Revived… Times have changed!

It had rained then from my eyes and it has rained today from the heavens. I wonder what it is with these rains but they always bring a smile on my face. More importantly, they put me in a mood to blog.

Two months ago, I was a psychotic person, supposedly in love with this girl. I was a workaholic, burning my ass off to crack the CAT. I had almost no hopes of getting a job, let alone it being a decent and respectable one. I was hopeless, jobless and fed up with almost everything that was there. In short, I was all that I was not meant to be.

Today, two months later… Times have changed… Indeed they have changed dramatically.

I am no longer the psycho I used to be. I am no longer a workaholic, but have got back the ISM instilled attitude of ‘Matiyaopan’. I am now happily employed yet jobless (b’coz I have nothing worthwhile to do). I am hopeful of my life and in love with almost everything that is there. In short, I am all that I ever wanted to be. Common! Live life as it comes, but live it in style!

I getting placed… is either a horrendous mistake by the company or I am exorbitantly talented and lucky. Whatever it is… I don’t give a damn! I am in and it’s all that matters!

Just before I left home after the durga puja vacations, I told to my grand mom that with your blessings and if everything goes well your grandson will have a job in his hands within a few days. She blessed me and assured me that I was very lucky and shall get what I wanted. How true her words were!

But seriously, even in my wildest dreams I did not know that I would do the things I did on the day before the placements.

A written aptitude test was to be held at 6:00 PM on 26th October. On the morning of 26th October, I and two of my friends went to Big Bazaar at 9.30 AM to buy formal shirts for ourselves. On coming to know that it would open at 11.00 AM we went to the Café Coffee Day shop to while away our time. But just then, my crazy friends (Jhabru and Waffy) came up with the idea of going to the Movie ‘Jhoota hi Sahi’ being screened at Fame, Dhanbad. Despite my earnest attempts to resist them they convinced me and dragged me to the movie. Predicatably, the movie was a complete waste of time and money.

Post the movie, we went into Big Bazaar and bought shirts for ourselves. It was already 2:00 PM by then. Knowing that we would miss lunch at the mess we decided to fill ourselves with Pizzaa’s and other junk food available. On coming back to the hostel at 3:00 PM, I came to know that the test had been preponed to 4:00 PM and we had to submit a CV on the spot. Damn it!

CV???  From where would that come from??? I hadn’t prepared one b’coz I didn’t think I would need one… that too so quickly. Cut, Copy, Paste and Edit...all in just fifteen minutes... that’s how the CV was done. I went for the test and surprisingly topped it. Next day, I got through the interview and the rest as they say is history. 27th October shall be remembered as one of the most memorable days in my life.

But the question remains…Would my actions be justified if I hadn’t got through the aptitude test and the interview?

For the past three semesters, I have been going to a movie on Friday night just before the week of the exams. The preparation leave has progressively become redundant in its purpose of preparing me for the exams. Exams are reduced to one night stands which reaffirm my capacity to complete the semester’s syllabus in just a matter of few hours. They hone your skills to read, understand and memorize huge chunks of information in the least possible time. It’s a challenge to read that little bit less every semester and still score that little bit extra each semester. Bring it on! I love these challenges!

Being jobless after getting a job is one of the most heavenly feelings one could ever experience. All that is left is to find that elusive ‘Miss Right’ of mine. I have zeroed in on one of the many available ones and hope to get it right this time. She is so sweet and cute that every action and word of her makes me go crazy. In these chilly winter nights the warmth of her thoughts radiate and keep me warm. I am falling for her…

As I was conversing on the phone on my hostel’s terrace during the preparation leave for the end-semester exams, a friend of mine walked by me and said… ‘Final year mein agar kisine masti ki hai to vo Supreet Srinivas hai’. I brushed aside his comment saying… ‘Saale funde mat de’. Today I wonder if there is any truth in his comment.

For now it's M@verick signing off... :)

'My Memories Of Ganesh Chaturthi'

'Gowri Ganapathi Habba' (as in Kannada) is one of the many festivals that is celebrated in India. In the cluster of festivals that are celebrated in India, if I had to pick one, to which I look forward the most, it would undoubtedly be this festival.

The reasons:-

•    It’s a festival, of which, I have fond memories as a child and relate to, far more deeply than any other festival.

•    All through my stay in this college, the photo of ‘Lord Ganesh’ is the only photo of any God that I have in my room. So, he is the only one who has listened to all my little wishes and fulfilled them almost every time.

