zypsy

2010-10-31T22:27:00.002+05:30

Coming back to life...

Flying to the US on the 14th, just when S and I have started to settle down in our new apartment, our home. My short stint of 3 months there, and I knew I can easily live in that country and love every minute of it.

And no, dollars won't be my first reason. Number one has to be cleanliness. Number two has to be rules and the way they apply to each and every one there - no exceptions, no asterisks at the bottom of the page.

On the home front, the black sheep's son, my nephew has turned out to a mirror image of his sad, stupid, dangerous, and pathetic father. I talked with my kid brother who is in the army - why don't you arrange for a fake encounter? Or why cannot we put him in a jail or a mental asylum for good? Mom has started spinning her old web of "everyone and everything else is to be blamed" for my nephew's behavior and attitude. The same old cycle of passing the buck, that never opened her eyes to the sad truth that her son and my brother, was the "sorriest, dumbest and most stubborn asshole" we had ever known.

Yesterday, I told her that I am gonna kill that nephew and stop him from hurting or destroying people and things, just like the way his father did till his last fucking day on a hospital bed. And something tells me that if he crosses the line again and if I ever get the chance - I will be fully capable of carrying out my threat.

Life, you never know how the next bend's gonna look like. I can still see my nephew when he was a kid - chubby smiling face, big round eyes, soft straight jet black hair and skin so white and smooth. One of the most beautiful kids I had ever seen. Looking at him now and hearing his antics - I cannot relate that image with him anymore. Somehow, it's all gone, lost forever.

And this time, how's it all gonna end?

2010-03-07T09:46:00.004+05:30

2009. That was the year I took the most difficult decision in my career. The boat was sinking and I had to leave fast. In terms of compensation, I went back more than 2 years. Talked with S, talked with myself a million times, and spent sleepless nights before I took the plunge.

It's been 8 months now. I have learned things in 8 months that I would not have learned in other companies in ages. In my line of work, the US was always a distant dream. It was where the software engineers would go and not us, Data Miners or Predictive Modeling consultants. But sometime in early February, as I walked around Heathrow and later watched the snow delayed my flight at Chicago's O'Hare - I realized how things have happened and changed so fast since I joined the new company. The compensation and the work-life balance still sucks big big time, but the learning and exposure have been simply mind blowing.

The South, redneck counties, the bible belt...I don't miss the Harleys and the leather clad, tattooed guys on the streets. The KKK was pretty much popular in this area.

It's funny how so many people think you need to adopt the ways of a new place, to a T. How people assume, there's simply no other way. They told me, you need to have a car for going to the office, and for everything else. I searched for, and found a corporate apartment complex near the office. Moved in there within 4 days of arriving in the US, and started walking to the office everyday. You will have to eat outside everyday. I said no. I bought groceries and stuff, and started cooking.

And the way people get crazy about anything Indian here, especially Indian food. Understandable, if you have been staying here for a long time and the last time you ate Indian food was, let's say 3 months or more. But going crazy about it and making it a ritual every week, and it's been hardly a month in the US? Get a life, see and feel the world. Indian food is not the only edible thing in the world. When you have 100s of restaurants serving food from all parts of the world within a mile or 2, it's time to get away from your mama's tits, and the home-cooked-food. Go out and explore.

Been almost here for 3 months and I still don't know if I wanna come back and work here for 1-3 years on an H1. There's so many things I love about this place and so many things I miss about my own country. And if I bring S with me whenever I come back next time, will it be just like, Home?

2009-09-23T09:42:00.003+05:30

Wanna get into the public sector....wanna take it easy.....fed up of stupid, childish managers....fed up of the pressure. What does it take to become an independent Data Mining Consultant???

Dad's been with us for almost 4 months now. So weak and helpless now, no longer the tyrant mom used to talk about. When you are old, alone, and weak, why do you turn to god, Dr.Jekyll & Mr.Hyde? And why didn't you show the same amount of love or concern for mother, a few decades or years earlier?

But whenever he cooks, S & I look at each other in awe after our first bites or morsels or whatever, 'coz he's much much better than us!!! He's not much interested in going out, and S & I don't have the heart to go out and leave him alone in the house. Haven't drank for AGES!!!

Started searching for a house again. The circle of life spins again.

2009-06-11T21:16:00.004+05:30

Maybe this is how parents feel. The cousin whose education I have been sponsoring passed the XII board exams with flying colors. I feel proud but I am happier with the fact that the kid is worth spending. Maybe this is not how parents feel.

I wanted him to study computer science engineering; agreed that everyone is doing it and the stream’s become pretty boring but for a kid whose family is poor, the fastest and guaranteed route of getting a job and earning money is to study CSc. Engineering. But I feel the kid somehow sensed the extra responsibility that has been heaped upon me after my brother’s expiry – my nephew’s education. And with everyone back home learning that salaries at my current company have been delayed for the last 2 months, the kid backed out and told me that he would rather study BSc at a college back home in Imphal. As they say, sometimes in life there are just too few options.

As my years of work experience increase, my belief that life in the private sector is not so different from life in the government sector grows stronger everyday. In private companies, transparency no longer exists. Promotions/career growth is wholly dependent on your relation with your immediate boss. The big shots continue to earn huge disproportionate salaries that are not even (1/100)th of the revenues they bring in to the company. Satyam was not the first and the last example. Take Infosys, the company considered to be one of the most ethical & transparent companies by so many people around the world. The company had announced a freeze in hikes for this year for all employees but just about 2-3 months back, whooping oh-my-fucking-god hikes were announced for a group of very senior people. Does it mean that ALL the employees of Infosys were not performing except for these old-fat-greedy asses???

I got so pissed off when I learned that the librarian at my company had been fired a few months back. That poor guy must be earning like 5-6 thousand rupees a month. Let’s even say 10,000. How much has the company’s balance sheet and cash flow statement changed after that guy was fired? How about those dickheads who earn nothing less than 15 lacs a year for handling a single project and managing at the most 10 people? And whoever fired him, I am sure that asshole could have saved the librarian’s job by taking a 1% cut in his/her own salary.

It’s funny how people expect you to change overnight after marriage. Have been doing the washing, cleaning, cooking....ever since I was in my teens. I didn’t allow my elder sis or mom to wash my clothes since I was in standard 7, I observe the same principle with my wife too. We wash our own clothes, we cook and wash the dishes together almost all the time, and we clean our flat together. And then we have all these married friends who are FULLY dependent on cooks and housemaids, and whenever we meet on the weekends they are like, “How do you guys maintain your figures?” And I am like, “Oh it’s easy. We fuck like rabbits!!!” Just kidding:-)

Coming back to the first line in the above para, marriage has indeed changed me. I don’t sleep alone anymore, and I always sleep with my arms around S. I don’t come home from the office to an empty flat anymore; I look forward to seeing S again in the evening, and talking and laughing with her. Dying young is not so romantic anymore. I drink lesser these days, though I will never ever stop drinking for anyone or anything. Same goes for rock music and guitars.

And one more thing I learned after marriage is that when I feel angry, depressed, frustrated, or sad, nothing makes me feel better than holding S in my arms tight without saying a word.

2009-02-16T18:38:00.005+05:30

We all live our lives thinking that we are immune, and the bad things that happen to everyone around us will not affect us. We pray to our own personal imaginary gods, and believe that they will take care of us.

For the first time ever since I started working, my current company delayed our salaries for 7 whole days without a single notice or email from the senior management. The mobile bill reimbursements and the food/Sodexho coupons had been stopped 2 months ago. No intimation, no explanation.

S and I have decided to postpone our plan for purchasing an apartment. There’s too much uncertainty floating around.

The black sheep of the family finally left us. No, that’s not exactly right. My 2nd eldest brother died sometime in January, he was around 36 years old. Some cried, while a few others like me weren’t able to shed a tear or feel a thing. All I could feel was this overwhelming pity and disbelief over how one single person could trash all the million opportunities he had and destroyed everything and everyone around him. He fucked everyone’s happiness and just left all the shit behind without ever realizing his follies or repenting for a single minute.

My elder brother in the US and I have decided to take care of his 2 kids. I will take care of the boy while my brother will take care of his elder sister, our niece. I talked to my kid brother too, and told him that he may have to contribute depending on what the cousin I’m currently sponsoring decides to do after his 12 exams.

I don’t know where and when I will ever meet you again my dickhead brother. But let me tell you this, you had it easy bro’ and mom was there all the time to cover for you, and protect you. I will find you and make you pay one day. Make you pay for all the things you did to the people I love.

I have this feeling that we Indians are very closely related to the Koreans. Indian movies usually have the love-triangle while the Koreans have the love-quadrilateral. Every time I see a commercial or romantic Korean movie, I find 4 very confused and righteous people stretching on their loves, honours, sacrifices, and penances forever.

I always tell S that my principles are very different. If I want a woman, I will get her and everything and everyone can go to hell. In fact, S’s last boyfriend (before me!) was sort of a millionaire who has his own company. When I came into the picture, their relationship was not COMPLETELY over, but in about a year’s time she was COMPLETELY mine. I didn’t exactly play the part of a millionaire but I used my credit card a helluva lot!!!

RocknRolla, The Reader, The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button, and Taken are absolute delights, don’t miss them.

2008-12-06T19:08:00.002+05:30

Last week, I went to office with a small kid. I didn’t see him until the auto-rickshaw stopped by my side. He was this cute looking kid about 3 years old, standing and playing in that small space behind the passenger seat of the auto. The father must have put him there as there was no one home.

What the hell? I got in the auto and told the driver my destination. Midway, the kid suddenly said “Paani!” There was this bottle of water near the driver’s side. I took the bottle, put it to the kid’s lips and made him drink the water. When he was done, he smiled at me and we became instant friends.

Reminds me of the days back home when I was in my teens and I was the neighborhood kids’ favorite teacher. My elder brother was the type who would shout and throw the kids’ books if the kids couldn’t get it the first time. After a few days, they all came to me. I was the patient one who would explain things slowly and repeatedly, if required. I also had this habit of telling them stories from history, mythology, science…and asking questions. I still do with S, after all these years.

Kids always have shared this special bonding with me. One thing that always surprises me is that they never approach me as someone older. It’s more like the way people in the same age group warm up to each other, the way friends do.

About a year back, S and I went to Munnar with a good friend, her hubby and 4 year old daughter. Sometime after the journey started, the kid became my long lost pal – talking to me all the time, laughing at my jokes, pointing out the mountains and the “fountains” (her style of fooling me!) from the car window, and slapping me on the back of my head. My friend called me up a few weeks after the journey and told me that her daughter was still using my words/expression.

I’m the only one in the family with whom my kid brother talks about girls and other “young people” stuff. My teenage nephew whom the whole family considers disobedient and stubborn opens up to me all the time. If he’s hurt or angry, he will call me up and talk to me.

In spite of my strong and repeated refusals to having a kid of our own, S has never ever taken me seriously. She loves the way I interact or bond with kids. So when I talk about my 101 reasons for not having a kid – pollution, population explosion, parking space, dirty politics, the evil nature of people in our generation, our dying world, supporting/sponsoring other needy relatives’ kids….she has this look in her eyes that says – You don’t fool me honey, we will have a kid whenever I want!

A company in the UK paid me 60 GBP for putting up their link on my professional blog. I got another $250 member of the month award for my contributions to a networking site for professionals (in my domain). A few people have started mentioning my blog as their favorite. In the last interview I attended, the two interviewers laughed when I told them my long term career goal is to become someone well known and respected in the field of Analytics/Data Mining. Stupid fucks, people who will spend their whole lives running after bigger salaries and bigger companies.

And no, I’m not going to write about Mumbai.

2008-10-27T10:07:00.014+05:30

She came from Providence
The one in Rhode Island
Where the old-world shadows hang
Heavy in the air
She packed her hopes and dreams
Like a refugee
Just as her father came
Across the sea
- The Last Resort by The Eagles

That was the first thing that came to my mind when my brother told me that his company will be sending him to Rhode Island for a project. His company had asked him quite a few times before, but he had always turned it down for something or the other. Sis-in-law is a housewife and bro didn’t want to leave her all alone in their Chennai flat. And then sis-in-law got pregnant, and it was a complete “no” for another year or so.

It’s been almost 6 months now, and he emails me the Picasa links whenever he took some pics. Sis-in-law is back home in Imphal with her daughter, and our mom and dad. Bro will be coming to India in Nov/Dec this year and will go back to the US with his wife and daughter.

My kid bro BB will be coming from the IMA to stay with me in Bangalore during his winter vacation. If everything works out, we three brothers will meet and enjoy dinner with some chilled beer in a nice quiet pub. Though I would rather have rum or whiskey with or without dinner, let’s wait and see!!!

We sometimes talk about how nice it would be, how carefree and irresponsible we could all be if our family were just the three of us and our two sisters. How the whole equation will change if our two eldest brothers weren’t just there, or born. Or if they just disappear.

My brother SS, the one in the US now, I sometimes refer to him as Bhagawan Ram. The ever-forgiving, always-cool, always-loving one who will send money back home without a word, and without questions. At one time, he used to send more than 50% of his take home salary every month. But everybody has a dream, from the municipal sweeper to a software engineer. Lately, I sense a frustration in him, a feeling of when will all this end, when will they stop, and I encourage him. I encourage him to get selfish for a change, to start thinking about his wife and daughter. There’s a limit to family responsibilities or blood relations but we both know that it's not that easy.

On the other side is me - the loony with all his eccentric tastes, ideas and philosophies, the weirdo who does and say anything he wants. I always tell my woman that since she married me, she will be considered a loony by default. I don’t believe in blood relations that make people say or do stupid, irresponsible or dangerous things. A lazy, drunkard, egoistical asshole is still A Lazy, Drunkard, Egoistical Asshole. Nothing in this world will ever change that.

Never felt it was that important to announce it officially on this blog, but since the wishes are coming in, let me say it loud – yes, I got married. Me and S went out for about 1 and a half years, and had a live-in relationship for about a year before we made the decision.

Sometimes I look at S and tell her, how the hell did I fall in love and marry you? All these years, I had this idea of a dream woman – someone heavily into rock music, someone with a nose ring and tattoos, a woman who can play the guitar, a bit moody and silent, someone into dark literature and movies, someone who wears heavy eyeliner almost all the time, and paints her nails black.

And here is S, a woman who grew up on a staple diet of M&B, someone who breaks into a smile, sing, and dance routine before you can say “Please!!” or “No!!”. A woman who likes the usual masala Hindi movies, that supreme ultimate father-of-all assholes SRK and that stupid is-it-sports cricket!!! She loves soft/slow rock especially the 80’s kind, and reads my collection of novels occasionally.

She also has the same point. She had always gone for tall rich guys but ended up with me – a short guy with middle-class earnings!!!

As for our anniversary, we actually don’t know. I regularly ask S, should it the day of our registered/court marriage, should it be the day of our traditional marriage, or should it be the day we first made love? She agrees to the first two dates only.

And yeah, she never ever wants anybody to know she’s married to the Zypsy. She tells me that I have earned myself an image/reputation through my writings, and she doesn’t like it one bit!!!

2008-10-07T19:28:00.007+05:30

There must be some way out of here
Said the joker to the thief
There's too much confusion
I can't get no relief
Business men they drink my wine
Plowmen dig my earth
None of them along the line
know what any of it is worth
- All Along the Watchtower by Bob Dylan

There’s just no way out, all channels of investment have been hit. In spite of what the experts say about the Asian or Indian economy, I have my doubts. Forget the Mutual Funds, the stocks & shares, the PPF, the NSC, the government bonds….I’m seriously thinking of taking out my money from my savings account and keeping it under my pillow.

Had been postponing the cleaning and re-arranging of my tapes for a long long time. 17 GB of MP3s on my PC has made me neglect the tapes. But last weekend, I decided enough was enough. I pulled out the drawers, poured out (literally) all the tapes on the carpet, and rubbed & scrubbed each and every tape cover with a piece of cloth soaked in Colin. Took me more than 3 hours but in the end I got this….

The one-album wonders. Me and my friends used to call all these bands that released amazing out-of-this-world albums but couldn’t follow it up with anything worthwhile afterwards. Every single song in all these albums is GOOD; collector’s item I would definitely say.

Soul Asylum - Grave Dancers Union
Soundgarden – Superunknown
Spin Doctors - Pocket Full of Kryptonite
Third Eye Blind - Third Eye Blind
Blind Melon – Blind Melon
Audioslave – Audioslave
Little Angels – Young Gods
Collective Soul – Collective Soul
Maroon5 – Songs about Jane
Ugly Kid Joe – America’s Least Wanted
.........
.........

The cleaning work also turned up a few gems – Lizzy Borden’s “Deal with the Devil” and Lenny Wolf’s (Kingdom Come) “Too”.

"Most of us go to our graves with our music still inside of us”

2008-09-07T18:17:00.006+05:30

Went to Yercaud on the Aug 15 weekend with S and two of my ex-colleagues. Tamil Nadu just refuses to change - most of the signboards are in Tamil, and the people behind the counters cannot speak either Hindi or English. It's the same old story when I was doing my engineering in Coimbatore eons back. It's no surprise that this state still lags behind in so many areas when compared to the other southern states. In the north, you have Bihar and West Bengal - states with huge natural resources and lots of potential that have repeatedly failed to change or progress much.

Yercaud is a small place, nothing much to see. To be very honest, the hotel where we stayed was the best place/part of the visit.

In the next 1-2 months, I'm going to have 8000-10,000 extra rupees every month. Kid bro will start getting his monthly stipends at the IMA, and kid sister has finally got a good job in Delhi. And this means I won't be sending them money anymore for the first time in 3-4 years. I'm feeling light, and I'm feeling proud. The cousin whose education I’m sponsoring has also reached the 12th standard; I hope he comes out well in the 2009 board exams.

Am planning to book or buy a flat by spring/summer next year. Need to bring my parents here as soon as possible 'coz the money my elder brother (in Chennai) and I send home every month is never ever enough. My parents can live comfortably on my father's pension but then the losers in the family don't leave them alone.

Lately, the idea of working and living abroad (somewhere in Europe or Canada) is slowly becoming very attractive to me. I was always the lone guy in the gang who said no to working and settling down in another country. But the dirt, corruption, disrespect of everyone and everything; the ethnic, religious, language and economic divide and enmity in every lane of every state in this country leaves me utterly hopeless. You may say that these things are there in a lot of other countries too. But the truth is, it’s an exception out there while it’s a very regular and common affair in our country. Ours is a culture, a way of thinking & living that has been followed, protected, and taught for thousands of years. Another thousand years may not be enough to change or unlearn.

Been 2 years in Bangalore and I'm missing my friends in Delhi. The friends I used to hang out with, the friends who played guitar with me, and the friends with whom I get philosophical every weekend over endless glasses of rum. And yeah, they miss me too. They miss my place (all the rented flats I used to stay alone) which was always the default party venue. They miss my tapes, and my books. They miss my fried chicken and pork which was the staple starter and the "ender" at our parties.

It's raining so much these days. And for a change, it's raining mostly at nights in Bangalore. S and I love the rains; the moment we hear the rains, we will open the window in our bedroom, pull aside the curtains, get back in bed and snuggle happily under the covers.

2008-08-22T21:20:00.004+05:30

Got myself a separate cubicle next to the window. Have always loved gazing out of the window, whether I'm traveling or not. Told my manager that I was going to commit murder if I don't change my cubicle/workstation.

One fat guy from UP, with ridiculous looking curly hair and a more ridiculous looking huge pair of glasses, and another tall thin guy from Hyderabad. They were making life miserable for me and others sitting near them. These two guys are always together and always at war - super show-offs trying to outwit each other, talking loud all the time, and giving the fuck-your-information type gyan to everyone.

The way a woman looks at another woman never fails to surprise me. I always say to S, all women were born lesbians but some of them became bisexual along the way.

My career ambition has changed. Initially it was the usual blah, blah about responsibility, challenges and compensation. Now it's simpler and more honest. When somebody mentions my name, I want people to say "THAT Analytics guy?" That's my career goal, period.

As much as I want to, I'm finding it difficult to write regularly for this blog. Have started a professional blog where I write about my work/analytics. Thought of linking up the two blogs but then I've kept this blog very much hidden and quite personal. S is the only person in the world who has seen me, the only one who knows me and this blog. Sometimes I wanna use my real name here or upload my picture...or maybe I never will 'coz I intend to keep this space of mine very much hidden.

2008-07-15T20:01:00.002+05:30

"So, when are you planning to have a kid?"

"A kid?? There's not even space to park a bicycle in this city!!"

That was the instant reply I gave when a senior manager asked me about kids. Sadly, he couldn't relate or understand. He laughed like there was no tomorrow, and I joined him a moment later, amused with him and everything in this world.

How many times have I heard someone talk about a parent sacrificing so much for their child? How many times have you heard someone getting sentimental while talking about a mother's love for her child?

I'll live through you
I'll make you what I never was
If you're the best, then maybe so am I
Compared to him compared to her
I'm doing this for your own damn good
You'll make up for what I blew
What's the problem...why are you crying

Be a good boy
Push a little farther now
That wasn't fast enough
To make us happy
We'll love you just the way you are
If you're perfect
- Perfect by Alanis Morissette

To me, having a child is one of the most selfish acts in the world. Not to mention, stupid. Can you think of some other reason for having a kid besides the following?

- You plan for a kid because everyone else does it
- You plan for a kid because you wanna see what you and your lover will create
- You plan for a kid because you are shit scared that there will be no one to take care of you when you grow old
- You plan for a kid because you have nothing else to do
- You plan for a super-achiever kid to feed your ego
- You never planned for a kid but you got fucked and have one anyway because her period timings or your condom fucked up

I bet no parent plans for a kid because they want to make life better for other people in this world. The bottom line is that people have kids for their own personal selfish reason. So let’s cut the crap of a mature, big-hearted, save-the-world, responsible adult just because someone decides to have a kid. As for the “responsible” part, the less said, the better.

And once the kid arrives, there's not much option left other than to smother the kid with something mistaken as love and sacrifice.

Think about it for a moment. Do you see any difference between this so called love & sacrifice, and that crazy, possessive, blind, over-protective feeling everyone has for their house, car, dog, surname, clan, caste, mother-tongue, state?

Don't fool me or yourself for that matter by saying that you wanna have a kid because you love kids. Because if you really love kids, you would have done a "tiny" something for ONE homeless, stray kid in your neighborhood. Because if you are telling the truth, you would have volunteered to help a niece, nephew, or a cousin relatively poorer than you.

