk them. Exams were tided over through model cooperation and minimal effort. Movies, eat outs, sports, card and computer games, booze sessions, inter hostel events, applications for internships, cribbing about professors, insipid coursework, bad mess food, archaic hostel laws and administrative bodies were on the agenda. Conversations on girls, books, politics- institutional or national, anything. Taking people's "case" filled in if all else failed. No one was spared. We learnt to talk, only thing people compliment me on these days. After some time, it became unnecessary to talk for we became friends who could enjoy each other's company regardless, reading a newspaper together for example. I got so used to always having company that to the day I can't stand being alone. On getting a job, the first thing I did was to find flat mates, for I couldn't bear the thought of living alone. Whenever I go to Delhi, the treat is to meet my Delhi based IIT friends.
Yesterday, a larger group met in Delhi. One of the guys had come over from the US. It was great. None of us are the kind who write mails, chat on gtalk or call and there's always the fear that next time when we meet we may meet strangers rather than friends. But all that is not to be. The roots run too deep and when rains come all the leaves and flowers come blooming out. We chattered till we were crazy, relieved and happy that all was as should be. Some others were missed and it would be nice if we can all be together. But till that happens there is no fear, for we are friends for ever and the conversations will flow forever.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Thoughts at Patna Airport
Patna airport is the first that I have visited that allows mere visitors, as against bona-fide travelers, in the terminal. There is a fee but that's that. I wonder why? It’s also a one horse saloon with only eight flights in the day, and a common smallish terminal for arrivals and departures. However, newspapers tell us that business is booming and annual revenue target for the year is nearly met. I had difficulty in finding a booking. Also, while returning, when I tried to get on to an earlier flight it was full. May be, it’s the Diwali season; but may be, it’s just that demand on the sector exceeds supply. I am told that airlines are reluctant to increase number of flights because they have to fly half full aircrafts from Patna airport due to its smallish not extendible airstrip. So, that’s that.
I was extremely pleased with the signs of development I could see all around me in Bihar this time. I had been hearing a lot of positive noises from the present government but was skeptical. However this time I could see progress. Quite a few roads in the hometown are under construction, to apparently good standards. Street lighting is in much better shape and is finally lumbering out of the 200W bulb era. Garbage is being cleaned regularly, with machinery being used as well. Hospitals, including those for animals, are working and even providing medicines. Lots of government institutions are seeing fresh construction and maintenance. On an 8 kilometer drive in Patna I could see three flyovers under construction. All these are heartening signs. Crime has definitely come down (though Bihar is definitely not crimeless) and even influential criminals are being punished. If the government can continue the good work, and also induce industry to set up shop I feel Bihar would e on its way. It won't become Gujarat but at least its development will keep pace with the rest of the country.
I had three dreamless nights of sleep at home. I don't remember when I last had dreamless sleep. I think I have started dreaming a lot since I started work though I am not so sure. Besides, I am normally a very light sleeper but at home I slept very very soundly. I don't think it has much to do with peace, quiet et cetera. My family wakes up at an unearthly early hour and they are as noisy in the morning as anyone can be with my grandfather's radio blaring out pre dawn news. May be it’s because of lack of cares/ concerns at home.
A three day trip home was perfect. It was long enough to meet family and have a short rest. Also, it was short enough not to get bored or be hounded by too many "Beta, shaadi kar le" conversations. However admitting the same to family will be catastrophic with plenty of rona dhona. I wish they would just heed my pleas and stop bothering me with marriage calls for the while. Of all Indian customs, at the moment I find arranged marriages most abhorrent. I consider it the genesis of a plethora of wrongs including dowry, female infanticide and castism. Have you heard of dowry when people marry for love? If there are no dowries, female infanticide will come down significantly. Belief is that preference for male heirs is dictated by economics along with age old notions of "vansh" et cetera. Also, when one falls in love, does one think of caste? Inter caste marriages will automatically spell doom for caste system for what’s the caste of a mixed caste couple's off spring. All this besides the fact that arranged marriages are both a compromise and a blind gamble. They survive only because of the spirit of compromise that makes the match possible in the first place.
I was extremely pleased with the signs of development I could see all around me in Bihar this time. I had been hearing a lot of positive noises from the present government but was skeptical. However this time I could see progress. Quite a few roads in the hometown are under construction, to apparently good standards. Street lighting is in much better shape and is finally lumbering out of the 200W bulb era. Garbage is being cleaned regularly, with machinery being used as well. Hospitals, including those for animals, are working and even providing medicines. Lots of government institutions are seeing fresh construction and maintenance. On an 8 kilometer drive in Patna I could see three flyovers under construction. All these are heartening signs. Crime has definitely come down (though Bihar is definitely not crimeless) and even influential criminals are being punished. If the government can continue the good work, and also induce industry to set up shop I feel Bihar would e on its way. It won't become Gujarat but at least its development will keep pace with the rest of the country.
I had three dreamless nights of sleep at home. I don't remember when I last had dreamless sleep. I think I have started dreaming a lot since I started work though I am not so sure. Besides, I am normally a very light sleeper but at home I slept very very soundly. I don't think it has much to do with peace, quiet et cetera. My family wakes up at an unearthly early hour and they are as noisy in the morning as anyone can be with my grandfather's radio blaring out pre dawn news. May be it’s because of lack of cares/ concerns at home.