Today, on this auspicious occasion of ‘Ganesh Chaturthi’, for the fourth time in a row, I have missed being at home. Even after having darshan of ‘Lord Ganesh’s’ idol in front of the Penman auditorium I don’t feel satiated. I sense a degree of hollowness around me today.

Despite being powerless to do anything, but eager to fill up the hollowness, all I could do was to look at some old pictures of our family celebrating the festival. I lay on my bed recollecting old memories of this festival.

A pic of  'Ganesh Puja' at my home in 2006...brings back memories.

Here is brief account of them:-

•    When I was 4 or 5, I remember my family celebrating the festival in our ancestral home in Mysore. I used to hate the puja for running so late, because until the puja got over I was not allowed to have my favorite delicacies.

•    When I was 6 or 7, I liked the festival because on the next day of the festival we were allowed to go to school in civil dress. Thus, I could wear my new clothes to school!

•    When I was 10, I remember how I used to compete with my Dad while doing puja, because I was not given priority…LOL!  That year, we had a very grand celebration at our quarters (if I remember correctly, G-201 was the Quarter No) in ONGC colony Sibsagar, Assam. My Dad had invited almost the entire colony for the puja and there was such a rush in the house! I think my mom was furious at him after that!

•    When I was 13, I remember that my Dad couldn’t make it home for the festival, as he was on duty, and I had done the puja instead of him. I recollect my grand mom sitting beside me and teaching me how to do it.

•    When I was 17(in my JEE year), I loved the festival, B’coz it gave me a day off from the rigorous and boring routine of solving tricky problems. Being the complete foodie I was at that time, I remember how I had overloaded myself with the wonderful delicacies on offer and had a stomach ache in the night. (Even today, my mom doesn’t know that I had gone out in the night to get Pudinhara tablets!). Also, this was the last time I had been at home for the festival.

•    First year in college…I was feeling sad that I was not at home and would not be able to have darshan of even a single ‘Ganesha’. I was relieved and elated when I came to know that there was puja in ‘Diamond Hostel’. At least something is better than nothing.

•    Second year in college…Everything was same as in first year, except that I knew what was in store. To add salt to injury, as if missing home was not enough, there was a gas cylinder strike that day and all the messes were off for the day. Had to contend myself with maggi in the canteen.

•    Third year in college… Had become so used to it, that it didn’t matter anymore

Final year in college… Now everything seems redundant, but the desire is endless. It seems I have forgotten how my family ceremonially celebrated the festival. Even though the mess is running I have fasted voluntarily.

I am looking at the photo of ‘Lord Ganesh’ in my room and making another one of my little wishes…

You know what it is…

P.S. :- Happy 'Ganesh Chaturthi' to All!

P.S. :- I missed you in the 'Shining white', but my imagination takes me places as to how simple and elegant you must have been.

If I’d only known…

If I’d only known…

That you would come to know like this,
I would have risked telling you,
After all,’twas meant for you and only you…
 

If I’d only known…

That you would react this way,
I would have told you straight away
Without any further delay…

If I’d only known…
That it would make you smile,
I would have gone many a mile
To make it worthwhile…

If I’d only known…
That it would make you happy,
I would have removed everything crappy
Even if it meant, making me sappy...

P.S.: –    You are as beautiful from the inside,
              As you are from the outside.
              And I would do everything to keep that smile,
              Even if it meant turning the tide…!!

Changing ISM...Will it ever be the same again?

It has been three years, since I joined this college and I am now in the final year of my college life. During this time I.S.M. has changed from the outside as well as from the inside.

Constructions galore in ISM! Be it the New L.H.C. Complex near R.D., or the Amber Hostel between Topaz and Emerald, or the Jasper Hostel in front of R.D. If any of our old alumni were to visit the campus they wouldn’t recognize anything else other than the Heritage Building, Central Library and the Diamond Hostel.

External change in ISM may be necessary, because it urgently needs to gear up its infrastructure to meet the increase in intake of students. But what concerns me the most is the internal change at ISM, The change in culture at ISM. Take for instance the following example…

The other day I was at the library entrance filling up the details on the entry register. As I filled up the details, I saw a boy walk into the library, that too audaciously, in lowers and slippers. Being the final year, I called the boy over and asked him which year he was and why was he at the library in lowers and slippers? The guard too pinched in and firmly questioned the boy.

To my astonishment, the boy in turn asked me who was I to ask him what he was wearing. Take that for arrogance! That too from a first year! Anger swelled up in me and I was about to slap him. But somehow I restrained myself and walked off in frustration keeping in mind the anti ragging affidavit we all  had given earlier.

