Serpentine

Story of a boy

2011-12-28T05:15:00.003+05:30

He came from a small town. And he was born to live a simple life. Cycling with the wind, playing with his sister, listening to the stories of his old grandmother, growing up to take care of his family. A smile on a shy face, a skip in every eager step and joy unbounded in his heart, he was the love and pride of his parents.

He dreamed of being a writer. Days he would spend in his room, reading, learning, never tiring but always craving for more. His mind seemed one with the author and in that magic, he reveled. Time flew by and hours felt like moments. Enthralled he would be when he thought to inspire such enchantment in the hearts of young readers with his words.

But Fate thought to intervene and he was led astray. He was a bright student at school, and his parents decided to send him to the finest college. There he got a degree, one that would help him to get a steady, well-paying job. He would earn enough money, live in a big city and support his family.

Arrive he did in that city of wonders, the city that housed the wealthy in its skyscrapers and the destitute in its slums, the city where dreams were rumored to come true. He was fascinated, by all that was and could be. The people drew him to them the most, and he thought of reaching out to them through his words. He dreamed of weaving fantasies and stories and of telling to the world truths and untruths galore.

He was an underdog, and he worked all day at his stuffy office desk. At night, he hid away from Fate and wrote his stories. During the hours of daylight, he slaved away at myriad unworthy tasks, yet his enthusiasm and sincerity never wavered. Later he would take respite in himself, in his mind and his books, writing for himself. The sweet, shy and scared boy had lived on in this man. He wrote about what he saw and felt, and what he imagined, yet feared to bring it out to the monstrous world.

He lived on, writing, hiding and working, always working. He was promoted and given more work to do. And he persevered. Never could he face the world with his dream alone. Life began to change for him. No longer did he have time to write his books. His smile vanished, his dream disintegrated. He was not an underdog anymore, but now dealing with younger underdogs and dreamers. He grew old, to all the world a successful person.

He tried to break away from the monotony and stillness, but his responsibilities tied him ever tighter. Those magical scraps of paper, with the ink long dried on the captivating and bewitching words, lay to waste in the darkest corners of his house. His mind had gaps in it, like a pleasant dream long forgotten, that gaps of many days spent without ever thinking of that dream. And the days turned into years. The light in his eyes had gone out, his face was marred by the sorrow of a crumbling life. The writer and the dream were no more, a shadow of the boy lived on.

Fate, it seemed, had taken its due. The power of the beguiling words was thought to be forever lost. And one day, he chanced upon an old story he had long forgotten he had written. Memories and smiles it brought back. He hesitated, then stepped forward and gave it to his son. An eagerness awoke in his heart, with hope.

Bucket List

2010-11-05T22:24:00.003+05:30

The Bucket List is a wish list of things to do before one dies. It is inspired by a movie starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman who are both terminally ill when they hit the road to live their last days in fun and fulfillment rather than in a dull ward. Here is my list-

1. Attend a live concert of Trans Siberian Orchestra. Complete with the pyrotechnic displays and the whole instrumental range
2. Live in Ladakh, in a place like Shey Valley. With nothing but the snow capped mountains, wind blown pines, translucent blue streams and the peaceful stupas around you.
3. Learn to converse in Spanish, Italian, French and Urdu.
4. Learn the Viennese waltz. In all its tragic beauty and flawless grace.
5. Create, design. Something, that will blow my mind off
6. Read the Quran. Entirely, honestly
7. Have my own chestnut brown horse. Name it Firenze. Ride it over open fields. Run with the wind
8. Visit Kashmir. Take in the beauty of its gardens, lakes, mountains, streams, rocks, people. Beauty long gone they say. Perhaps, and perhaps not.
9. Watch a tiger in the open forest; as it lives its life, hunts, kills, drinks, lazes around.
10. Read the entire collection of Frederick Forsyth. Live the exciting and aspirational life of a virtual spy.
11. Play all of Beethoven on the piano. Love and sweetness to me.

Gems

2010-10-04T01:51:00.007+05:30

Coming home after that rough everyday struggle for your livelihood, literally. Looking forward to good food and a warm bed. Trying to drain the poison off my mind, recollect all the things I enjoyed doing. Trying to remember if there was ever a thing that could consume my mind, my passion, me. That I believed in, wanted to live for.

It was the evening before the Ayodhya verdict was to come out. And my rickshaw driver, decked in the traditional taqiyah, asked me not to step out of my house the next day without reading the newspaper. It was not very safe for me, though Mumbai has offered him lots of freedom, enough to visit his beloved mosque in the middle of the night and unload his mind in prayer. Why fight over such an old issue, he claimed. Why not build a hospital. After all, what could be a higher act of benevolence?

There are men of wonder who spend their lives in mosques, in prayer and healing, he said. Those maulanas, both revered and feared by different kinds of people, they can perform magic. Tantras they know, of great power and use, and these they bestow on the sick and poor. No money or food they take in return, but a blessing and a hope that man would not harm, kill or sin. Hundreds of superstitions they know of and preach. He followed many, several were given to me in advice.

Simplicity, yet comprehension led his life. Ignorance of several scientific marvels, perhaps. Yet, how much did it really matter what he believed, as long as he was happy and did not hurt a single soul in the world. And I remembered and felt what it had been like to have such conversations, such times of knowing, of trying to understand, of sharing thoughts and love. Like a passion waiting to fill itself in something.

Life may be full of crap, but it is a few moments of pure happiness as these which make it worth living. It made me smile, more than once.

Prayer

2010-10-03T23:39:00.006+05:30

People fight. Everywhere and all the time. For money, land, work, possessions, but most of all, to feed their egos. They are not bad people. No one would make with his own hands a world of bad people. Only they do not know what they are doing. And when they realize, it could be too late. Too late to repent, too late to gather their courage and correct their wrongs.

Man is just not meant to live with others. He just cannot share his life, his actions, his mind with anyone else. For any two people are so very different from each other. And so they clash and they fight, to convince the other of their fault. Man is not witless. Yet his ego overshadows everything, until he has no energy left to fight or to pick up the reins. And at the end of it all, he still craves for the comfort of another hand to hold his.

He desires peace. And still his stubbornness leaves him no space to see the way to it. Through understanding; through acceptance of imperfections, their own and those of others. A way to have a perfect kind of happiness, where he may not have the ideal and yet can wish for no better. For if he can ever reach God, how can it be except through this state of having the most perfect happiness or knowing the most beautiful peace? Won't he listen and bend his knees; in prayer, in conciliation, in glory?

Mumbai!

2009-12-27T16:45:00.008+05:30

The impossibility of a city's existence strikes you. You step off a train onto a railway platform overflowing with people. They are men and women in formal wear, college students, casual laborers, newspaper vendors and beggars. Rushing through life. A city skyline beckons in the distance. You sit on the rocks, to take in the night sky, the jewels. You give your heart away to the place.

The world wakes up to a new dawn. Not Mumbai, the city never sleeps. There are always buses and trains to catch, offices and schools to run to, work to be done in shops and homes. Life does not stand still, never, not for anything.

Old tin roofs, large white clocks, tobacco stained walls, millions of lives breathe past you. You stand in relativity, in hushed surprise. The young ones cross the railway tracks to feel the adrenaline rush. Trains know better than to run late. Every 2 minutes, they arrive to whisk you off to wherever you have to spend the rest of your day.

Colors are everywhere. In streetlights, neon shop lights, sparkling glass buildings. The night smells of lashing waves, freshly caught fish, vada pav and kesar kulfi. Crabs bask in the evening light, cars flash by signals, the sun sets behind mountains or horizons. The millions of people suddenly materialize from nowhere, with no respect for those poor drivers the roads should belong to. And yet, they would willingly stop anytime to help give directions or watch roadside fights.

God casts his shadows over tall buildings, dark narrow roads, and the jewels come to life. The necklace of a Queen it is rumored to be. Nostalgia catches up as we remember the countless evenings spent strolling along Marine Drive. Sitting on the rocks and talking about life. Later we slept under the stars, ruffled by a gentle breeze. For all its noisy crowds, nothing could disturb the tranquility of the place.

There is a little place in our hearts for everyone coming here. We wait, we help, we touch, and we make a little space for you too. We do not need broad tree lined streets to make it a place worthy of being lived in. It is, and will be great for everything it is made of. Beauty lives in every wall and stone. Museums, churches and history amaze all. Mumbai has lived past that. The station is old, Victoria Terminus is astounding in its loveliness.

Terrorists those are, that walk in and try to burn holes in the city. Fear haunts us for a while, but we get back to our usual lives. A day or two, and it moves on. Life is full of hope and positive things. The city grows, against fear, against everything trying to drag it down. It was never crowned as the king. It grew into the financial capital of India.

For all of us who love Chinese dosas and every other experimental thing to eat, Dalal Street holds special meaning. Walk by and you see stargazers beguiled by the sight of the flashing screen. It would be sacrilege not to mention the kababs that can make a connoisseur faint from pleasure. No fancy Urdu names about generous leaders, the place is called Bade Miyan.

Child of the rain gods, Mumbai's people revel in its insanity. Stand near Worli Seaface and you can taste the salty drops as sheets of water spray you all over. A walk on a causeway over the sea brings you to the beautiful Haji Ali Dargah. Exquisitely constructed in the style of Indian Islamic architecture, the shrine is replete with legends about doomed lovers.

Bandra at the heart of Mumbai is enticing in its beauty. Old world bungalows on sloping roads, trees bending down to curtained windows, fishermen, rocks and sea. There is plenty for food lovers and no dearth of places to hang out - Biona, Lucky, China Gate, Pot Pourri, Hawaiian Shack, CCD, Bagel Place, Toto's, Poison.

MunnaBhai breaking bones, chasing girls and getting drunk. That is Dhobi Ghat.

The beach is just a few minutes away. If ever you feel like taking a walk, being by yourself, sitting down with the warmth of the sand grains beneath your feet. Sinking in the sand watching the sun go down. A sliver of red, a seductive glow bathing the sea in a silver sheen. Reflections..

Aksa, Madh and Marwe beaches are the perfect holiday spots with their many resorts, peaceful spots in a mad world. Juhu beach was the place we went to on Sunday evenings with our parents. Splashing about in the water, building sand castles and digging tunnels was followed by rides on the giant wheel and visits to the food stalls! The sev puri, pani puri and pav bhaji are beyond delicious, they are among the best you can find anywhere. And these Northerners think they know how to make chaat. The sight of colored Gola bottles always makes me long for my favorite - orange, kalakhatta and lemon.

You could be an auto driver or cruising in a fancy car, and yet you could not resist taking your eyes off the road to stare in wonder at the dark mysterious expanses of sea, the towers of diamonds built over you. They fly over the water, on the Bandra Worli Sea Link.

Earrings, sandals, hand bags, food stalls and coffee shops outside National's; you are lost in a maze of colors and girls bargaining with shopkeepers to bring down prices from 350 to 100. Linking Road in Bandra.

An old world mystique stuns you. World of sepia, of quaint little bungalows that have lived past the years. Quiet family homes framed in wooden arches, black iron gates creak open. From the sights and sounds of rushing madness to the smell of steaming chai and pakodas.

The mountains, lakes, the sea and mangroves have laid claim to these lands. Just as rich as the physical diversity is that of the communities, cultures and regions its people belong to. The imam calls for prayer while the young men dance to loud drums. Carols are sung while they hold burning candles. They cover their heads and are merciful in prayer. Life, in more than one way, is a celebration. A Jewish Synagogue stands tall in its uniqueness and beauty.

The slumdogs of Mumbai, chasing real planes. Listening to the rush of planes taking off and betting on which airline it would be. Running to the balcony with my brother, to check, to watch the dazzling firecrackers in the distance, spraying the skies with their glittering colors.

The green of the forests is a trick by magic. Silver waterfalls twinkle in your ears wherever you go. The roads to Kanheri and Lonavla charm you with their raw, wild beauty.

The summers are not really hot, the winters are not really cold, and often you cannot tell the difference between the two. At least you do not need a winter mist to hide those unlikable faces. Meeting the same people everyday; the same time, in the same compartments; making a journey together in local trains, the lifeline of Mumbai. Nothing beats the feeling of standing near the door of a fast train compartment and hanging out of it to feel the wind rush up to you. Escaping from the TC.

But it rains all right! That is an understatement. The downpours are crazy, wrath like; flooding streets, stranding people outside their homes, bringing life in a normally unstoppable city to an almost complete halt. And in this madness, you would find a couple of naughty urchins dancing in the rain and splashing in the puddles like they have never enjoyed life more! Makes you think about those little things that suddenly make you feel beautiful.

Spending a day at The Gateway and taking a launch ride to Elephanta Caves. Walking in the by lanes behind the Taj, all the way to the Prince of Wales Museum. Lying down in the grass at Azad Maidan. Heavens above you, counting diamonds.

The best part about the city is its people. They may be busy, but they would genuinely help you. No 'Sorry', 'Please', 'Thank You' needed. No worrying about courteousness and manners, no having to think twice before you speak. Everyone bothers only with their own work, not that of neighbors and acquaintances.