A three day trip home was perfect. It was long enough to meet family and have a short rest. Also, it was short enough not to get bored or be hounded by too many "Beta, shaadi kar le" conversations. However admitting the same to family will be catastrophic with plenty of rona dhona. I wish they would just heed my pleas and stop bothering me with marriage calls for the while. Of all Indian customs, at the moment I find arranged marriages most abhorrent. I consider it the genesis of a plethora of wrongs including dowry, female infanticide and castism. Have you heard of dowry when people marry for love? If there are no dowries, female infanticide will come down significantly. Belief is that preference for male heirs is dictated by economics along with age old notions of "vansh" et cetera. Also, when one falls in love, does one think of caste? Inter caste marriages will automatically spell doom for caste system for what’s the caste of a mixed caste couple's off spring. All this besides the fact that arranged marriages are both a compromise and a blind gamble. They survive only because of the spirit of compromise that makes the match possible in the first place.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Diwali @ Home and Money
This is not about sweets, though I am clearly worried about the quantities I have consumed over the last three days. This isn't about crackers either. My brother lighted plenty of them while I watched. So much so that my brother remarked, "It's much more fun to watch rather than to light crackers oneself". Something which I have known for many many years. Age and wisdom, you see.
I got to spend Diwali at home after a full 10 years. Last time I was home for Diwali was when I was in class Xth, same as my brother today. Time flies really quickly; I was surprized to realize the fact. Anyways, I remember the excitement and the work I would put in to light up the whole house, terrace and boundary walls with earthern lamps. My brother now does it with electric lights and the whole bloody job is outsourced to boot.
This Diwali was special for me because it was my first Diwali as an earning person. I could buy stuff for the house and family. Money well spent. For me, today money is an enabler, nothing more, nothing less. Mere accumulation holds no attraction for me, except, in passing, under peer pressure. Thankfully, peer pressure hasnt got to me on this one topic. I havent done anything to accumulate money so far, though its definitely early. In fact, I exert my own kind of peer pressure on my friends and definitely loosen their purse strings. I even have an orkut testimonial to vouch for it (naughty smile). My contribution to the consumption side of the India growth story. Money's attraction for me is in what it can do for me. I dont know whether its right or wrong. Time will tell, may be in ten years I will know better.
One day when I was really frustrated with the job, my friend said, "Try and remember the things that this job makes possible for you and your frustration will go away". Truth, pure unadulterated truth. I experienced it over the last three days.
I got to spend Diwali at home after a full 10 years. Last time I was home for Diwali was when I was in class Xth, same as my brother today. Time flies really quickly; I was surprized to realize the fact. Anyways, I remember the excitement and the work I would put in to light up the whole house, terrace and boundary walls with earthern lamps. My brother now does it with electric lights and the whole bloody job is outsourced to boot.
This Diwali was special for me because it was my first Diwali as an earning person. I could buy stuff for the house and family. Money well spent. For me, today money is an enabler, nothing more, nothing less. Mere accumulation holds no attraction for me, except, in passing, under peer pressure. Thankfully, peer pressure hasnt got to me on this one topic. I havent done anything to accumulate money so far, though its definitely early. In fact, I exert my own kind of peer pressure on my friends and definitely loosen their purse strings. I even have an orkut testimonial to vouch for it (naughty smile). My contribution to the consumption side of the India growth story. Money's attraction for me is in what it can do for me. I dont know whether its right or wrong. Time will tell, may be in ten years I will know better.
One day when I was really frustrated with the job, my friend said, "Try and remember the things that this job makes possible for you and your frustration will go away". Truth, pure unadulterated truth. I experienced it over the last three days.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Children
As a kid, I had a vivid imagination. In my childhood, we lived on the first floor of double storied houses at two places. Sitting at one of the windows, till I was about 6-7, I would imagine a whole host of things. Most of those fantasies I have now forgotten but one of them I still remember. It was to swim in a pool, get out and have Cola. Sitting at the windows of the second of the two houses we stayed at, I would imagine that the courtyard below had changed in to a swimming pool and I was swimming in it. At that point of time, I had never seen a swimming pool in real life, nor could I make out the real size of a pool from images I would have seen on TV. Therefore, the small courtyard downstairs sufficed as a swimming pool. Immediately after swimming, I would wrap myself in a blue towel and lounge on a deck chair sipping a cola.
I did not see a swimming pool till I came to IIT. I never learnt to swim. So the fantasy remained a fanstay. What has changed is the ease with which I now sip a cola. We weren't exactly poor but we couldn't afford a cola everytime I wanted it either. Also, Cola wasn't available at every corner shop. So I would have Cola when we went to the main market. When a neighbourhood shop started stocking Cola, I would sometime steal money to buy a bottle. Because I knew that we couldn't afford it, I wouldn't ask for money. Even in stealing, I wouldn't steal too often. Now, I have enough and more money to drink as much Cola as I want. Its another matter that my ever expanding waistline says I shouldn't.
These memories bubbled up today and I felt sad about my own childhood. Then a million other childhood's came to mind which are even worse. Its all very sobering. I had the benefit of an excellent education, thanks to my father. That made the difference. Education is the differentiator.
I did not see a swimming pool till I came to IIT. I never learnt to swim. So the fantasy remained a fanstay. What has changed is the ease with which I now sip a cola. We weren't exactly poor but we couldn't afford a cola everytime I wanted it either. Also, Cola wasn't available at every corner shop. So I would have Cola when we went to the main market. When a neighbourhood shop started stocking Cola, I would sometime steal money to buy a bottle. Because I knew that we couldn't afford it, I wouldn't ask for money. Even in stealing, I wouldn't steal too often. Now, I have enough and more money to drink as much Cola as I want. Its another matter that my ever expanding waistline says I shouldn't.
These memories bubbled up today and I felt sad about my own childhood. Then a million other childhood's came to mind which are even worse. Its all very sobering. I had the benefit of an excellent education, thanks to my father. That made the difference. Education is the differentiator.
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