Hahah!!!... Imagine this in I.S.M.!!! :D

If the same incident had happened 3 years ago the boy would have been probably ragged badly and all his arrogance would have been put to dust. But, times have changed. Today, seniors are afraid of the first years and not vice-versa, courtesy the strict anti-ragging regulations in the campus.

A single complaint is all it takes to get an FIR registered against your name in the nearest police station and ruin your potential career. Which idiot would risk his lucrative, potential career to rag a first year for five minutes of fun?

The current batch of first years have been vested with so much power and they are using it so blatantly that it has even prompted the Dean of Student's Welfare to give them a stern warning to be in their limits. This seems to have had no effect on our beloved juniors as they have turned the L.H.C. canteen, which was a place for numerous meetings of various societies in the campus, into a place for playing Truth and Dare in the evenings.  

I agree that unrestricted ragging is a nuisance, but restricting it totally is also a nuisance. Lack of ragging leads to lack of discipline and a lack of personality development among the first years. Even some of our open-minded faculty might have felt this while taking classes.


Ragging is a form of interaction of seniors and juniors. It creates that special bond between them. I.S.M. has its legacy on the senior-junior relationship. I have felt this personally, as in all the three years of my vocational training at various mines, I have always been taken care of by my seniors as if I was their own brother.

I guess the new regulations shall cause more harm than good. The legacy of I.S.M. is dying a slow but sure death. I.S.M. may never be the same again and the change may well be permanent.



P.S. - Ufff... I love the way you jiggle your semi-dried hair...if only, I could see you do it everyday.

'The Eyes'

One advice which I have been advocating to my friends, rather frequently these days is that…‘BhaiLog…Ladki ke Peeche Mat Bhago…Barbaad Ho Jaooge’. 

Having said that… what I advocate to them is what I follow academically. Special Thanks to one of my best friends (read as the lone student of the lonely tutor), who inspired me by his words, actions and motivated me to join the spicy world of ‘Laundiyabazi’.

God has been kind to me, for he has given me a special pair of eyes. Not only do they make me ineligible for a certain profession in India, but have also made my choice of profession much easier. In addition to being the source of my vision, they perform the added duty of communicating with my princess so often, when words have failed me.

So, equipped with my special pair of eyes, I craned my neck to scan the crowd for those bespectacled, almond eyes of her. Within seconds, I found them and it was just a matter of time before our eyes met.

I don’t know why, but I somehow felt that her eyes looked different that day. Apart from the fact that her moist eyes were unresistingly beautiful, I felt that they had volumes to speak to me.

I was ready to listen…she had volumes to speak…but as fate would have it…we were not talking.

If not the master, at least I have become the jack of reading from her eyes. I know that there is something that’s bothering her. From her actions and from her body language I sense that there is something amiss. I am concerned and I am worried.

But that was until yesterday…because today, I saw her smiling!

All that matters to me is to see her happy, to see her smile each and every day of my life.

If only, we had been talking.

P.S. – Be better than the best, faster than the rest and only then will you win all the races in your life.   

‘A Driver or a Kirana Store Owner?’

The screen flickered and the page began to refresh… I whispered my silent prayers to God… Please let this one be good. 
 

God did all that he could and I did all, but what I needed to… Hence the obvious result. Though my sixth sense had given me the signals as to what was about to emerge, I chose to consciously ignore it. Ignorance is not always bliss and so it turned out to be.

I packed my bags and began to leave. In my mind were questions, unanswered…

How did it happen? Why did it happen? And most importantly, what implications does it have???

All my efforts and pains had resulted in no gains. They say ‘No Gain without pain’ but ‘why is there No Gain even after so much Pain???’

I have foundered badly this time and it’s time to introspect. Fate has rapped me on the knuckles. My bones are broken and I am shattered, just like when you have been struck by a rude jolt of lightning.

Some would say that you require such ‘jolts’ at frequent intervals to keep you on your toes. But what’s the point of such 'jolts' if they derail you completely? What should you do? Continue mechanically despite these ‘jolts’ or…?

In fact, everything I do these days is mechanically motivated. I attend classes mechanically just to say ‘Present sir’ as my name is called out on the roll call. I eat food mechanically just to satisfy my hunger, despite the food's awful taste. Even my smile is mechanically motivated just to please others.

I have forgotten what it is to smile from the heart. When was the last time I did it? Frankly, I don’t even remember. Damn it! But I am mechanically happy, being mechanical.
 