You can do anything you like here, Mumbai provides you with it all. They are equals, be they beggars or the rich, they live, eat and travel together. They are comfortable with themselves and happy with their lives. You have your own space, no one and nothing can threaten you anywhere, any time. There is a warm feeling, a feeling of returning home. No matter where you come from, you grow to love the place and its people.

Your catharsis

2009-12-14T13:13:00.005+05:30

Wish I could make beautiful music. Beautiful, touching, painful. Music that would slice through you, rip you apart, stab every particle of being, every moment of pain.

Toss me a line, throw me a hand. Watch pain spread like blood. Warm me in its flow.

Letting go is more memorable than holding on, chasing who knows what. Expectation is the root cause of all sorrow. Illusions mirage the only reality, pain.

Nature is not you. Camouflage yourself. Do not believe in god.

It is not a comfortable world out there. There are knives and they lie, cheat, deceive. They are out to get you. I revel in your betrayal. I fall prey to the world's madness. Who has ever been your friend? Death of a soldier is a number.

As it rains, I dance. Life runs in circles, thought of a good life acts trigger.

No! Time to let it out. Time to wake up to nothingness, to blindness. Do not give me a sign! Do not give me a fantasy, a hope! Lose myself in that quicksand. Phase the darkness. Merge with my world in insignificance. Your true creation. I see it. Wish I did not know hope! The wrong side. Helplessness grips.

Fall slave to music in my moment of weakness.

Angel

2009-11-19T19:06:00.023+05:30

Have you ever felt yourself reflected in another person? Have you been tremendously comforted by someone's presence because it felt like being with a part of your soul? Have you been unafraid to confess everything you hold close to your mind because you knew that they would understand? Have you ever wished for an angel?

"Angel,
Put sad wings around me now
Protect me from this world of sin
We can find our way somehow
Escaping from the world we're in
To a place where we begin

When I close my eyes
I hear your velvet wings and cry
I'm waiting here with open arms
Oh can't you see
Angel shine your light on me

We'll meet once more I'll pray
When all my sins are washed away
Hold me inside your wings and stay
Oh take me far away"

- Judas Priest

Angel,
You flew down from the heavens one night
Into the world, to the waiting child
To always be with me

When you smiled into my eyes
Thoughts turned into dreams
Treading through desert lands
I wish you were here with me
Holding my hand

A thousand things you told me
In words unspoken etched in stone
Secrets I had dared not reveal
Fears and dying hopes
Oh how I waited for you to heal

Angel you comfort me
In a way I have never known
Your memory is a beautiful rose
Angel of love, fly away with me

Dispelling the Darkness around Aghoris

2009-11-10T01:49:00.017+05:30

Deep in the dense jungles of Bengal, the hot deserts of Gujarat and the cremation grounds of Varanasi, exists an order of ascetics known as the Aghoris. One of the most extreme and feared of all sects of sadhus, they are abhorred for their cannibalistic habits and revered by rural Indians for their Tantrik healing powers. The burning grounds of the Hindu dead is their place of meditation. These followers of Lord Shiva worship his third face or the destructive side of the god. They indulge in meat eating, alcohol drinking, consumption of beverages and foods with opiates, hallucinogens and cannabis products, and Tantrik sexual rituals.

In essence, Aghoris base their beliefs on two principles. First, that Shiva is perfect. Second, that Shiva is responsible for everything; every rock, tree, animal, and every thought. Everything that exists must be perfect, and to deny the perfection of anything would be to deny the sacredness of all life in its full manifestation as well as to deny the gods and goddesses and the demigods in their perfection.

It is for this reason that an Aghori lives a simple yet extremely challenging life. For 12 years he meditates in the name of Lord Shiva and eats everything from human faeces to the flesh of dead bodies. Aghoris believe in preserving the perfection of nature and would never touch fruits or food that requires cooking. They see no difference between chicken and human flesh. To them both are meat and when they have a sudden hunger or desire to eat, they can have anything. At such times, the feeling is so overpowering that they do not know what they are eating or doing. The power in them is so strong that they can consume an entire human body,

An Aghori does not hold hate in his heart. They believe that one who hates cannot meditate. Sharing food with dogs and cows does not sound repulsive to them, rather it is how they eat their meals - alongside the animals which frequent cremation grounds, out of the same bowl. It is their belief that if they were to start worrying about insignificant things like animals dirtying their food, they would not be able to focus on their higher aims of meditating and becoming one with Lord Shiva.

Once a powerful sect, Aghoris now are just a handful in number. The sect is not hereditary. Often men have been known to take it up as a challenge. The Hindu belief that the human soul reincarnates in an endless cycle of life, death and rebirth is embodied by Aghoris. Ultimate salvation is got when one can liberate himself from this cycle and this is what they try to achieve through their meditation. The cremation grounds are their empires, where they can get everything. Clothes and food are often left by relatives of the dead or drawn from offerings to the dead body.

The Aghori has no fear of the dead or the burial ground. His life centers around it and he lives there night and day. Fire, ash and wood is available in plenty. As flames reduce the body to ashes, it is returned to the elements from which it was forged. Ash is the cloth for Aghoris as was used by Lord Shiva. As his child, the Aghori must use it as well. Being made from the 5 elements, ash is essential to protect him from disease and mosquitoes. His constant state is to be one with Lord Shiva, and he starts to do this by imitating his physical appearance. Nothing can give them more pleasure than to be in this state.

The human skull or 'kapal' is the true sign of an Aghori. This is the first thing he must procure from the floating corpses of holy men in rivers where they are laid to rest. After he receives the magical incantation from his guru, he starts his life as an Aghori, eating the remnants of the dead and bathing in the icy waters of the Ganga. The fire pit is his temple, and the abode of ghosts and evil spirits his home. At night, when people do not go near cremation grounds for fear of ghouls and phantoms, he meditates in peace. Breaking the rules between the clean and the unclean, the pure and the impure is the way in which he hopes to gain magical powers to cure and heal.

The end of his education is signified by a visit to his home by his guru who chants sacred mantras to call the gods and goddesses to enter his body and talk to him. This is rumored to be the instant when the guru gives the Aghori the power to heal and drive away evil spirits. Their rituals are strange, as defined by instances when they are 'called' by the gods to consume food, drink or have sex. Alcohol and opium are widely consumed. In keeping with their convention of not disturbing the perfection of life, they drink from the blood of dead humans and eat from their flesh. A sex tradition is followed where at certain instances they must have sex with dead bodies which are found floating in rivers, not to appease their lust but to answer the call of the gods.

For an Aghori, God imbues everything, the best and the worst in the world. Nothing is profane, everything is sacred. The equality of all humans with the most powerful of animals, the most flighty of birds, the meanest of insects, the oldest of trees and the most insignificant of grains of sand reinforces their belief in the perfection of God and his creation, the universe. As they meditate, they ponder over deeper issues than we can ever imagine as being possible. The men of Shiva gain in wisdom, understanding, simplicity and humility.

The myriad ways of Hindu sects have rarely been known to advocate restraint from the world's pleasures, rather they support indulging in wealth, beauty, pleasure if one has the desire to do so. Aghoris have a healthy acceptance of tabooed people such as prostitutes. They call them mother or sister and eat with them in their homes, thus earning the respect of these socially unacceptable people. This is even when the world refuses to acknowledge their presence, while secretly alluding with these faceless in the safety of darkness.

Are the Aghoris cannibals who do not shy from necrophagy in any form or are they demigods capable of unleashing and controlling the power of spirits? Or are they really just men who live their lives in a reality impossible to be understood by us?

P.S. Anyone interested in starting a partial Aghori sect? We can skip the drinking blood and eating dead bodies part, but wouldn't it be cool to be in a sect where your God tells you, "Okay, you can have alcohol now because this is the sacred time for you to do so!"

Dusk

2009-11-09T23:55:00.009+05:30

The skies are grey, and I've been walking all day. Waiting in the clouds, shadows raining down on me. I smile in the dark. No one can see me. I look into the eyes and they hold back their tears. The stars were shining a moment back, they left me a trail. I reach out to touch them. The spark is gone, the light burns no more. A promise that was, near perfection; that was, unkept. It still lingers within. The dust in my eyes blinds my sight. Dance and twirl ends it all. And I leave behind a wake of agony, grief, desolation. Life vanishes without a trace. Hope surfaces in an instant, the moors are wild with despair. Signs are long lost. The night is mine, and mine alone. I can hear the music, it still plays in me.

Memoirs of "Shodh Yatra"- A trip to Mizoram

2009-09-18T00:32:00.019+05:30

A week in the wild

Shodh Yatra is a course offered to 2nd year students at IIM-A, wherein a group of students led by Prof Anil Gupta, visit an Indian place with the objective of learning from the local people, nature, from our colleagues and ourselves. This year, a group of 27 students visited Mizoram in the far North-east, a state about which we knew little. Going there with open minds and looking for new experiences, for most of us it was a great opportunity to tour Mizoram and have a good time with friends.

Day 1

We took a connecting flight from Ahmedabad to Aizawl, via Delhi and Guwahati. Once at Aizawl, we met our guides, Robert and Bawitlung and learnt that we were to undertake a 10 hour bus ride to Champei, the 3rd largest city in Mizoram. Stiff with cramps though we all were, we played Antakshari for long hours, catering to different genres like mawali, romantic [;)]. Stopping on the way at a teaplace to grab a bite, we finally reached Champei which was in the south of the state at close to 4 am in the morning. Exhausted, we collapsed in our rooms, little knowing that this was the last time we would be seeing anything akin to a hotel or villa for the next 5 days!

Day 2

Refreshed after a long sleep in the cold, we ate and were briefed by the professor on what was expected from us during the course. We met our trekking guides, Mafaka and Angu and finally embarked on the trek! After an introduction session sitting down on a rocky path, all of us enthusiastically volunteered to take a shortcut that would bring us closer to the forest. We started an arduous uphill climb that offered some breathtaking sights of the surrounding mountains. Often, we stopped to drink water at the local houses or simply to look at the adorable kids! We took every chance to splash ourselves with ice-cold water from the waterfalls everywhere.

Towards evening, we walked to our campsite on the outskirts of the village, Ngur. It was beautiful, watching the sunset, the mountainside bathed in a golden glow, the sky a seductive shade of blue and orange. The first of our discussions took place with all of us sitting in a tent, which ended with Milam asking for some much needed 'food for thought'. Dinner was quite an experience, under the clear star studded sky. It was time for some fun after the tiring trek. A couple of guys collected firewood and Patwa started a fire (using his 'desert skills'). What followed were some amazing song and dance performances. Anna (for Chane ke khet mein {we would have more of that later}) and Lars (for all the enthusiasm and walking on hands!) deserve a special mention.

Day 3

The day started with a bus ride to the entrance of Murlen National Park where we were told that we would have to carry all our requirements for 2 days as the bus could not traverse those tracks. Okay, bad idea to carry all your stuff while trekking up! It was a quiet walk, on narrow paths snaking around picturesque tree covered hill slopes. The intense sun made it a tiring walk, though the passion fruits, "Happy Powder" and walking sticks we extricated from fallen tree branches eased things a lot! Around afternoon, we reached a beautiful clearing which housed 3 forest lodges and learnt that that was to be our campsite for the night. A discussion on "Learning from Strangers " ensued, which Daddu successfully turned into a discussion on "The generation gap between parents and children". A hot topic indeed, we continued to talk about it during our night session as well!

At 3 in the noon, we walked down to a village and visited the house of the village headman. All of us enjoyed having locally made grape wine so much so that we carried back a few bottles for later consumption. The 4 level cooking mechanism and the crabs they were cooking for dinner held our fascination. On reaching back, we settled in one of the lodges and played "Truth and Dare" which saw some brilliant questions, answers and dare suggestions (read "Rahul S K"). Geeta wrapped it up with a very realistic sounding "Save me Please!" drama in front of our guide Bawitlung. Dinner and we were back in our sleeping bags, Dhiresh trying to eavesdrop on people's conversations. [;)] The only disturbances during the night were fireflies and Parcel grunting as he kept hitting the wall in the 5 ft of space he was trying to sleep in.

Day 4

The next morning saw us up early as we wondered what we would face that day (we were told that it was to be the longest and most difficult trek so far). The 'jungle trek' was tough no doubt, but the most memorable yet. At the start, we merely had to find our way through ankle deep mud and slosh, wade through narrow streams, walk on dirt tracks in grasslands (which many claimed were sure to grow marijuana), all the while being bitten by leeches and scraped by nettles. The forest was too dark and dense to follow the people ahead and see the ones behind, and we were soon divided into smaller groups, each one calling out to the others to Wait! We realized very soon that we were probably the first group of trekkers to go there, by the absence of clear tracks. In no time, we were taking the support of bamboos, rocks, hanging branches, walking sticks and one another to climb up or down. The slopes, wet with mud, made it easy to simply slide down them. Leroy let loose little landslides every time he slipped, and there was a close competition between some (including me) as to who fell or tripped the most. [;)]

The forest was beautiful and pristine, with trees and wild moss growing unevenly over the slopes. Tree stumps burnt black and log structures, now hidden by overgrown grass, were remnants of the practice of shift and burn cultivation practiced in those parts of the country in earlier times. Exhausted and bruised as we were, the sight of a clear path was a refreshing change for all. Singing as we walked back to the bus, the most entertaining sight was when we all turned around to see Daddu running top speed towards us! Just before leaving, we spoke to a few villagers who were very keen on knowing where we had come from, why we were there and what we thought of the place.