Sometimes I lay awake at nights. Some nights I lay awake with my arm around S and think about what it'll be like to have a daughter just like S. A daughter who will be beautiful, sentimental, and noisy; a daughter who will sing and dance at the drop of a hat just like my S,

Some nights I lay awake the whole night and think about what it’d cost to see all the beautiful, wild, and mysterious places on this planet without this "ambition" of becoming a VP or a CEO, without this "need" for a house or an apartment of my own, without this "pressure" for having a kid.

2008-05-24T18:08:00.002+05:30

Listening to AC/DC at full volume, the heavy bass beats and drums, Angus Young’s wizardry on the fretboard, and Bon Scott’s arrogant ‘fuck you’ vocals….pure unadulterated ROCK at its best.

Rock is god, Rock is religion, Rock is ecstasy, Rock rocks, period.

It’s raining, it’s getting dark and I’m in the mood, in the mood for good ol’ rum, straight on the rocks.

2008-05-16T22:37:00.004+05:30

The birthday came and went. Except for the tsunami of wishes on Orkut, there was almost none in the real internet-less world. Guess, the middle aged guy has finally arrived in my life and along with it, my Levis went for an upgrade from 28 to 30.

The first time your eyes met. The first date, the first kiss. The first time you see her naked, the first time you fought...

Age has been the best education I’ve ever received. The books and movies say first times' always a disaster, or clumsy at its best. But if you have loved and slept with more than one woman, you’ll know that’s one big lie.

Makes you weak, makes you strong. Makes you stand tall, makes you go down on your knees. Makes you laugh, makes you bleed and cry...

They say love’s about giving. Love’s about understanding each other. Love’s about sacrifice. Love’s about great conversation, and great sex. I say balls to everyone who believes in these. Let me tell you love’s about finding that someone who can take your shit - all your insecurities, all your wacky habits and biased stubborn opinions and attitudes. Love has its moments too. Special, earth-shattering, mind-blowing, worth-everything-in-the-world moments but then don’t hold on to it like your last candy and don’t hope for it every day for the rest of your life.

They say your performance matters, your honesty matters. When you start working, when you have a job, just believe in one simple thing - work smart. There will never be a politics-less company in this whole wide universe. There are no great companies, there are only good managers and good job profiles.

Love and sharing doesn’t make good families if there are lazy egoistical dependent assholes around. Financially independent members make great families. The love and sharing comes naturally after.

Our Hindu way of life has taught me just two things. If you are a happy man, it’s all god’s grace. If you are a dog, it’s karma. And sadly, this stupid, blind belief, this mother-of-all-excuses for everything wrong in this world has spread to all our countrymen.

Don't come closer or I'll have to go
Holding me like gravity are places that pull
If ever there was someone to keep me at home
It would be you...

Everyone I come across in cages they bought
they think of me and my wandering
but I'm never what they thought
got my indignation but I'm pure in all my thoughts
I'm alive...
Guaranteed by Eddie Vedder from the OST of Into the Wild

Saw "Into the Wild" last week. If you have ever dreamed of giving up everything to live the life you have always wanted, you’ll love this movie. As for the soundtrack - nine original and two cover songs performed entirely by Eddie Vedder, the less said the better. I’ve been listening to these songs everyday ever since I downloaded all the 11 songs and 2 bonus tracks.

2008-05-11T15:03:00.003+05:30

An' here I go again on my own
Goin' down the only road I've ever known,
Like a drifter I was born to walk alone
'Cos I know what it means
To walk along the lonely street of dreams
- Here I Go Again by Whitesnake

Crowds overwhelm me. I usually start looking for an escape route and alibis when there are too many people. I’m a recluse. I’m a loner by nature.

It’s been almost one and half years at the current company and I still have my lunch alone in the office cafeteria. If somebody joins me at the table, he or she’s welcome but I normally have my lunch alone, in silence.

My office’s on the fifth floor, so I use the lift most of the times. But it’s not as simple as that. If I were waiting for the lift and if a small crowd has gathered behind me, I walk away and wait for the next lift. Or I just use the stairs. You see, I prefer to avoid standing with everyone touching one another inside that small metal box.

If the footpath gets too crowded, I prefer to walk on the side of the main road. On some days, I have this sudden irresistible urge to shove everyone out of my way. On some days, I feel the ground beneath my feet will cave in, there's just too may people.

If a pub’s full of people and if it’s too noisy, you can be sure that I will look for another place.

It takes time for me to make new friends. It takes time for me to open up to new people. I don’t like “How are you?” and “How’s life?” when they are asked by people you hardly know. I don’t like forced or fake smiles. To me, friends, acquaintances and colleagues are very different things or people, for that matter. I’m a recluse. I’m a loner by nature, but once in a while, I do meet a kindred soul. Until then, I prefer to walk these streets all alone.

2008-05-01T15:03:00.007+05:30

Sometimes I wonder how a "my" prefixed to anyone or anything changes the entire equation. The alcoholic and wife abuser, and MY father, that school dropout and MY brother, that hot woman in the hot dress and MY woman, the traffic rule breaker and MY friend, the old lecher and MY uncle....When the MY is added, the person’s bad character, sick attitude, and crime suddenly becomes smaller, insignificant, and something you can ignore, forget or forgive without a second thought. Guess, some things never ever change.

Memories are memories, nothing more nothing less but some of them linger on long after everyone and everything has moved on.

The girl with the tattoo. I was waiting for an auto that morning when I saw her coming down the same road where I was standing. An auto came, she stopped it, talked with the driver and got in. The auto sped past me but stopped a few meters ahead. She leaned out and asked me where I was going. When I told her my destination, she asked me to hop in as she was going the same way. I hesitated first, feeling a bit shy but got in after she repeated the offer. We talked a bit inside the auto, and suddenly I remember her as someone I used to see occasionally in college when I was doing my PG. I asked about her college and she confirmed it. And when I told her that I still remember the tattoo of the huge green cross on her left arm, she looked at me, rubbed her arms and told me that’s a very strange way of remembering someone. We laughed together.

I never met her again; I never asked her name, and she never asked mine. All I remember is that she was working at Radio Mirchi then, all I remember is her kohl-laden eyes, the long jet black hair, and of course, the tattoo.

2008-04-09T15:59:00.005+05:30

It was barely twilight but there I was, sitting at the bus stop just near the Lajpat Nagar flyover. I was working in a BPO company then and I had to wake up everyday around 4 am to be in time for the company cab. Owls, vampires, and BPO employees - creatures of the night.

I used to smoke then. Sitting there, smoking a cigarette I saw something on the road. It was a dog, very much dead and lying in the middle of the street. Something huge must have struck it when it was crossing the road because there were small body pieces lying all around. The blood must have dried up too, a long time ago.

And as I waited for the cab, I saw all these vehicles zooming down the road, and hitting and/or running over the carcass one after the other. The sound of each impact was sickening and as the dead dog crumbled into smaller and smaller pieces right in front of my eyes, I watched it all - sad, revolting and fascinating but I couldn’t stop myself from staring.

"Kutta hai na?" I turned around and saw this kid who worked at one of the small Punjabi/Chinese hotels near my rented flat. I nodded my head and we both kept on watching. And for a few minutes, we saw the same thing and felt exactly the same feelings. So this is how we all end, man and dog and everything else – ash to ash, dust to dust.

The cab finally came and I got in. The kid was still standing by the road, lost in his own thoughts.

2008-03-19T19:17:00.008+05:30

On the kitchen table, along with the cups and saucers is a long steel glass, the type that is usually used in hostels for serving and drinking milk. S’s father had bought it when he was with us for a few weeks. He doesn’t like to drink water from Mineral Water bottles like us, or from any other type of cups or glasses.

He is not much different from my father or any old person I know. Call it idiosyncrasies or eccentricities, we tend to acquire it more as we grow older. I sometimes see it as plain old stubbornness judging from the way old people want to have everything their way. Their inability to see, hear or feel others’ point of view, and their refusal to accept anything or anyone that don’t agree with them.

Perfectly understandable when they are senile, very old people; but what about those able bodied senior people who are still working or who have just retired? Age and experience teaches us patience and empathy. So where does it all go when the sunset approaches? S’s visits to old age homes always bring me tales of old people sulking, crying, screaming, and stomping their feet until the other people around give in to their demands. They also do the same thing when they don’t get the attention they want.

Not much different from babies if you consider the fact that a lot of old people come to that stage where they can’t clothe, eat, piss or shit by themselves. There’s nothing cool or romantic about dying young but the shame and indignity one goes through in old age makes me wish for an early death.

There are some songs that send a thrill down your body whenever you hear it, no matter how many times you have heard them.

Audioslaves's "Like A Stone", Alter Bridge's "Open Your Eyes", Steel Dragon's "We All Die Young", Skid Row's "I Remember You"..... - not the songs in their entireties but there's a part in all these songs where the guitar wails or the vocal shoots up to new unscaled heights. And that's exactly where I stop everything to listen and savor that exact moment.

And folk songs, I just love them. I remember that time just after I saw King Arthur. Spent hours on the net to find and download that song "We Will Go Home", and when I finally heard it in full, it was pure bliss. Hotel Rwanda has a lot of African folk songs/music which are just unforgettable.

There's this very popular Irish folk song called "The Fields Of Athenry", and it has been sung by countless number of bands/artistes. But as far as I’m concerned, the best rendition has to be the one sung by a street singer called Brian O’Donnell for the OST of "Veronica Guerin." He was 11 years old when he sang that song. Listen. And don't miss the movie either.

Eastern Promises is one hell of a movie. The fight scene in the bath house is one of the best, bloodiest, most realistic and brutal fights I’ve ever seen in a movie. No stuntmen were used, and according to IMDB, it took 2 days to film that scene alone. Guess Hollywood actors and our own Bollywood actors will always remain poles apart. Hollywood actors took rigorous training, visit and stay in foreign countries to develop accents, spent time in prison and other institutions, learn new hobbies and skills to prepare themselves for their roles. And here we have someone as big and rich as SRK or Sushmita Sen killing me every time they play rock stars in some of their movies without even bothering to spend 5 minutes to learn how to hold the guitar properly, forget about playing. Monkeys with coconuts, that’s what they remind me of.

Rendition, American Gangster, Charlie Wilson’s War, Atonement, and Juno were other great movies I saw recently.

No Country For Old Men was not that great but Javier Bardem was awesome, brilliant, evil and very very scarry!!!

2008-03-13T13:10:00.003+05:30

I reached Imphal on the 16th of February. I didn’t realize it on that day of my arrival but my brother who came later, told me that he felt like he had arrived in a ghost town. The roads were bad, and the whole stretch from the airport to our new house looked very deserted.

All the roads in the main shopping market had been dug up in the name of a renovation, expansion and beautification drive. Vehicles were blocked in many of the roads and people had to walk for all their shopping. Mom told me the CM wanted everything to be done in one go instead of doing it step by step because he wanted to take his cut before his term gets over. Everybody calls him the 10% CM.

I sometimes wonder whether we are the most optimistic people or the most stupid and cowardly ones. You rarely see the army in any of the Indian cities but in Imphal, the army is everywhere. The Assam Rifles, CRPF, BSF, the commandos…everyone is there. There are no civilian areas, and the army patrols don’t stop. On the main roads, they patrol in their armored cars that look like tanks. All you can see is this huge vehicle, and on top of it, right in the center is a dark face under a helmet and a big machine gun that means business. The commandos are the most fearsome ones because they are mostly poor, angry frustrated matriculates with no respect for anyone. They are rude, and trigger-happy. And the fact that they are armed with mean looking machine guns doesn’t help either.

Someone or the other calls a bandh almost everyday for something or the other. But most of the times, it’s to protest the monetary demands made by the countless terrorist groups in the name of some fucking dream called “Independent Manipur”. Even a 4 year old kid knows they are just thieves with guns. As for their so-called revolution, they can all shove it up their asses. So one day, it’s the petrol pumps shutting down in protest because of bomb threats over monetary demands not met, one day it’s the bus operators, one day it’s the schools, one day it’s the shopkeepers…but then everyone needs to eat, the protest ends and life goes back to that normal despair and frustration.

The army, police and commandoes have also started killing a lot of civilians for money. They kill civilians, and steal their money, even the jewelry on their bodies. Once the deed is done, a gun or bomb is planted on the bodies and the innocents became terrorists shot and killed on the run. During my vacation in Imphal for about 3 weeks, I read about these killings EVERYDAY WITHOUT FAIL. On an average, 5-10 persons were found shot everyday and these are just the official published reports in Imphal area only. And then on the other side, there are the civilians killed by the terrorists EVERYDAY WITHOUT FAIL. Guess NGOs and Human Rights organizations found Manipur too insignificant for their PR.

Everyone’s scared, angry and very frustrated. Whatever everyone thinks or says, I know nothing less than a civil war will turn the tide and bring a change in Manipur. The central & state governments don’t give a damn, the armies are reluctant to give up their power under the AFSPA, and the terrorists will never start a dialogue because they are mostly illiterates who only know how to threaten, steal and kill. The terrorists, the police, the army and the politicians all get a cut from the monthly and annual collections made from almost everyone living in Manipur.

Forget the men, most of the women in my family including relatives’ and friends’ told me that they won’t hesitate to kill the terrorists or the army if they were given a gun. Power supply’s almost not there; except for the VIP areas there’s load shedding every alternate day and when the power’s there it usually comes for 5-6 hours a day. A civil war looms on the horizon of Manipur while the national media and the nation as a whole continue to ignore everything here. Bollywood and cricket are far more important for their TRP ratings and revenues.

It was cold back home, especially in the mornings and dusks. Every morning and evening, I used to sit near a bonfire or sometimes a brazier, and talked with my parents about everything. Mom had grown her flowers in front of the new house but this time the roses were sadly missing among the marigolds. The trip brought new revelations too; I learnt that in his younger days, dad had been a lot crueler to mom than I initially thought, and mom had suddenly become very orthodox and superstitious. I also had the chance to enjoy all the vegetables and herbs that are not available anywhere outside my state.

My family and friends asked me when I will visit them again but to be honest, I don’t know. The beauty of the mountains surrounding Imphal valley, the climate, the food and sometimes an old familiar folk song reminds me of the once innocent and happy days I and everyone had in this beautiful land. But like a dream, it fades slowly day by day.

2008-02-13T18:29:00.023+05:30

I wrote the final/certification test for the Analytics course yesterday.

Free at last. Cutting down on my usual dosage of movies, music, guitar, books and blogging for three whole months was the hardest thing.

After all those years in schools and colleges, after the experiences of working in different teams/companies, I believe that there are only two subjects that really really matter - Mathematics and English. Not an "or" but an "AND". You know these two well, you will be okay. Unless you are very sure that you are creative with a capital C, study maths till your 10+2. You can learn anything after that.

Will be going home for about 3 weeks. If I take out the 20-22 hours I was at home in 2006, I'm going home after 9 years. And this is gonna be my first winter vacation after the winter of 1993

This time I can truly say that I don't know where home is. Mom & dad had sold our house and moved to something smaller, somewhere farther from the main city area. Maybe, if I have time and the guts, I will go and have a look at the old house.

There was this small garden in front of the house. We used to call it mom's garden or mom's flowers. Her favorite was roses and there were a variety of them - red, pink, white and yellow. And she was the only one who took care of these flowers. After all these years, I wonder if she has ever received a flower from dad, or any man for that matter. Has any man ever looked at her the way she looked at all those roses?

Just after the garden, was this big door with wooden frames. The top part is a big arch made from one huge block of wood. My eldest brother wanted to join 2-3 separate parts but dad wanted the arch to be carved from a single block of wood. An expensive decision but dad was rich then, we were rich then.

One wayward son, and all the money went down in the gutters. I guess there is Karma after all, except for the financial support dad had never shown much love and care for us, it was especially bad for my two eldest brothers and one elder sister. He was just too busy with his work, drinks, and the other woman. I still say dad's one lucky guy, just one black sheep among seven children.

And on the first floor, the north side of the house was my room. I shared it with my elder bro for years. We studied, fought, played and slept in that room till both of us had to leave home for our studies. On the wall near my bed were two big posters of Deep Purple and Axl Rose. On the opposite wall, near my brother's bed were pictures of a scantily clad Kalpana something, the first woman lawyer who appeared topless in Debonair. Those were the last pictures/posters I remember before my brother left for Sanawar (Himachal Pradesh) in 1989, and I left for New Delhi in 1993.

And that small wooden cupboard next to our room where we kept all our DC, Indrajal, and Tinkle comics along with the Hardy Boys, a few Enid Blytons and various other books.

Maybe I will not go at all. Mom told me that the house has been converted into a printing press by the new owner.

Hope winter waits for me back home. I wanna wake up to cold misty mornings, sip a cup of hot lemon tea and gaze and gaze at the grass, trees and all the greenery. I wanna sit with my parents and have a conversation with them in total silence. I wanna sit near a bonfire and watch the stars in the clear night sky. You really miss the stars when you live in the big cities.

I want to feel something for the place I left 15 years back. I want a place I can call home and feel it too.

2007-11-23T21:34:00.000+05:30

Never been this busy…

Joined an Analytics course last month; classes are on every Saturday and Sunday. And it’s not your usual “2-3 hours of classes on the weekend” stuff, it’s a full 5-6 hours of classes on both the days. My weekends are gone but I still feel the excitement of the coming weekend on every Friday morning, just like before.

Head’s full of numbers and statistical theories, assumptions, symbols and formulae. But I still can’t get enough of it, there’s this thirst to know everything and everything else.

Before coming to Bangalore, I thought Calcutta has the worst traffic jams in the whole country. But not anymore, Bangalore’s a mess as far as the traffic is concerned. Unlike other cities, the traffic jams here don’t depend on any time or place. It happens all the time, everywhere.

The Metro is coming up, there are plans of more flyovers, wider roads, monorails….but they will never be enough. People start earning a measly 10,000 rupees/month, and they will buy a bike for going to the office. People start getting a-bit-better-than-measly 20,000-30,000 rupees/month salary, and they will start feeling the bike’s a bit too small for their status. It’s a car now, for going to the office.

India needs a dictator very, very badly. Someone who will castrate any male after he and his wife have their first child, someone who will impose an astronomical amount of tax on any person/family who has more than one car, someone who will cut off the tongue of any person who spits on the road, someone who will cancel the driving license of every traffic offender for at least a year, someone who has the guts to award the death penalty to every rapist, murderer, and extortionist, someone who can torture and kill all the terrorists in the country (after first handing out life sentences to all those human rights activists)…..

I ought to be shot. There’s this band called Kamelot and I heard them just last week, for the first time in my life. Very good would be an understatement here.

2007-10-27T12:33:00.000+05:30

I want to know, have you ever seen the rain?
I want to know, have you ever seen the rain
Comin’ down on a sunny day?

- Have you ever seen the rain? by Creedence Clearwater Revival

I love the rains but for some mysterious reason, it rains almost everyday around 6 in the evening. And that is the exact time when I’m walking out of the office, on my way back home. I would enjoy it if I were walking in the rain for 10-15 minutes, or if it’s just a drizzle.

But when you get drenched to your undies while walking in the rain for an hour or so, it’s not funny. And once I get wet, I don’t stop or look for shelter for the entire 4 kms. I just take off my glasses, roll up my jeans a bit, and walk. The rains can go to hell.

I remember my schooldays. There’s this stage in every boy’s life when his mother sees him as the cutest kid in the whole wide world, and dresses him up accordingly. I had just started going to school on a bicycle and it was the rainy season. Mom had bought this bright red raincoat for me, one-piece and with a hood. When I saw it for the first time, I flatly refused to wear it. Mom and dad used all the tricks, and one day I found myself wearing that stupid sissy looking thing.

I thought I was being good, I thought I was being brave. But once I was outside the gate, away from my house and all that was familiar, all the embarrassment came back. I took off the raincoat, put it in my schoolbag, and rode in the rain, all the way to school. And I followed that same routine until I outgrew that bloody red raincoat, and dad bought me a new decent looking brown one.

Just the other day, we had this cubicle day in the office. As usual, everyone was over excited with the HR people leading the pack. I finished my work, had an early lunch and came back home. Whenever this cake-cutting, we-are-a-happy-family, birthday-ethnic day thing comes up, I disappear.

There was this company in south Delhi where I used to work around 2003-2004. It’s the only company where socials and fun events mean just one thing – a trip to the pub. The girls and/or the teetotalers were asked to go take a fucking hike if they made any noise. Miss that good ol’ spirit and honesty these days.

munnar

2007-10-13T13:23:00.001+05:30

2007-09-28T22:32:00.000+05:30

Cooking tuna with cauliflower, listening to Dream Theater, and thinking of the mountains and freedom…

I’m hitting the highways tomorrow with S, and a very good friend of mine SS, along with her husband. The last time I saw SS was at the New Year’s party in 2003. I was working at a BPO in Gurgaon then.

There were two friends with me that night – SS, and the only sardar I’ve ever known who’s thin, mad about Metallica and plays the electric guitar. And we three were pissed off because no booze was served, and to make matters worse the whole crowd was shaking to some shitty indi-pop or remixed numbers.

I had come prepared anyway and had brought a Pepsi bottle filled with rum. There were no spare/empty glasses, and nothing good to mix the rum with. So I filled whatever tiny space was there in the bottle with water. We three then went to the parking lot and shared that bottle of rum on that cold windy December night. Sipping the strong warm rum, and with a million stars above us we talked about our dreams and lovers – old and new.

After that, the night passed in a blur. We three refused to do overtime the next day (January 1) because a holiday had been promised by the management. When the Operations Manager came early morning and asked again who all were not willing to do overtime, we three were the only ones who stood up in our team. We learned later that we were the only three out of the total 800 in that SBU/process. The OM wanted to fire us but when she learned that all three of us were the best performers in our respective teams, she quietly arranged a cab for us and sent us home for the day.

It’s almost 5 years now; I’m going to meet her tomorrow, and we’ll all be going to Munnar (Kerela) in their car. I have burned a few CDs, the thermo flask is cleaned for hot tea/coffee all along the way, and one mineral water bottle has been filled with vodka (I’d have preferred rum but to hide it at the numerous check posts, I need an empty Pepsi or Coke bottle).

I just can’t wait for tomorrow.

2007-09-19T14:30:00.001+05:30

Sometimes a “Where are you from?” or “Which place do you belong to?” leaves me speechless. I can however deal with questions that ask me where I was born, where I studied this and that, and the city where I worked and lived at a particular time.

I’m right now in Bangalore but I would prefer Pune any day as far as my working years are concerned. I just need a good job offer to relocate and settle down in that city. But after retirement, Himachal is definitely where I want to be. A small house made mostly of wood and stones, my woman, a big German shepherd, books, music and guitars are all I need for my post-retirement days. Having tea/coffee in the warm sun, breathing the mountain air, reading a good book, long leisurely walks, and guitars and rum in the evening – yeah, that’s what I want and that’s what I’m gonna do when the time comes.