So, post my mechanical dinner that night, I lay on my bed thinking of, what alternate career options I had, if I failed miserably in all the planned ones. I came up with two weird, but funny ones.

The first one is to become a driver of one of the ‘Vayu Vajra’ (Volvo buses in Bengaluru) busses in Bengaluru. Not only, would it satisfy my passion of driving those huge busses but it would also allow me to stay put in Bengaluru and drive endlessly on its arterial roads. In addition to it being a Govt. job, you get  to collect lots of money from the passengers. On top of it, you get to be in A.C. the whole day!

Imagine me as the driver of one of these!

The second one is to borrow some money and set up a ‘Kirana Store’ (a provision store) in her locality. All you need is some basic common sense and a bit of arithmetic to keep you going. Moreover, it’s a decent occupation (at least you can make out a living!) and would give me a chance to be close to her, despite being far.

I will have to set up a 'Kirana Store' like one of these...or else in this age she won't even look at my shop. Competition!

After laughing mechanically at my, rather foolish thoughts, I decided that I better go to sleep and not denigrate myself by acting upon these stupid ideas. The reasons being…

What if she came onto the bus I was driving and asked me… ‘Bhaiya M.G. road ke liye ek ticket dena’ or she came to my ‘Kirana store’ and asked me  ‘Bhaiya ek kilo cheeni aur ek kilo namak dena’.

Oh My god! I Can’t take that.

Aaaahhhh!!!! Bhaiya My Foot!!! 

P.S. - Have you become invisible or it's just that I have become blind?

Selfish Or Selfless???

The ‘Race’ is on and the ‘runners’ are running faster than they ever have. Some of the runners are professionalized-amateurs who can see nothing but the finish line. Some of them are running just because they have to and don’t care a damn about the result. They are just content with being a sportive participant.

Then, there are runners like me, who were in the race initially but lost course in the middle because they couldn’t understand why they were running after all, and now don’t know whether to continue running or take a break and change track.

I see that my legs are moving, yet I am going nowhere, because I am practically running at the same place.  When I see the runners, who put on their ‘roller skates’ and skated fast enough to beat us by almost  a mile, I ask myself weren’t you and they equals at one point of time?

The answer is an obvious one.

As I frantically try to find a scapegoat I could do no better than to look at my own feet.  Oh! This was easier than I thought… I didn’t have proper footwear!

My twice repaired and now torn Woodland sandals which I had bought in my first year and my now sole less Addidas shoes signify my dilapidated condition. I am so lazy and afraid of the worst that I could neither get them repaired nor replaced, but have been switching from one to the other so that neither of them gets completely redundant.

What’s with this new miserly attitude of mine ah? I refuse to spend even an iota of money, (I don’t have much of it either!) even for my basic amenities. Earlier, I had a crispy wallet but now it’s an empty one. Sign of things to come? Where has it all gone? I know it will comeback…but when?

It continues to rain here and despite knowing the repercussions I continue to get drenched in the it each and every time. The sails of my ship are torn and the ship will very soon be scuttled... but I still remember each and every comment on your facebook profile photo…why???

A place I once considered ‘Heaven’ and wanted to return to as soon as I left it is no longer as alluring as it was. The inmates are giving the hints one by one and to the best of my abilities I am correctly interpreting them.

On top of all this I have this silly question cropping up in my mind…

Have I become more selfish or selfless???

Or

Should I become more selfish or selfless???

Any answers?????

What If I Get Married To A Foreigner?

If you are a college student then you would probably agree with me that you love and hate your summer vacations at the same time.

You eagerly await your vacations because it gives you a chance to be at home full time, enjoy the delicacies prepared by your mother, relax and live life as you want albeit, the usual restrictions at home. But you also eagerly wait for the vacations to get over simply because an able bodied person cannot just simply sit at home and idle away his time. You miss the fast paced life at college, the boring lectures, the buzzing canteen and the bindaas hostel life.
 

Hmmm...so getting bored at home I decided to go to Bengaluru for the weekend. Saturday was spent meeting my college friends who were interning at Shell and Sunday was spent visiting both of my aunts who lived in Bengaluru. On Monday I returned home.
 

While returning home, as I sat near the bus window with my eyes wandering in the lush green fields I recollected how I had similar conversations with both of my aunts. I remembered one of my aunts telling me about arrangements for her daughter who is going to the U.S. next month for her P.H.D. While my other aunt told me about how her elder son, who is already doing his P.H.D. in Germany was doing.
 