We were then taken to a stream near the village of Vapar, and it was with great relief that we bathed and washed ourselves off 2 and a 1/2 days of accumulated dirt. Climbing back to our campsite, where a tent had been set up as an extension of a shed, we had a discussion on "The role of Perfect Strangers". And finally it rained! (thankfully we were done with trekking by then!) The rains lashed outside, almost threatening to blow away our tent. At night, we went for walks on the bridge over the stream. Even our weariness could not help us fall asleep while being attacked by an army of mosquitoes. After trying unsuccessfully to sleep till 2 am and listening to Parcel shouting about a snake slithering over his sleeping bag (he still claims it was there), a few of us moved into the bus where we had an extremely sound sleep and which, after the tent, felt better than a Deluxe Suite.

Day 5

It was the day of reflection. After the traditional meal of rice, dal and potatoes, we all moved to find a place where we could have visible silence (we could not see one another). The 4 hours that we were left alone were a perfect time to explore the countryside and nearby farms. Sitting on some rocks in a stream, taking respite from the blazing sun, it was wonderful to reminisce about the pure fun we had had. In the afternoon, we left for Aizawl, a 13 hour journey which left us all dead tired. With a short halt at Champei and the same teaplace we had stopped at on the way there (here we were treated to some wonderful tasting Mizo delicacies), we reached the Yatri Niwas guesthouse at 4.30 am and simply crashed on our beds.

Day 6

Finally we were back amidst civilization! We were scheduled to meet the Chief Minister of Mizoram, Mr Pu Lalthanhawla that morning to discuss our trip, what we had come across and what we felt about the place, and to discuss possible steps to improve tourism in the state. We were treated to an extremely interesting talk on how hunters and poachers had nearly wiped out the wildlife of Mizoram. A meeting with the IT minister was up next, after which we were taken to a market to shop or eat as we wished. We had a good time browsing through the shops and checking out the collection of cane items (including an incredibly useful stool designed like cow skin) and locally made shawls.

And on the final day of the trip, we did manage to get wet in the rains! A treat was ensured to all meat lovers as we had chicken, mutton and pork momos in the evening. That night, we had our longest yet session with Prof Gupta discussing characters from books, movies and real life who had influenced us. That was the most enjoyable, educational and inspiring discussion we had on the entire trip.

Day 7

We had to wake up early the next morning and leave for the airport. Standing before our bus, we felt strangely emotional as we thought of the amazing times we had had in the last 6 days. [:)] An hour bus journey (which felt amazingly short considering the trips we had been making over the last few days) and "senti speeches" from our guides later, we had checked in at Aizawl airport. Parcel and I entertained the tiny audience with a dance performance on 'Jai Ho', originally meant to happen during the campfire on the 2nd night.

Our group split up as we had different flights to catch. With a stopover at Guwahati which was spent browsing the handicrafts store at the airport and Delhi, from where we went to Ambience Mall in Gurgaon, we landed at Ahmedabad at close to midnight. The last journey was one Kingfisher ensured would live up to the excitement of the last few days. It was rough weather, and in the last 1/2 hour of the flight, the lights to the emergency exits turned on as the plane shook violently causing Anna to exclaim "Aaj mera Sabarmati mein swim karke wapas jaane ka sapna poora hoga!" [:P]

That was it! A brilliant, truly awesome and memorable, magnificent trip full of great fun, entertainment, beautiful forests, sleeping bags and leeches, meeting new people, campfires, singing and dancing, and of course great trekking!!

Insomnia

2009-09-17T04:07:00.005+05:30

We're all ruining ourselves. By running. To a point where we're gonna crash, and shatter into pieces. Death and disease can do nothing to us, for we would have mentally destructed ourselves long before that. Where your worst fears would have come true just by fantasizing about them. You are trapped in a terrifying web, your flaming jealousies always enticing you. Undressed of the chimerical serenity, you - a rude skeleton, shaped of passion and impatience. You might think you are depressed or in an ugly phase. But that is not it. You are merely restless, your darkest desires and fearsome dreams, waiting for something to happen. And you are still chasing an illusion, a shimmer of tranquility and elation. You're no better than others, even though you pretend to laugh before them. We are helpless, we have no choice. We act like normal human beings. We are.

Kuṇḍalinī

2009-09-13T01:32:00.005+05:30

kuṇḍalinī is a Sanskrit word meaning coiled. It refers to an unconscious, instinctive or libidinal force in the human body. A corporeal energy, it is envisioned as a goddess or a sleeping serpent which lies coiled at the base of the spine.

Yoga and Tantra propose that this energy can be "awakened". The body and spirit are prepared by yogic austerities such as pranayama, visualization and chanting. The latent energy rises up the spine to merge with our consciousness. The Shakti or Goddess is said to unite with the Supreme Being, Lord Shiva. Awakening of the kuṇḍalinī leads to the attainment of Divine Wisdom or Self Knowledge and brings with itself pure joy, pure knowledge and pure love.

kuṇḍalinī does not ask us to abstain from, rather it suggests indulging in the worldly pleasures. According to kuṇḍalinī, there are seven chakras or sources of energy within us, each of which if activated and correctly channeled can energize us and cause a heightened sense of being. The catharsis of the nadis blocking the chakras is done through yoga.

Muladhara (root) chakra - at the perineum - gives physical security and removes fear
Svadhisthana (sex) chakra - at the base of the spine - alleviates self expression and creativity
Manipura (naval) chakra - at the solar plexus - controls willpower and anger
Anahata (heart) chakra - at the centre of the chest - brings love
Vishuddhi (throat) chakra - at the throat - enhances communication
Ajna (third eye) chakra - at the centre of the head - augments intuition
Sahasrara (crown) chakra - at the top of the head - brings bliss

A video that describes kuṇḍalinī or serpent power in detail
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-8101989694941061600#

God's own cell

2009-09-12T23:29:00.005+05:30

child: Why does he always fight to stay conscious?
mamma: Because he must.

child: Why can't he let go? Why can't he sink into fantasy?
mamma: he thinks its wrong

child: but the fairies are calling him.
he must go, must he not?

oh please... let him do...

Let him know the place where angels live, let him taste Heaven.
when he returns to earth, he will know Good better.

mamma: They might destroy him while he is gone, while he is helpless on earth. They may rob him of his sanity and dignity.

They are out there, scheming and waiting.

he will know when to run...

Carnage

2009-09-12T19:52:00.008+05:30

This is my city! And I live in every part of it. Sometimes I am scared. Of walking where ever I like, of talking to and meeting my friends, of eating at my favorite places. Of seeing my brother going to school and my parents out for work. I see terror and resilience in every face around. Trying not to break. And I know they feel the same.

But it doesn't work to be afraid, does it? You know you have to go on. You know you have to keep walking, sometimes to your own death. You have to end up taking things lying down, by these bastards! We can't fight back because we don't know how to. How to eliminate these rats. How to rid the world of all the unwanted waste. How to stop our home being the soft target that it is! When all they do to return our courtesy is offer our massacre.

Why must I be vulnerable? Why must I wait for them to get me? When I have done nothing to hurt them. Why must I suffer for all their twisted reasoning and mindless, unjust preaching? For all the gullible, faceless people who end up believing. It does not seem fair! That some of the innocent kill, and the rest are killed. Only to feed a misplaced anger. With some burning passion for revenge. How does the killing of the nameless unknown satisfy that? I wish I could understand.

I look for guilt. They are strangers after all. With their fetters ablaze. There is no target, just an enclosing darkness. And the heavens crashing down, on them. Ferric and senseless.

I wish they would understand.

A New World Order

2009-08-25T17:02:00.005+05:30

Do you often feel misunderstood? Frustrated by the insane rules of this illogical world? Bored of inactivity coz nothing u r supposed to do interests you and der is a ban on everythin u want to do? Lonely coz no one understands you? Isolated from d unintelligent, similar-thinking morons in d world around u?

Then, its time fur us to come together and create a New World Order. We can adopt these as our holy commandments:

1) We shall blast Metallica, Iron Maiden, Korn, Godsmack, Kalmah and Opeth on our speakers and no one shall dare complain.

2) Hard Rock Cafe shall be declared as our sacred place of worship and we shall demand of the Govt, subsidies for our weekly visits.

3) Gambling, betting, drinking at 17, homosexual love affairs shall be made legal.

4) Temples shall distribute, in addition to pedas, laddoos, gulab jamun and ras malai, alcohol and marijuana.

5) India, Pakistan, Nepal and Bangladesh will become one country again so that we may enjoy exclusive access to Lahori food.

6) All our ancient political leaders will be shipped to Pluto.

7) We shall instate the "In memory of those ppl who lost their minds when Kurt Cobain died" and "I want Sepultara to perform in India" taxes on non-believers.

8) Red hair, blue nailpolish, ear and nose piercings, black t-shirts shall be made compulsory attire for anyone wishing to join.

9) Mornings will start at 5 pm and all important activities will be undertaken after midnight.

10) If you ever get an insane urge to do something (or not do anything) as the case may be, u shall go ahead and do (or not do) just that, and anyone who attempts to punish u shall be threatened with crucifixion.

11) Examinations, lectures and assignments shall be banned in educational institutions and only trips and holidays shall be allowed.

12) Fantasy fiction novels and cult movies will be declared as our holy scriptures with special free screenings on request.

13) Anyone wishing to rename our landmarks will have to give them cool names like "Fort of the Elf Lords of Rivendell" and "White City of Minas Tirith" and "Tower of Isengard" instead of those ridiculously lame and regionalized ones which hurt our religious sentiments.

And finally, our motto wil b "We aim to b different and do watever the hell we feel like".

The Controversy

2009-08-25T04:57:00.005+05:30

This Jal concert in India quickly gained in popularity after Jal performed the hit track, "Dil Dil Pakistan", tweaking the lyrics slightly to "Dil dil Pakistan, Jaan jaan Hindustan". Now you can guess why that did not auger too well with a certain section of Pakistani society! A great thing about our north-western neighbors is that even though there is a stark contrast between its citizens when it comes to following religious ideologies and preaching extremism, everyone there is a fan of rock music! And this song is as close to being a national anthem as pop music can ever take it, which means that is it widely loved and respected.

Watch the video at 30 seconds and you will get a taste of Jal's ingenuity, which drove Indian fans to the brink of madness and was a move well appreciated by liberal Pakistani youngsters too. Nevertheless, it triggered a spate of debates on online forums and plenty of jibes, arguments, hopeful attempts to convince blind following with reason. The controversy kept the band in the limelight which suited it well of course. Jal's members behaved reasonably and in a mature way, coming out to say only that they had no problems in singing this song again to embrace friendship with India. And they did sing it again!

I, however, am stunned and greatly disturbed by the video. I have attended and watched footage of several of Jal's concerts. What appalls me is their ingenious and infallible ability to merge every track with 'Aadat'. Any track at all! At first, it had seemed a respect accorded only to the myriad derivatives of Aadat. But there you go :)

And just in case you are not completely enamored by the Pakistani music world, there was a rumor going around that Aadat was actually composed by Mekaal Hassan, a greatly gifted musician whose compositions fall into the classical fusion category. Though, Jal can boast of a reasonably talented guitarist in Goher, while Farhan's vocals only get better with every new release! And he does happen to be a great stage entertainer. Not to mention good-looking!

Temple of money

2009-07-23T01:18:00.004+05:30

I hid apprehension in my heart. And walked into a temple robed in saffron and dust. The place that was most sacred. Where they would come to give gratitude, take blessings, rid their fear. Where they saw and knew Him. And now, it lay. Former grandeur fallen to ignorance and disregard. Not a shadow of the ancient glory and reverence fell over it. The splendor of an era, enshrouded in the stillness of death. I walked on, embraced in to the house of the Lord.

The priest professed holy religion. He spoke in half tongues. He knew not the truth of that he spoke. He knew not that we listened, he cared not that they, of the frightened, followed. He promised blessings of the mother. The ancient keepers of knowledge, the pure and virgin of spirit and flesh. The cunning perpetrators of the vile trades that he, and his brothers everywhere, practiced. He stayed, and spun money. Gold and coins were his jewels, he was paid not in words. I walked out, rudely sent away.

The foul scatter their filth for the innocent, always.