And this means that I’m never going back to that place where I was born, to that place which used to be “my home” once upon a time. It has always been a cause of great concern for my family and relatives as to why I rarely go home during vacations or any holiday break. In 14-15 years, I have gone home 7 times – the longest gap was 7 years.

I have got a million answers for not going home, but it would be a sheer waste of time to say anything about these co-called reasons of mine. The biggest losers have the biggest egos, that’s what I have seen and learnt.

Went inside a church about a month back, for the first time in my life. After all the fascination I had with the whole idea and concept of Christianity during my teenage years, the experience that Sunday was a bit of a disappointment. I love some of the hymns, and the silences in between. I hate it when the people knelt, with hands joined, heads bowed, and knees on the floor.

Why do all religions adopt this unctuous, servile attitude in front of their respective Gods and Goddesses? All the so-called holy books say that God is our father/mother and people don’t kneel or bow down when they talk to their parents. Do they?

Or maybe, people kneel or bow down because they fear God. But why? God listens to you or turns a deaf ear whenever he wants. God protects or kills your loved ones whenever he wants. God rewards or punishes whoever he wants, no matter what we did, do or decide to do. And God will take your life whenever he wishes, and it really doesn’t matter whether you are on your knees or you are walking tall and straight.

God doesn’t just play a six-sided dice; he plays a million-faced dice with you and me, and everyone else. And God makes all the fucking rules.

I'm becoming an atheist, and my belief in the non-existence of God increases with each passing day. The universe is random; you and me, and everything else are just probabilities.

2007-09-04T11:04:00.000+05:30

You know those people who check out the lunch at the cafeteria counter before ordering anything? Those people who had to see every dish and ask what it is. Most of them won’t know what the dish is but they will have strong opinions on all the items that went into the making of the dish. I don’t eat this, I don’t eat that.

Sometimes they even argue with the cooks or the waiters. “How can it be so yellowish, it’s supposed to be reddish?”I can bet my life that these same people won’t even know how to boil a fucking egg.

There was this colleague when I was working at a company in Gurgaon. At lunch, she would always ask me, “R, which dal is this?” And when I told her the name, she would say something like, “Thank God!!! I don’t eat that dal, I absolutely hate it!!!”

And there’s the other group who drives me crazy with their non-stop declarations of love for the “ghar ka khana” or “mummy ka khana”. They will never eat at the office cafeteria or go out to some nearby restaurants. So you’ll always see them with the before-world-war-metal lunch boxes, or the fucking-cute-pink-yellow plastic ones.

Nothing personal against those lunch boxes but whenever I see those lunch boxes, I always see this poor woman waking up at dawn and preparing lunch for one of these handicapped, spoilt, fussy overgrown children. I don’t care if that woman is a mother, wife, sister or a hired cook. It just pains me to know that this woman would prefer to sleep a few more winks than get up and cook so early in the day.

If these people think cooking is such a bore, or something very difficult then why the fuck do they have to be so fussy about food?

The Bourne series have to be the best action/thriller movies I have ever seen. The Bourne movies remain so much different from the books, but the Ultimatum finally fits in all the pieces of the puzzle and the fight scenes are the same as before – realistic, fast, and deadly, so different from the impossibly-funny Chinese action scenes or the stupidly-funny Bollywood ones.

sometimes i just wanna show off

2007-08-30T18:47:00.001+05:30

2007-08-22T22:09:00.000+05:30

People are going to be surprised. I just bought Indian Ocean’s Kandisa and the OST for Life in a Metro. I don’t like Hindi film music at all, I can’t listen to even one full song but there have been exceptions. Take the OSTs for Aashique, Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar, and Dil Chahta Hai – different, melodious, and the guitar parts were just beautiful especially in Aashique. I may love and listen to Rock only, but good music is still good music.

Life in a Metro Rocks - the movie and the OST are both amazing. As for Kandisa, it has been playing in my head for the last 4 years or so. I heard the album for the first time in 2003 and I got hooked ever since. Lots of people called it fusion or Indi Rock, I say it’s Indian Ocean, original Indian Ocean; neither eastern, nor western or anything in between.

Remember Indus Creed’s (later Rock Machine) Pretty Child? It was considered to the first and biggest Indi Rock hit at that time. And how it spawned all those wannabes? And how every band that had a flute, table or violin player was pushed into the limelight to batter us senseless with their so-called fusion music?

Sadly I no longer wanna see or spent money on any solo performance by any Indian band. I can still go and enjoy myself at some kind of festival where there are a lot of bands playing and/or competing. Or the occasional performances at Pubs but not open air concerts where one band plays for 2-3 hours.

The same goes for albums by International bands. There was a time when I used to buy all the albums if I like a particular band - Pink Floyd, Metallica, Iron Maiden, GnR, Black Crowes, Nirvana, Radiohead, Pearl Jam, to name a few. I also used to buy an album if I hear one good song on the radio or TV. Or albums that got good reviews.

Not anymore. I have all of Pearl Jam’s albums and I was pretty disappointed with a few of their last albums. They don’t make it like Vs anymore. Yup, that’s my favorite Pearl Jam album. Ten is everybody’s favorite but to me, Eddie sounded a bit young in that album. He was at his best in Vs with gems like Animal, Daughter, Glorified G, Dissident, and Rats. Radiohead still experiments a lot, but this is also another one of the 15-20 bands whose albums I won’t be buying blindly and loyally, like I used to. I will now buy albums only after hearing at least one good song.

Talking of Pearl Jam, how many of you have heard of “Yellow Ledbetter”? And how many have you have heard of Kenny Wayne Shepherd’s “While We Cry”? I found out something about these songs in 2005. The intro for both the songs is the same chord progression, with a lot of notes thrown in between. A thousand songs can have the same chord progression but not the same notes or solos or rhythm for that matter. But in these two songs, the entire intro sounds almost the same, while the guitar works for both the songs sound very similar which is very strange and suspicious. Shepherd’s song was released in 1995, while Pearl Jam’s “Yellow Ledbetter” was released in 2005. So where are the credits Mr.Vedder?

An ex-colleague called me up this weekend. He asked me to go with him to some happening disco in Bangalore. I politely declined and he promptly told me I’ve grown old. A lot of people think I’m their friend and they know me. They have this annoying habit of calling everyone as friends, even if they just know the first names only.

To me, there are huge differences amongst friends, acquaintances and colleagues. So my friends will know that all of us have never been in that disco scene, even when we were young, with wild raging hormones. I have never liked going to a place where I have to shout and hit the counter to get a drink, where I have to scream to the waiter for asking anything, where the smell of sweat and cheap perfumes is strong enough to kill the aroma of the food, where you have to push and shove to go to the loo, where everybody is trying to get the maximum audience for their clothes, hair, bodies and partners. No thanks.

I love drinking at quiet places, where there are no dance floors and where they play rock music (any type) at a low pleasant volume. And I love home parties’ better any day because we can choose the music, we can drink in our shorts and tees, we can play the guitar, we can cook or order the food, and we don’t have to worry at all about drinking too much and going back home. And one last thing, it’s damn cheaper!!!

2007-08-12T22:12:00.001+05:30

It’s the oldest engineering stream and it has the fewest takers amongst engineering hopefuls.

After my 12^th, I was at the crossroads without a clue. My marks were the just-first-class types, too low to gain entry into any of the good colleges in Delhi. That’s when the idea of writing the state engineering entrance exams came up.

Before the main exams, there was a separate exam for people who wanted to pursue a career in Architecture. It was another interesting idea, so I went for it too. 7 candidates were to be selected out of a total of 150. I came 5^th but there was a disagreement between the politicians and only the top 2 candidates got the Architecture seats.

My rank in the main engineering was too low for getting the most coveted Computer (CE) and Electronics (ECE) streams. My only option was the Civil Engineering stream, which nobody wanted. I told myself, what the heck, I’m not going to earn my livelihood or make my career as an engineer anyway. I had made up mind on an MBA ever since I was in the 10^th standard, so any engineering stream was ok with me.

But I had never imagined the attitude and discrimination that was shown to the Civil Engineering students by all the students in the other streams. No matter what we do, no matter what percentages/scores we got, Civil Engineering was dirt to them. There’s this subject where we had to design suspension bridges, and all other sorts of high rise and huge structures. A typical design problem takes 14-15 pages on A4 size sheets, and almost everything is in numbers and symbols. But to them, all our scores/percentages were all because Civil Engineering’s a very very easy stream.

The truth dawned on me after sometime. These so-called students who always had the readymade comments and the sick, stupid attitudes towards the Civil engineering stream were the ones at the bottom of their respective classes while the toppers of their classes/streams were the quiet, simple souls. Most of these people were managing with an overall percentage of 60, a lot of them had back (failed) papers too.

The campus placements started soon, and I remember one day when TCS went away from our college with more than a 100 students from the CE and ECE departments. The bright ones, the average ones, and the stupid ones all got thrown into this huge TCS shopping bag. For these students who later became the so-called Software Engineers, TCS was the one and only, and it still is. I also remember seeing so many students crying their hearts out, the ones who were not selected. It was the end of the world for them. The average and below average Computer and Electronics Engineering students were going to have a hard time outside if they were not selected in the Campus placements, and more importantly at TCS.

There was this Computer Engineering student by the name of AB and he was one of those smart-asses who used to make fun of every other engineering stream. At the bottom of his class, he got left behind by all the companies. Besides him, there were his 2 other classmates, one was the topper, and the other one was a filthy rich ST student who still had to clear/pass a lot of papers at that time. The Computer Engineer topper had refused TCS and many other companies point-blank because he was waiting for DE Shaw.

Somehow just before we finished our engineering, Oracle came and they found just 2 computer engineering students – AB and the class topper. They had no other option but to recruit these two. The topper left for DE Shaw when it finally came, with the highest pay package in the whole batch, across all streams. AB joined Oracle at twice the package of the TCS recruits.

Years have gone by. The TCS recruits are still at TCS, busy going to the US, busy buying cars and apartments. AB called me up once, and when we talk about our respective jobs, designations and salaries he was totally surprised. He always assumed we wouldn’t get very far in spite of our grades/percentages because to him, “Who wants or pays a Civil Engineer?”

Many of the saved-by-TCS people still have the same attitudes they used to have in college. But who cares, anymore?

With 1-2 companies coming and offering meager salaries, the Civil Engineering students went on their own different ways. As for the top 4 of the class, one started as a sales boy at Shoppers’ Stop, joined Genpact later, became the Assistant Manager and now works as a Manager at one of the biggest and fastest growing ITES companies. Another one worked in some remote area of Gujarat, later pursued and completed an MBA from IIT and is now in the growing-exponentially BFSI (Banking & Financial Services Industry). The third worked his way through a few small IT/ITES companies and is now in SAP as a senior consultant.

I started in a BPO, left it a year later and worked in a few KPOs. In January this year, I declined the offer of a Manager in a Delhi-based company to come down voluntarily 3 rungs and lower my salary by 1 lakh to work in the domain I love - Analytics.

It’s a different story altogether. For the software engineers, the market was already there. And they became software engineers and work as software engineers, whether they like it or not. For the rest of us, we ran here and there, made mistakes, learn things and found something we love – whether it’s IT or any other domain/industry. Call it fate, call it luck, call it anything.

And if I say, the pay doesn’t matter, will I be a liar? But what if I say, the pay doesn’t matter ANYMORE?

2007-07-17T13:49:00.000+05:30

They say blood is thicker than water. Amongst all the blood relations, the relation between a mother and her son has to be the strongest one. And most often, a relation of blind faith and loyalty, and absolute denial of the cold facts and the hard truths of the world.

The mother of the Glasgow bomber; her son burned himself in trying to kill innocents and what was her first reaction - that her son is totally innocent. Some other people who worked with him, or had links to him were also caught. All the mothers said the same thing - that their sons are innocent harmless human beings.

Now, the mother of the bomber is saying that she knew sometime back that something was not right with her son. She also knew then, that he was going on the wrong path.

Why didn’t she say that before? Did she ever talk to her son and try to change his sick and stupid beliefs and opinions? Did she ever talk about her son to the police? Something tells me that the parents knew all about him. Maybe not the bombing itself, but everything else.

Whenever I read about some shooting or extortion in my state, I always ask mom why the mothers of all those terrorists are not reporting their sons to the army or police. These mothers know very well about their sons’ whereabouts and what they all do. These mothers know very well that their sons are extorting money from everyone in the state, and killing and terrorizing innocent people. The family can disown a terrorist, a whole neighborhood/locality can denounce him but a mother will never do that. Behind everyone’s back, she will always have a link with her son.

Mom never has an answer for me. But I know she has the answers deep inside her heart. How can the mothers do that? They are their own sons, their own flesh and blood.

There is my 2nd brother, the black sheep of the family. Though he hasn't joined any terrorist outfit, I and everyone in the family hold him responsible for our transition from an upper middle-class family to a poor family. The fact that advice and threats, money for business and money for further education, love and hate, empathy and pity, trust and distrust haven’t changed him at all doesn’t concern mother. The fact that he’s almost 35 and all those years haven’t touched him and made him a better person, has always escaped mother.

So for her, like every other mother in the world, her son is actually innocent and harmless. It’s his lazy evil friends, it’s the neighborhood he grew up, it’s the schools he studied, and sometimes, it’s her husband – our father.

How people turn blind, deaf and mute when the accused is their mother, father, son, daughter, brother or sister? When I was 12-13, there was this friend in our group. I remember the day his mother was caught with an auto driver. There was all this commotion in his house, relatives and neighbors were coming and giving advice to his father. Some were telling him to divorce his wife; some were asking him to think about his kids.

That’s when we turned to this friend in our group. We wanted him to say the word; we wanted him to shout that his mother was a prostitute and that he will never talk to her or call her ‘mother’ anymore. We wanted him to say the words so very badly. As kids, we were cruel and stupid. If I remember correctly, he screamed angrily that his mother could never be a prostitute. And he never ever said a word about his mother after that day.

A decade and some years later, I know he still loves her but I also know that the love has been mixed with buckets of hate and hurt. And that concoction has been hidden and locked away in his heart, perhaps forever.

I went home last year for one day, after staying away for 7 continuous years. I met him and he arranged for a driver’s license for me. His family is still so poor, he was never able to finish his education, and he’s unemployed but he survives by running around and arranging driving licenses, passports, domicile, birth and date certificates for other people. I heard later from elder sister back home, that sometimes he works as a laborer when there’s no other work.

His mother died a long time ago, within a year after the incident. Fainted one fine day and she was gone forever. His father remarried and they got back a family. I also had a long talk with him, he was happy though the hint of some forgotten sadness flashed occasionally in his eyes. Still, I could have saluted him right then and there, saluted and bowed to his fighting spirit. My 2nd brother wouldn’t have survived a day if he were put in that friend’s place. And with mother to hold him in her lap instead of letting him walk, my 2nd brother wouldn’t have lasted a fucking minute.

A mother’s love can be the strongest and most nurturing love we’ll ever know in our lives. But it also can turn into a very dangerous thing when it becomes an over-protective, encompassing roof over our heads. And if it ever happens, take a walk outside and let a little rain and sun wash over you.

2007-07-12T13:23:00.000+05:30

It’s fun to know languages other than your own. There is no language in this world that I don’t want to learn. But sadly, I know just a few.

Today, in the cafeteria, three other guys were sitting at my table. And all of them were speaking in Tami. And the best part was that they absolutely have no idea that I can understand a little bit of Tamil. One was cribbing about the food in general, and another one was pissed off with some dish comparing it with their original beloved Tamil dish. That’s when the third guy pitched in, calling the other 2 guys assholes and asking them to shut up. I almost choked on the food, trying to stifle a laugh.

I just know some words and phrases but my Tamilian friends used to tell me that I know more bad/swear words in Tamil than they do.

Speaking of languages, why do some people force down their language down other people’s throats? One of the first things I learned after leaving home, is that when you are in a group, switch to a common language that everyone in the group is familiar with. It doesn’t matter how many persons from your own state/community are there in the group. If there is one single person who doesn’t know or speak your language, switch. That’s it.

But no matter what you do or where you are, you’ll always come across people who break this simple rule. If you ask or remind them, they will look at you as if you have abused their mothers. And their most common answer is, “Why?? Ours is such a beautiful and sweet sounding language.“ The second most common answer is that they are speaking with a brother/sister from their own community/state.

Anyone will tell you that if you don’t know a particular language, it all sounds the same – just noise. So even if your language can invoke the rain gods and make flowers bloom, kindly switch.

2007-06-28T17:37:00.000+05:30

When the exhaled smoke comes out as one big white smoky mass as if some crazy Red Indian is sending an SOS, the smoker is someone new and inexperienced, or someone who smokes just for the after taste of the smoke in the mouth. Or someone who’s just trying to look cool by associating himself/herself with a cigarette.

When the smoke comes out as a thin white wisp, almost invisible, the smoker is someone experienced. Someone who smokes for the kick it gives, for he/she has let the lungs absorb all the nicotine.

Most of the school kids and working women (especially in call centers) fall in the first category.

Drinking’s not much different too. Just as a beginner puffs and puffs like a steam engine and burns up the cigarette in a micro second, most of the novice drinkers follow the same path. And the worse part is that, they not only gulp down their drinks but gobble up the snacks and other starters before I have taken a third sip from my first peg/glass.

Late starters and greed. The so-called roadside Romeos, the dirty uncles in buses/crowded market places, the rapists… almost all of them won’t have girlfriends, almost all of them are people who haven’t studied in co-ed schools/colleges, or who haven’t interacted much with girls in their growing-up years.

And for the dirty uncles, they are the sons of those holier-than-thou parents who come out on the streets everyday to scream hoarse about India’s glorious past and culture. Under these parents’ dictatorial thumbs, a whole generation of deprived kids came up – boys who never saw porn movies, read adult/men’s magazines, or went out with girls; these kids then grew up to become those lecherous, shameless uncles. I bet they are also the guys who started/learned masturbation around their mid-20s.

Innocence is a totally different thing but a teenager, boy or girl, who doesn’t show some curiosity towards sex and the opposite sex, is a deprived, sexually suppressed soul, or someone who needs medical attention. I would be worried sick if my kid brother doesn’t try to look at the exposed skin of a girl wearing low-waist jeans and a short top. As long as he doesn’t stare until his eyes pop out, or he starts salivating right then and there, I won’t be worried at all.

Life journeys will later teach him that it’s more satisfying to look a woman in the eyes. And his own experiences will tell him that it’s always a good thing to check out a woman’s hair and toes, after her head.

2007-06-20T15:56:00.000+05:30

The men in our country spit an awful lot, with or without reason. If a guy is walking in front of me, I deliberately keep a safe distance by walking slower or faster than him. You never know when he’ll spit, or which side he will spit. It’s the same with autos, taxis or any vehicle parked on the road. There’s always someone inside who will spit out of the window, or who will spit very nicely sitting on his bike or moped. If I have to walk in the middle of the road to avoid these people and their missiles, I gladly will.

At a cybercafé near my house, someone had put up a sign on a corner at the staircase, “Please Do Not Spit Here,” and below that sign is a framed picture of goddess Lakshmi. On my subsequent visits, I saw the ubiquitous red stains from pan/betel spits. And on my last visit, the sign had changed to “Only Bastards Spit Here”

There was a time when Christianity used to fascinate me so very much. But growing up, I began to see that Christians, especially people working directly in/for churches, tend to go overboard most of the times. How else do you explain their over-enthusiasm for converting people, the “Jesus Loves You” signs everywhere, and the pamphlets they hand out at malls, airports, railway stations and traffic junctions?

Near my office, at a road crossing signboard, someone had painted “Jesus Loves You”. After a few days now, the word “Jesus” is only visible because someone else had pasted a big sticker with “Bastard” on “Loves You”.

Jesus Bastard; not very far from the truth if you don’t believe in that shit about the Immaculate Conception.

The sheer stupidity and gullibility of men when it comes to God and Religion. Amongst our Hindu Gods, there is that junkie on Mount Kailash, always high on grass/charas even though he has someone as hot as Parvati by his side. And then his stupid dance of destruction.

The one with the flute and with legs crossed, because there were no undies at that time to hide his perpetual erection. The God who fucked everything and everyone in a skirt.

The mama’s boy of all time, the God who never loved, respected or trusted his wife. Ram actually started this whole Indian attitude of discrimination and harassment against women, especially the wives.

Forgot the one on the lotus. Or was that an over-sized sofa-cum-bed?

And who can ignore the one and only Prophet? The most political of all Gods/Prophets. 11 or 13 wives, and one of his wives was a 6 year old girl and the marriage was believed to be consummated when the girl turned 9. For each single voice that says he preached tolerance or God is one, there are a zillion other voices that say he preached the exact opposites. No other Prophet’s teachings have been debated or understood differently by different people all over the world. If it’s love everyone in one page of the Quran, it’s kill everyone who’s a non-believer. If it’s respect woman in one page, it’s beat your wives or divorce them whenever you please, in another.

And there must be something horribly wrong with a Prophet whose beliefs and teachings spawned generations and generations of people who can’t take a joke, who can’t tolerate other faiths/religions, and who fight and die in every corner of the world for 7 virgins in some bloody heaven. He even beats Ram black and blue when it comes to discrimination against women, and all those stupid cruel laws and traditions for Muslim women.

2007-06-13T11:51:00.000+05:30

You never know what you are made of, until you take the test.

For all these years, I had lived in this illusion that I’m super healthy and quite fit. I don’t smoke cigarettes or any other “smokable” stuff anymore; I drink once a week only, and I don’t take any other “swallowable” stuff anymore.

I do all the household work myself; I walk back from the office everyday – a distance of about 4 kms; I do push-ups, crunches and some other nameless routines every morning but I just learned something recently.

Been putting it off for a very long time but a few days back, with some encouragement from my kid bro who’s on vacation and staying with me, I decided to start jogging. And with a lot of enthusiasm I woke up at 6 that day, and went to the neighborhood park. A bit of warming up and stretching, and then we started running. Even before 2 complete rounds, my heart felt like it was going to explode, and I was breathing so fast and so hard. I slowed down and stopped very reluctantly after some time.

I had just run less than a km, and I was done. My kid bro continued running, round after round after round, and I felt jealous of all the physical conditioning and training that he has been receiving right from his military school at Dehradun to his present institution, the NDA. Kid bro told me afterwards that I started too fast. And I also consoled myself thinking of the fact that I was running after decades.

It’s been 4 days now and I’m now running about 3 kms. I still need to push it to about 5 kms.

The Aerosmith concert was great but they kept us waiting for more than 2 hours, without any announcement and apologies, which was very unprofessional. And somehow, their sound wasn’t that good compared to the Iron Maiden concert. The rhythm section was ok, but whenever Joe played the lead/solo, the notes didn’t come clean and separate. It got better though, when we moved back away from the stage afterwards.