So, with both my elder cousins set to go abroad for higher studies the next in the firing line was me. I shall either be expected to land a hefty job(which i don’t see happening b’coz i hate mining) or  tread the same path like them after two years(If I don’t clear the CAT this year). I tried to steer my mind clear of these futuristic thoughts for I know one thing for sure,  whatever I shall plan shall never happen.
 

With nothing much to do other than seeing half the bus sleeping you cannot help but allow your mind to have random thoughts. I chuckled to myself as I thought about the side-effects of one going abroad for higher studies. What If one of my cousins or me for that matter went abroad and fell in love with a foreigner? To further complicate the matter got married to her?
 

With inter-caste marriages only looked down upon in my family marrying a foreigner would be a catastrophe!  I could not help smiling to myself and imagine my life post my marriage to a foreigner!
 

So here is a brief account of the problems I would face...

1)Firstly, even though my parents are fairly open minded I don’t think they would be open to this kind of stuff. I shall be blamed endlessly for reducing to ashes the name of our family.

2)Secondly, all my relatives would go Ga-Ga! Over the matter, for if and when I meet them their eyes would stare at me asking why?  Aren’t there enough girls in India?

3) Thirdly, since most of the food available abroad is Non-Veg, my wife would not know a damn thing about cooking Indian Vegetarian food. So all hopes of my wife cooking delicious food for me shall be buried. (Even though she can learn it, she will never be as good as my mom).    

4)Then, there will be the language problem between her and my not so modern relatives. I shall be ousted from the Hindu-Brahmin Community for having flawed the rules(as if I care)
 

5) As long as I shall live in India I shall have to contend with my fellow countrymen staring at me and asking OMG! Are they a married couple?

6)I don’t want to bore you by bringing out the religious and cultural differences. But, for an example imagine my foreigner wife, just out of the bed at 9 in the morning wearing noodle-strap top coming in the way of my mom going to perform her Tulsi Puja. I can’t imagine my mom’s face red with anger and she blurting out SHIVA! SHIVA!
 

7) Last but not the least I can’t help but laugh at imagining our kids...would they be Black or White?...But surely if racism exists in that period they shall be subjected to that... Aah My poor Kids!

P.S. Don't worry all Indian Girls...My priority for you is higher than them :P

  

Top posts from indian bloggers community...Tangy Tuesday Picks!!!

The Most Beautiful Game!!!

It was the summer of 1998 and I was 8 years old then. We had recently moved into the O.N.G.C. colony in Sibsagar, Assam. I had just returned from school and was in a playful mood. I picked up the remote and tuned into one of the sports channels. What I saw on T.V. then, still has a lasting impression in my memory even today.

On the screen was ‘Zizou’ the mid-field maestro from France performing his trademark ‘Zidane Spin Move’. The one in which he spins, fakes, cuts, tricks and turns while juggling the ball. He executed the move with such elegance, grace and timing that I was left spell bounded. As it must have happened with so many young kids at that time…I too had become a ‘Zizou fan’.

By evening I was at my dad’s side asking him to get me a football. Within two days I had my own football and was out in the park trying to do a ‘Zidane move’. Despite my earnest efforts I was only as good at it as an infant is in taking his first steps! The 1998 FIFA World Cup gave me the first taste of the ‘Most Beautiful Game’.

Since then four years had passed. My dad had been transferred and we had moved to Rajahmundry, A.P.  I had got lost in the cricket mania and almost forgot that a game called football actually existed. Playing cricket with my school friends was one of the top priorities of the weekend. (Oh Gosh I miss those days so badly!!!)

But the 2002 FIFA World Cup revived my fond memories. Thanks to a certain ‘Ronaldo’ and a certain ‘Beckham’ the passion in me was reignited.  Watching Ronaldo perform those bamboozling step-over’s and Beckham smash those curling free kicks into the back of the net gave me a different kind of high. .. I had contracted the Football Fever.


The effect of the Football Fever was such that cricket suddenly took a back seat and I had myself practicing football in the weekends. Posters of Zidane, Ronaldo and Beckham adored the walls of my bedroom. By the end of the world cup I had mastered the only thing I would ever learn to do with a football…Smash a curling free kick into the back of the net…a’ la David Beckham!!!

The 2002 World Cup taught me much more than just how to take a free kick. I now understood the game much better than what I did previously. Post World cup playing the FIFA 2002 soccer game on the computer provided a new experience. It gave me a chance to connect with my football idols and the gaming excitement was just too much….I became a football addict.