Waiting

2009-06-11T18:43:00.013+05:30

We spoke of time and touch, a life when we knew nothing, when our minds flitted through magic and beauty. You took me to a garden of roses and spoke to me in the language of angels. I loved the taste of your innocence. The world was still young, replete with pain and desire. Its wounds were not healed, it longed to know its ever caring guardian, to feel. Saints had written about him long ago, they cautioned, they warned. She tasted blood and mercy. And yet, fate flirted. It touched, he stayed. Fairies may dance and sing, they may draw you to villages, hills and palaces. Life was a strange dream, a wild passion. There was nothing, just a nymph and a centaur, and women watching in disbelief. Of fantasies they saw, of kisses they shared, in wands they believed. Oceans meant little when heavens were with them. Time flung aside nights they shared. It brought rushed goodbyes, ecstasies and elation. Even the stars blushed, so sweet, so perfect it was. Beauty come in its entirety. Stolen moments, secrets, love.

Pity and scorn

2009-05-03T16:00:00.001+05:30

It's so easy to run to others. It's so hard to stand on one's own record. You can fake virtue for an audience. You cannot fake it in your own eyes. Your ego is the strictest judge. They run from it. They spend their lives running. It's easier to donate a few thousand to charity and think oneself noble than to base self respect on one's standards of personal achievement. It's simple to seek substitutes for competence - such easy substitutes: love, charm, kindness, charity. But there is no substitute for competence. You can profess ambition and effort but your incompetence will drag you down. You cannot replace your ineptitude with mirages of vision and leadership. They are often stubborn. They refuse to acknowledge perfection. Your obstinacy will be your undoing to worthlessness. Look within and your soul will be the arbiter, you cannot seize or insist on respect and grace, you cannot claim what is not rightfully yours. There is a place for everyone in the world - understand this. Or you will only bring upon yourself pity and scorn.

Of 4 C's, 3 P's and 7 S's

2009-05-03T14:12:00.007+05:30

I have always hated studying for and writing papers for HR courses, they being among the most globe courses, i.e. we have to bluff our way through them to the greatest possible extent. I wondered why ennui struck the moment the name of HR was mentioned, given that the idiosyncrasies of humans and their unsurpassed ability to deviate from logic and reasoning in their behavior was reason enough to render the subject interesting. Maybe it is the fact that there is a tendency to classify every theory or observation into an existing model and explain it by known and studied standards. Or it could be the ambitious desire to try to comprehend and provide a rational explanation for every human action. Why is that necessary? Why does there exist an urgency to fathom every aspect of human behavior, relate it to something someone has previously done and fit it into a strait jacket?

An Uneventful Trip :)

2009-04-13T11:38:00.014+05:30

We had heard about the beautiful sanctuary called Nalsarovar about 60kms from Ahmedabad, where exotic birds visit. So one boring weekend, a couple of people from my class decided to go for a bike trip to see the place. At 4am in the dead of the night, 12 people, 6 bikes, dark empty stretches of roads, the chilly morning wind, clear diamond-studded midnight skies- it seemed perfect! And so we set off, racing along, occasionally taking the wrong turn and asking for directions from the rare passer-by.

It was smooth going and we were hoping to reach there in time to watch the sunrise until we met the dangerous and by now very famous sharp right turn midway to the place. One second we were on the bike, the next we had missed sensing the turn in the pitch dark, had moved off the road and were air borne, and before we could realize what had happened, we were submerged in a pool of mud! I dimly remember surfacing and instantly hoping it was not quicksand. Once I was convinced it was not, I was praying it was not shit.

If anyone could have seen me then, which I am sure 11 people did, they would surely have thought me a mud-woman action figure or a goddess of mud who emerges from its midst like in Indian mythological tales. I was shivering to the bone! The most interesting thing that happened then was another bike following us into the mud. After we had extricated ourselves and the bikes from the mud, we half rode half walked to the nearest house, roused the poor family from their sleep and begged them to let us use their washroom. They seemed unsurprised by our sudden and dirty appearance, which had a lot to do with the not so rare incidents of hapless bikes and cars diving into the mud at that godforsaken time of the day.

A bath and a new warm sweater later - which I entirely owe to a friend and which did not survive to tell the tale (the print vanished when I subjected it to an intense cleaning session after getting back) - and of course after trying our best to ignore and feel bad about the grumbling by the lady of the house (who advised us to bathe in the lake we were going to rather than dirty her house), we were disappointed at the way our trip was to end. Until one of us cried out "Okay enough time spent! Lets get back on our bikes and go on to the lake. No way should we let this little thing spoil our moods or our plan!" Renewed excitement saw us resume our interrupted trip. :)

We reached well after sunrise and immediately took a boat to the other side of the lake. The journey up was uneventful, the birds flew away as soon as we got near them and were pretty ordinary to look at, the heat was excruciating by the time we started back. A few of us were disappointed. It all seemed a waste of time and money. Wrong thought, too soon! We had been debating for a long time on what it would be like to swim in the lake. We gave it a try! Shedding all concerns for cleanliness (like I could do that!) we dived into the 3 foot deep lake. ;P And soon convinced the others (even those who did not know swimming) to follow suit.

It was a mess alright! The lake bottom was full of weeds and grass which surfaced due to the disturbance along with the resident mud. The water was a respite from the sun! It's said that fun can be had at the most unlikely places and at the most unexpected times. This was certainly one of those instances! It was filthy water in which we played water frisbee, shouting, snatching and cheating et al. We then pushed the boat from the water and hung out of it, to the silent discomfort of the poor boatmen. :D Pretending to drown and rowing the boat were the icing on the cake! And finally we ended up swimming at least 1/4th of the entire distance!

All in all, it was a very memorable and awesomax trip!
:D

First day at work

2009-04-10T13:18:00.004+05:30

My first day at work was exactly like attending lectures in Section D. Our project had not started so we were relatively free. All that happened was pretty much this:

Got bored.
Felt sleepy.
Went out of the room.
Stood and talked.
Sat on the stairs and slept.
Got some reports to read, and fell asleep on the chair reading them.
:D

The next few days followed up with:
Feel hot.
Go to the shop outside and have Amul Kool Milk/Kool Kafe.
:P

The End

2009-04-03T16:22:00.000+05:30

And the first year at IIM-A has finally come to an end! What a year it has been! I have learnt and unlearnt so much. Things have happened that have changed the way I think, stuff I have always believed in, my life, my entire existence, me! It was a roller coaster ride, full of unstoppable fun, joys and fears, delightful moments, unnerving pressure, tears of pleasure; frothing together, waiting to burst, overwhelming me. There is so much I want to say, so much I feel. I have so much to think about as I go on a completely new journey, my summer internship at a consulting firm in Gurgaon. It has been such a wonderful first year, gruelling in terms of academic requirements while being interspersed with fun stuff like T-Nite, Intersection Sports, trips near Ahmedabad. It was full of unique experiences, each day a fairytale in itself, that I can only wonder what the second year will bring. I am filled with a sadness that I cannot explain and for the first time, I am not excited about going home to Bombay. I feel like a small part of me has gone, died; while I have been reborn, as a phoenix, to await new wonders.

I have survived the first year at IIM-A!

Seven deadly sins

2009-03-16T22:55:00.008+05:30

Our forefathers told us of the dangerous sins of old. They draw us into a trap, blind us. There is no respite, no escape, they said.

sins? escape? Why, though?

vanity. It makes you proud of yourself. How can you spend your whole life with someone if you are not madly in love with him?

envy. It makes you desire what you do not have. It makes you work to improve yourself to the point which you consider the best in the world.

sloth. It buys you time. It lets you dream. It forces you to think. It lets you sort out and understand the webs around you.

lust. Appreciation of physical beauty in its raw form is one of the most natural of all human tendencies. It electrifies our senses, makes them come alive.

greed. It makes you want more than you have. It dissolves boundaries, helps the world grow and stops it from stagnating.

wrath. There is helplessness, fury, desire for vengeance within us, hidden, waiting to burst. It provides a path for the poison to flow out.

gluttony. It gives instant gratification, at the very peak of longing. It is among the richest of indulgences, for those who have none at all.

Now, love, that is a sin. It snatches what is closest to us, it gives us that which we desire not. It makes us wealthy, with dreams and elation. It pains, it tantalizes, it stings. It is sweet. It is wicked. It is a two faced villain.

Amen.

My stunningly beautiful room

2009-03-15T18:39:00.026+05:30

My room looks beautiful at 6.30 pm. As the sun sets, crimson.
Sun rays cast a golden glow. Through the green forests. A burst of color. Shadows play with photographs.

There's a cave full of treasures.
Gems, pearls, emeralds, diamonds, sapphires.
Ribbons of color, candles and birthdays, my world tied up with silver string.
Wonder in the eye of a child. A breathtaking meadow, a warm farmhouse.

My room looks so damn fabulous in the evening!

love's a dream

2009-03-15T17:58:00.004+05:30

Is it fair to let a child come into this world, only to see the people closest to him, the ones he loves fight incessantly, threaten to kill and try to harm each other? Is it true that a child will bring joy to mitigate the sorrows of two lives that never were meant to be, bring warmth and wonder with his smiles and innocence? Will not the baby have a tortured childhood, a curse he did not ask for? Or will he take the anger, the hate, the pain away? Maybe, he will, and share it, and lessen it. He could be the only, only thing that could hold a shattered dream together for just a few years longer..
:)

Love's a dream, we are all dreaming

Alone.

2009-03-09T01:19:00.005+05:30

I love being alone. Sitting on the beach. Standing in a train. Walking among the trees. Lying on my bed. Staring at nothingness. Lost in my thoughts.

In the dusklight. At night. Under the dark heavens. Counting fabulous diamonds. My fingers touching frozen air. Wind slashing across my face. Cold, and dewdrops falling.

Riding a wild horse. Concocting a potion. Living on a mountain. Fires sizzling, reveries raging. Intoxicated by the eyes, beguiled by the words, mesmerized by the touch. Gripping feverish passions. Crafting naked art. Feeling a schizophrenic, alcoholic mind.

Talking to fairies, angels, elves, pixies, in strange tongues. Making me feel alive. In magic and madness. Drinking in beauty. Holding warmth. Making love, with the skies.

Me. My mind. None else. Life and yet not these. Wild, frenzied, crazed, nomadic. A feral beast in a forest. Peace and quiet, content. A golden glow.

I need to be alone.

Me, my life

2009-03-07T17:27:00.002+05:30

This is a collection of certain aspects of my life, some philosophies I diligently follow and other things I have learned from experience.

1.) I don't need alcohol, cigar, dope to get high. Sometimes I get high without any seeming external stimulation. At such times, I am kind of hyperactive, unlike my usual self.

2.) At certain other times, I feel very low, depressed, frustrated like I am the most worthless creature on this planet with nothing to live for. I then try to busy myself with something I love.

3.) I feel low when something bad happens with me or with the few people in this world I really care about. Seeing them depressed gets to me and makes me feel depressed too. And I don't feel better until I have spoken to them, listened to them and tried to cheer them up.

4.) I believe I have a lot of inner strength, peace and serenity which lets me think carefully through any situation. I feel this strength comes from a will and a wish to do my best, or see myself through and be happy in and after every situation.

5.) Faced with any new situation, I always and I mean always, think of what I can gain or lose from it, whether I like it and would want to work for it, and how it will benefit me as a person and in the long run. After evaluating all of these, I decide whether to get involved in it or not.

6.) If I am even slightly confused about whether I want to do something or not, I generally go ahead with it. That way, I would not have any regrets about passing up an opportunity later. For me, the regret of not having done something weighs heavier than doing something and finding that I don't like it later.

7.) I do not listen to anyone except my parents and brother. Several experiences have taught me that following others' advice only brings me harm and causes regret later. So I just do what I want to irrespective of how crazy or weird it sounds or how stupid others tell me it is. And it has never had any adverse consequences till now.

8.) I always do things or take decisions based on what I want to do. That way, I would not have anyone to blame but myself if anything were to go wrong. Blaming others makes me want to kill myself for my stupidity.

9.) The only thing I have ever been terrified of is water, though I fear it less now. I used to fear the unknown and losing my own to death, disease. But i have learnt that there is no point in fearing something you can never know beforehand. And now, I do not think about it at all.

10.) I believe that a small joy or a little happiness can easily overcome and belittle a thousand sorrows. The power of happiness is greater than the power of sadness.

11.) I live my life my own way, no matter how blasphemous people may say it is. And I don't give a damn what others do. I am okay with people doing anything they want to around me.

12.) I like to be happy and content at all times. I have one life where I get to decide what happens to it and I want a very positive thing out of it every single moment.

13.) I hate waking up from sleep. Somehow I always feel extremely lonely and strangely emotional after waking up, and I hate feeling that way.

14.) I am alone in this world and I want to be very individualistic, always. I cannot and will never be dependent on anyone for anything. I do not wish to be crippled. I believe I can fulfill every inner requirement by myself. The external ones require the presence of people, who are usually around for this purpose, and in any case external needs are not all that important.

15.) I used to hate philosophy and talking about deep things but I am gradually growing to like it.

16.) I believe ANYthing is possible, even what is seemingly impossible. Just wish it and truly want it and it can happen.