And I guess, Mr.Tyler picked up the wrong song for the crowd to sing along when he pointed his mike to the crowd after he sang the first line from What It Takes, “There goes my old girlfriend and there goes, another diamond ring…” Very few people sang the 2nd line but they were too few to be audible, so all you could hear was the silence. And all you could see was the disappointment on Tyler’s face.

The crowd response was good only for “Dream On”and “I Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing.” Bet 99.99% of the crowd came for the second song!!

Some of my friends are in the US but each one of them is not that close, or they know nothing about guitars. Finally one of my best friends, who is a very good guitarist and who also taught me the basics, has just gone to the US. I can absolutely trust his choice and judgment when it comes to guitars, so I have asked him to buy an acoustic guitar for me.

I know Gibsons are very expensive but acoustics in the price range of $1000-$2000? Isn’t that just fucking ridiculous? Reasonably good Ibanez and Fender acoustics are in the range of $200 - $400. My dream of owning a Gibson acoustic and playing it on top of a mountain has just vaporized!!!

2007-06-11T10:51:00.000+05:30

You have a woman who gets into a live-in relation with a married man because he told her that he will divorce his wife and marry her. And when the man doesn’t, the woman takes him to court and she won the case.

You have a woman who has been divorced by her husband for adultery. She had begun to live in the same house with the other man. The woman takes him to court and demands alimony. She won, with the judge saying that living in the same house with the other man doesn’t amount to adultery.

These are the basics of the two cases. If we go into the details, the debate will never end. And I’m sure these cases must have made many feminists ecstatic. Don’t.

Take the first case. The woman had been going out with the married man for some years before he suggested a live-in relationship. Anyone with some common sense would have never gone out with a still married person. Whether they live in or not, almost all couples nowadays have physical relations. If she’s the type of person who equates a live-in relationship with marriage, how about telling the man a very simple “NO” when he asked her to move in with him?

The promise to marry, or the simple belief/statement that we will get married and live together forever, is something that’s implicitly understood when we get into a relationship. But all of us know too, that it may never happen, that couples break up.

The man promised to marry the woman, but didn’t. Ask yourselves this, how many men and women do this same thing everyday? Next time, someone’s going to get sued because he/she promised to buy a watch/car/house as a gift for a lover, but didn’t.

Take the second case. It’s one of those news/stories that always pushes the whole concept of women’s equality and liberation a few centuries backwards. I will never ever understand why educated women with all the privileges and freedom can’t earn for themselves instead of begging/demanding alimony from their ex-husbands?

How many of these wives have spent money and time on their husbands’ education and career? And when you consider the fact that most of the marriages in India are arranged, when the men already have stable and well established jobs, this idea seems even more ridiculous. So, on what grounds are they asking for a share of their husbands’ salaries? If they fuck around with other men, why do they ask money from their husbands when they are served with divorce papers? If that’s not bad and insulting enough, they usually won these cases in the name of women’s equality and liberation. At least, when we men fuck around we don’t ask money from our wives to buy condoms or whatever!!

And in most of these cases, the reason for asking alimony is – to maintain the lifestyle that she has been used to. Doesn’t that remind you of a dog?

As for that judge, please send your wife to live in the same house with some other man. No sir, this is not adultery at all, this is just harmless fucking.

I agree that women have been exploited for ages. But let’s not get carried away. Times have changed, and the trends and lifestyles we see everyday speaks volumes about women’s equality. So many of my friends are married, and they have kids. And all of them, I repeat, all of them, pamper and love their wives so much. They cook most of the times, they buy the groceries, they take care of the kids most of the times, and most importantly, they respect their wives a hell of a lot. I’m talking about friends from Delhi to friends in Tamil Nadu; friends from all over India. So when one of these women from a similar background gets successful in her career, why do the media always come up with that phrase – a perfect balance between career and home? It may have been true decades back but now, most of the household work, sometimes the entire household work is taken care of by the husbands, or the men.

I also agree that life in rural India is a totally different story. And for that, we don’t need all that bullshit debates about alimony and live-ins. We need to make sure the education and awareness campaigns reach and benefit these women.

If urban, educated middle class women are so serious about women’s equality, I hope they do a little bit of these instead. Whenever someone in your family mentions dowry, make him/her drop that sick idea/so-called tradition. Whenever someone in your family or friends circle makes a derogatory remark about women, make him/her feel ashamed. Whenever your housemaid talks of an alcoholic abusive husband, support her and fight for her. If she sends her son to school but makes her daughter work with her, make your maid change her mind about women’s education. Or better still; sponsor her daughter’s education by cutting down your trips to those ridiculously priced coffee shops and pubs/restaurants/hotels.

Don’t try to change the world, don’t even think about it. Just try a bit to change the people you know, the people you meet everyday.

2007-06-04T11:18:00.000+05:30

dust clouds swirled
outside the glass doors
there's chaos all around
there's blood on the streets

the ragpickers marched
with their bottomless body bags
there's room for one and all
they whispered

the clowns stood
the applauses came
too late and died
too quickly
the smiles slowly turned
upside down

as egos grew
hearts and homes
became smaller
as greed and jealousy
consumed us all
we became all alike
just like brothers

the funeral song played
the drums beat
while we walked together
to early nameless graves
under a bloody divided sky

and as the sun went down
the eerie glow
from an oversized plasma TV
hypnotized a whole world
of zombies

2007-05-28T14:05:00.001+05:30

Guess, it becomes harder and harder for new rock bands to stand out amongst the multitude of new bands that comes out every year. Some years back, it was Godsmack & Nickelback that got my attention. Currently, it's Wolfmother. The name sounds Gothic but their music & style is quite similar to that of the Black Crowes and Maroon 5. Very raw, with minimal effects and other sound engineering/recording techniques.

The idea of classifying a band as metal, thrash, blues-rock, acid...seems absurd to me. At the most, you can say an album has a bluesy feel or a song has a progressive sound.

There was a time when the tune and the words were all that mattered. But as you get exposed to more and more bands and their different styles, you begin to notice all the not-so-obvious stuffs. Backing vocals, usually in the chorus part is something a lot of people don't hear. The one in Bon Jovi's 'Bed of Roses' is one of the easy but beautiful ones, while the one in Soul Asylum's 'Runaway Train' falls in the more difficult ones. The backing vocals for that chorus part is not sung at the usual same tune but higher notes, but at a totally different tune. Beautiful and different.

Bass is another thing. It normally accompanies the drum beats, but for some famous bass players the bass part is nothing less than that of the lead guitar. And to check this out, listen to Flea (RHCP) or Billy Sheehan (Mr.Big). Their bass guitars never fail to create another song/melody in the main song itself.

And when it comes to lead guitars, technique is not everything. Take for example, Slash (G n R) & Nuno Bettencourt (Extreme). Slash is just an average guitar player but he has made a name for himself because of all those amazing-memorable-hummable melodies he composed for the GnR songs. He hardly uses his little finger which is a definite disadvantage when you're doing a solo, and he can't improvise too. Saw him in a video once, playing with Zakk Wylde, and I felt so bad for him.

Very few people know of Nuno. They all say he's one of the most talented and fastest guitarists but there's no melody at all. Agree to a certain extent but that also means these people haven't heard "Midnight Express," "A Song for Love" and "Who Cares." Listen to the last one if you ever get the chance and you'll know what I'm talking about. It's not just a song; it's a whole fucking orchestra composed solely by Nuno. There's this part where you can hear a piano, the violins and cellos follow, suddenly everything stops and there's this complete silence which is broken by the high wailing notes of Nuno's guitar. The whole orchestra then followed, with heavy drums, and as the guitar fades on a long slow note, Gary Cherone picks up the song again. Sheer absolute fucking genius.

You can't ever ignore melody. I have never liked Obituary, Cannibal Corpse and countless other metal & death bands just because they sound all similar. Lightning speed guitar works, heavy bass and drums, and very hoarse irritating vocals. You need something more than these to stand out. On the other side, there's Pantera, Disturbed and Cradle of Filth. Heavy to the core but surprisingly the melody's there too. And for those interested in Gothic literature, grab hold of all of Cradle of Filth's lyrics. I promise you; you won't be disappointed.

Talking of rock music & guitars, I will be giving away my Givson semi-acoustic to my kid bro. Thinking of buying a Gibson/Ibanez/Takamine semi-acoustic jumbo but I don't see these brands in Bangalore. Any ideas/suggestions, anyone?

2007-05-25T12:17:00.000+05:30

They look the same. In most places, they even speak the same language, wear the same kind of clothes, eat the same kind of food, well almost. But their gods are different and they kill each other every time because of that. The Hindus & Muslims of India.

They speak the same language, eat the same kind of food, and enjoy the same holidays & festivals. They even pray to the same Gods but they look very different and because of that, they hate each other, and kill sometimes. The whites and blacks of America.

Now, we have the Sikhs fighting the Sikhs, and trying to kill each other. Where does this all end? We all have become experts in breaking down even the smallest stuff into smaller things by picking out the DIFFERENCES.

Since the day, I stepped outside my native state I've been facing discrimination from the rest of my fellow Indians, just like everyone from the entire north-east. We all have our circle of friends from all over the country who have never seen or treated us differently but to everyone else, we are still not REAL Indians like people from North & South India. We are made fun of, we are disliked, we are looked down.....coz we are the Chinkies, coz we look like Chinese.

We ignore the rude comments as much as we can but we are humans after all. And more importantly, we come from a region that's been shattered by violence. We all know we have a lot of hot blood inside, and violence is a part of our lives back home. And so we do our best to move away from that path, we say to ourselves every time we face some ugly stupid discrimination, "Ignore that fucking illiterate, ignore that ass, ignore that motherfucker!!!" But sometimes they pushed us to the edge and then we have no other options.

There was a friend who beat up around 10 people in a DTC bus (in South Delhi, near Defence Colony). The coolest guy I have ever known; I have seen him angry only once till now. He told me that he ignored everything until one of them got physical. And the fact that he was a 5th degree black belt didn't help the stupid fucks at all.

And another long-haired, good humored hippie kind of a friend who was always happy with his guitar and songs. One day he came back home so angry, almost crying. Went out again and we learned later that he had stabbed a guy. Luckily it was not so serious and the guy didn't die. This happened in South Extension, Delhi.

Another friend who studied engineering in Tamil Nadu. He got so fed up with a classmate's everyday racial remarks that one day, he pulled him out from his hostel room and slapped the guy until he broke down, knelt before him and apologized. The other guy was quite big compared to my friend; but he never used his fists or legs, just slapped him into submission while the rest of us warned everyone that it was a fair fight and if anybody interfered, things would turn ugly for everyone in the hostel.

And there was this guy from Delhi, the son of a filthy rich CBI-wanted IAS officer. To him everyone from the north-east was a junglee, everyone from the South was a coconut climber fool, and the rest were not as rich as him (his father). Everyone in our hostel treated him as a joke until he took it too far one day with a classmate from Nagaland. He started shouting and threatening, even took off his shirt and challenged the Nagaland classmate to a fight. It took about 5 seconds for the guy from Delhi to fall flat on his back. I bet he never knew what hit him but it was just a punch & a kick from the Nagaland classmate. I guess he was too slow & heavy, and very easy to fall with all that fat from the ghee-soaked-dear-mummy-ka-parathas and a regular diet of butter chicken.

I had my share of confrontations but fortunately or unfortunately, no blood had been shed. But I know, I have the ability, the heart and the conscience to kill, if it comes to that. Or get killed. And that scares me sometimes. Has all the blood and violence I have seen and experienced made me that kind of a person? Or is it something else?

And to all those who think I've mentioned only one side of the story, you are right. Many people from north-east India also have biases and ignorant opinions about fellow Indians from the North and South. The only difference is that they don't shout or shove it in someone's face. And almost all of them are generally very very open-minded about someone's looks, religion, food-habits, dressing style, and lifestyle. And lastly for these people, the level/amount of education is directly proportional to this open-mindedness unlike the rest of India.

But the questions remain. Will all these fights & divisions change if we have just one prototype and everyone on earth is cloned based on that single prototype? Will this stop if we remove all the fences and other boundaries? Will this end if we destroy all our Gods and ban religion?

a to z

2007-05-21T16:49:00.000+05:30

This is what I do when I don’t get work/projects!!!

Aeromsith & Analytics: Will finally see the Toxic Twins live, with kid bro and a friend. One of my favorite bands, and the band with the most energetic lead vocalist in the world.

The domain I would love to be in, for as long as I can. Analytics is where I want to shine.

Boots & Boot Cuts: Crazy about them. Have a Gasoline, Caterpillar, Woodland, and an original army-issued officers' boots from the NDA.

And low-waist tight/comfort fit boot cuts, usually Levis, to go along with.

Cricket & Chauvinism & Cooking: One of the slowest, most boring games in the world.

Haven't seen or heard much about the good side of chauvinism. It only
nurtures divisive, narrow minded feelings and attitudes. The whole concept
of boundaries and nations will eventually destroy us in the end.

Been cooking for about 14 years and that says it all.

Drugs & Determination: Once upon a time....but it taught me so many things.

I wouldn't be where I'm now, without my kinda determination. I'm determined to the point of being called a pig-headed person. I make simple "yes" or "no" decisions and then GO for it.

Earn Everything: Nothing comes free, nothing comes to you on its own. And that includes people and relationships too. Earn them and learn.

Fuck: Not the act but the word. I use it a lot when I'm angry, or when I want to emphasize something.

Gods and Guitars: Something tells me the story of the world, our creation, the definitions of what is good and bad, the idea of heaven and hell...can't be explained by God at all. God to me, was born out of our fear of the unknown, while everything associated with religion and morals was made by powerful & influential men.

There will always be guitars and books in my room, and in my life.

Hills, Himachal and Hypocrisy: I love the hills, wanna live near them, wanna grow old with them. And the hills, roads, rivers, trees, and everything about Himachal still beckons me.

How can somebody say that everyone's a hypocrite? I mean, how can everyone fall into that same category of people who pretend to have qualities or beliefs that they do not really have. I say what I feel, I do what pleases me, or what I think is right. I have shocked, amazed, pleased, embarrassed, and angered a lot of people with my words and actions.

I: Not the selfish, egoistic “I” but the proud, respect yourself & others “I” with an identity of its own.

Jennifer Connelly: One of the most talented, beautiful, understated and underrated actress of our time. See at least 5 of her movies and you'll know.

KLPD: As in the movie that translated it as the betrayal of the erect dick. It actually applies to a lot of other things too but you still have got to be man enough to go through that kinda experience (no pun intended)!!!

Love & Les Paul: Never try to be cool about it, never listen to anyone and never follow rules when it comes to love; just soak in the whole experience and follow your own heart, and your head too, sometimes.

Will somebody, anybody please buy me a Les Paul? :-)

Madness & Monica Belluci: Nah, I'm not going to say or write about Mother. Everyone says that his/her mother is the best, what else is new? I would rather write about madness and say that each one of us need a little bit of it to uncover, experience and learn the mysteries of our own lives.

And as for Ms.Belluci, just look at her and dream on.

Nirvana: We all need to find our own heaven, our own definitions or conditions for a blissful life instead of comparing with someone else's idea of happiness.

Old Monk: The one who started it all. Many a friendship has been forged and tested, while the old monk kept a watch over each one of us.

Poems & Pink Floyd: Not the spring-is-coming, or life-is-beautiful types, I love poems about life itself, the realities and naked truths about it.

Music that soothes and transports you, anytime, every time. The music of the Gods.

Questions: Ask. Be curious. May your thirst for knowledge never be quenched coz every adventure in life begins with questions.

Rock Music & Rain: It flows in my veins and it pumps in my heart; I need it all the time, for my sanity, for peace and for ecstasy.

I can watch the rain, listen to it and smell it. It's difficult to describe but like a lot of people, rain does something to me.

Sex & SRK: Everyone loves sex. No further comments!

The dimpled khan. The actor (?) with the same stupid expression for all emotions and roles. Sex sells and SRK sucks.

Tea: Can be tea & coffee both, but I love tea better. I can drink it anytime, any number of times. My favorite is tea without milk, with a dash of lemon or ginger. And for those who don’t know, try a cup of strong tea (without milk) after a joint, for that out-of-this-world experience.

Under-aged: For a long, long time I have to carry and show some ID with my DOB/age whenever I go to pubs or whenever I go to watch an "A" certified movie. And this went on till my PG, after I had already finished 4 years of engineering. Sometimes funny, sometimes embarrassing, and sometimes very very irritating. Now, after working for about 4-5 years, the world thinks I’m in college.

Vodka: My 2nd favorite after Rum. Absolutely love it with fresh lemon juice and ice cubes, and nothing else.

Walking & Women: I LOVE walking. In Delhi I have walked from CP to South Ext twice, and I have walked from Chanakya Theater to Lajpat Nagar once (that was a bet). And right now in Bangalore, I walk home from the office everyday, takes me about 50-60 minutes.

I love women too. But my lips are sealed :-)

X: X as in ex boyfriends or ex girlfriends. What does it actually stand for? Expired? Extinct?

Yaar & YOs: The friends and the pseudos. You gotta know how to spot and differentiate between the two.

Zest: Enthusiasm, passion, the zest for life.

2007-05-15T13:45:00.000+05:30

Multi-tasking is something I've never been good at. When I'm reading a book, I prefer silence all around me. Unlike a lot of people, I don’t like to read with some music in the background. When I'm watching a movie, I want to hear every word, notice the details, and more importantly know and understand what the movie's all about.

When I'm into something I'm so totally into it, relationships, for instance. When I’m in love, I see and care for my woman only. The one thing that I swear upon is that, I'll never ever two-time her or what some people call "multi-tasking" these days. To me, that makes someone a liar and a coward, and someone so weak that he/she can't take a simple decision. I have been with a fair number of women, but each one of them has been with me at different points of time. Or to put it more directly, after the end of a relationship, there has always been some new woman, a perfect stranger, waiting for love, waiting for a new journey, waiting for me.

I have never proclaimed to any of my loves that she's the last woman I'll love, if we ever broke up or if anything ever happened to her. I have always believed and I still do, that I'll find another woman that will fascinate, excite and challenge me if the present relationship ever ends.

A lot of things have kept me away from the whole concept of two-timing but only one person has shown and taught me the finer details of it, and he's my own father.

I didn't know about it for almost 6 years. It was only when I turned 7 that I came to know about the 'other woman'. At that age, I was just surprised and not at all shocked. Mom would tell us much later that if it had not been for the kids (us), she would have left my father a long time back.

There were quarrels, almost everyday. And every time dad came home late from the office, it was worse. All of us - my brothers and sisters, learned to ignore it after sometime but as we grew up, we began to discover a lot of unanswered questions. How and why did dad have two sons with that 'other woman' if mom had found out about her at the start of their affair? Why did dad send those two kids to the best school in the state when he sent me and my elder brother to a small, unknown, one wooden building school? Why didn't he ever make up his mind, and love and live with only one woman?

The two sons from the 'other woman' were in the same age group as my elder brother and me. And every time my elder brother and I topped our classes, mom would be so happy and so proud. She would also become vengeful and remind my father how his other 'two sons' despite studying in the best school would never ever be better than her own sons. A shamed, confused and angry father who used to drink everyday, and a hurt mother who couldn’t walk away because of the kids and because she could never stop loving him – those were the darkest days my family has ever seen and known.

It's been so many years now, decades in fact, and I have never ever seen this 'other woman' and her two sons - my step-brothers. I don't know their names either. My own 2 eldest brothers and big sister, something tells me that they still have the biggest & deepest scars from that phase of our family history. One elder bro, me, kid sis and bro, we were lucky to come out of the whole thing with some scratches only.

Mom has been the strongest person, and Dad has always been so good to each one of us despite getting drunk and quarrelling with mom almost every night. I never thought of him as bad or heartless, but just someone who made a very big stupid mistake. And yes, he was a fucking liar and a fucking coward too, at one point of time. Sometimes, I want to ask him a thousand questions but that look in his eyes tells me that he had asked himself those questions. And that look in his eyes tells me that he will never forgive himself.

As for the 'other woman', I no longer hate her. Dad was to be equally blamed for whatever happened, but I want to meet her someday, and just look in her eyes. And hopefully I will find the answers there.

is she there,
somewhere in the dark dungeons
of your memory?
is she still there,
walking behind you
whenever you look back?
do you sometimes see her,
in all the empty places
of your heart?
do you see her in a crowd?
or do you see her,
only when you switch on
the headlights?
and do you sometimes see her,
when you are holding mother,
in your arms?

do you see him
as you used to
just like the day
you first saw him
on your way back home
from school?
do you still get charmed
by his looks and words?
do you see
guilt in his eyes?
or do you feel it yourself?
do you feel
humiliated? betrayed?
has everything been forgiven?
or do you still wanna kill father?

what do you see
when you look at yourself?
a seductress? a fool?
or a woman wronged?
did his looks and words
sweep you off your feet?
or has it swept you
down the drain and into the gutters?
do you miss him
or do you want him to
miss you instead?
do you still talk with him
relive the romance and passion
or do you relive your follies?
have you forgiven him
have you forgiven yourself
or do you still cry
under the silver shadow
of a mocking full moon?

2007-05-10T10:03:00.000+05:30

Guitar World mentions they will be performing at Mumbai, Bandra Kumla Ground (June 2)

The Aerosmith official site says the concert will be at Bangalore, Palace Grounds (June 2). STATUS: Please Note VENUE and CITY CHANGE

I’m praying for Bangalore though:-)

2007-05-02T16:53:00.000+05:30

Another date, another year. A few friends called me up or messaged me; they were all happy and excited. It's my birthday today and it feels like just another day for me.

Just a few years back, a birthday was the perfect excuse to get together and get drunk, to play the guitar any way I liked - throwing away the rules, standards and theories, or to just talk, laugh and feel super-happy with my best pals.

The longest and most thoroughly enjoyed party was one of my birthday parties. About 6 people, ate an alarming amount of meat; drank, talked, played the guitar and sang till 6-7 in the morning, and finished 2 full bottles and 1 half bottle of Old Monk. We had to go to the petrol pump in the dead of the night to replenish the rum.

In college, my room was usually the venue. The drink was rum, dark rum and no smart-ass suggestions or alternatives from anyone will change that. And the snack was usually peanuts - salted peanuts or Haldiram's NutCrackers. That was all we could manage those days with our fathers' money.

Once we became employed and the money came in, quiet pubs got included in the choice of venues. The drink remains the same but we soon started ordering the dry non-vegetarian items in style, or I usually cook something similar.