Just like a drug addict needs doses of drugs frequently, I like a football addict needed Goals. My dosage of goals came from Manchester United in the English Premier League. Frankly, I liked Manchester United only because of one player…David Beckham.

8 years have passed since I became a football addict. Beckham, ZIdane, Ronaldo have all moved on. Even I have moved on but my love for the game and Manchester United has grown leaps and bounds.

With Just a day to go for the start of the 2010 FIFA World Cup I have re-contracted the Football Fever. The game has found its new stars in Lionel Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo, Kaka’, Fernando Torres and Wayne Rooney…just to name a few. The stage is set in South Africa for the biggest extravaganza in the history of football.

The next one month shall provide us some of the most spectacular footballing moments. Look forward to the
Mesmerizing dribbling of Lionel Messi…

Majestic Step-over’s and Thunderous, Swirling free kicks of Cristiano Ronaldo…

Splitting through balls from Kaka’…

And the Bursting Runs of Torres and Rooney.

My heart cheers for England…but the mind says the Spanish Armada is too powerful! So let’s have an England-Spain Final on July 11. What say?

P.S. - 

Waka Waka...This time its for Africa...I even postponed my return to college by 2 days to catch the 'if possible' England-Spain Final.

P.S. -

I am missing you...Wish i had wings :) 

Penultimate Rain...

I cut the phone and stood there with those words still ringing in my ears. It took a moment for the gravity of the situation to sink into me. Slowly it dawned on me…

Today was the last day…My last chance...My only hope. Tomorrow she will be gone and I shall be left all alone with an eternal emptiness in my heart. All I shall have with me is scant but vivid memories of her…

The sky was busy, gathering clouds and getting darker by the minute. By your instincts you could tell…it was going to rain. I looked up at it hoping for a sign, a clue as to what to do. But, as always it was silent or spoke in a language alien to me.

Innumerable thoughts clattered in my mind. But this was not the time to sit and think, it was time to act. I set about searching for her, running around madly here and there looking for her.  I searched and searched everywhere but as fate would have it… she was nowhere to be found.

Tears swelled up in my eyes and that strange feeling got into me. The feeling of losing her…the feeling of being away from her…that feeling of not seeing her…that feeling of not being able to hear her voice. 

As if the sky had read my mind and wanted to sympathize with me, it started to drizzle. The wind started brewing up and was now blowing fiercely. It was as if the storm in my heart was playing itself in front of my eyes.  Soon the drizzle turned into heavy rainfall. I stood there getting drenched.

The rain might have quenched the thirst and given respite from the heat to scores of people but it sure wrecked my chances of meeting her. Now, even my remotest hopes had faded away.

Why does it always happen to me? Why does fortune never favor me?

I looked up to the sky again and said…give me one last chance. Dejected I walked back.

Soaked to the skin, I entered my room. As I changed to dry clothes, my mind was restless as a bee trying to conjure up some possibility of meeting her. I sat looking out of the window and the smell of the wet earth made me nostalgic. Even though I wanted to do it personally, I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. I picked up the phone and dialed her number.

She picked up and said ‘Hello’. 

I said ‘Hi’.

But words failed me after that. Hearing her pristine voice felt so soothing that nothing came out of my mouth. I cut the call and damned myself for being an idiot…a jerk…a nincompoop.

I calmed myself and dialed again. She picked up the phone and answered angrily ‘who is this?’ I introduced myself and blabbered something on the phone nonstop without giving her a chance to speak. I don’t know what I said or how I said but, I said all that I wanted to.

I wondered if she understood anything.  But her final words said it all.

I had conveyed my message and she had understood it flawlessly. I was relieved and elated.

Now, the exile shall turn fruitful. 

P.S.

The innocence of your words on the phone allayed all my fears.

Corridor Of Silence...

The IPL saga manages to capture everyone’s attention no matter how much one may try to be distant from it. Though I am an ardent follower of cricket, especially the IPL, time has drastically changed my outlook. It is time to ask the question…How much is too much?

Commentators often describe the area just in and around the off stump as the ‘corridor of uncertainty’. Bowlers are advised to get the ball in it  and the thumb rule says…No matter how good the batsmen is , how barren the pitch is, if you put it in there consistently, the batsmen will knick it, sometime or the other.

Both Lalit Modi and Shashi Tharoor have paid the price for fishing in the ‘corridor of uncertainty’ and are back in the pavilion. But what concerns me more is the ‘Corridor of silence’, in my life.