17.) I believe that human beings are inherently good. If there is something undesirable in a person, then it is a temporary thing induced by the environment or just a phase that will pass.

18.) I do not believe in not talking to people if they have certain undesirable characteristics. At this rate you would end up not talking to everyone on this planet. It is better to maintain friendly relations with all, except the sexually shameless.

19.) I am always observing, absorbing, thinking, analyzing. I am as mentally active as I am physically lazy.

20.) I put my heart and soul into only those things that interest me. I work like crazy at such times. Or else I avoid doing anything at all. I can never do something I do not like, not even by force.

21.) I feel crazed and useless if at any time, I have no passion to work for. My life seems purposeless then, and the only way to overcome it is to find a thing I truly love and desire.

22.) People who do not know me well usually have some or the other wrong impression of me. And that impression is generally at the polar opposite of my true attribute.

23.) Very, very few people in this world know me as I truly am. Even though I talk to a lot of people, it takes a lot of time and proximity to know me.

24.) I do not like people knowing too much about me or my life. I love hiding myself within me. I rarely ever speak of the things that are closest to me simply because I hate to. I am highly uncomfortable with people getting too close to me and that is when I move away.

25.) I avoid falling in love with or even taking a liking to anyone unless the feeling is reciprocated and initiated. But I usually fail to and end up doing just that.

26.) I have been through a lot of painful times in relationships and ties. Unable to take it, I turned stoic. Now, I stay immune at all times, in all places, with everyone. Indifference is the best way to counter all those uncontrollable emotions. It is sort of inhuman but it is the best way.

27.) I sometimes have this terribly strong, unfathomable feeling when I wonder why it is me who is aware of my soul, my heart, my mind and my life. I marvel at, while at the same time feel afraid of the fact that I alone have control over the steps that I take. It hits me that I can feel no one else's body and live no other life but mine. Why am I none else, but me?

28.) I yearn to feel alive often, enthused and full of energy. With a purpose, the fulfillment of which will make a huge difference to me.

29.) My behavior is sometimes taken for arrogance and high-ended attitude. I do not care. If it has to happen, the ones who I will count as friends later will change their mind.

30.) I love doing things that are out of the ordinary. I think it is too boring to live a normal life. What will you reminisce about when you are older.

31.) I do not want to live till a ripe old age. I want to die at a time when I would have done everything I wanted to. And I want to die together with the people I care about, to save us all from the pain.

32.) The only time I have been truly tensed and worried in my life was before my IIM A interview.

33.) I sometimes get this irresistible urge to do something, and I have to do it immediately, or it makes me mad.

34.) I have a tendency to use very strong language, making some people feel insulted or like it is improper. But I have a love for strong words and powerful literature.

35.) I have a preference for dark colors, dark acts and stuff, dark arts, etc. Rather an obsession with the above.

36.) I am extremely possessive about my things and everything that is mine. I hate sharing, it makes me blind with jealousy.

37.) I love Mumbai. Its culture is ingrained in my bones. No matter where I go, I will always belong here. I want to live here for all of my life. I love huge crowded places, the fast pace of life, doing things at the last moment.

38.) I have an unexplainable obsession with Islam and all things and people Islamic.

39.) I shamelessly lie, often, and am adept at pretending, with a very straight face.

40.) I am a highly impulsive shopper with a tendency to buy everything possible. It is like a crazy obsession in me.

41.) I am extremely moody. I can be cheerful, excited and talkative one moment and depressed, quiet and withdrawn the next. It can take a single moment, incident, line to change my mood from one extreme to another.

42.) I have a tendency to bug people constantly and repetitively until they do whatever I am asking of them.

43.) I love wearing junk jewellery and dressing up like a punk.

44.) I can not spend a single day of my life without listening to music. There is always music playing in my room, no matter what I am doing.

A trip to Darjeeling

2009-02-24T21:45:00.014+05:30

I visited Darjeeling about 5 years back and it has definitely stayed on as one of my favorite vacationing spots. The weather is chilly and beautiful, the trees tall and green, and the entire atmosphere very pristine. The mist, though foiled by smoke, only adds to the cool mystic feel of the place. We stayed in a hotel which offered a stunningly clear view of Kanchanjunga, the 3 peaked mountain.

Darjeeling has one of the longest and best Mall Roads I have ever seen. The locals sell a very interesting assortment of items from woolens to wooden artwork, wind chimes, toys, shoes, cosmetics. We ate locally cooked momos sitting in a roof top restaurant and later watched traditional Nepali, Baul dances in the Nightingale park. We endured a trip to Tiger Point in freezing weather at 5 a.m. in the morning to watch the sunrise.

The next morning saw us at a war memorial, tastefully gardened. There were girls in traditional Kashmiri clothing, and telescopes to take advantage of the fabulous view. The toy train, all of red and black with huge glass windows, took a winding route around the place, puffing silver smoke. The Ghoom railway station, the highest station in the world, was its destination. Situated close to it is a pencil art gallery, a must stop for the artistically inclined.

I will never forget the Darjeeling zoo, small but well maintained, and surely the animals more cared for than in the Alipur zoo! An adorable black bear couple welcomed us, peaceful in nature unlike their snarling Alipur cousins. They were amazingly cute together, the connoisseur of every tourist's eyes, the female moving around and eating, the male religiously following her every move. Two large and extremely aggressive tigers were next, then came 5 wolves looking quite like the hunting pack, deer, depressed looking leopards and a fluffy panda clinging to a tree. Finally the Tenzing Norgay memorial and the museum which housed all the equipment the 1st expedition to Everest had carried. And a comprehensive model of the Himalayan range.

An entire day was set aside for the trip to Mirik. We drove along a road which cut through forests so dense that the canopy of trees filtered out sunlight entirely, the darkness hinting at an ancient secret well hidden, giving the place a mystical haunted feel, the path shrouded in mist, hiding wild animals in their midst. The occasional Lays wrapper and Aquafina bottle was the only spoil in this perfection, making me want to get out of the car and sweep the place clean. At the lake, I rode 4 horses, among my favorite animals, and fell in love with one of them! ;)

On the way we passed the Nepal border. There were houses belonging to farmers which stood on Indian land, as the area was guarded by the Indian army and yet they were Nepali citizens living in Nepali homes. Technically they were living in 2 countries at once! I won't forget my 1st 'going out of India' experience, signing a ledger and walking across. :) My brother bought a fantastically cheap video game there.

We left for Gangtok, driving along the length of a river with water the color of the deepest emeralds, and banks of diamond white sand. The Kalimpong monastery did not fail to take our breath away. The highlight of the journey was a stop at a cactus nursery where my parents had their beloved fish rice. (I need not express my opinions on this one!) Gangtok is home to the Do Drul Chorten, where it is said that turning the 108 prayer wheels can rid one of his sins. I admit that I got tired after my 27th. :p

From there, we visited the Rumtek Monastery, well known for its history and for famous lamas visiting it. Situated amidst a serene forested mountain, free of cars and civilization, it is a huge complex housing monks of all ages from 4 to 80. We walked the last mile to it. The monks seemed accustomed to the presence of tourists and accepted us as a part of their environment, going about their usual chores and prayers, which made it even more fun to watch. The monks' quarters had children studying Buddist text, a group practising martial arts with spears, some meditating at the forest edge. The visit to the prayer hall was an exhilarating experience. The monks sat by rank, the young watched by the old, one of them leading the chants and music and the rest chanting after him in perfect rhythm. We were allowed to walk around them to appreciate the artfully decorated ceilings and the sculptures decked in gold and gems, provided we caused no disturbance.

The most unforgettable part of the trip for me was a visit to a monastery just outside Gangtok. It was a small and simple place with none of the lavish decorations the other monasteries could boast of. A pure white stupa stood outside. If someone had asked me what peace was, I would have said that this was it. It was the epitome of tranquility, the perfect harmony between nature and man. I sat there for a long while after the monk had finished his chant, still and peaceful with myself and with the world.

I love the quietude that monasteries, mosques and churches have to offer. It makes me want to cast my mind around and reach out to God. It was heavenly to just sit there and think, with no sound except the stillness of nature and call of birds, the tinkling of bells and clang of plates. The chants so serene, it felt like they were calling out to God, and would for all of eternity. It made me believe why Buddhism is the religion of peace.

Images of Pakistan

2009-02-24T21:30:00.006+05:30

A perspective of life in Pakistan. Brilliantly captured through the lens. Striking to note the similarities between people, places and practices in India and Pakistan.

http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2009/02/scenes_from_pakistan.html

Seeing these images, I've been sort of addicted to Gurus of Peace. Listening to it and looking at the photographs seemed to go so perfectly. A small bit of the song that I find most touching.
:)

chanda suraj lakhon taare
hai jab tere hi yeh saare
kis baat pe hoti hai phir taqraarein
kheenchi hai lakeerein is zameen pe
par na kheencho dekho
beech mein do dilon ke yeh deewarein

A code of honor

2009-02-17T03:00:00.002+05:30

A long time since my last post! Been feeling kind of nostalgic. It's been exactly a year since I first came to this campus for my interview. That sure was a defining moment in my life :)

About this post, this was somewhat inspired by a couple of Mario Puzo books I read a long while back. They got me thinking about crime and its perpetrators. So, what does define crime? Non adherence to rules of society, perhaps. How do these rules get their holy sanction? A possible reason could be that they have been accepted and followed through the years. And they ensure, to the greatest possible extent, liberty and justice for all. Diverting to a parallel track, would the existence of another and an auxiliary government be illegal?

For long, almost since its inception, the Italian mafia has been labeled as a criminal organization. Digging through to its origins, we find that it was born at a time when justice was denied to the poor and helpless. It came into existence, primarily, to provide that same justice that the poor deserved. The group was not one of senseless savages with ill intentions, rather it was a well organized system of intelligent people who were dissatisfied with the powerful rich and decided to institute their own set of rules.

Within the organization, there was tremendous law and order and a well established system of punishment. There was a way to ask permission or for justice. The head of the family was omnipotent and held sacred. Payment for favors was made in the form of money or a favor held, to be returned later. A promise once made was never reneged. Revenge taken, kills made followed the existing traditions. Never did anyone dare put a toe out of the line, not even the family, as it was punishable by death. That was their law, and they held it sacred, holier than their own lives and their loves.

There was an organized hierarchy, to preserve secrecy and protect themselves. The hierarchy did not shield a group of crazed and immoral criminals. Rather, they were, as they believed themselves to be, keepers of a parallel system of justice. The question here being: does mere disregard for and dissatisfaction with existing regulations, and adherence to a separate law and order system, one guided by your conscience, qualify as criminal behavior. Of course, at a later stage, the mafia did indulge in purposeless criminal activities.

Then, again I ask, is it wrong to blame one, repeatedly denied justice and freedom, if he takes to punishing those who have wronged him. He hurts not those who are innocent in his eyes. He believes only in eradication of criminals who have obviously erred and been forgiven by the system. Would killing a killer be a wrongful murder? Would stealing from the opulent, who take from the commoners, only to give back wealth and equality to their rightful owners, be very wrong? Would punishing those who lie to, steal from, kill and beguile the innocent be mindless and criminal? Is revenge or punishment wrong and purposeless??

random musings - part 2

2009-01-22T23:14:00.004+05:30

I have recently discovered a new way to while away time in class, other than sleeping. Blogging thru my cell. :D

From a talk with one of my friends: I love Arabic music. It takes me to a different level, makes me look at a new universe, and feel like I am existing in an ancient time in an extraordinary place. The rhythm inspires a strange way of thinking, makes me believe in a bizarre life.

I ask myself, as I have been doing for the last ten years of my life: Why is there so much arrogance in the world? Some of the filthy rich and the obnoxious, they disgust me, and made me want to run away from a part of my life a long while back. Undeserving, they repulse me. Insufferable and conceited, an unwanted weight, I wish they could be taught to look at one and all, with humility.

Why do i feel brain dead when it comes to studies? My mind just doesn't seem to work, I just can't seem to be able to think. It doesn't happen this way while pursuing other activities requiring the use of my psychedelically inclined, stillness denied brain. :P

Signing off yet again with these beautiful words :)
I gave my heart and soul to the angels
I gave my blood and skin to the faceless
And my life and love to you, graceless
O you, faithless

random musings - part 1

2009-01-21T03:39:00.007+05:30

I have been pondering over the truth of these words.
Fight first with your head, and then with your heart. And think, hate, love.
Human emotions and the way we make choices are way too complex to try to sort or understand. It is important to have reason and practicality in everything we do or make happen.

I tend to get very obsessed about certain things. Things I feel strongly about or ones I am deeply interested in. The infatuation grips me like a fever. It takes away a lot of my time which is not a very nice thing to happen especially at times like these. I guess the best thing to do is to get yourself involved in lots of things just to get your mind off a single one.

At times, I feel like a teenager. With a lot of confused thoughts and feelings. And uncontrollable periods of moodiness.