The music has changed a bit too. There were at least 2 guitars whenever we had a party. And our own music was the standard fare; we hardly played music on our stereos/computers during a party in those days. Now, it's the opposite. The jobs have been bringing in the dough for all of us but they have taken away most of our time. Our work timings and holidays aren't the same, weekends mean different things and priorities for each one of us, and the regular weekend meetings/parties with friends are not so easy anymore. As Floyd sang, "Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time..." it gets harder and harder to meet up with people; people who mean something to me and my life.

We all agree that the jobs have taken away a lot of things from all of us but the same jobs have given us so many things too - responsibilities for instance. None of us will ever know what made us do it. Was it the coolness quotient? Peer pressure? Was it to identify ourselves with our heroes? Was it to better understand the kind of music and books we have always been so passionate about? Or did we do it 'coz we wanted to see and experience the other world/dimension? Or did we do it to feel simply happy?

None of us will ever find the answers but speaking of music, we no longer do or talk about music for some rum/whiskey, music for the G, music for nitrazepam, music for the painkillers, music for any syrup with a good percentage content of Codeine Phosphate (an alkaloid extracted from opium, or more commonly synthesized from morphine), music for the white ones, the blue ones or the red ones....

White, the color of purity is something I consider unattainable and unrealistic. The blue of the mountains is as high as I can get or as high as I wanna be. And as for the red, I sometimes see it in a rainbow, after the rains have washed away the sins of the earth.

2007-04-24T14:39:00.000+05:30

I went to Chennai about 3 weeks back, by the Shatabdi Express. Berths in the sleeper class, the AC 3-tiers and 2-tiers in all the other Bangalore-Chennai trains were unavailable because of heavy bookings on that extended weekend. AC Chair Cars of the Shatabdi was the only option left.

And that journey brought back memories of my school days, the Rajdhani Express and Calcutta. I usually flew from my home town to Calcutta, stayed there for a day or two, and then went to Delhi by the Rajdhani. And when our school vacations coincided, I travelled with my brother too. Same route but he had to go further, to his school in Sanawar, Himachal Pradesh. Lucky bum, he won a scholarship and studied in one of the best schools in India.

My first memory of Calcutta was the blast of hot air when the plane doors opened. The big crazy traffic jams, and seeing the Bengali script on the street signs, shops, hoardings & billboards, and everywhere else. It's a language every literate Manipuri can read and write, and most of the times, better than our own mother tongue. It helped a lot in locating an address too, anywhere in Calcutta. I remember one time in a restaurant; my brother was reading a letter from mom and this waiter looked at us, then the letter and then shouted to everyone, "Hey, these guys are one of us!!!" He was so happy and all of us were laughing together though I don't remember if we told him our stories or not.

And how can I ever forget Fancy bazaar and New market? I wanted to buy everything whenever I went there. The electronic items at Fancy bazaar and the rock-themed imported T-shirts at New market - they were always at the top of my list.

Talking of Calcutta, there was this Bengali woman in one of my previous companies in Delhi. One day, we were all having lunch and the conversation strayed to Indian cities. Suddenly this woman almost exclaimed, "Calcutta's the best and most beautiful Indian city!!" That's when I looked up, and asked her which other Indian cities/towns she has visited or lived in. Her answer was something I expected. It was her first time outside home, outside her Calcutta. There was no point in saying anything else because I knew she wouldn't understand a thing.

Or this guy I met just once in my life who told me that Delhi's such a dirty place. Found out after a few questions that he had seen Delhi for the first time in his life, from a train. He had seen the Old Delhi railway station, and had concluded that Delhi's a dirty city. Forget about hometowns, alma maters and everything people consider to be the best just because they have lived or studied there, I don't usually like it even when people say that their fathers/mothers are the best. I have never ever thought on those lines - to me this particular relation's more about blood bonds, attachment, familiarity, and a huge sense of responsibility.

To me the best relationship in this whole wide world is the relation you share with yourself, especially in your quiet lonely moments. The second best relationship is the one you share with your best friends and if you can have and extend this same relationship with your lover too, you got yourself a treasure.

2007-04-16T23:31:00.000+05:30

Remember those days when we talked about a rich father or rich parents? The childhood and teenage whispers about a rich classmate - he's/she's so damn rich!!! It didn’t last forever though. When we became teenagers and a bit more experienced, the "He's so rich" turned to "He's got a rich father", and it soon appeased our immature jealousies and bitterness.

As every family has an asshole, a few families have a money bag too. The rich father/parents lost all meaning and relevance when I entered my late teens. Granted there was a lot of frustration and bitterness in our growing up years, about other rich families, or tall/fair/physically perfect people. But after sometime, these things simply became one of those things that you can do nothing about. And the faster you forget them and get on with your life, the better it is for everyone.

But lately, I realized that the "someone with a money bag" in your family helps a lot, a hell of a lot. A middle class someone with dependent old parents or small siblings will know and understand this very well. Because for that someone, since the day he or she got a job, it's a very straight path - never stop working, never stop sending money, and never take a break.

The fact is, these people can't stop working for a single month and/or go for any additional training unless they bear all the fees and other expenses themselves. They need to earn more because they spend a large part of their salary in supporting their family. And the fastest option to get there is to change companies, or go for training and change the domain/industry, which is very difficult for these people because of their extra responsibilities.

There was this guy in our class - average type, regular class-bunking son of a very rich father. He didn't work or get a job for 2-3 years; went for a training that cost lakhs and now he's globe-trotting. Another one went for further studies in the UK after an expensive MBA from a private college in Delhi and his career has skyrocketed. Another classmate, a far-below-average student and the daughter of a super rich industrialist, has opened a boutique in a prime location of a posh south Delhi colony. Agreed, not everyone can be helped with the money from a rich father/parent/family but for people with average and above average intelligence, it can do a million things.

Yes, it's one of those things that I can do nothing about but if I ever have a kid - own or adopted, I will make sure that her dreams, passions and experiments will NEVER be slowed down or stopped, for lack of money. Because I know what it's like and how it has been, to do the best you can with the limited kind of financial support from your father. Because I know how it is, to learn new software languages/applications on your own by reading manuals coz you can't afford a proper training, how it is to borrow money from friends and hide from your family, the fact that you have left your job….

And if I don't have a kid, some sort of insurance and a salary that's about 8000-10,000 rupees higher than my monthly expenses - that's all I need to enjoy the music, the books, the cool air of the mountains and LIFE.

2007-04-05T18:07:00.000+05:30

Some of the things I see these days give me hope; hope for a better, more tolerant world. Almost every problem in this world originates from the very simple fact that people don't agree with each other. At one level, it's the differences in ideas and opinions. At another level, something deeper, it's the differences between countries, states, religions, and races.

But I guess the equation's changing everywhere, the lines are getting thinner. My friends are from all over the country - different states, different religions, and different looks. And so many of them have married outside their communities/states. Their friends, and their friends' friends have done the same thing too. So many, that it has become a very normal thing amongst my entire friends circle and theirs.

Nothing significant or great you would say, but look deeper and you will see. These couples aren't strict about religion, they don't care about superstitions and rituals, they hate the racial narrow minded attitudes harbored by their old parents/relatives towards other communities/races/religions, they speak mostly English, and their kids don't look like they belong to any particular race/state/community.

Maybe, hopefully, in another 20-30 years, at least in the big/metropolitan cities of India, the lines are going to get very, very blurred. The boundaries between languages will crumble first, and this will be followed by the 'different look' boundaries. The differences between religions will go away too, someday.

And we’ll be left with differences in ideas and opinions only, which is in fact something very healthy if we could respect and tolerate each other a little more. “Flags of our Fathers” and “Letters from Iwo Jima,” the story of a single battle seen from two different sides. Both the movies were great but I found “Letters from Iwo Jima” much better.

Sipping brandy with Savatage in the background....I just realized I have now got 3 nieces and 3 nephews. My elder sister just had her first child - a daughter, and the whole family asked me to name her. I waited for one whole month thinking that somebody else would come up with a name, but no such luck. So I named my niece Delphina, and my sister loves it.

Moms and their kids; they’ll never stop praising their children. The other day I was on the phone and sis was going on about how nice her daughter is and how quiet she is. “Sis, wait for sometime. She’s going to be just like you – moody and very, very stubborn. And she’s going to be this over smart and disobedient girl, just like you once were.” Sis broke out laughing and it was so good to hear her laugh. It was so good to know that we have all so mellowed, and we have all gone through a hell of a lot and learned so much. All my bros and sis, we were and we still are, a bunch of eccentrics to a lot of people around us. We are quite different from one another, but we are all hot-tempered and we all speak whatever’s on our mind – the legacy of our father. And from mom? We fall sick once in a decade or so. If I leave out the accidents and similar stuff, the last time I was bedridden with fever was in 1993.

Going to Chennai tomorrow, and from there I will be going with a friend to Pondicherry in his car. If he doesn’t have a stereo in his car, you are all going to see me in the headlines – for murder.

2007-03-24T10:30:00.000+05:30

For years, it didn't have a name. Nobody could give it a name.

For years, I have been fighting the demons that came with 'it', all alone.

It must have started around the time I was about 7-8 years old. It starts with this numbness and the kind of drowsiness that you experience only when you are completely exhausted, or when you haven't slept for a long long time. You know it is coming but you can't stop it.

Your whole body then freezes, you can't even move a finger or a toe, and your breathing becomes more and more difficult. There's this awesome heaviness and some kind of pitch-black darkness all around. And it's at this exact moment/phase when the hallucinations start and you begin to see Things.

I have seen quite a lot of out-of-this-world scary things and shapeless frightening forms. Experiences that make me moan, scream and sometimes cry, in that world halfway between the real and the unreal. But I will never forget this little girl, about 5-6 years old in a white frock and with long curly black hair - the only one I have seen twice from that other world. The first time, she was hovering above me, above my bed, standing but hovering and then she screamed at me. The second time, she was sitting on my chest crying silently and beating my chest with her two small fists. I will never know who she is. Someone from my past life, if there is ever one? Someone out there in this real world, waiting for me? But to be very honest, I don't wanna know, I don't wanna know at all.

I had the worst and most frequent of these experiences when I was in my early teens. I once stopped breathing; I could sense my sister in the same room but couldn't make a sound. After struggling to breathe for sometime I gave up, and that's when the lightness came. I remember a floating sensation for some seconds or milli-seconds, and the next moment I wake up gasping like someone who came up to the surface after a long time under the water.

It doesn’t happen that frequently nowadays but it still comes back. And I have learned a lot. I have learned that its name is Sleep Paralysis and that there is no cure for it. I have learned to stop its visits as much as I can. I have learned to control my breathing to save each precious breath when the heaviness & suffocation sets in. I have learned to shut out my 'mental eye' when that darkness arrives. Coz' if I do that, I don't see the Things and scream, or panic. I have also learned that it will never leave me and it will always be a part of my life.

4 near-death experiences of unconsciousness & floating before my 30th year, and just one from 'It' or Sleep Paralysis - I guess I'm gonna be all right. And I will keep on fighting 'coz I have no other choice. And I will keep on fighting 'coz I'll never let that darkness eclipse all the beautiful moments in my life.

2007-03-21T19:59:00.000+05:30

It was the first time I attended a rock concert in Bangalore.

I have been there at rock concerts in Delhi, Bombay, Coimbatore, and my hometown Imphal. And the crowd and mood at each of these places were a lot different.

In Imphal, just like everywhere in the north-east (except Arunachal & Tripura), the bands have to be very very good. Coz here, almost everyone's in love with rock music, and a majority of them plays the guitar too. So one small mistake and the band is fucked really bad. Unlike other venues where grass & cigarettes are the norm amongst the crowd, here it's mostly pills and heroin/cocaine. And you can't ever predict the level of violence. Once during a concert, a fight started, somebody took out a gun and pistol-whipped someone else. There was blood all around but the concert went on.

What can I say about Delhi? When somebody says 'home' or 'friends', Delhi's the first thing that comes to my mind. I love everything about this city except the weather & the remix-pompous-loud-BC/MC crowd. There's a rock crowd here in this city too but it gets overwhelmed and murdered everytime by the majority remix-bhangra crowd. And somehow, there's this I-have-to-be-seen-here type of attitude amongst the crowd at any rock concert here. The polar caps are going to melt very soon but 'grass' is still considered cool here.

Bombay & Bangalore has to take the prize when it comes to that perfect balance between crowd maturity and rock knowledge. To sum it up, the crowd truly rocks at these places.

Coming to that someone whom Bollywood calls the Big B, I have always felt that this guy is right at the top when it comes to being greedy, manipulating and will-do-anything-for-money principle. Just recall, how many times has his name come up for tax-evasion? Then the 1 crore Rs worth of jewellery at a temple to appease the gods, the numerous fights and threats with directors/producers coz he thinks his son has been given lesser importance than the other actors, then the recent endorsement of Mulayam. How low can a person stoop for money? You don't need a fucking HIGH IQ to know what kind of a person Mulayam is, you don't need a fucking IQ at all to know that.

With his kind of earnings & popularity, some other soul would have opened an orphanage, or a school or a hospital. And the latest news? Jaya Bachan has been served notice by the IT department. Now the entire family and all of AB’s fans are going to scream harassment.

India's still stuck. And God's dead.

2007-03-06T21:45:00.000+05:30

I would rather go to office feeling excited and happy instead of comparing my salary with anyone else.

I would rather walk or use public transport instead of buying a bike or a car 'coz I don't wanna contribute to the air & noise pollution, and the traffic congestion. And I JUST love walking.

I would rather do all the household work myself instead of making anyone else do them 'coz I choose to.

I would rather read a book, play the guitar or do something better, instead of watching TV everyday 'coz I believe you switch off your life when you switch on the TV.

I would rather go for a court marriage instead of spending a huge ridiculous amount on meaningless rituals & traditions, and unknown never-seen relatives & guests.

I would rather adopt a kid instead of having my own.

I would rather buy a plot of land in the hills instead of buying an apartment in the no-breathing-standing-living-space cities.

I would rather play an acoustic guitar instead of playing an electric one.

I would rather spend on/sponsor one of my cousin's education instead of sending any money for my 2 eldest brothers who had all the privileges & opportunities but threw them away coz of over-sized egos, total stupidity & plain fucking laziness. And I'm going to do it within the next 6 months, whether anyone in my immediate family likes it or not.

2007-03-02T20:07:00.000+05:30

7:45 am - woke up

8:00 am - opened the newspaper

8:30 am - reserved a ticket for "a matter of life and death" iamfuckingexcited!!!!!!!!!!

2007-02-25T18:37:00.000+05:30

what you feel
what you pine for
wait in the shadows

what is not seen
what awaits in the shadows
will not be revealed
in this world of illusions

what is hidden
what is denied
will only greet
and embrace you
when you are
on your knees
with your head bowed

when you bleed
and feel glad
to see life,
for the very first time

when your blood
mingles with your tears
and flow freely,
leaving behind someone
you lost years ago,
leaving behind someone
you used to see
in the mirror,
in another place and time

2007-02-18T21:05:00.000+05:30

about 6 years old
the inseparable deadly pair
my semi-acoustic
and that fat adorable old monk

2007-02-09T21:55:00.000+05:30

Somewhere in Koramangala, a sumptuous lunch and...

PN: The HR lady at my office? She's so smart and sexy.

Me: Yeah?

PN: Yeah, not very beautiful but she has that attitude and a BODY.

Me: Ok.

PN: And she's married. You know, last weekend we went out together with a group of her friends. I waited for her at the mall and called her up as she was a bit late. And she told me that she was buying lingerie and would take some more time.

Me: Really??

PN: Yeah. When we met later, she told me that she just can't get enough of lingerie. She told me that she buys all this exquisite and expensive panties and she hasn't even worn half of them. Man, she's so cool, smart and sexy.

Me: Yeah??? Have you ever imagined your girlfriend talking like that to one of her male colleagues?

That's when PN take a long look at me, kept quiet for a while and said, "No man!!! She can't talk like that!!! Even if she does, I wouldn't like it one bit!!!

Me: So how come you find the HR woman smart, cool and sexy??

PN: I don't know, just...

Me: I think she's either desperate to get laid or she grew up in a damn conservative family in a more conservative small town. Then she came to this big city and got blinded by the fucking lights. Or she doesn't have a fucking idea of what flirting is all about.

So in my humble opinion, she's either cheap or she's totally stupid.

PN: Maybe.......................................................

We all flirt from time to time, but the way you flirt and the message you want to convey, depends a lot on whether you are single, committed or married.

This attitude about flirting big-time and spending time with the opposite sex other than your lover/spouse? This attitude of thinking it's cool as long as you do it? This attitude that totally finds the whole idea unacceptable if your lover/spouse does the same thing?

As far as I'm concerned, it's a typically FUCKED-UP Indian attitude.

epitaph

2007-02-01T21:27:00.000+05:30

a soul in the shadows
a heart that bled so easily
and so silently
a mind of its own
always at the crossroads
waiting for a sign
waiting for no one

looking for a revelation
in all the wrong places
you were…
“a rebel without a clue”

wherever you are...
heaven or hell
i hope you have a guitar
in your arms
and a song
on your lips

**dedicated in the memory of Alberto who passed away recently. a friend, and a bro' in my tiny circle of friends. and one of the best guitar players i have ever known.

2007-01-21T22:10:00.000+05:30

Never realized how much my life has changed, until this weekend.

Woke up at 4am on Saturday morning to see off S at the airport. The taxi finally came after a 1000 repeated instructions. These guys never fail to amaze me. 99 times out of 100, they won’t know a street or a landmark, and to think they are taxi drivers who are supposed to know a city inside-out.

The charm of Airports/Railway/Bus Stations; they always remind me of call centers, hospitals and police stations. They never sleep, they never stop, they are never boring, and you can think of a 1000 stories at these places 'coz everybody who comes here, has a story to tell.

The security has been tightened because of Republic Day and visitors are no longer allowed inside the airport. S went inside, all alone with the entire luggage. Wanted to be with her so much but as it wasn’t possible, I waited till the departure of her flight. So I walked all around the airport, watching the crowd and their little stories, and the faint glow of the early dawn sky.

Once she was on the plane, I made my way back home. Ever since I came to Bangalore, we have always been together on the weekends. So when I reached home, there was this silence so thick that I could hardly breathe. Left to myself, I hardly make a noise. Once, during a particular phase of my life, I went on for 3 days without uttering a single word.

In the evening a very good friend in Chennai called me up. He was living alone as he had relocated from Delhi because of his new job. His wife and little daughter are still in Delhi. And he said, “R, tell me one thing. How the hell do you manage to stay alone for so many years?”

I have been living alone for about 4 years and people have always asked me that question. This time, I didn’t say, “I don’t know” like I always used to. This time I told him that I understand.

S and I, we fell in love on Christmas Eve, about a year back. We began meeting regularly on weekends only after I came to Bangalore in May, 2006. Before that, it was a very difficult and expensive thing as we were thousands of miles apart.

There’s still two more weeks to go before she comes back; I have spent just one weekend without her and it feels like a whole year. I can say a million things about her but there’s just one thing I would like to say tonight.

She has painted my world and I never ever wanna change it.

2007-01-15T20:06:00.000+05:30

Independence. Living on your own. Survival. Easy to say but for a lot of people, it’ll remain next to impossible; the hardest thing in this world.

It’s not related to your place of birth, your parents’ income, your circle of friends, or the story of your life. You, you only can take a decision on how you want to live your life. Being financially independent is not the only thing; there are a lot of other important things too.

I started washing my own clothes back home when I was in the 11-12 age range. Never knew why, but it sometimes offended my mom and elder sister. I could understand a bit about mom though; when a woman’s just known as a housewife because she doesn’t work or bring in the money, she is usually judged by the amount of housework she does.

I left home for my studies before I turned 16. And since then, I’ve lived with friends in hostels and rented 2-room /3-room flats. The first time, I didn’t know a thing about cooking; I was even scared of it. All I did in the first few months was helped the more experienced guys, by cutting the vegetables or cleaning the utensils.

I’ve been cooking since then, for 10 years or so now, and I know almost everything now, except for the fancy stuff like cakes and the other things you get at restaurants. And my approach to cooking has nothing to do with recipes or measurements. To me, cooking is all about sight, smell and taste.

People don’t have to become a chef just because they live away from their homes but they don’t have to be totally ignorant either. Or totally dependent on someone for that matter. So many people I know don’t even know how to make tea. They hire these cooks to buy the vegetables, cook and serve them, and wash the dirty utensils afterwards.

Then there’s another set of people to sweep and clean their rooms, and another to wash and iron their clothes. I get a lot of answers and excuses but it basically boils down to “I don’t know and I don’t have the time to learn” or a very simple and defensive, “Who’s got time?” And I wonder, and I wonder…I sweep and clean my room, wash and iron my clothes, buy vegetables, clean, cut and cook them, and wash the utensils after breakfast/lunch/dinner everyday. Sometimes, I have even sewn a tear or two in my clothes.

And I have been doing all this while I was a student, a customer care executive, a team leader, a project manager, an assistant manager…I have been doing all this work while I was working in the UK shift, US shift and the regular 9-6 shifts. And in between, I have also managed to find time to do the things I love.

Living with parents also doesn’t mean that people should get lost whenever they step outside the gate. In the bigger cities, I always find the migrants know a million things more about the city than the people who had lived there all their lives.

And it makes my blood boil whenever I see people treat their domestic help like dirt. And I wanna kill when they are just students who hire all these people with their parents’ money.

Last week, I met a friend’s friends – a couple in their early 30’s. They have a kid who has just learned to walk. The house was not big but it was not clean at all, the man and wife are both fat, the husband works, the wife doesn’t, and she was saying, “We have just hired a maid; she’ll be coming from next week.”

Oh dear Lord!!! One year down the line, I’m sure they will be spending money on a gym or some “Fuck The Rich and Lazy” diet.

2007-01-05T19:49:00.000+05:30

Thought it was going to be a very quiet New Year’s Eve but it turned out to be a surprise. Was damn sure that it was just gonna be me and my girl, S. Had been cribbing a lot to her that she doesn’t know anyone worth meeting on the weekends, for a couple of drinks and interesting conversation.

But then an old friend of hers came from Hyd, and we all went to another friend’s place for the night. Someone mentioned the guitar and we took it from my place. It was a very nice group, and I had a great time though I learned the next day from S that I talked a lot of shit during the night. She and 3 others girls were the only sober ones in the group, and she remembered everything I talked about!!!

I realized too, afterwards, that I finished a whole lot of Vodka all alone – double the amount I used to normally drink on the weekends when I was in Delhi. The Vodka must have really got into my head as I had cut down heavily on drinks ever since I came to Bangalore. NEED to be VERY CAREFUL in the future.