The ‘corridor of silence’ belongs exclusively to me and my princess. It opens for a mere 30 seconds every day and is the place where two immigrants meet. I stand at one end, waiting for her to appear and the corridor to open. As soon as it opens, the world seems to transform. I anxiously walk inside and at the same time as I look up, she looks down and our eyes meet for a fraction of a second. This fraction of a second is what I yearn for, everyday. It is my tonic to life. As I pass by her I can feel the aura, charisma and the magnetism which binds me to her. What follows is pure silence and I am left thirsty wanting for more.

The ‘corridor of silence’ closes and I am back to this material world with only my memories to cherish.

As I cherish the memories I wonder…

How much patience should I have with this silence?

When do I know it is too much?

Am I misinterpreting the signs?

I don’t know…

GOD knows it and/or She knows it. Take your time, but both of you please let me know…

Meanwhile, I shall tirelessly continue to bowl on this barren pitch of unconditional love to this exquisite batsman, hoping that my consistency in the ‘corridor of uncertainty’ will reap its rewards in the ‘corridor of silence’.


P.S. ...
23rd April, is the birthday of my loving mother. This post is dedicated to you.
Wishing you a Happy Birthday!!!
I love you mom.

Almost gunned down....

It was the summer of 2009…training time for the mining guys.

I and five of my friends were posted to train at Bailadila Iron Ore Project, Bacheli Complex, N.M.D.C. For those who don’t know, it is an Iron Ore Mine in Bastar district of Chhattisgarh. It lies in the heart of the Naxal mainland near Dantewada, the place famous world over for naxal menace.

All of us took a train from Kolkata to Raipur and from there we undertook a 12 hour bone-breaking journey on the dusty roads of Chhattisgarh in the sweltering heat, to reach Bacheli. Upon reaching Bacheli, we were received by our affectionate seniors who had arranged for our food and accommodation. In the next few days we met the whole of the I.S.M. fraternity at Bacheli who were more than happy to see juniors from their alma mater.

Mining guys at I.S.M. never do their complete summer training. It is a tradition that has been going on since when?... I don’t know. Adhering to the tradition, all the six of us decided to skip the training and go home.

Everything was going as per plan until now…but the nightmare was just about to begin.

I had to go to Bengaluru and only way was to take a bus to Hyderabad and then take a train to Bengaluru. Accordingly, I booked myself on a bus to Hyderabad. When I came back to bade goodbye to my seniors, they gave me the starter of the nightmare I was to endure.

The warning came loud and clear…The bus passes through the hideout areas of Naxals and there have been instances of Naxals attacking these busses.

My heart skipped a beat or two and I shivered in fear….

I gulped down my fear and asked them… Is it really dangerous? They laughed probably at my stupid question. Their laughter and the light reaction to my question made me think… are they joking? But one look into their eyes told me they were damn serious.

The lure of getting home early (2 months in hostel + exams…and no proper food for past one week) and no available train tickets for another two days at least, left me with no option. I instinctively decided to continue my journey and there in was my first mistake.

I boarded the bus on the fateful day at 4:30 in the afternoon. It was an ordinary A.P.S.R.T.C. bus and the thought of enduring 16 hours of the journey through winding hills and Naxal dominated forests made me dizzy. I tried not to think much and made myself comfortable in the not so comfortable seat. I put on the ear phones and soon I was asleep…

Almost three hours had passed when the bus suddenly stopped. I woke up…thinking it was a routine stop in between and cursing the cramped seats, I went back to sleep.

The next thing I knew was that a short, muscular man, chewing tobacco, dressed in a dirty white banyan and military pants with a red scarf on his head was waking me up by shaking me with the tip of his rifle. I opened my eyes….the rifle tip near my head...I was scared me to hell!!!

I jumped in my seats and was now widely awake with fear dripping from every cell of my body. One look around the surroundings and I was petrified. I was convinced that the time had come for my life to end.

I looked out of the window and saw another 8-10 armed Naxals circling the bus. It was pitch dark outside and there was no light whatsoever other than the lights of the bus. One of the Naxals looked towards me and I felt he would gulp me down with his eyes. I glanced at my fellow passengers for some assurance but alas! They too were at a loss to understand what was going on.

Meanwhile, I had forgotten that the other passengers were better off in the sense that I had this little giant with a rifle to contend with first…

He pointed his rifle at me and spoke something which I couldn’t understand. I simply nodded my head to whatever he said. Unexpectedly, he started screaming at me. I almost pissed in my pants! His loud words impinged on my ear drums and I sensed he was asking” which one is your bag?”