Today at dinner time I found myself suddenly plunged into a deep philosophical discussion on an individual's style, whether he lives solely for himself or for the world, free will and the truth of our choices.
Is everything that is going to happen in our lives written by the hand of fate or do we truly determine our choices and the course of our lives? No one knows for sure. But I do believe that destiny has a path sketched for all of us. Whether that path has our choices written on it or not, I do not know, though I believe so. Faced with making a choice at any point of time, I do not know what is already written or what I am meant to choose. So, at that point of time, from my perspective, it is still a choice that I make under my own free will. Maybe, the truth of that choice, from a universal point of view, is questionable. But, it is still an individual's decision whether to agree or decline,go for one way or another, work hard or waste away.

I really like these lyrics
"rakh nahin parda koi mujhse aye jaan" from zara sa (jannat)
"tujhme hai kuch aisi subah sa, jiski khatir main tha jaga sa" from maahi (raaz)
Why? Good question. I feel this strong emotional attachment to them, though I cannot really relate to them through any personal experiences.

In retrospect

2009-01-18T15:26:00.003+05:30

I apologize if the previous article sounds crazy or weird. It was written before a WAC submission and all sorts of wild ideas kept popping into my head. :) And I felt like there was no better time to pursue all the leisurely activities in the world. Watch movies, go out, eat, write, play, dance. A very common feeling before exams. :)

I got terribly drunk yesterday night, first time in my life I was actually drunk and had no idea what I was doing or saying. Woke up with a spinning head, shivering hands and aching legs. Been sleeping more or less continuously for the last 17 hours coz the moment i stay awake longer than 15 minutes I start aching all over again. So I learnt some important things from yesterday night:

a.) Do not mix a drink when you are drunk. You tend to make it very strong, getting you even more drunk.

b.) Having two different drinks just doesn't work for me. Learnt that during New Year, reiterated yesterday.

c.) Watching other drunk people do crazy dances n stuff, say stupid things is definitely funnier and more entertaining than doing them yourself.

No drinking for some time now. :)

Of cats

2009-01-17T14:17:00.004+05:30

They were nothing more than three balls of fur; orange, stone black, and white gray. Still babies, with beautiful black eyes. Perched atop a giant brown mountain. Cuddled tightly against one another, fast asleep. Pretty cute. They woke with a start, sharpened instincts of their kind sensing danger, staring at the approaching stranger with big mystical eyes. Moved like liquid flow, as they shot off to find places to hide.

I was amazed at the tantalizing grace of those soft paws. Silk like bodies with a feline sort of sensuality. Nymphomaniacs gliding away. Leaping so quietly, landing on a rock outcrop, decorated in turquoise. From there onto a lime spring. With snake like charm. Always judging the world. Stunned, mystified by the human hand that touched. Unlike their mother. She easily sensed a threat, gave a warning purr, moved to scratch.

Unshaped personalities, purposeless roaming, like their roadside and forest neighbors, the dogs, wolves, fox. Not yet fierce guardians of their territories. Limbs not those of a powerful predator. Silence not mastered. The beauty more infant. A mere shadow of the stunning beauty and immense power. Quiet, stealthy, seductive, as she walks. Never denied her royalty in the terrain she moves in. A beautiful golden beast. The tiger looks upon the girl with proud contempt and fitting arrogance. She slithers up the tree, lithe, agile, canny, calculating, scheming. The leopard knows the killer. The mistress must wait. As always.

glaze!

2008-12-26T17:28:00.009+05:30

Not exactly an article, just a passing thought. It's almost the end of the year and the last five months of my life have gone by in a flash. And in all this time, the word I have used, spoken, thought, felt most often, closest to my state of mind and emotions, has been 'frustrated'!

(I don't need these walls around me!!) Pun on round brackets intended.

Like I've written before, just staying alone in my room makes me feel incarcerated. Life is depressing enough thanks to the term end exams. It all feels so strongly negative, I think it might be suicidal. But I'm really happy and excited that I'll finally be going home for a week, a REAL vacation!! Not the two day leaves, read saturday-sunday which would be holidays anyway, sometimes interspersed with programs and conferences, they give us and then ask "So you are back after a refreshing break?" Looking forward to my purposeless roaming around Bombay :D, and catching up with friends, et al.

So now I feel suicidal and ecstatic intermittently, sometimes at the same time. Well, I guess that's the life of a first year student in IIM A. Probably can't help it. Wow! What a life!

blaze

2008-12-22T21:34:00.007+05:30

I have recently discovered something I love doing. Burning paper.

I love the smell of paper as it turns to ash. I love the thin line of golden flame as it moves closer to your hand. Annihilating the wavering paper. A frame of gray blue, like in fairy tales. And smoldering paper. Rushing to the other edge. Flashing across. Flames dancing around, teasing, playing. And then the warm, lingering, all-comforting, enveloping scent.

I tried it first on a chilly morning. With a paper I had to burn, to save my grace.

Then on a cold winter night. The leftovers of my resumes. :P I turned a corner of my room into a sort of fireplace. :D I can still smell the beautiful, warm fragrance. It somehow comforts me. Eases my mind. Soothes my soul. I am yet to discover why I love it so much. Why it is slowly obsessing me. Maybe I will think later and find out.
:)

A love affair !

2008-12-19T02:44:00.013+05:30

Got nothing better to do on a thursday night. Or might be friday. Cant remember and cant really be bothered. But since I'm sitting so jobless in my room right now, I thought I might as well make some good use of my time and try to think a bit and put that down. Cant trust myself to remember what I've been thinking ;) Since I'm listening to some random music, that's what I'd like to reflect on :)

It's been eleven years since I fell in love with music. And there hasn't been a day when I havn't turned to it for solace, comfort, to lighten my mood or just for entertainment. I've heard so much crap in all this time. Rock all through the ages and places, pop like girl bands and boy bands, punk rock and death metal, from some downright nonsensical Bollywood stuff to Hindustani classical and carnatic, from Pakistani pop, rock, sufi and semi classical to Arabic, Turkish and Lebanese pop, from Persian classical and metal to Indonesian and Korean conteporary, from Afghan to Spanish and Russian, trance, lounge, new age, regional Indian music, you name it! I did experiment with hiphop and rap and grew to detest it. Sincere apologies to the fans! Have also developed a strange fondness for Indian and Paki underground bands, including tracking their progress charts.

And what do I say about heavy metal! It leaves me in a crazy, induced, incomprehensible, all-forgetful trance. Makes me peaceful, everything around pure and serene all over again. It isn't just music, it's the end to every good or bad thing everywhere, it's every part of me.

My taste in music got all varied somewhere in the middle of my engineering when I used to bunk college and stay home to download music. I guess I have a Jal concert to thank for that! It was the perfect other activity I could pursue during my study leave. :D I remember downloading about 5-6 GB of music in my BE Project Lab, driving a lot of people mad in the process. :P I have absolutely no regrets in this matter! I doubt I could have learnt anything worthwhile by indulging in knowledge gaining pursuits. Instead I discovered a passion and a pleasure, and a trustworthy mate for all of life. Met a lot of amazing music lovers from all over the world. :)

So why is it that I like music so much, and listen to it 24x7 irrespective of whatever else I am doing, be it sleeping, working, studying. I guess it helps me relax, forget everything else, lose myself entirely, absolutely, supremely in its beauty. It weaves magic for me, somehow always managing to comfort me when I'm worried, tensed or scared, ease my mind, even working as a sleeping pill. Charms. It brings home ecstasy, it gives me a way to celebrate. Captivates. A psuedo excuse for elation. Conquers all other emotion. Enchants. A road filled with ecstasy. Allures. It lets me live. Fascinates. Survive in insanity. In apprehension, insecurity, tears, waves of time. A love, my life, my world. I guess I'll always be crazy about music.
:)

Beguiled. Mesmerized. Enthralled.

The Pseudo Religious

2008-12-18T20:10:00.003+05:30

I have been thinking of writing something on religion for ages. So here's penning down a few thoughts on a topic that is really close to my heart. One thing that enthuses me, one thought that lets me think about everything else, one passion that keeps me going, living, feeling. A disclaimer at the very offset. All thoughts are completely my own and not to be held against or argued on with anyone except me. :)

Let's assume for a second that we do not know what defines religion. The instant thought that strikes me is that it is a way of life. A mode of thinking. A way to act, to behave with others, to talk, share and celebrate. A time to wake up, to eat, sleep and pray. A place to sit, and one to visit during your holidays. It is a group of people leading their lives in a like manner, having strangely identical lifestyles, sharing beliefs and some ambitions. Most importantly, having comparable thought processes, values, desires and dislikes.

But that is not how religion is viewed in the current context. Its boundaries have narrowed down, the group has turned more into a cult. With a motive stronger than any other to send a prayer to vacuum or stone. In a few unfortunate cases, one can even identify gangs that seek to preach and propagate but not to listen or adopt, to terrorize and spread fear and repetitiveness, to bind and rule in darkness.

Power corrupts, and religion is a powerful tool in the hands of those who lead and control. They pave the way, they show us the route, but they leave us still craving for a sign of the linkage with the crude reality of the world or the eternal truth. A few objections, some denials, and those who dare to oppose are ostracized. Negating our identities, falsifying our presence, leaving us wondering about our beliefs and loyalties. Always surrounded by a maze of words, prying and trying to replace our soul's thoughts. They want their words to turn into our thoughts, to petrify, to turn into stone. Do we have to respect them? Must they always be revered? Why the holy pedestal under their feet and the dirty slippers under ours?

Fortunately or unfortunately, an individual's religion forms a significant part of his identity. Why then must it so happen that every baby has a religion before he has a name, before he has learnt the language of the world. Religion is an ancient concept, complicated and perfected by the wisdom and understanding of centuries. It takes a lifetime to comprehend it, or maybe even more, and an eternity to master it. There are myriad ideologies, beliefs, interpretations associated with every single religion. It does not have to hold true that a person born into a religion identifies with his faith completely. His way of thinking and believing might be more inclined towards the beliefs of another religion. This raises a question in my mind. Would it be unfair to say that an individual should be given the choice to select his own faith, or none at all.

Let religion not be decided by when and where an individual was born but rather by the choices his personality is likely to make. It is my belief that a child must not be judged at an early stage of his life. Rather he should be given sufficient time to study and understand what the wise gurus of the past had to say or preach and how his mind aligns with those ideologies. Only when he is absolutely convinced about the veracity of a particular philosophy and his desire to achieve what is expected of him, would he be in the right position to make an informed decision about the religion he wishes to follow for the rest of his life.

Similarly, if a person finds it difficult to identify with any faith or with the entire concept of religion, he should have complete freedom to be neutral or irreligious. There is no logic behind forcing people to accept or convert to another religion just for the sake of increasing its numbers. When the concept is as abstract and idealistic as religion, colossal armies can do nothing to win the war. Power comes not merely by massive numbers, but by the authenticity, potency and simplicity of ideas. I believe it makes more intellectual sense to incorporate those people within a religion who can take the faith forward and make astute contributions that can be handed down the generations rather than include those who shun peace and turn the group into a violent mob.

The numerous bomb blasts all over India have incensed its citizens. There are those who would argue that terrorists must be hanged or shot at first sight. In short, they must be ruthlessly dealt with or as I may put it, violence must be dealt with violence. I beg to differ on this. A terrorist’s ideology is unique. The individual would generally have been brainwashed into thinking that by performing an activity such as planting a bomb, he is servicing Allah and thereby gaining entry into the gardens of the Lord. He would have been promised that a beautiful and healthy after life awaits him for all eternity. He would have been blinded into believing that he would not have to face the tribulations and pain that the wretched earth has to offer anymore, but could spend the rest of his time in spiritual pursuits, while always in the company of the mighty Lord and the beautiful maidens.

When a potential terrorist is convinced that what he is doing is not merely right but holy and desirable too, then killing such a person holds no meaning. Publicizing the death could possibly have the undesirable effect of motivating other young suicide bombers rather than discouraging them. Gold dust is what it would be for them, as they look forward to and even wish for death and ultimately an union with Heaven. As history has shown, eliminating criminals is not the perfect way to solve crime. For there would always be those more than willing to replace them, and they would be greater in number.

It is not untrue that understanding is the first step to acceptance and acceptance alone can lead to recovery. We would not be senseless if we were to try and understand the philosophy that drives the terrorist and then alter it. Rather than branding the offenders as belonging to a separate sect, nourishing an accepting sort of mentality towards them would make a considerable difference. The reasons for their discontent and the feeling of having been wronged stem primarily from their perception of being cut off from society, its happiness and progress. Would we be repeating a mistake if we were to treat them as an altogether diverse species who have notions and emotions very varied from the general flow that runs through society.

After all, we all arrived at the earth in the same way, molded into different life forms over the years owing to the environment and the elders who taught us. The undesirable milieu a person is placed in is through no fault of his own. This holds true for the vast majority of the young and the innocent being swept off their feet. For those who can think for themselves and yet choose to think and act differently, the crime of refusing peace weighs heavy on their shoulders. The world must be wary of them. And yet, they would be less powerful without the sightless behind them.