When it rains, it pours. Not so quite, the fucking floods came along too in my case. Had been doing some freelancing work for the past 3 months or so, and then within a span of 2 weeks a total of 5 offers came - one each from Mumbai, Chennai, Delhi, Bangalore, and the last one from Malaysia. The Delhi offer was a huge temptation, the highest pay package and the promise of onsite trainings but the JD was a list of all the stuff that I am very familiar with, and I wanted to do and learn something new. Finally, after a lot of thought and headache, I accepted the offer from the company in Bangalore.

Watched Babel at PVR, one hell of a good movie. At home, on my PC, I’ve been watching movies almost every night. Some memorable ones include American History X, Don Juan de Marco, Fargo, Gia, Goodfellas, Henry – Portrait of a Serial Killer, House of Sand and Fog, It Happened One Night, Kalifornia, Leon, Love Song for Bobby Long, Midnight Cowboy, Of Love and Shadows, Once Upon a Time in America, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Miami Blues, Revenge, Seven Years in Tibet, The Machinist, The Deer Hunter, What’s Eating Gilbert Grape…

Been listening to Killswitch Engage’s “The End of Heartache.” The whole album is just BEAUTIFUL!!!

2006-12-22T13:37:00.000+05:30

Heaven is...

that silence and...

the warm caress of your breath on my neck...

when you are in my arms.

2006-12-18T19:56:00.000+05:30

You hate it. Or you are crazy about it. There are no middle paths when it comes to rock music, especially the harder, heavier variety – thrash, gothic, death, industrial…

I remember the first time I found Metallica’s Garage Days in one my brother’s room. I was about 11-12 then, and very much into U2 and Bruce Springsteen. Metallica was loud, Metallica was noisy and I didn’t like them one bit. As far as I know, Guns N’ Roses was the band that bridged the divide between the softer and heavier bands. After that, there was no turning back. The words, the music, the talent, the attitude…I just love them.

There are songs that send a thrill down my spine whenever I hear them. There are songs that amaze me with their beauty and simplicity. 2 guitars, a drum, and an inspired/tortured soul – that’s rock music. The music’s for the dreamers, the believers, and the outcasts.

Somewhere on the way, it became “cool” to listen to rock music and all the wannabes came along. And everybody wanted to learn the guitar. And everyone bought the guitar, and that’s when most of them got fucked coz they were never passionate about the music. More importantly, they could never understand or identify themselves with the music.

Their interest dies at the F chord. Believe me; I’ve been with a fair number of wannabe guitarists who doesn’t know a thing about ROCK MUSIC. These people think they know a band after listening to only one or two of their songs - Pink Floyd after “Another Brick in the Wall – Part 2”, The Doors after “Roadhouse Blues,” Metallica after “Nothing Else Matters,” Guns N Roses after “November Rain,” Megadeth after “Countdown to Extinction,” Nirvana after one of their slower unplugged numbers, Fear factory after “Cars”, Lacuna Coil after “Heaven’s a Lie”….and the list goes on.

The first guitar I picked up was a borrowed one from a friend. Everyday I would play it, and if I played it at night after school, my room mates would ask me to go outside as I was just a beginner, and there was no melody at all but just a lot of noise. I would then go to the roof and play till I was sleepy. In that Delhi winter, my fingers hardened, got calluses and finally bled. And they stung so badly whenever I got my hands wet.

After I learned the basics, I didn’t touch the guitar for another 4-5 years. My first guitar, a Givson semi-acoustic was bought when I was in PG. I still believe I'm a beginner and I've a million more things to play and learn.

You will feel a daughter’s pain when you listen to Motorhead’s “Don't Let Daddy Kiss Me”, a rejected and neglected kid’s angst when you listen to Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy”, life on the road with Bob Seger’s/Metallica’s “Turn the Page”…. No other form of music has caused riots, mini-revolutions or suicides.

Seen Easy Rider? Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper riding their huge modified Harleys on the highway, with Steppenwolf’s “Born to be Wild” in the background? That’s the spirit of Rock Music. And I just love it.

identity

2006-11-30T15:28:00.000+05:30

It’s one of those days when you can sip a cup of coffee and gaze at this huge banyan tree, forever.

The streets, filled with people and vehicles, looked quite normal and harmless. Being normal, that’s the default value everyone takes unless you are crazy, or inspired by something or someone. You don’t want to stand out; you can’t fit in either, well almost.

But we never bothered about an “image” or “being normal” when we were kids. We did what we wanted, and we just said whatever we felt or whatever came to our mind. Even our prayers were so simple, sometimes ridiculous but we had a lot of faith then. Faith in almost everyone and everything around us.

I was born a Hindu, but I began to fall in love with Christianity at a very early age. I used to tell my parents that I want to marry in a church, that I want to be buried in a coffin in a beautiful cemetery and everyone who loved me would visit me and lay flowers on my grave. Mom would just look at me and say something like, “Oh my God!!” whenever I talked about these things.

I don’t believe much in any religion anymore, but I still find Christianity a quiet and beautiful way of life.

In my pre-teens, I began to talk about girls with my friends. Virginity was still a very strong issue in those days and I used to declare my opinions and beliefs quite strongly. And it shocked my friends, and later, my parents. I used to tell everyone that I would marry any girl if we love one another – let her be a young girl my age, let her be a kid or an old woman, and let her be a divorcee or a widow. Nobody can or will stop me, if we love one another. And everyone would say that I was goddamn fucking crazy. Come to think of it, still now I can never figure out where those ideas came from. All I know is that I still believe in them.

And my prayers when I was a kid…God must have uttered just one word whenever I closed my eyes and folded my hands, “GOD!!!” I had asked him to make me a martial arts expert, Superman, a Casanova kind of a man whom women will find irresistible, Mandrake the magician, and so many other superheroes and adorable villains. Maybe, I stop believing in him when he absolutely and stubbornly refused to listen to my prayers.

You and I, we were kids then. But each one of us was so unique – from the little scars on our over-active bodies to our small silent prayers. Society and the whole concept of an ideal and civilized society made us scared. And then came time, the great leveler, and we find ourselves unable to recognize or differentiate one another, anymore.

copy & paste?

2006-10-30T23:50:00.001+05:30

Stumbled upon it. Thought about it a lot and finally, I want to write something about this post.

Never been interested in bloggers who search the net, copy & paste statistics, lines, paragraphs, ideas and opinions from websites/webzines, and then put in their co-called opinions after every quote. Bearable once in a while, but people who make this a full-time profession…no thanks!!

Wanted to leave my comments on this post but on seeing the circus, I decided not to participate.

To make a long story short, let’s leave out what the left-wing, right-wing or chicken-wing influenced newspapers, websites or politicians say. Just wanna ask a very simple question to all those who were saying such nice things about the Kashmiris, who were summing up and generalizing the whole people of J&K as ‘namakharam’ and even justifying it too.

How many of you have lived in Kashmir? How many of you have seen and experienced the struggles there? How many of you have really close friends from that state, friends who have told you their stories?

I’ve not been there too, nor do I have many friends from that state. But I can understand a bit coz I believe their story is not much different from the people in the north-east states. The only difference is that Kashmir has always been in the headlines while the people in the north-east can thank their lucky stars if they can find a 3 line para tucked away in some hidden corner of the newspaper.

I dread to think what these educated people who commented on the above mentioned post must be thinking or knowing about the people in the north-east. ‘Educated’ would be a wrong term here, ‘literate’ would be a more appropriate word.

It’s so easy to talk about change and sacrifice, about being patriotic and any damn thing. But to see and feel, to experience all the pain and fear, and to go on as if nothing bad has happened in your life. And to take life as it comes, that’s tough. Imagine…

Imagine having dinner with your family and loved ones. Imagine hitting the floor when the shootings started.

Imagine sleeping peacefully. Imagine being awakened by your mother and sent off to a neighbor or relative’s house in another area/locality to escape the beatings, arrest or killings at the hands of the army.

Imagine a kid playing with marbles, like every other kid. Imagine the same kid knowing the difference between the sounds of an 1A SLR (self-loading rifle) and an AK-47.

Imagine your fathers and brothers, your mothers and sisters. Imagine them being harassed and threatened by the terrorists and the army coz both parties think we support the other one.

Imagine an ambush. Imagine the army firing indiscriminately at the innocent civilians coz they couldn’t find the terrorists. Imagine the army having absolute immunity under the AFSPA to torture, arrest or kill anybody in an entire state.

Imagine your hard-earned money and your family’s. Imagine handing them out to the terrorists coz the other choice was death. Imagine the politicians, the police and the army doing nothing about it coz they all get a share.

Imagine schools without libraries, labs, cafeterias and proper toilets. Imagine schools and colleges that close every other day because of the violence and the politics. Imagine exams being delayed and losing precious years. And imagine these same students coming to the metropolitan cities and competing with the students who never had to go through all that shit.

Imagine the innocents caught in the crossfire, everytime. Imagine the innocents being stripped of all their basic fundamental rights. Imagine…

I, and almost everyone in my state grew up like that. So tell me whom do I blame. The terrorists? The politicians? The police? The army? Or the ordinary people, who are tired of everything and just want to be left alone?

Should I search for the culprit? Should I end up bitter and defeated? Should I just get on with my life, with whatever I’ve got? Or should I play a Hero and end up being just another corpse on the streets?

Do you think someone in New Delhi has done a great thing because of the ‘special status and economic packages’ you guys talked about? Are you that stupid or just plain ignorant to know that all kinds of ‘special status and economic packages’, grants, concessions, and subsidies mean nothing? Forget about Kashmir, it doesn’t mean a damn thing to any state in India. It never reaches the intended people or the targeted segment.

If you, with a happy carefree childhood, with all those years of smooth uninterrupted education, in places free of bullets and bombs, in big cities where people from all over the world live and learn together…came out with such stupid and biased opinions, I can only pity you.

When you haven’t gone through even a millionth of what these people in these troubled regions have lived through, what was in your fuckin’ head when you generalize the whole population of a state?

For your information, I don’t think Afzal should be hanged. I think he should be beaten and tortured every day, for the rest of his life by the families of the victims in the parliament attack. All terrorists, and I mean ALL terrorists become legends or martyrs after they are killed. Doesn’t matter if they are hanged or killed in carrying out an attack. And for almost all of them, that is their ultimate dream. If he has to be killed, let it be so shameful that those terrorist organizations won’t even talk about it or mention his name.

And the next time you wanna write or comment on something, please spare me all that shit collected from this newspaper, that magazine, this website, or that TV program. Just tell me your own story in your own words, and that, will be something really interesting, and worth reading.

brothers in arms

2006-10-02T21:32:00.000+05:30

dust and weary bones
solace on the pavement
dream a little more
my brother
dream a little more
before the battle begins

you and I, we are
the untouchables
the unwanted
the unclothed and unfed
the broken mirrors
everyone turns away from

back to back, we’ll fight
we’ll fight to live
in the cruel light
and we’ll lay, side by side
in the dark, my brother
my brother in arms

fulfilled

2006-09-19T19:02:00.001+05:30

And then I encounter you, my love, with those wrinkles around your eyes, your face still beautiful though worn by memory and tender remorse. I almost pass you on the sidewalk, I'm only a few feet away, and you look at me as you look at all people, as though seeking another beyond their shadow. I could speak, erase the years. But to what end? Am I not, even now, fulfilled? I am like God, as solitary as He, as vain, and as despairing, unable to be one of my creatures. They dwell in my light, while I dwell in unbearable darkness, the source of that light.
- Foucault's Pendulum by Umberto Eco

Words, sometimes they hit you when you least expect it. And truth, we stand in the shadows whenever it approaches.

Waiting for an offer/confirmation. Listening to a lot of the Ramones and the Nine Inch Nails, I’m taking an extended break for the first time in about 4 years. The summer of 2002, that was when I got my first job offer.

Was in Coorg about a month back, got 3 leeches on my legs when we went up a hill to see a waterfall. It was raining there all the time and I had my first and last dark rum there since I left Delhi.

Reading Heavier than Heaven (the biography of Kurt Cobain) and Shantaram. Bet I can open a small shop for books and music once I retire.

The world’s getting funnier each day. Talk about OUR god and religion, and you have the masses at your feet. Talk about THEIR god and religion, and you are dead meat. We and them, you and I, ours and theirs, mine and yours – that’s the world, that’s life, philosophy, and the truth, period.

INXS is coming to Bangalore and I’m not at all excited. Why do most of these rock bands/artists come to India when they are on their deathbeds? Why don't we have AudioSlave, Godsmack, Green Day, Dream Theater, Marilyn Manson, Radiohead.....instead? Maybe, we should have something similar to the anti-dumping laws...just maybe.

lotsa luck!!

2006-09-14T17:56:00.002+05:30

A new city, a new job...

The new job almost destroyed me – personally and professionally. The last 3-4 months had been really tough. I learned on the joining day that my job content had been totally changed. The analytics project/process for which I was initially recruited hadn’t come to the company. As the department head who conducted my telephonic interview when I was in Delhi put it, “The project was in the pipeline.” But neither he nor the HR manager had bothered to inform me about that when I was in Delhi.

I was asked to manage a team of 15 people – 13 survey programmers and 2 Team Leaders - in another process. And everything was wrong with that process - the transition hadn’t been done properly; the client had taken full advantage as there was no one with the relevant Market Research knowledge when the SOP/SLA was put in place, the whole team, and especially the programmers were being exploited, and almost everyone was playing dirty politics to save their own asses.

After the first few weeks, I learned that I don’t agree at all with the department head on so many things and our management styles were poles apart. Nor did I like the client who was very unreasonable and inhumanely demanding. They even expected us to work on weekdays and their national holidays. As far as they were concerned, we were dirt cheap Indians who had been bought with their dollars.

I started fighting for everyone in my team, I fought with the clients, I fought with the senior management but soon realized there was nobody behind me. The programmers and the team leaders were just too scared of losing their jobs and I understood. I submitted my papers the day I completed my probation period of 3 months.

I know I’m taking a huge risk. I currently don’t have any job offers in hand and 3 months at a company’s not going to look good on my resume. But I’ve this gut feeling that I did the right thing and I know that everything’s gonna be all right, very soon.

The sun’s always mellowed, almost always. The weather’s heavenly in this city that had remained elusive for as long as I remembered. Now it’s with me, breathing and living with me in perfect harmony. And sometimes, totally out of sync.

I can hear the quiet of this city in the midst of the traffic jams. I can see the subdued colors in the neon signs at the over-crowded malls.

The last 2 weeks have been just amazing, and so very peaceful. I’m now enjoying everything in my life, like the old days – I can now smell the coffee, I can now sleep, I can go out and feel refreshed and happy, I can read my books without thinking of anything else, I can play the guitar and get lost…I can do anything I like.

Am talking with a few companies right now, 2 of them’s showing INTEREST. Wish me luck folks. Lotsa, lotsa luck :-)

in exile

2006-06-24T03:03:00.000+05:30

Nothing had changed. Everything had changed.

I had planned for this trip and booked the tickets about 2-3 months in advance. It was supposed to be a 2 week vacation. But everything changed after I got an interesting offer from a company in Bangalore. I came to Bangalore, joined the company, cancelled the old flight tickets and booked new ones. The 2-week vacation became a 3-day trip; I was going to be home for about 24 hours.

My sister’s wedding, and I was going home after 7 years. Many of my friends asked me, “Do you still know the way? Haven’t you forgotten it already?”

And I ACTUALLY forgot it as I came home from the airport, all alone in an auto. I forgot the lane on the left, the lane that led to a place called home. Once upon a time, there was this rice mill on the left side of this lane, and it was the landmark as far as I could remember. But so many shops had come up, so much had changed and I missed the lane. I asked the auto driver to take a U-turn and finally reached home.

There was this long line of kids standing near the steps, right in front of my house. Something like an identification parade and I could hardly recognize any one of them. The last time I was here, most of these kids were waist-high, some were playing in my lap, and some hadn’t been born yet.

I saw Joshua for the first time too, my youngest nephew, the one I named. Cute and small, and with all the answers in the world, he clung on to me like a long lost friend.

And then I saw my brothers and sisters, 4 brothers and 2 sisters. I’m the fifth in this main series and the fourth in the male sub-series. As I look at them, something else dawned on me. All 7 of us were home together for the first time in 13-14 years. 2 brothers and elder sis at home, one brother in Chennai, kid brother in Pune, and little sis in Delhi.

I met cousin N too, the closest cousin I ever had. We grew up like brothers. The eldest son in his family, he was an old man even before he entered his teens. I could only nod my head when he said, “R, I try so hard to make life better for everyone in the family – parents, brothers and sis, wife and kids, myself - but you know something? Something or the other comes up and snatches everything away. And it’s so much worse when everyone in the family depends on you, for almost everything. The money I bring in? It’s never enough; it’s never enough for the whole damn family.”

Tales of another broken home, another case of parents screwing up the lives of their children. It was not fair. It was the same story with a lot of my friends; they would have been leading reasonably good lives if their parents had been more responsible. They have fought and struggled, fought and won the battles on their own, and all they do now is pay for the sins and laziness of their other family members.

Oh, I revisited Calcutta too. For about 10 hours, I was there in that warn humid city; a city so full of noise, and so full of life.

busy!!!

2006-05-24T03:48:00.000+05:30

Hello everyone!!

I'm now in Bangalore and I'm very very busy with the relocation and the new job. Everything's new and strange, but damn exciting too.

Will be back soon!!

all over again

2006-05-10T12:48:00.000+05:30

Hello darkness, my old friend,
I’ve come to talk with you again
- The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel

There are 2 sides to a coin. There is good and evil, black and white, and there are dreams and nightmares.

Some days I see happiness through the eyes of other people. Some days I see people who will live their whole lives seeking attention, acceptance and admiration from others.

I have my dreams too, just two dreams. The 2 sides of a coin.

I dream to grow a bit richer, have a woman by my side, have a daughter, and live in a house of my own. I would love to grow old with them together; sharing things, and living and loving each day of my life. Not the Middle Class Dream, not the Indian or American Dream, it's the Universal Dream. The Universal Dream that has been handed down from one generation to another, with very few modifications.

But when the sky's moody, I dream of another thing. I don't want anyone by my side, all the time. There's nothing called "humans." Women and men - we are all animals. Monogamy's not for every species, most of us will always remain a wanderer. After a few months or years of togetherness, someone is looking for somebody, or thinking of somebody, or have found somebody.

The sanctity of a relation or a marriage? It doesn't mean anything to a lot of people. The "I love you", the sacred fire, the garlands, the rituals and vows - they will never stop a wandering heart or a mind. They are just for show, done for the rest of the world and not for the two people who really matter.

I'll go through so many phases in this lifetime. Sometimes, I even go through a 1000 different moods in a single day and I don't expect anyone to love or understand me, all the time. I don't think I can understand someone for a lifetime, either.

I have been living alone for about 3 years. Though I feel lonely sometimes, I feel reluctant to give up my independence too. I prize my independence; I love to go to the mountains whenever I feel like. Sometimes, I enjoy the quiet of my room for days at a stretch. Sometimes, I live on lemon tea, bread & jam or soup alone. Sometimes, I read or play the guitar the whole night, without having to hear someone asking me, to switch off the light or turn down the volume. And on most summer nights, I love to sleep in the nude. I watch a lot of movies alone too.

Once I walked all around the ghats in Varanasi, absolutely alone. When I was totally famished and exhausted, I went to this nice looking alfresco restaurant and had a heavy sumptuous lunch. As far as I'm concerned, that's happiness. And not exactly LIFE, but very close.

I'm getting fed up, fed up of people who are confused all the time, who can't make decisions, and who are so damn reckless with the hearts and feelings of others.

I wanna be alone, all over again. I wanna go back into that silence, into that familiar world, all over again.

rip

2006-05-08T18:52:00.000+05:30

Tall and thin, a man of few words. A voice that drove the girls crazy whenever he sang, in the old days. And a thirst for knowledge that he passed on, to his elder sister's two sons.

He couldn't take up singing as a career because it was considered too unconventional by everyone except him. And his parents couldn't afford to send him to college for higher studies. His two passions in life, and they were both closed to him.

He took up a job as a tailor, cutting and sewing clothes all day in the dingy backroom of a small clothes shop. He withdrew himself into his own world and gradually lost interest in everything. He started drinking.

He wanted to live and die a bachelor, but his mother and sisters found a girl for him. So he got married like everyone else. And he got kids like everyone else.

He never left his tailoring job though everyone was sure he could do something better. His health was deteriorating fast, and he was just too tired all the time. Or too bored. Or maybe, he saw something that the stupid doctors and the rest of the world had failed to see. He never left drinking either.

Two young kids and a wife. And two brothers - his sister's sons. That's what you left behind.

And my memories, with you and my elder brother...lying on a mat on the roof, listening to the stories of the sun and the stars; huddling around a fire on cold winter evenings, listening to the romance and tragedy of great kings and beautiful princess; sipping hot tea on rainy afternoons and playing cards on the balcony; seeing you in the crowd after school and coming home with you and brother on my father's old scooter...

For once I'm glad that there's a distance of more than 2000 kms. For once I'm glad that I haven't seen you for almost 7 years. If the distance and years had been lesser, the tears would have come freely. If they had been lesser, this would have broken me in pieces.

But deep down inside, I wish I were there with you, today. I wish I were there to see you for the last time, before you left us.

May you find the happiness that had eluded you in life. Above all, may you find peace.

toy soldiers

2006-05-05T13:58:00.000+05:30

I saw the morning
It was shattered by a gun
Heard a scream, saw him fall, no one cried
I saw a mother
She was praying for her son
Bring him back, let him live, don't let him die
- Under the Same Sun by The Scorpions

Hard to believe but the social and political climate of a place can even influence the kind of toys, children play with. You can see that in the news reports on your TV, kids with guns and grenades. My friends, my brothers - we were not much different.

We played with guns when we were kids. Not the plastic ones, not the one with bright blinking lights, not the one that plays different melodies when you pull the trigger; we played with guns made with our own hands. Guns that can hurt or kill.

A wooden plank/board, about half an inch thick. Cut it out in the shape of a rifle, with a V-notch near the butt/handle. In the old bicycles, the brake wires passed through steel tubes, about 1cm in diameter. Cut out this steel tube, about 1ft long. Mount it on top of the wooden plank and fasten it tightly with strips of rubbers cut out from the tubes of bicycle tires. This steel tube is the barrel.

Take out a spoke from the wheels of the bicycle. Cut it into 2 pieces, one about 2-3 inches, and let the other part remain as it is. Take the shorter one and bend it in the shape of an "L" and nail/embed one end of it on the slope of the V-notch that is towards the butt of the rifle. This is your trigger.