I pointed to my bag at the top and instinctively slid my Laptop bag underneath my seat fearing he might take it away. Then the thought came to me ‘Let him take all he wants, but spare my life…’

He took my bag and searched for something in it. He couldn’t find anything worthwhile and threw it back at me. Yelling at me he asked me to spell out my bio data. At the back of my mind I calculated the odds of me punching his face, grabbing his rifle and fleeing from there. But, on second thought I decided otherwise.

I stood there trying to convince him of my innocence. He wasn’t much interested and demanded proof of my innocence. I took out the ID card from my wallet to show him. Seeing my college ID card he gave me a villain’s smiles and thrust the card back into my hands and uttered abuses. I felt relieved as he motioned me to sit back at my seat. They lingered on for another hour or so terrorizing other passengers.

My mind went blank and I kept still and mum, moving only my eyes till they left. The Naxals gave one last laugh and raised some slogans. The bus finally started moving and as they faded away into darkness I felt as though returning back from hell.

Uff… it was too much for me and I dozed off…

The bus stopped again near some dhabha. From the boards I made out that we were somewhere near Bhadrachalam…400 Kms from Hyderabad. I was too tired to eat anything and just came out to buy some cold water.

Drinking the cold water I recollected what had just happened. Stricken with fear I just prayed to GOD… ‘Let me reach home safely’ and spent the rest of the night staring into the darkness.

As I reached familiar territories near Hyderabad, the sun rose from the darkness and I wondered Is this the new dawn of my life???

P.S. ….

This is a true life incident. The incident changed the way I looked up on naxals. Previously, I thought they were cruel minded, evil people but their generosity in sparing my life changed it all. I don’t want to sympathize with them but they do have a point in some of their activities.

Two Words and a Smile...

The first time I saw you my eyes lit up, just like any other teenager seeing a beautiful girl. I unbend myself thinking that it was just a passing infatuation.The shine in your black eyes, the warmth of your gentle smile and the positive vibes that surrounded me whenever I was in close proximity to you just made me feel heavenly. That night, I came back after confessing that I had a crush on you, I realized that you meant more to me than anything else and you had just stolen me away from me. I fell for you and there was no turning back from there.

About a fortnight ago it was the birthday of ‘My beautiful Princess’. I wished her at the stroke of midnight hoping I would be the first one to wish her. Whether, I was the first one or not I don’t know. I waited with bated breath for her reply (the first SMS she would send to me) but, it eluded me. Ahead of me was a restless night with her thoughts clattering in my mind.

The next morning, while I was on one of my lonely walks she adventitiously came in front of me. I mustered my courage to walk up to her and wish her but; the unexpected call on her cell phone drained all my enthusiasm. She walked away and I cursed myself for failing to seize the opportunity. How much I wanted to wish her I only knew but I wished she also knew.

I came back to take a cold shower and freeze my oozing feelings. I went back, this time even more determined. She came there in a ravishing purple top and a light blue jeans. From the corner of her eyes she looked at me. I grabbed the chance, allowed her to come close to me and when we both could hear our breaths I wished her Happy Birthday! She gently replied ‘Thank You’ and those were the two words which made my day.

When you make the one you love happy you feel a satisfaction greater than anything else. I experienced Elysium, love, happiness, joy, delight, ecstasy, euphoria, and gaiety all at once.

Today a fortnight later, it’s my birthday and I have the good wishes of my parents, relatives and all my friends. But all I want is you and to share my feelings with you. As usual I was there to see her. She came like always, punctual and right on time in a bright pink top and blue jeans with her curly hair clipped together. I thought she knew it is my birthday and would wish me but, how stupid I was. A puff of wind blew and hit her face; she closed her eyes as her curly hair came forward. Gracefully she tucked it behind her ears and walked away...

I was left there standing under the blazing sun thinking doesn't she have the slightest feeling for me?

I was wondering why?

After all, my interaction with her verbally, was minimal and we only conversed through our eyes. May be she doesn't know it’s my birthday. I consoled my wailing heart and walked back.

In the evening, again on one of my lonely walks I found her sitting with her friends near a juicewallah waiting to quench her thirst. I walked towards her making sure she could see me. When she saw me coming she immediately blushed and gave a beaming smile. There it was, this was the most beautiful birthday present she could give me. I passed by her and turned back to look at her, she was smiling again!

Yes, her reaction and the sunshine smile on her face told me that she didn't know it is my birthday. 

I walked back with my best birthday present etched in my memory permanently.