I have witnessed a string of serial bomb blasts in my city and have become used to the idea of it happening over and over again. We fear for our lives and those of own, we stay in the safety of our homes for a day and then life goes on as usual. They have numbed us, first out of fright, despair and helplessness, then out of a powerlessness which knew that we were vulnerable and would always remain so, and wished to make it a part, albeit undesirable, of our lives because nothing waits or stops here. Such is the resilience we have unwittingly developed. These events have invited strong criticism, heated debates and strangely emotional calls for action. A singular attack on USA drew the strongest yet military response, arguably at the whim of a minority faction. Incidents that were morally questionable took place, changing the course of history forever.

To bring out a stark contrast, less thought is given to such adversities when they take place in less powerful nations, even if they are more frequent and occur in greater intensity. Losing a friend or family member, seeing people from your own village incapacitated beyond a working life or maddened beyond grief are barely uncommon sights. Brought down to your knees, compelled to obey, forced through sorrow and misery just because you care to love and fear for your soul's own. Tried and tested, they give up their own virtues and hopes, abide by what is preached and made into law by the self instilled leaders. There is not a human there who has never known blood and tears, depravity and severance.

Cut off from the rest of the developed world, still living in a sort of medieval period, they have little to look forward to and hope for. Young men and women recognize the narrow opportunities. But they do not restrict their vision or kill hope. They are open to new ideas. They often look up to the rest of the world in awe and would readily embrace a different lifestyle given a chance. They are like the rest of us in that. Any other youth on the street. Interested in building careers, listening to stories, watching movies. Lovers of music and cricket. Desirous of money and fame. Passionate about playing, talking, enjoying. Insecure as teenagers and growing into adults, dreaming, serenading. They resemble us in that, in nurturing ambitions and reveries, in feeling joy and pain, in reading, talking, appearing, being. With slight differences. Expected. Not wildly wished away.

It is a tiny flick that is all it takes to shape their lives this way or that. And the undesirable has its effect. It wins only because of its proximity. Because it is easier to influence when you face them, without any force or motivation to tantalize them towards a different path of life. That is all I believe we need to change. To tackle the problem at the grass root level. It is a start, maybe an imperfect one, but a beginning nevertheless. A change in my belief and yours, in our behavior, translating into a change in their existence. There is no dearth of channels we could use to communicate across the globe. The young and old, of similar faiths, lifestyles, desires, hobbies, choices, with the same wish and dream. We could create a beautiful life, a love, a world of strength and tranquility. And we would not have to wait for them to come and annihilate our perfect lives. And we could build our power together thus. In this imperfection, empathy, peace, beauty.

The night's a curtain. It shields our vision. Crawling in the mud of insularity. A wisp of wind. It makes the blind fly. The night screams for release, it begs for mercy. To be ripped off. The mind needs but a voice and freedom, the vision can never be obscured. It demands punishment, that of every word that ever mutilated a thought, but never could kill it. The night cries for death, that of every instance which replaces love with god, humanity with insanity, kindness with brutality. So it evolves.

losing

2008-12-08T21:34:00.005+05:30

A question nags at me. Constantly, wholly, disturbingly so. It pulls my spirits down, it plucks at every fibre of joy and hope within me. I was perfectly happy yesterday. The day shone bright and the night was tempting. So what happened to me all of a sudden. Is it about not being able to control my mood again? Or is it that nothing seems to be going right. Nothing even remotely positive. While all around me I see joyful faces. Do they see the same in me and wonder similarly?

It can't have anything to do with at least two of those three "things". Because they have always been this way for me. I have always lived on the borderline here. And I just don't care much about academics anyway. So what, then? The fact that my brother refused to talk to me or even come and meet me, or that I could not give enough time to my parents while they were here and my mom was kind of sad when she left. Maybe that was a sort of instigator.

But the real question is something else. Deep within me, it spreads its tentacles searching desperately for an answer, screaming madly for release. Why is it that when you have something, you don't want it, and the only time you realize you want it so much is much later when you don't have it anymore...

There have been so many situations in the past which exemplified this thought. And I haven't found an answer to it yet. Or an exception. I haven't even learnt to recognize them as and when they arise to avoid depressed musings as these in the future. There have been times when I have held gems with my fingers, never knowing them for what they were or using them as I should have. Only to lose them to time like you do all things. Or fate. And then wishing for them later, my heart craving for the pure ecstasy I could have had. Always wondering what I did wrong.

Why does the same thing happen to me over and over again. Heaven knows I should have learnt by now. I didn't want to blame myself for everything, but I did, and I don't want to now. Maybe it's just the way things are meant to be. Maybe it's the course my life was meant to take. The curse my destiny was meant to have. Makes me wonder when, if ever, it will lift and I will be able to lead a normal happy life like the others around me.

There are times like these when all I wish to do is escape into a fantasy world where everything would be different. Lifestyles, reasons for joy and sorrow, success and failure, pains, cares, fears, celebrations would not exist the way they do here. And the whole purpose of life would be strikingly different. Far removed from the machines, sticks and expectations the earth has to offer. Something more magical, rustic, primitive, enchanting and thrilling.

I think I know why such a fairytale world tantalizes and beckons my soul. It helps me escape from the harsh realities of this life and live, albeit for a fleeting while, in an imaginary world where I don't have to be bogged down by the mundane everyday troubles. Where a flick of a wand could bring back the things that are most precious to me and that I no longer hold. But again, that takes away all meaning, distorts the beauty and spontaneity of life, making it less magical.
:)

Identique.

2008-11-27T13:51:00.014+05:30

Indian education system. A hot topic for debate. Taught in schools the mundane way, learning by the same pen and paper, the resemblance does not end here. We pass out with a terribly similar skill set and mode of thinking, even sharing an approach to problems. Thus, leaving little space for the natural creativity and wildness of thought that is inherently a part of every child. Doubtless, such a system has its critics. Implications of killing interest, mitigating difference in perspective, leaving little room for diversity and innovation.

Expectations from children are, to a great extent, identical often leading them to adjust their ambitions to match them. Strangely comparable to an assembly line production in a factory. Reminds me of a scene from Matrix where hundreds of men and women in black suits are shown to be going about their daily life and work.

What surprises me is that some times, students are even supposed to behave in the same manner. There are certain modes of conduct to be followed, only certain ways of learning and mugging, and you get this wisdom from the seniors. The cycle repeats; with a handing down of the gems through the years and generations.

What harm would it do society to encourage a child who wants to go the maverick way. What good would it do a child to squash his dreams of standing out by doing something out of the ordinary. Becoming an art therapist, bomb disposal squad agent, forest guard, orchestra conductor, game evaluator, fire fighter, sailor.

You don't have to get all rich and successful. Just do what makes you content.

Remnants

2008-11-21T01:50:00.009+05:30

Die hard movie buffs would find it sacrilegious to hear me talking about the soporific power of movies. :p I do enjoy watching historical movies and a few thought provoking ones. I guess I'm more into music that way. I'm sure you'd all know. :D

I thought of writing this post about movie scenes that I've found unquestionably beautiful. I've always been touched by the scene from The Village where the feared creatures attack in the midst of a wedding. The lead lady, being blind, is unsure of where to go. Without saying a word, Joaquin Phoenix comes up and takes her hand, to lead her away from the clamor to safety. Her fear and uncertainty dissolve into confidence. Even though the two were not romantically involved, the affection was evident. As was his wish to protect her from danger and her unbinding faith in him. It seemed to me like the epitome of love and care.

One of my favorite movies, Lion King; I've found the part where Mufasa dies heart wrenching. He was projected as the invincible good king, deeply loved and revered by his subjects. Yet he dies trying to save his little son from danger. That is when the soft and vulnerable side of him is exposed. Even a great, god like figure must possess some weakness, some eventuality he fears, some one he loves. The mighty yet tender hand of the father. He who cares not for his own life, willingly throwing himself amongst the herd of rampaging bulls. As he would in a war to kill and to protect. Strangely, his face speaks of fear and death, that of his son, rather than courage and immortality.

There are many more I would like to write about but I need to sleep now ;) so it's going to be my next post.

Back again.

Deviating slightly from the topic, I just finished reading Anthem by Ayn Rand. What fascinated me about the book was the amazing simplicity, acidic bluntness and thoughtfulness with which she brings out a clear cut fact of life. I am the most important person in this world. The concept of "we" is just an illusion meant to appease the weak and insecure. It just is not possible for one to live his life by being entirely dependent on his fellow mates for happiness. Because there is no surety that people will stay around you forever. So what will you do once they leave. How will you break the attachment you had. People and possessions are only fleeting. They come and they leave. Nothing lasts forever. You are a denizen of the earth yourself. But your soul and mind are the only things that will always give you company for as long as you are alive and feeling. You have to be the prime cause of your joys and successes. You have to live for yourself. You just cannot surrender your soul to the multitude of people milling around you. It's the only way to survive the insanity of this world.

Blood Bulls

2008-11-21T00:51:00.008+05:30

The other day I saw a huge banner dangling in front of IMDC which read Placements 2009, making it sound like the name of some local fair. Two days later I found that it was exactly that! There were several high profile companies sitting in different rooms, all come to recruit the best students. Day Zero had sounded like a dream when it was described to us by our seniors. For us, it was more of a nightmare. Recruiters trying to make offers early on to ensure that no others got the best candidates. All of them asking how many other offers we had and how many more interviews we had left. Were they apprehensive? Probably. Of markets? Oh yeah. And we? Not so much at first. But with the passing hours, we realized just how difficult getting a job would be. Were we desperate? Boy, yeah! It felt more like imploring, begging for jobs.

It really did not feel like what one could imagine the much-hyped placements to be like. A natural thought was that, as students who were being sold through one of the most successful recruiting agencies in a top educational institution, we would not have to face the full blast of the global meltdown. Maybe a bit tougher this time, but not terribly disturbing. Or so we were led to believe. That did not even begin to capture the ordeal most of us went through. There was hardly a choice of any kind or type. Capped by the mental trauma induced by waiting in the airport lounge like place all day long. We were mentally drained. With barely any strength left to confront the panel smiling at you and asking about your life. Tormented by the thank you. Knowing that you were faced by the ultimate test of patience. Any words I use would be a mere shadow of the anguish I'd felt. At times, on the verge of disintegrating.

For even the wisest, it was totally unanticipated. We all knew the markets were bad, but most of us had failed to grasp the enormity of the situation. We sure did not realize Day Zero would be this, dunno how to put it here, depressing? Especially after the rosy picture painted the previous year. Now morphed into a mirage. For us and for them. The situation was considerably better in the next few days with everyone working towards just one goal - get them all placed!

The technicalities of the scheduling process were kind of weird. A little random. But it was probably the best and only solution seeing the quality and preferences of students. All the sudden interview calls. The occasional argument between the company HR and PlaceCom about how the scheduling was messed up and it did not allow companies to "take away the top 25%" like they all wanted to. It was one of the craziest things I've ever seen!

It was fun volunteering for the remaining days. Made one appreciate just how challenging the job of a PlaceCommer can be! But fun nevertheless. Its a unique experience, nothing comparable to any other college. Made even better by the free pizzas and chocolate milkshakes ;D We had all become so involved that most of our discussions centered around how many students had been placed and how many were still left in the process. It was as much of a relief to be placed as it was to see others placed. And then the whole batch!

A lot of us did not get the sector, firm or division of our choice. But we were ok with it. Maybe from a more holistic point of view. Or at least will be in ten days time :P

They'd said it right the first time. It was the place for all the pain and happiness in the world.
:)

A journey: A perspective

2008-10-21T19:57:00.002+05:30

I'm scared. Shit scared. Of a lot of things. And a little bit of everything. I dont know whats going to happen to me and I dont know how I've managed to land myself in the mess that my life is in right now. I dont know if I should call this a mess. I've probably seen worse. But its pretty bad nevertheless. Stuck in a place away from home with no decent work to do except try to study and then feel bad about not studying. To top that all everyone talks about are cases and summer placements and the markets going down. To hell with that!!! I really dont give a damn. Makes me wonder what I am doing in a business school anyway. Did I say B school? In that case this school is really a prison. And my room is one of the cells. Complete with ancient brick walls. And I'm the lucky inmate of Dorm 1 Room 25. The way I've been signing off all my cover letters and CVs.

Let me think back to the first time I nurtured the sweet ambition of entering these hallowed halls. I really wanted to go to a second grade (comparatively) school because I'd heard that they dont bother you with muggai. But then decided that this is more on top and closer to home. Came here during the interview and found it a fraud. Wasn't too awestruck or amazed by the sight of the brick coloured dungeons. Did I say I felt a little let down. Wrong time!! It was just the beginning!

I dont think I will ever forget my first day at Wimwi. Came here to get registered and found that due to some technical problem the guy refused to get my admission done. I nearly fainted of a heart attack! After all this! Would I have to go back to Siemens??? I've always wondered. Why does this usually happen to me? Just when something great is about to happen, these irritating little things crop up and make my path just that little bit more convoluted. Maybe its meant to be that way. Just to make me really appreciate what I've got. Whatever.