Now you need a catapult. Take out the strong rubber strip with the leather patch in the middle and fasten it on the rifle. The two ends of the rubber strip should be fastened at the front just below the barrel or the steel tube. Pull it back and let the bottom of the leather patch rest on the tip of the "L" shaped trigger.

And the longer spoke? That's your arrow or bullet.

Though our parents would scream bloody murder whenever they found out about our "toy" rifles, we kept on playing with them. We would shoot at tree trunks, and wooden or earthen walls. Target practice.

I heard from mom that one of my elder brothers accidentally shot me just near my eyebrows. Luckily, his gun was not well made and the steel "arrow" wounded me just a bit. Mom told me that she thrashed my brother for that and I always grin whenever I hear this story.

Don't know how much life has changed. Don't know how much of "my childhood" has remained with the kids out there.

Home is
where human lives come cheaper
than a packet of salt

Home is
where the bombs thunder
and the bullets rain

Home is
where sentences are carried out
through the barrel of a gun

Home is
where justice is blind
deaf and dumb too

Home is
where the mikes and the cameras
never hear or see

Home is
where the fathers
cremate their sons

Home is
where mothers banish young sons
to safer worlds outside

Home is just not for everyone

tagged!!

2006-05-03T18:28:00.000+05:30

As a 'tag victim', you are supposed to do the following:
1. Come up with 8 different points of your perfect lover.
2. Mention the sex of the target.
3. Tag 8 victims to join this game and leave a comment on their comments saying they’ve been tagged.
4. If tagged the 2nd time, there’s no need to post again

Been tagged by Isha. 8 different points for my Perfect Lover? Hard to list them just like this but lemme see...

GREY MATTER: She doesn't need to be a class topper, but she shouldn't be at the bottom too. How do I say it? A bit of the so-called school/college intelligence combined with lots and lots of worldly wisdom. I don't need a gold medallist who needs to be taken care of whenever she does something alone, nor do I want a street-smart woman who's a school dropout.

ELEGANCE/SIMPLICITY: She should feel at home in the business class cabin of a private airline, but she should also be able to enjoy a trip to the mountains in a state-owned bus. She can sip a glass of wine in a classy restaurant with platinum rings on her fingers, but she should also be able to enjoy the food at a roadside dhaba. Same for clothes too.

KIND/CARING: However old-fashioned and cliche it may be, there's something so beautiful and feminine about a woman who cares and feels for someone who's hurt - physically or emotionally.

PASSIONATE: She better be crazy about something besides the usual womanly thing for shopping. I'm so very very much into rock music, guitars, books and traveling. It would be nice if she feels for one of these stuff but anything that she's crazy about (except guys!!!), is fine with me. And no, being crazy about me won't do, it just ain't enough.

WACKY/UNCONVENTIONAL: Not a nudist or a serial killer, but someone who's a bit different.

ATTITUDE/EGO: A woman with an attitude. That's very attractive to me but she should also know when to say "sorry." There are women who take "HAVING AN ATTITUDE" and "EQUALITY" too far. Like men who take "BEING CARING" and "WELL-GROOMED" too far.

Same with ego. I would prefer a woman to be proud of herself rather than have an ego. Ego's too manly a thing, like moodiness or analyzing, in women. And these qualities better not be UNISEX.

APPEARANCE: A gorgeous woman for a lover, that's always a bonus! But appearance's not that important to me, as long as she's not obese or anorexic. I like a woman who smells good. I like a woman with clean hair and fingers/toes. A confession - I always notice the hair and the fingers/toes when I meet a woman for the first time.

ROMANTIC: She should be very romantic coz I'm romantic too. As simple as that!!

I'm not tagging anyone as the few bloggers I know, have done this already. Forgive me Isha, for I have sinned:-)

b'day

2006-05-02T19:49:00.000+05:30

For almost 12-13 years, I was celebrating on May 5 instead, coz mom was not very sure and I never bothered to check it out too. It's my b'day folks!!!

the movies

2006-05-01T13:57:00.000+05:30

They say if you want something very badly, you get it.

I've finally got an offer from a company in Bangalore. And it didn't come out of the blue. I have been doing a lot of research on the net, making inquiries and collecting information about companies, sending my CV to companies or contacting the HR directly, making changes and posting my updated CV at Monster and Naukri...and it has finally paid off.

I have to join on the 22nd of May. I'm giving a one/two week notice period instead of the mandatory one-month notice period. I've to cut short my vacation from 2 weeks to 2 days, and that means I will be reaching home on the day of my sister's wedding and coming back to Bangalore the next day. There were no direct flights either; connecting flights at Kolkatta but I won't have time to revisit that city too.

The movers and packers have been contacted and I have chosen one of them to pack and move almost everything I have, to my new room/flat in Bangalore.

I'm leaving Delhi; no, it's not the capital of India, it's not the parks and gardens, the dhabas, the lovely winters, the wide roads and the monuments. It's not the rude abusive people either, or the rape capital. I'm just leaving a place I've called home, for about 9-10 years.

So many memories, and I know they are gonna haunt me for quite sometime, especially in my quiet moments. But then, I have got a new job in a new city, and I've got my girl waiting for me there. Moving to Bangalore because of a new job - that was the second reason. I'm moving to Bangalore because of love. I'm moving to that city because I wanna be with my girl, and that's the first and most important reason.

Straight from the movies - a friend told me.

blog avatars

2006-04-21T17:12:00.000+05:30

Going through the stuff they write, I can sometimes see these people. I read a lot of blogs and I follow quite a few of them religiously. There are bloggers who continue to remain anonymous and faceless, inspite of everything they've written. There are some who reveal so much about themselves with one single post. And there are those who don’t write anything about themselves.

Once I unmask the anonymous bloggers I will include them. Till then, this is a list of the bloggers I'm able to see, through their writings.

Alapana - One helluva sentimental woman, I think she cries easily too. But I can always feel the strength and optimism under all those beautiful and tender words. Can't still imagine what she looks like but I'm trying!!

Arunima - A bit of a mystery, someone who doesn't give a damn about anything. A bit ambitious, mostly in formals, lots of guys around her, and LOVES LIFE. One more thing, she wrote once that she cried over a Govinda flick but I really don't believe her!!

Ash - Here's a woman so full of questions but someone who loves with everything she has. Petite, very fair, has a quick laugh but a bit moody. For some unknown reason, I always see her with short hair:-)

Blow - Gothic. That's how I see her. A bit dark, nose ring, long black hair, very direct, very quiet but with a temper to reckon with. She then put up her pic on her blog, which is not so different from what I'd imagined:-)

Chandni - Someone in a business suit or formals, but I bet she changes into her favourite Tees and jeans as soon as she's home!! Very active, not so quiet, and cries noisily too:-)

Dreamcatcher - Pics in her profile - a girl with flowers and a girl sticking out her tongue. For some reason, I like the second one better. Looks very young for her age, a bit small, moody, and pouts a lot:-)

Elf - I always see her as a child but someone who's wise beyond her years. Very quiet, prefers to be alone most of the times, and has a very cute ever-ready grin:-)

Flickering Flame - Always imagined her as this dusky, no-nonsense woman with curly hair. Someone who observes and thinks a LOT. And then she put up her pic:-)

I've become a bit busier these days. Hunting for a job as I want to relocate to Bangalore very very very badly. I'm also going to post/read blogs on weekends only.

freedom

2006-04-12T15:49:00.000+05:30

Questions and exclamations
Searched for answers
on the dirty window pane
of a rickety inter-city bus

Looked at the world outside
That side's yours
This side's mine
And what about truth?

Hope's that weak
sporadic street light
Shining down self-righteously
on this street of busted dreams

Lives quickly turn sour
And passion grudgingly dies
inside those matchbox apartments,
scattered all along the highway

Everything's cut and dried
Everything's defined
There are rules to follow
There are images to maintain

And the naked truth
on a teenager's T-shirt
"Freedom's just another word
for nothin' left to lose"

IQ test

2006-04-07T16:22:00.000+05:30

Your IQ score is 135

This number is based on a scientific formula that compares how many questions you answered correctly on the Classic IQ Test relative to others. Your Intellectual Type is Visionary Philosopher. This means you are highly intelligent and have a powerful mix of skills and insight that can be applied in a variety of different ways. Like Plato, your exceptional math and verbal skills make you very adept at explaining things to others — and at anticipating and predicting patterns. And that's just some of what we know about you from your IQ results.

mama, i'm coming home

2006-04-06T16:59:00.000+05:30

I'm going home in the last week of May for my sis's wedding. The last time I went home? It was May, 1999 - a gap of 7 years. Been studying, living and working, away from my home state for the past 13 years. And in 13 years, I've gone home 6 times.

There are nephews and nieces I have never seen. They know my name and I know theirs, and that's all we know about each other. Sis told me they have repainted the house when one of my brothers got married last year. She asked me in good humour, "Will you be able to recognize our house?" Heard that one of my nieces cried when I told my folks that I may come home in December instead of May. She couldn't wait to see me and she was scared that I wouldn't be coming at all.

Kids and dogs - I will never be able to understand why they like me so much. Ever since I was a kid, I had been the favourite of every single dog that we had. Sometimes, when I went home during the holidays there will be a new dog but in a few days time, i will become the favourite.

And during my teens, some of my cousins along with a few kids from the neighbourhood would come to me for their studies. Somehow, they never liked going to my elder bros. So it was me for their assignments and all their other questions; all the questions that had nothing to do with their studies.

I was the quietest one in the family and mom would always say, "Make some noise!! We never know whether you are in the house or not." I'm gonna talk this time mom, I'm gonna make a lot of noise:-)

Can't wait to see everyone. Can't wait to be with my family. Feeling homesick for the first time in ages.

You know I’m a dreamer
But my heart’s of gold
I had to run away high
So I wouldn’t come home low
Just when things went right
It doesn’t mean they were always wrong
Just take this song and you’ll never feel
Left all alone
Take me to your heart
Feel me in your bones
Just one more night
And I’m comin’ off this
Long & winding road
I’m on my way
Well, I’m on my way
Home sweet home...
- Home Sweet Home by Motley Crue

ramblings

2006-04-05T16:30:00.000+05:30

Ever noticed how people at your office or college greet each other, everyday?

"How are you?"

"How's life?"

These are the two most common greetings and these are the two I absolutely avoid asking or answering. Nothing against them but I've never understood people asking each other these questions everyday; people we meet everyday, people we work or study with, everyday.

Firstly, people really don't care when they ask these questions. It's just a form of greeting. I have replied to their greetings with whatever was on my mind - ridiculous, rude, shocking, and sometimes total silence but very few people actually notice or pay attention to what you reply or what you don't. They will do the same thing all over again the next morning, with the same ol' mechanized smiles.

Secondly, you go back home around 6-7 and meet again around 9-10 the next day. How's life? I really don't think my life or theirs has changed much within a span of 14-16 hours.

A simple "Hi" or a warm familiar smile, that's enough for friends or colleagues we meet everyday. Don't ya think so?

On another topic, why are americans so fucking american? I have seen numerous visits from US clients and all these guys eat during their stay are burgers, pizzas, hot dogs and sandwiches.

What's the fun in that? I have friends from all over india and whenever they drop in, I ask them to cook something different, something exotic, and something that I can't order from a restaurant in Delhi. When I was living in the South or Manali, or when I was staying for a week or two, in other parts of India, I was always curious about the place, the people, the customs and the local cuisine.

These people have crossed an ocean. These people have come from the opposite end of the world and all they want to eat is american food. Or what everyone else in this world (including the americans) refers to as "junk food."

There was this woman who went on and on coz she saw a cow on the road. They don't have cows in the US of A? Fine, a cow on the road is a bit unusual for these people but I don't think it's that exciting either.

And on a totally different note, I want a tattoo of the lizard king. The one associated with Mr. James Douglas Morrison, the one that has a dagger pointing downwards with a dragon wrapped around the handle. I want it so badly!!!

remnants

2006-04-03T18:52:00.000+05:30

Monday morning, the cooking gas's over, no lemon/ginger tea this morning. Delhi's becoming hotter and angrier.

Opened the window a bit, the wind came in along with the heat of the summer. Jet's "Get Born" near the alarm clock, "Headbanger's Ball" on top of the stereo speaker. The Ibanez GSA and the semi-acoustic Givson, staring forlornly at me.

Flight ticket on the table; glass with a bit of wine near the gas stove, the toothbrush that we shared, and the towel, and the pillow cover, and the...everything reminds me of you, everything's soaked, wet to the bones with so much love. I'm missing you, all over again.

hair spread out on the pillow
dark as the night outside
untouched by the jealous wind
those black waves hid us both

safe in our little world
washed clean, baptized
born again

and all we could hear
was the rhythm of our hearts
and the music of our lives
and all we could feel
was the warmth of our love
and the heat of our skins
next to each other, in each other's arms

on a corner

2006-03-23T17:34:00.000+05:30

you have walked
on these pebbled streets

closed your eyes
and breathed the scents of life

you have danced
on those dainty feet

opened your heart
and embraced the love

you have cried
and you have laughed

you have loved a lot
you have hated too

you have given a bit
you have taken a bit

and now i walk with you
on these pebbled streets

and on every street
and on every corner
you remind me

of the love you once had
the love that was thrown around
the love that nobody really cared for

i still walk with you
i still hold your hand

as you look back every second
at the love that is no more
at the love that was thrown around

i will still walk with you
i will still hold your hand

but don't be surprise
if you find yourself, one day
all alone, on that street of dreams

all alone, on a corner
with the past,
the present and the future
impossible to see, anymore

photographs

2006-03-21T23:39:00.000+05:30

From an under graduate to a research scientist in string theory and cosmology, from someone 7 years younger to someone 8 years older, these are the women I've known and loved.

H - You were a dream. Beautiful, intelligent and caring, you were lovely beyond imagination. But our love wasn't enough, we dreamt big but we were just too far apart. Two hopeless romantics in two different countries. I have to let you go coz I didn't have the heart to make you wait; wait for me to grow rich, come to your country and work there. I remember your last words, "I will never be able to love anyone as strongly as I love you." I believed you then, and I still do.

From you, I learned what "lovely" means. From you, I learned what being faithful is all about.

J - You were that cute li'l girl, so easy to fall in love with. You tried so hard to impress me, to like the things I love. And your lies, those small lies that grew so big that both of us couldn't manage in the end.

From you, I learned how to flirt. From you, I learned that the most innocent looking face can mask a heart full of lies.

T - You came like a comet in my life. We collided; we both exploded and gave up a part of ourselves to each other. You were the first woman who challenged my beliefs, the first woman who cried when I said I love you, and the first woman who love and drank dark rum more than me. We had to let each other go because there were too many obstacles, and the rules of society that need to be broken, they were just too many.

You taught me how to love a woman, and everything beyond.

L - You were the one with a TEMPER. Tiny and so fair-skinned, I could never imagine what was underneath.

From you, I learned that a woman can be so stubborn and egoistic.

J - You were the most overgrown kid I've ever known. Scarred by your first love, you were so confused and so vulnerable. And I could never be the perfect love that your heart wanted.

You taught me how to deal with a woman's endless, ever changing moods.

Like everyone else, I remember all of you sometimes. But unlike everyone else, I will never look back, nor have I ever looked. You were there in my life, once upon a time. But like the view from the window of a car, moving along a highway, you are all behind me now, gone forever. And those moments we shared, and the love and happiness we felt - they have become hazy, neglected and forgotten like the old faded photographs in a family album.

I'm a pilgrim; I'm a tourist on this planet. What I have right now, what I see and feel today, and where I'm going tomorrow - that's all that matters to me. And you, my woman, you are the love of my life. And you, my sweet, you come above everything and everyone else.

We are going to be together, forever, very very soon. Goodnight and sweet fragrant dreams, my love.

so many to read!!!

2006-03-16T17:16:00.000+05:30

Once upon a time, I used to read like there was no tomorrow. In my teens, I used to finish the Jeffrey Archers, Sydney Sheldons and the Ken Folletts in a single day.

When I was doing my engineering in Tamil Nadu, there was this small library near our college. I used to go there once a week and borrow 3-4 books at a time. In a few months, I almost finished the FICTION section and the owners were so pleased that they started ordering coffee for me whenever I went there. And once in the hostel, I came across a very rare book, written by a prisoner about life in a notorious penitentiary. I also found out that my friend had borrowed it from someone else and had to return it the next day. I read the whole night, finished it at 6 in the morning and gave back the book to him. I was tired and sleepy, but very very happy.

Lately, I'm beginning to learn that the rate at which I'm buying new books and the rate at which I'm reading them - they are too far apart. Take a look at all the books I haven't started reading or haven't finished:

Love in the Time of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
True History of the Kelly Gang - Peter Carey
The Best Loved Poems of the American People (Publisher - Doubleday)
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - Hunter S. Thompson
Songs in Ordinary Time - Mary McGarry Morris
The Complete Stories - Franz Kafka
The Birth of Tragedy - Friedrich Nietzsche (complex compared to "Beyond Good and Evil" and "Thus Spake Zarathustra")
The Magic Mountain - Thomas Mann

I seriously need to do something about this. Maybe I need to buy more!!

street sexual harassment

2006-03-09T17:36:00.000+05:30

Much has been written on this; stories have been told and they've left me with an overwhelming sense of sadness and anger. Some have simply told their stories, while some have offered solutions.

I was born in the northeast, I grew up and lived there for almost 15 years. I've been in Delhi since my 11th class and in between, I was in Tamil Nadu for 4 years. I've also been to numerous places, all over India.

It happens almost everywhere in India but no place can beat the northern states of Haryana, UP and Delhi when it comes to the sheer rejection of women's equality and the utter disrespect for them. For the men folks in these regions, being manly or macho is a matter of life and death. And at the expense of the women.

It's how they speak; if you are a real man, every phrase, every line has to be punctuated with the infamous BCs and MCs. Doesn't matter much who is around. In every house, there is a husband, a son, a brother or an uncle who uses these expletives every time, everywhere. And no one in the family will protest, men or women. It's a manner of speaking for the guys; it's a way of life out here. It happens in the colleges and offices too.

It's how every family views incidents of molestation or harassment. When their own daughters, sisters or wives are the victims, very few families will come out and report it. Someone passed a lewd comment, someone felt you up, it's silently accepted. Maybe with a bit of indignation, but not because you have been victimized or scared to death but because someone has violated their property or shown disrespect to it. Coz this is India, families own all the unmarried women and the husbands, the married ones.

Someone rapes you and the verdict is - you have done something wrong, somehow, somewhere. Forget society, forget the man-woman divide and look closer. Most of your family members, your relatives and your neighbors will have this opinion.

Don't believe me, do you? Ask yourself then, why do these people keep quiet? Why do they talk of the whole thing as if you were to be blamed? Why are they ashamed to talk about it or report it? Why do they make you ashamed of yourself? Ashamed of being born a woman in this Goddamn country?

You and I are going to write about this. You and I are going to light candles and stand together in front of the Parliament or India Gate. The laws may be changed and we may congratulate each other. But will it really change much?

Why don't we start with a little bit of education instead? Start with the men in your lives; your fathers, your brothers, your uncles, your boyfriends and your male friends. Whenever they use some expletives, pass a derogatory comment, make a judgment or ogle at a woman - don't you dare accept it silently. Say something that will make him ashamed, slap him if you have to but don't you dare let it pass.

Women's day will come and go, the blanknoiseproject will be forgotten in time, the interests and enthusiasm will dry up and the flowers will wither away. But the girls will remain, the girls with the same old scars and fears.

Won't it be far better to change the attitude of the men in your lives than to change the laws of a country?

the great indian rock

2006-03-01T19:03:00.000+05:30

GIR 2006, after a gap of one year I was back again.

Nothing much had changed. The black T-shirts with Band names/pictures, the chains and baggy jeans, and the girls in low-waist jeans and heavy eye makeup. The venue was still great and some of the bands were really good but the crowd was a mass of confusion.

A band started playing an RATM (Rage Against The Machine) number, and someone next to me was raising his hands and swaying them. Kid, that's RATM, that's guerilla rock and you don't sway your hands to that. You either go there to the mosh pit and bang your head away or you just sit and listen, hypnotized. And yes, you need to know a bit about the history of the Latin-Americans, Red Indians and the blacks, and the oppression, exploitation and revolutions associated with it, to understand the music of RATM.

That one with the ubiquitous Che Guevara on his T-shirt. Forget what he fought for, forget how US led forces killed him and hid his body for almost 30 years, do you even know who he was and where he was born?

All the people talking on their mobile phones, are you guys serious?

But I enjoyed, I enjoyed the music and the noise of the crowd under that cold February sky.

suicide song

2006-02-23T18:12:00.001+05:30

It comes out of the blue, it begins to get louder and clearer. I'm hearing this in my head now, i wanna close my eyes and drift away, so very much.

Life it seems will fade away
Drifting further every day
Getting lost within myself
Nothing matters no one else
I have lost the will to live
Simply nothing more to give
There is nothing more for me
Need the end to set me free

Things aren't what they used to be
Missing one inside of me
Deathly lost, this can't be real
Cannot stand this hell I feel
Emptiness is filling me
To the point of agony
Growing darkness taking dawn
I was me, but now He's gone

No one but me can save myself, but it's too late
Now I can't think, think why I should even try
Yesterday seems as though it never existed
Death greets me warm, now I will just say good-bye
- Fade to black by Metallica

what is it?

2006-02-14T16:45:00.000+05:30

What is it with guys these days? Guys who don't have girlfriends?

Half of their time is spent on trying to be nice, sweet, big-hearted and chivalrous to a girl or more accurately, someone's girlfriend.

They usually start with all the forwarded jokes and end with, "Will you GO OUT with me?" GO OUT is usually coffee at Barista or some fancy coffee-joint; don't think they can come up with something more creative or something exciting. So while the rest of the world is sipping their rum punches and bloody marys, you can spot these guys at the coffee houses, along with the teenagers on their first dates. Man, I will make lemon tea for my girl and have GOOD DAY cookies at my house rather than have coffee at some crowded noisy joint!!

And in between these two phases, if the girl tells this guy that she has already got a boyfriend, he won't mind at all. He just wants to be FRIENDS, he just wants to see her, he just wants to hear her voice, he just wants to be her PUPPY. He just wants to be FRIENDS, can anybody please understand that?

christmas

2006-02-03T17:52:00.000+05:30

on the balcony he stood
that warm december morning
a silent prayer escaped
as he saw her below
a vision crossing the street

not a stranger, not a lover yet
but his heart ached so pleasantly
when she was with him
he was not going back
he had to let her know

the words came out
long after his touch had said it all
and as she reached out
he pulled her in his arms
and closed his eyes
nothing else mattered

Venus de Milo with a grin
child woman, light and darkness
shy and tender, hot and wild
fresh and fragrant, wet and musky
she was a dream, she was life

thought he had grown older
thought he had seen and done it all
but as she came in his thoughts
he had never felt more alive
he was at peace, he was in love
he was finally home, with her

about minors and rhythms

2006-02-01T17:13:00.000+05:30

The majors are always learned first, then came the minors. The major and minor chords - strip them down to the bare essentials, and the difference is just one note, theoretically. To a musician, it's actually a difference of a HALF note. But when they are played, when you hear these chords in a song; the difference is just one WORLD.

A sound that makes you think and yearn for the empty sky, the mountains, the fields and grasslands as you cruise down a highway; beautiful yet ineffably sad, the minors are best heard by picking the strings. Floyd's "Hey You", Scorpion's "Holiday", Who's "Behind Blue Eyes", Deep Purple's "Soldier Of Fortune", Aerosmith's "Dream On"...all these songs start with the minors and also have a lot of minors in between. Beautiful, memorable songs with an element of sadness that touches you.

Now, let's talk about rhythms. U2's "With or Without You" and Green Day's "When I Come Around", anything simliar in these two songs? The intro and the main verses in both these songs use the same four chords, in the same sequence - G D Em C. And Scorpion's "Holiday", listen to the difference between the intro and the chorus, when the pickings end and that powerful catchy rhythm kicks in. That's what rhythm is all about.

And today, when I go back home, I'm gonna play some minor chords. Feeling a bit sad, feeling a bit down...

tasks and lessons for my child

2006-01-27T16:53:00.000+05:30

- never ever hurt your mother
- play in the mud, get wet in the rain
- learn to fly a kite, learn to fish
- sleep on the roof sometimes, watching the stars
- experience life at a boarding school
- live alone for at least a year, doing everything on your own
- travel in a train, 2nd Class Sleeper, at least once in your life
- look someone in the eye when you are talking;doesn't matter whether you
are demanding or begging
- for a boy: don't believe it though all the girls say they want someone tall,
dark and handsome. just make her feel loved and very special. she'll be yours
- for a girl: you don't have to do much, just pick your choice from the line outside your door

got milk?

2006-01-18T18:23:00.000+05:30

I hate milk when I have to drink it alone. It's lemon/ginger tea without milk, or strong coffee or just the ordinary tea with milk for me.

But sometimes, I drink plain milk with extra sugar and I normally do this in the office. Once the HR Manager saw me.

She: What are you drinking?
Me: Milk.
She: Milk??
Me: Yes, milk. Milk alone.
She (smiles suddenly): You are a baby...!!!

The next time, both of us were in a meeting.

She: Wanna have Pepsi?
Me: I don't drink Pepsi alone.
She: You want to drink it with someone else?
Me: Don't know, but I drink Pepsi with dark rum only.

She didn't say anything about milk after that.

I will be 30 in a few years and my last wisdom tooth (hope it's the last one) came up about a week ago. My girlfriend asked me what I'm going to say if her dad asks how many teeth I have.

I don't know but I'm regularly drinking milk in the office these days. Someone told me long ago, milk is good for the teeth.

ads (attention deficiency syndrome)

2006-01-17T16:41:00.000+05:30

putting on your grotesque mask
getting ready for the masquerade
you prepare to perform your stale tricks
imagining all eyes upon you
you go on, for those who doesn't care

living in a make believe world
where everything disintegrates
in the blink of an eye
and sinks to a bottomless pit
you dream on, building castles for ghosts

nearer to death but never wiser
you're trapped in your own snares
the know-it-all
in your own fool's world
you are neck deep, in your own shit

thinking you smell like the roses
when you stink to the high heavens
picking up the leftovers
you bedeck yourself
and prattle on like a monkey

an infant crying in the night
an infant crying for the light
and with no language but a cry
that's all you are
and all you'll always be

*The first 3 lines of the last para are from Alfred Lord Tennyson's LIV

cry my beloved country

2006-01-06T15:47:00.000+05:30

Open a newspaper or a mag. Chances are we'll come across a young face being heralded as the new-age entrepreneur or a young achiever. Entrepreneur - A person who organizes, operates, and assumes the risk for a business venture, basically someone who takes risk.

Now, if we go back to that article we'll find that this "entrepreneur" or "achiever" is also the son/daughter/nephew/niece/wife/..... of someone who had actually done something or someone who's RICH. That's when we all begin to wonder, what else has this young achiever done besides studying in the US/UK/Australia, donning some nice formal clothes and inheriting the family business?

Entrepreneurship?? When you've already got millions deposited (not earned) in your personal bank account since the time you were in diapers, you don't need much gray matter or the never-die-spirit to take risk. You don't need them to inherit wealth or take what's already been handed to you.

Amazing India, where the cow still rules even though we have the tiger as the national animal. Slow and heavy, with a "who cares" attitude (if you've been in a cow induced traffic jam, you'll know), no other animal comes close when it comes to representing our country. Respect this animal for cow politics can cause riots or decide which party's gonna rule our country next time.

Temples. We build the biggest, most-expensive goddamn temples almost every month, almost everywhere. And no government will ever have the courage to say "enough!!" No government or political party will ever say, let's spend the money on schools, hospitals, low-cost housing schemes or roads. Because to utter these words means you are signing your own death warrant.

We talk of the IT boom, we talk of Indians in INTEL and NASA, we talk of the sensex hitting 9000 but we continue to spit on the roads, we continue to urinate wherever there's a wall (doesn't matter if there's a single brick standing) or a tree, we continue to talk about women's rights and pray to female deities though we ogle at every other woman and jump to conclusions or form opinions when a woman does anything.

We talk of unity in diversity though we continue to think and feel Indians are Hindus, Indians are Hindi-speaking people, Indians are north Indians (or people of Aryan origin). Indians in the south are still 'Southies' or 'Madrasis.' Indians in the northeast are still 'Chinkies' or 'Chinese.' We talk of equality but we continue to have, and demand reservations based on caste, religion and gender. Most of us will spend a lifetime paying monthly installments on our homes and other things but our weddings, our sons' and daughters' weddings have to be extravagant, something to dazzle our neighbors.

Somewhere underneath all the colours and the costumes, somewhere far away from the fireworks and the loudspeakers lives the real India; my country, my beloved India.

for you sweety

2005-12-29T19:33:00.000+05:30

I asked you once, if I play a song or write a poem for you, will you dance for me?

That Friday evening, I didn't play a song or write a poem but you danced. You moved like a dream in your pink corduroy pants and stole my heart. Maybe, I had given it all away, long before I knew.

They say there's something about a woman that makes a guy fall for her. So will you believe me if I say there wasn't something at all about you? Will you believe me if I say it was everything about you? From that small green mole on your cheek to that ATTITUDE, from the way you crinkled your nose to the way you curled up your toes when you read the paper...I fell for you.

I wanna look into those brown eyes when I wake up in the morning. I wanna kiss you goodnight every night, before I go to sleep, with you in my arms. I can't wait to hear you sneeze so that I can take care of you and spoil you. I wanna kiss the nape of your neck when you wear your hair in a bun. I wanna see you with a flower in your hair.

Thought I could write something for you but all I can think of, are these lines by William Butler Yeats...

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

the battle

2005-12-06T17:18:00.000+05:30

Whoever is up there, whatever you call it, I don't think IT has done much since the concept of time started. Since this world came to life and started rotating.

If we open our eyes, watch and listen; we'll know that we don't need a GOD or anyone else to make our lives worth living. The highs and lows, the tears and laughter, those dreams and nightmares - they have touched everyone but they have failed to cast everyone into a mold.

I know a girl from the northeast, about 19 years old. After her 12th class, she came to Delhi and started working as a receptionist, now she's working in a BPO. Small, thin and so fragile looking, I want to salute her when she says, "I want to be financially independent." A single line, a simple dream, but I have never heard anyone say those words with so much passion and confidence.

There's a friend from south India, we finished our engineering in the same year. He came to Delhi and started with a salary of 4000 per month, which grew to 6000 in another year. He found a small room near his company, and continued with that job happily. He refuses to buy a cell phone, sends money to his parents every month, buys gifts for his sisters and spent heavily on their weddings. Recently his salary was increased to 8000 and he's so happy, he already thinks he's a millionaire.

And then on the other side, there are so many people who work overtime to earn more, who saves all the time, who doesn't party and doesn't go out on weekends. There are people who count the calories and read the labels before they eat or drink anything. There are people who take every known precaution in this world, when the seasons change or when the rains come.

We all choose our own paths, live our small lives and have our own idea of a dream. But, if we are that scared of our future, if we are so damn afraid of catching a cold, where do we go from here? Are we going to enjoy the wine and that fancy dinner when our bodies start prescribing medicines on their own and impose a ban on all those food and drinks? Are we going to enjoy a movie in a theater when our eyes go weak or when we start wearing bifocal lens?

And as I sit here in front of the computer typing these words, I see my own reflection on the screen. This battle will rage on forever; this battle's not about the rich and the poor, or the majority and the minority. It's about those who know and those who don't. Those who know what they want in life and how they wanna achieve it. And those who don't have a clue.

So which side are you on?

restless

2005-11-29T18:06:00.000+05:30

I changed my ring tone, from 'fade to black' to 'i can't get no satisfaction.' My world hasn’t exactly changed but a lot of things around me have changed, taken on a different hue. Like the clean wet green of the trees on a rainy day or the sulky red of the sky on a warm summer evening. You don't just see these colors; you actually feel them.

I'm getting restless, very very restless. Last week, I saw 4 movies, did some heavy stuff shopping, drank whiskey after ages and ate four kinds of meat. I'm also reading two books - a biography of Hitler and the motorcycle diaries. It's like I want everything to happen fast and all at the same time.

My kid bro will be coming from Pune this weekend and will be staying with me for about 2 weeks. I just can't wait to play the guitar with him or raid his rucksack for new novels. As a kid, he used to follow me all around though we became really close only after he entered his teens. I'm the silent moody one in the family and he's the only one with whom I can talk freely about books, music and all my eccentric ideas. We talk about girls and female orgasms too:-) We are that close though he's 9 years younger than me.

I will be traveling too, very soon. Have taken a 9-day vacation to go to Chennai, Pondicherry and Bangalore. Will be visiting another bro in Chennai and meeting my sis-in-law for the first time.

I'm on the edge. I wanna fly. Never ever come down. I think I'm falling. Falling in love too. Wanna sing a song. Wanna write a poem.

Maybe I'll just hold her tight, say nothing and feel each breath she takes.

ruby tuesday

2005-11-23T18:07:00.000+05:30

Life has its strange twists and turns. Slept so late yesterday, images of my life flashed before me like a slideshow.

My first memory, when my mom called me and offered me the bottle of milk my little sister couldn't finish. That's the earliest I can go back and that's when life begun for me.

A little boy about 5, I was crying coz mom was washing and scrubbing my hands and feet in hot water, on that cold winter night. It was the same night I saw a wounded terrorist running for his life, and coming straight to our courtyard. Mom showed the opening through the hedges, and gave him directions. The army came shortly afterwards;tall big guys, all heavily armed. Everyone saw the blood but mom lied and we somehow managed to escape.

A shy teenager about 13, when I got my first love letter. I got scared and never talked to her. At that time, I hardly talked to girls anyway.

Just 16, when I came to delhi for the first time. Homesick, terribly lonely and with a few mispronounced and broken phrases in hindi, I carried on and fell in love with the city.

18, feeling ashamed and angry coz dad and my brothers were scolding me. They were shocked and hurt coz I had come in the first division for the first time in my life. The first time I passed an exam without a rank/position. My neighbours were celebrating coz their sons and daughters have managed to pass the same board exam.

A few more images and my mind turned to women. Marianne Faithful, a very beautiful and enigmatic singer, pursued my so many rock stars of her time. Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones, sang a song for her, when they were still the "biggest and baddest rock n' roll band" in the world. We'll never know what she really felt when she heard that song for the first time; all we know is that the famous "Ruby Tuesday" chain of restaurants came up everywhere.

I still wonder how the most intelligent and mature women are so similar with the most ordinary ones when it comes to making decisions...anyway, here's the song.

Don't question why she needs to be so free
She'll tell you it's the only way to be
She just can't be chained
To a life where nothing's gained
And nothing's lost
At such a cost

Goodbye, ruby tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you...

There's no time to lose, I heard her say
Catch your dreams before they slip away
Dying all the time
Lose your dreams
And you will lose your mind
Ain't life unkind?

Goodbye, ruby tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you...

it's my life

2005-11-02T18:52:00.000+05:30

In PG, there was an economics professor who really made the effort to know each and everyone of his students. He succeeded too.

Once he asked each one of us to stand in front of the class and speak about our dreams. There were many who wanted to be good husbands, good fathers, and good human beings. My turn came and I told them - I want to work hard, grow rich, see the world and die traveling. The smiles were forced and the applause wasn't as deafening as the one "a good husband/father" received.

He also took a personality test. There were four quadrants and depending on your attitude and beliefs, you will fall in one of the four quadrants. Out of 70 students, only two students came in one quadrant. Another test was done the following month, the results changed for a lot of people. But those two students came in the same quadrant again, and they were the only two.

The professor told those two students that people in that quadrant would never follow rules. They will be a problem to any organization, family or society. He told us that their parents don't understand them, and as such they don't get along with them too.

Those two students - one was me and another was a very close friend. We didn't talk for almost a year; we were both silent and moody. We got to know each other in the 2nd year only, but became the closest of friends very soon. The only two in the whole batch of about 200 students who could talk about Marilyn Manson, Guy de Maupasant, Edgar Allan Poe and Drugs.

Maybe we went too far, maybe we didn't. But we never knew that one night, he'll pick me up from the road, bloodied and lying unconscious. We never knew that I would stuff so many pills in those momos. I was riding my friend's kinetic all alone and he was riding his scooter behind me. I've never imagined how it would have ended if he had overtaken me or if we had taken different routes. It was quite late and the flyover at AIIMS was under construction.

I was in the hospital for a month, another month in my room, bedridden. Every night I used to wake up screaming in pain, the painkillers couldn't handle much of the pain in my head. The nurses would then increase my dose and I would fall asleep after that. I should have learnt my lesson right then and there. But I didn't and I took another chance and nearly overdosed.

Something happened after that, something snapped and I took a decision. I gave up everything - the pills, the syrups, the joints, and the works. I haven't touched anything after that; it's been almost 3 years. I drink only on weekends these days and I'm quite happy with that. And I'm content with my music, with my books and with the few women who have enriched my life. Those lovely women who have crossed paths with me and taught me a lot of things I have never ever come across in those hundreds and hundreds of books I've read.

I just smile these days when teenagers and college kids talk about sex, drugs and rock n' roll. Sometimes, I think we take "It's my life" too seriously. Sometimes, I want to tell them my story, the things I've done. Sometimes, I want them to know that it's not all about our own lives. Sometimes, I want to tell them, "Go on dreaming, be free, be wild but make sure you don't hurt the ones you love - your friends, lovers and family. Without them, there's no life."

Sometimes I feel I'm old, sometimes I feel I've just mellowed. But whatever it is, I'm at peace with myself. And one day, I'll tell you everything about my life and my dreams. I'll tell everything if you would look into my eyes and hold my hand.

friday fever

2005-10-27T17:45:00.000+05:30

There's a chill in the air and getting up every morning has become a Herculean task. I'm not much of a late sleeper anyway, the urge to read the newspaper in the morning is too strong to ignore. On those rare occasions when I don't have the urge, the paper boy gives his best shot and makes sure that the thud of the newspaper falling on the balcony is extra loud.

My colleagues have always told me that I'm the most cheerful person on Fridays. And every Friday night, I would go to bed with a head buzzing with plans for the next two days. Inspite of all the ups and downs of life, I go to bed every Friday night, happy and excited. Call it innocence, call it an idiosyncrasy but I would rather call it the Friday night fever.

I always think of making something new for breakfast but when Saturday morning finally arrives, it's just tea or coffee with french toast, most of the times. And I would enjoy it slowly, with some 60's rock music playing in the background.

After that the planning starts. Should I play the guitar, should I catch up on my reading, should I go out for browsing in the book/music store? And depending on my status at that time, should I go out on a date? I leave out the mundane household stuff - cleaning the room and washing clothes - for Sunday.

And then these plans can be broken up into smaller ones too. Playing the guitar - should it be the acoustic or the electric? Should I play the lessons or some ol' rock n roll I already know? The possibilities are endless but there is so little time. I think you must have got the picture by now. I'm excited on Friday nights but I'm a very confused guy on Saturdays.

But I don't belong to that group of people who makes New Year resolutions just for the heck of it. So by saturday evening, I end up doing a bit of everything I've planned.

The evening brings in the few close friends I have. Friends you hardly find in these days of egos and status symbols. Friends so rare in these days of big talks and small deeds. They come for drinks, food, music, and movies. They come to just sit and talk.

As the night grows, a brainstorming session soon starts. What shall we eat? Should I cook or order? What shall we drink? Rum, vodka, whiskey? And what shall we drink with? Water, cola or fruit juice? I've always marveled at the difference between drinking and all the other things that give you a high. You can dope, you can pop, and you can sniff all alone. And people normally don't like to share these kinds of stuff; they do it alone and enjoy it alone too. But drinking? It's a social activity. I've never come across anyone who's that happy when he's drinking alone. Includes me too.

And when the lights are out; when everything's over, I'm in bed, a little tipsy, a bit warm and very happy. Life's worth living after all, as long as you can look forward to your weekends. Life's still beautiful with a few good friends, good food, music and drinks.

55 word story

2005-10-06T17:45:00.000+05:30

I've been tagged by flame and have to write a 55 word story about anything. So here it is :-)

He was drunk, walking around the mall;nowhere to go. Suddenly he smelled something heavenly and saw a woman approaching. Without thinking, he opened the door and stood aside. She walked out, barely noticing him. But she stopped, turned around and smiled, "Thanks!" That's when he remembered, that's when he walked back home, happy and sober.

Arunima, you are next!!!

for women only

2005-10-05T17:29:00.000+05:30

Let me not get into exceptions. Let me just tell you a story, straight and simple.

We love women and we just can't do without you. We can't imagine a world without you; a world without your beauty, your elegance, your tenderness, your tears and laughter. I would never have learnt how to say 'I love you' with so much coviction, honesty and hope, if you were not there. I would have never seen how a bouquet is made if I hadn't bought those flowers for you. I would have never ever known that feeling when you were in my arms, when I caress your hair or when you wet my shirt with your tears. You are just precious.

But sometimes I just can't help but feel, do you women feel the same for us guys? From my friends' experiences and mine, it's the guys who have to be on their toes to keep the romance alive. We are the ones who should say something interesting and funny all the time, we are the ones who should buy the flowers and gifts and we are the ones who should call regularly.

If you are moody, you can ignore our sms' and calls, and we'll understand that you're in one of your moods. If we ever do that, we better have some very very good answers ready. We can be busy, or we can be in a bad mood just like every human being regardless of gender, but you will not understand that or you just won't care. When we were friends, you used to understand this but once we become lovers most of you don't.

We dream our little personal dreams and you are always there. For most of us, our dreams aren't complete without you and we chase you, the same way we chase everything in our dreams. I'm sure you all dream too and I'm sure we guys are there in your dreams. So for a change, what about pursuing everything in your dreams?

For once, why don't you chase us, woo us, romance us? For once, why don't you ask us out? For once, why don't you come up to us and say 'I love you'?How long will you wait for the guy to make the first move? I wonder how you can keep it inside and wait, when you really really like a guy. Ever thought of the possibility that the guy can move on? What then? Will you shrug it off or will you regret it for a lifetime? Regret, coz you never gave it a chance. Regret, coz these feelings are all you'll have, to give you company on cold solitary nights.

We are humans after all, we fall in and out of love, and we make mistakes. We don't have PMS but we have our mood swings too. We are guys not Gods. Observe carefully, the 'g' in guys and the 'G' in Gods. We are much much smaller.

departure at 27

2005-09-27T19:28:00.000+05:30

James Marshall Hendrix (Nov 27, 1942 - Sep 18, 1970) - Barbiturates OD
- 27 years 9 months
Janis Joplin (Jan 19, 1943 - Oct 4, 1970) - Heroin OD
- 27 years 8 months
James Douglas Morrison (Dec 8, 1943 - July 3, 1971) - Heart Attack?OD'd?
- 27 years 6 months
Kurt Cobain (Feb 20, 1967 - Apr 5, 1994) - Shot himself?Murdered?
- 27 years 1 month

in a world of cliches
and beaten defeated roads
you defied the rules
you challenged the gods

on a comet's tail
you streaked across the sky
and crossed all the frontiers

did you know
did you see then
all that fame and fortune
did you dream then
your own deaths too

when you invoked the magic
with your words and melodies
when heaven and earth was set ablaze
and the jealous gods raged

in a flash, in a blink
darkness descended
faiths were betrayed
and dreams were stolen

the songs' over
the fires have died
all's gone, gone too soon
requiescat in pace

changes

2005-09-10T10:32:00.000+05:30

Last week, i met two friends after about 6 years.

Both of them are married and one of them has a kid already. We had lunch together, we talked about the old times, we talked about our other friends - what they are doing and where they are.

The names conjured up images and memories enclosed within the quotes of another space and time. I also saw my 2 friends and their wives. I have known these women too, since the time they were going out with my friends. What happened? What really happened to all of them?

They have changed and I expected that. But not this, not this!!

We studied our engineering together. One of them was into classic rock; he was also into books and guitars. These days, he reads self-help books, listens to pop and doesn't play the guitar at all. The other was a very thin guy who didn't smoke or drink. Now he does both. The worst part is that they are into these new things and ideas without the same old passion they once had.

And I could see and feel the distance between these couples. Their conversations were mostly mono-syllabic, the laughter was missing but the boredom was there. All of them had grown fat too.

Have they all changed for love or for themselves? Or has society conspire this change so that they will look and think alike the so-called majority?

Then they turned to me. You haven't changed at all. When will you stop listening to rock music? When will you stop reading those 'serious' books? When will you stop changing your girlfriends? When will you mellow down? You are born in the wrong country!!!

I don't have the answers for that, my friends, and I can't promise anything. We'll meet again someday, somewhere. And when we do, I hope I still can recognize that old friend of mine. Change is inevitable but please don't give up your passions and your 'old familiar' smiles coz these are the things I will remember about you. And these are the only things that will identify you when the cruel hands of time give you another man's face and skin. Till we meet again, my dear friends.

untitled

2005-09-08T08:45:00.000+05:30

they came
dark, silent and heavy
and i looked up
searching for hope
in a heaven gone black

life beckoned
my spirits flew
my soul's quiet
...i'm waiting for the rain