So then I thought I would take some respite from the heat in the sanctity and cool of my room and my home for the next 2 years. Oh man!!!! Two heart attacks (or close calls at least) in 1 day aint good. It was the saddest, dustiest, dullest, depressingest place I'd ever seen in all my life. I couldn't even make myself stay there for the night. Away from my parents and my sweet lil bro? No ways!! Clung on to them like a lifeline for as long as they were there. And then I cried. After they left. In my room. All alone. My first time in a hostel. Clinging on to the bedsheet. I missed my Mom. And I know she cried for me too.

But then I thought "What the heck?" Might as well go and look around the campus and talk to people around. So it took a little getting used to. But it wasn't all that bad. Really? Really!!! Well, except the studies part of it. Cases, muggai, quizzes and the dreaded shouts of Muggo Fachhon Muggo. And of course food that tasted good for a week and then was discovered to be totally Giveup. And FRA!! Oh hell!!! If there's one way to torture people's minds and wring their brains dry, then this is it.

Sometime I feel so frustrated I feel like throwing things and banging stuff and creating noise and confusion. Could it be the state of my mind within. I suspect. Life seems pointless then and this entire routine endless. I mean, what comes out of it? What do I get? Satisfaction?? Nah

It passes. Everything blurs. Everything fades into insignificance. Even this? Maybe one day I would find out. Until then, its Defense Against the Dark Studies for me.

There was some respite in the form of a Talent Nite which we all believe was just a smart way to rag us poor unsuspecting souls. But to hell with that! It was loads of fun!! There have been few times when I have enjoyed myself so much. I realised something very valuable, something I will cherish forever. The people here are so down to earth, talented, intelligent, sensitive, creative, nice, smart, friendly and have absolutely no airs! I mean, if there are some places on this planet where people could be allowed to be proud and arrogant and stuck up, then this would be one of them. Definitely not my old school where people had no achievements of their own to boast of. Well, this is a group I would love to know and be with for the rest of my life.

Coming back to T Nite, boy was it eventful! Getting to know good people, nightouts, random talking, lots of energetic dancing, venturing into unexplored territory, realising I didn't like it anyway. But I'm glad I took the step, or I wouldn't ever have learnt what not to do in future. Isn't that the best teacher? Lots of new trails opening up..

It passed too. But we took away memories from it, those that I will always love to think back on. We left our footsteps too, forever ingrained in the stones of this place. But.. All good things come to an end. Which brings me back to my basic question. Why do people over here study so much??? Aren't they already sick and tired of it, damn it!! Frustrated souls, lost causes. Period.

So now I've been here nearly 4 months, in a white washed room with a horrible brown door and an ugly green almirah, all of which I've been trying my best to cover up with colured paper, just to bring a little cheer :) There's a pretty verandah overlooking a lot of trees which helps keep my room and mood cool and gives a vintage, rustic feel. I also have a pet lizard, one that likes to eat butterflies and moths and in the process distract my already distracted mind. Its mates visit once in a while. So do some acid green flying creatures that are extremely lazy when it comes to settling down on my bed!

I dont know whether I hate this place or I love it. Maybe a bit of both. For when it comes to the much hyped B school, there can never be a mid way. I do love the fact that in 2nd year you get to chill and play and do nothing at all. Hardly any studies! Way too cool!!! And I do love the various interactions with fachhas, tuchhas, dogs, cats, group members. I love being in clubs. And I just discovered, or maybe rediscovered (cant even remember), that I love playing. Talk about stuff that had nearly slipped out of the memory lanes. Gonna play basky, tennis, TT, frisbee, football like crazy before I leave this place. Andddd I love nightouts! Playing truth and truth. Spying on people ;) Digging out secrets. Bugging people. Talking rubbish. Wasting time. Doing crazy stuff, real crazy :D That sounds more like me!!

Till then I hope I pass decently for the authorities to consider promoting me to heavenly tuchhadom. Thats one of my most intimate fears. I think I'll barely scrap a pass, like I always do ;) So maybe life here isn't all that bad after all. Its a great place. LKP, new campus at night, placement area, basky court. And for the first time I have my own money (a huge grin) which I can spend as and when and where I like, even back home!! And not to mention a wonderful opportunity. Not just another brick in the wall!

So like the wise old people say, make the most out of every opportunity you have. After all how many are this fortunate. This is a beautiful place. The best in my life yet.
:)

when you walk away..

2008-10-21T19:56:00.005+05:30

I felt like my world was breaking apart, into thousands of pieces, right in my front of my eyes and there was nothing I could do about it except watch it happen, slowly and painfully. I had nowhere to turn to for comfort, for solace, it was you I always took it from. And with you gone, my life was so hollow that I could see no end to this mindless numbing pain, pain like I'd never ever felt before. No mercy, there was little left, just a tornado of crushed emotions, and my heart fused with flame.

I've always been too possessive for my own good, but I cant change that and I don't want to. I never wanted to be anything but the only one on this planet. It tortures me, it takes away my peace and sanity and leaves me no place to think or even to be. It makes no sense to me, why must only I go through this. Nothing interests me any more. I was more unfortunate, more insignificant than the lowest creature on this planet, even worthless, so useless. There was a crescendo within me. I had to get out, to escape. I had to turn into stone.

Has the question ever occured to you... Have you ever fallen in love with the wrong person. I have. I usually do. Why is it impossible to stop yourself then? I can only stop myself from falling too deep, but I just can't detach myself completely. Everytime I hear these words, it makes me cry within. A song that is very close to me.

I always needed time on my own
I never thought I'd need you here when I cry
And the days feel like years when I'm alone
And the bed where you lay is made up on your side

When you walk away I count the steps that you take
Do you see how much I need you right now
When you're gone
The pieces of my heart are missing you

Everything I do reminds me of you
All the things you left, they lie on the floor
And they smell just like you
And all of the things that you do

It's said that phoenix tears have healing powers. I believe that to be true. A new life is what I need. For myself. And it helps to cry. To let the pain flow away.

It was a long, long time ago and I don't feel any of it now. I don't remember what it was like. But I do remember that I don't ever want to go through it again. My scars have healed, barely. They are still there, waiting to be torn open. Sometimes, the past tends to repeat, and it feels acidic :) That is when I need to push away.

I might not be able to take all of it a second time.
:)

Memories of days gone by

2008-10-20T14:21:00.000+05:30

I had a long and refreshing talk with one of my closest friends back from engineering days. It was like taking a trip down memory lane. There was so much to talk about; all the great times we had had, the places we had bunked college to visit, the pranks we had played and the absolute insensitivity with which we used to behave with others.

Those four years were among the best and most fun years of my life. The pure enjoyment of pulling people's legs and eating and roaming around aimlessly, the complete disregard for rules we exemplified accompanied by a heightened desire to waste time doing totally useless stuff! I dont think those days can ever return. We barely studied for the exams, buying books and checking question papers with just a few hours left for the paper. All the long telephonic conversations the day before the exam, cursing all the jobless souls who studied for longer than a day per paper, wishing them a life of misery and sorrow, these were among our favourite passtimes. The most classic and historic scene would definitely be a view of the Xerox room on the day of submissions and evenings before exams. We would be photocopying notes in wholesale after getting hold of the mastercopy!

The early morning 9 o'clock lecture just was not meant for us. We would never step into college before 10.30 and if we were ever less than 1/2 an hour late for any lecture, jaws used to drop in shock. Reaching late, hiding and asking if it was safe to enter and then shamelessly entering and making a grab for the attendance sheet, often signing it without attending the lecture! Talking nonsense during practicals when we were obviously not doing anything, and in the process not letting anyone else do the pracs either ;D

It would be a sin if I did not mention our college canteen, by far our favourite hangout spot. We used to visit it at least thrice a day. I loved the Chinese, Richa loved the sandwiches and Tanvi had a thing for cutting chai! Aakanksha simply used to dig her fork into everyone's plates. We had a hard time keeping Maggi away from her, or anything for that matter! Towards the end of college, our class had made it a habit to eat and leave without paying. I think all of us got caught doing that at least once :D There was this small sharp guy who always kept an eye on us after that ;) And when, if ever, we had sufficient money we used to go for Mexican/Italian or Mughlai to the restaurants outside.

Andddd this was the best part!! Asking for treats. Catching people at random, torturing them incessantly and the murderous attempts to take away their mental sanctity. So much so that some even started getting scared of us. I have often been complimented on the aptness of my orkut about me :P The four of us were infamously known as the "Torture Group". The audience obviously found it entertaining, the victims terrorizing. Our valiant acts were photographed on more than one occasion :) Dragging people to the foodspots, demanding for chocolates. We were more unsuccessful than successful, but who the hell cares! It was so much fun.

And of course, our photography loving class. Given any occasion, any stupid reason to stand and smile before the flash, be it a trip or an outting or a bday, all the cameras and cells would be whipped out. Our favourite spot was the new college entrance behind the quad, where the light was just brilliant and there was always a light breeze blowing. Remember the amazingly innovative and weird poses and concepts we would come up with!

And then, the annual trips!! The best one was undoubtedly our 2nd year IEEE trip to Chandigarh and Shimla. It was so hilarious and fun-filled. I could spend hours remembering that one. Thinking that we were locked outside our rooms when all we had to do was push open the door, accusing all the hotel staff of stealing a SIM card from a CDMA phone!! All of Chinchu's "kaarname"; torturing her to insanity in Shimla, throwing and pulling blankets, colouring her face with toothpaste, saying Akbar Birbal stories (new form of ragging?!?), all preceded by the incessant and vain efforts to wake her from her deep naps standing against the wall! The snow fights in Kufri and freezing in the snow wearing just a jacket and t-shirt. The 3rd year trip was a contrast as we spent most of the time cursing and swearing ;) Though the endless gardens in Bangalore had us pissed, the trips to the palaces in Mysore were memorable. I wont forget the way I got caught using my camera in a no-photography zone and the guards actually helped me escape! I could not possibly end this without talking about all the times we played "Killer" in the trains and buses. That was goddamn awesome fun!! Cheating and colluding, et al.

Now comes the best part. Bunking college and going to our favourite spots, i.e. our canteen, the amphitheatre near the lake, the quad. Sick of the never changing stock at Westside, we would flop down on our favourite sofa. We had a wide choice of hangouts even at Andheri station! like Shoppers Stop (remember some eventful occurrences and strategizing here, Richa?), McDonalds, Merwans, the mall where we spent god knows how many hours hunting for jewellery. I still have that amazing collection, totalling about 70 earrings at the last count :P Sitting on Worli sea face enjoying the cold wind, lying on Azad Maidan till 9 in the night and of course, walking on Marine Drive all the way to Nariman Point :)

Linking Road was always worth a visit for shopping and window shopping. Must say we discovered a wide array of mindblowing places during all the time we spent there. Bandra was always great for the nonveg and the roadside chicken! Wont forget all those evenings walking down to Bandstand and sitting on the rocks, discussing our past, present and future :) But the best by far was Juhu Beach. We would sit or sleep on the sand and talk endlessly, wade through the water, play khokho and saklee, watch all the "interesting" characters and couples. This was always a special place for me. I miss my morning and evening walks there, just me and the wind and the waves, and the music playing.

Could I ever forget the several hundred prank calls we must have made during those four years. We were never short of stupid ideas like cancellation of tutions, someone getting married, someone else getting selected by a modelling company or winning a beauty pageant, being selected as treasurer of some arbit club or if there was nothing to talk about, then just general bullshit. Yeah, I sure was skilled at that! We would bombard all the people in class with calls at the same time so that there was no way they could not find out that it was a prank even when some were foolish enough to believe the shit we spoke ;) This continued for a long time until people actually started storing my landline no. :P

We used to be so utterly unconcerned about academics. We were fooling around like crazy and deciding where to go out to eat the day our 7th semester results came out and we found that all the CAT givers had fared badly. I had even worked so less for my final year project that I was in grave danger of being flunked by the prof ;P Vivas were the biggest joke for some of us. Most of the time we knew nothing and we passed just by improvising and talking a brilliant amount of bullshit in such confident tones that it led the examiners to believe that we had all conducted research on the topic :D Well I have to hand it to Mumbai University for this, it taught me nothing except how to talk crap and make it sound like it is the gem of a thought :)

So much has changed. We now live in opposite ends of the world and yet we were talking as if it were only yesterday that we had last met. We had completely different lives now, we had to undertake different journeys, go through joy, pain, defeat and happiness for different reasons and yet we were the same kids that we used to be. We could still identify with each other completely. The senti talk, all the reminiscing, bitching and making plans, sharing all that had happened with each of us in the short space of the last four months, it still seemed exactly the same.

They say that people change with time. I dont know if I will and then I dont know if I will be able to recognize those old times. But I sure hope things remain the same between us forever. No matter what life throws at us, I know we can win every challenge just by being us. We've always shared so much, I wont ever forget it. I love you all.
:)