Macro

The Book Tag

by

I was reading Shruthi’s post on Books the other day, when it dawned that I too should write on that topic. So yes, this is what you would call a “self-tagged” post. But in addition to merely answering the questions I wanted this post to be a journey back in time, recollecting the books that I’ve read and made a difference in my life.

1. What is the total number of books you’ve owned?

To answer this question I would have to travel back in time to those years when Tinkle and Champak cost Rs 1/-. Yes, I have been reading books since then – I refuse to call Tinkle or Champak as comics because at the age I read them, they were no lesser than a book to me, however illustrated or otherwise. My dad’s membership to a book library only helped fuel my interest further. I still remember reading stories about adventures of a Native American Indian (I forget his name now), and an illustrated story about penguins in Antartica. Then there was this book which had cool cutouts which would enlarge to form a picture with a story as opened each page – I was pretty obsessed about that too.

Coming back to the question, without going into overdrive about my changing reading patters of my youth, I think I can safely say that I have / own literally thousands of books. I am not kidding here. We once had a huge metal box (usually used to transport household items and stuff in a big box together) which had just books in them.

Its funny, having read that much in life, I am still not a good writer by any means; I never scored great in English either. I make a lot of grammatical errors in my sentences, and very often I don’t express myself clearly. Clearly, reading is one thing – writing is another.

2. What is the last book you bought?

For a guy who’s read so much, it’s a pity that in the last year, I read just 5 books, and the last book I read happens to be “Veronica Decides to Die” by Paul Coehlo.

3. What is the last book you’ve read?

I just finished Calvin and Hobbes Volume 2 and Tintin in Tibet for the umpteenth time

4. What are you currently reading?

Now I am in middle of Calvin and Hobbes Volume 3. I am also in middle of The Calculus Affair

5. What are the 5 books that have meant a lot to you or that you particularly enjoyed?

Well, over the years I admit there have been awful lots of books that have affected me in one way or another, and perhaps 5 would be a small list to justify them. However I will try to recall as many as possible here.

One of the books that always stayed in my mind is The Almighty by Irving Wallace; it was probably my introduction to my grey’s anatomy of the human body, specifically the interesting parts of the fairer sex. Often I would find myself reading a scene and then quickly scanning the dictionary for words that I didn’t understand & its associated meanings, and then try to picture the scene. I must say at thirteen years of age, this was interesting awakening of sorts. So yes, this book is what introduced me to a whole new world, and probably will rank as a book that changed me.

I read The Class (Erich Segal) at the right time in my life, and that’s why it has been a very special book to me. I read it just before I joined engineering hostel and stayed alone in hostel with strangers. Even though the settings were quite mismatched between Havard and Hubli, the feelings remained the same. The first time I read it then, it was a book about friendship and loyalty to me. When I re-read it again, it was about many things – the rage of youth, the courage to rediscover oneself, and the power of success. The next time I read it, it was a story of life and how it treated you at different point in life and the ironies of life. Then again when I read it, I learnt to be in touch with people, for life just passes you by. Its one of the rare books I have read multiple times in life, and each of those times, I have always thought of myself as Andrew Eliot. To that end, I confess there are many a things about Andrew Eliot which do resemble me.

Then there was Love Story (Erich Segal again) a book of 128 pages, and a book I must have read as many times. Every time I have been left with the question – “How can a story be this simple and carry it off?” Its inarguably the greatest love story ever told because it’s the most simplest one there is. The magical dialogues between Jenny and Oliver have stayed etched in my mind since then – in fact, if I had put one word I am looking for a woman in my life, it would be Jenny from this book. I hate mush, and I hate corny love stories, and I sincerely hate all the pink, but this is a book that has always managed to bring me a smile.

And then there was Parva – A book that changed my conception to such an extent that reading has never been the same again. Never. I have always been fond of Mahabhartha, but way it was extrapolated into story of real people not only astounded me, but led me to do a rethink of my own self. Its not an easy book to devour, but the end of it, it emptied me – the descriptions of the war, the birth of Pandavas, the turmoil of Draupadi – everybody has a shade of grey, and speaks aloud in the book. Its not that this book moved me or changed me personally that stands out for me, but the fact a book can be so powerful that it can alter your reading forever amazes me. Post Parva, I have hardly come across a book that can compare.

Then there a few books which I have had immense joy of reading and having enjoyed – few of them being Gitangali, One Hundred Years of Solitude, Love in the time of Cholera, Midnight’s Children, The Satanic Verses, The Uprooted, Congo, Jurassic Park, The God of Small Things, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, Curtain, Murder on the Orient Express, Engaging India and so many others.

6. What book(s) would you wish to buy next?

Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance

7. What book(s) caught your attention but you never had a chance to read?

Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance

8. What book(s) have you owned for long but never read?

The fountainhead and Atlast Shrugged – every time I feel I have read the worst book in my life, I look to these two books and smile, for there is worse. And I think Ayn Rand was a stupid old prick. Oh yes, I have tried to read both the books twice, and each time I have been put off by some excruciating writing and senseless viewpoints.

9. Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why

Nah. This was a personal post. No tagging – if you feel like writing on this after me, please do so! And please do leave link back here so that I can read it – in any case my “friends” page will tell me if you don’t either 🙂

Happy reading.

Alok Nath

by

Another of my past writings. Enjoy:

Alok Nath

To,
Aruna Irani,
Director – Kompletely Konfused Tele-Serials.

Sub: Application towards post of a Father In Law at KK.

Dear Aruna,

It was with great interest I read about a recent advertisement in Times of India for the requirement of a mentally deranged father in law in your upcoming serial Tum Bin Desh Mein Chaand Nahi Nikaltha. For this challenging role, KK needs a seasoned performer in a variety of ham-till-you-go-crazy roles and one who can sustain a smiling face even in times of terrific adversity. Given my background and skill set, I am sure that I am the right person for this role.

A few key highlights about me –

I have excellent experience in the requisite background required for this challenging role. I have essayed the role of Father and father in law to perfection in many a movie alike, most notably in Hum Aapke Hain Koun and Hum Saath Saath Hain. I have essayed a complex role of a smiling father in both the films with utmost panache and ease with a ever brimming face and a valiant heart. I am very well versed with sways and mannerisms of a happy family, appropriate behavioral patterns in marriages, screwing up family honeymoons, and most notably roles of an anguished father loss at society. In addition, my creative inputs in stealing sneaky glances from my in-laws in HAHK provides me a unique talent which I am sure you will find it appreciative in your serial, in case the mentally deranged father in law decides to have a extra marital affair.

I also bring with me varied exposure to different roles as village-simpleton-always-fooled-by-city-friends, albeit best indicated by my histrionics in Pardes and Maine Pyaar Kiya. My experience in Pardes has given me immense exposure to handling cows and buffaloes, managing an irritating band of kids and grownups alike and the art of whiney-expressions-when-my-daughter-is-at-sea situations. In addition, MPK has gives me immense value as a deranged villager going to Dubai to earn money. I have also perfected a few more nuances like laachar-baap-of-a-girl-who-just-got-raped, father-teresa-who-gets-killed-very-early and others. These qualities will prove indispensable to your company if your mentally deranged father in law happens to lose memory in a freak accident and find himself in village or has a face change operation and becomes a goon in Dubai.

In addition my excellent oral and written histrionics communication skills are well demonstrated in films like Ansh and Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak. My experience as sideys in Sone Ki Sita, Kachchi Kali, Majboor Ladki, Maut Ki Saza, and Shadyantra will prove to be immensely valuable incase you decide to shift focus of the serial from father in law to daughter in law and make me a sidey.

Attached herewith is my resume at your perusal. I would love to meet and discuss this opportunity with you at your earliest convenience. I can always be contacted at my private number 1-800-DIAL-HOWL.

Thanking you for your time and consideration,

Sincerely,

Alok Nath.

Dear Alok,

It gives me immense pleasure to let you know that we have found your resume to be a perfect match for the position of the mentally deranged father in law in my serial.

I have always been a fan of you ever since I saw Hatimtai and you as the evil magician. Even then I could make out that you had makings of a great sidey star, and I am happy that you have chosen to associate yourself with our esteemed corporation. Indeed, in addition to your excellent background, I have always been impressed with your roles and acting in a variety of tele-serials, which I am sure will benefit us mutually. In particular, I like your role as a homicidal father in law with suicidal tendencies in Piya Ka Ghar – Indeed, this role is very much well modeled along the same lines. In fact in one of the episodes is still etched in my memory – Your ringmistress Rhimjim is being tortured by the vixen of the family; Poor you, paralysis has made you immobile – yet, when you hear about your daughter in law, you drag yourself on the floor; inbetween you have panic attacks, heart attacks and a variety of other assorted attacks all at once; your cry-laugh expression as you near Rhimhim can be considered one of the best performances in the annals of TV history. Anyways I get carried away…

A few key requisites for this role you must know before hand –

In this role, you will be required to play a multi-layered complex role of a mentally deranged father in law who is living with his daughter in law. Clearly, your role demands an acute sense of despair in your face, which you anyways possess and should work to our advantage. In addition to despair, you will be required to cry hoarse and threaten to kill yourself every 10 episodes in the serial. We may decide at our discretion if indeed you must die, which will solely depend on TRP ratings.

After about half a year, your daughter in law dies in a car crash and takes a rebirth. You will survive the crash, though you will lose your memory. This is the most challenging part of serial which you must enact – you will be held by a tribe of adivasis who will perform voodoo on you to get your memory back. You will have to combine your expertise in village simpleton in addition to despairing face to get the desired effects. In some episodes, you may also get to wear large sherwanis and walk around aimlessly like a goldfish lost in an aquarium, as a part of voodoo rituals, where I am sure your experience from Hatimtai will prove immensely helpful.

In addition, after a couple of years, you will develop musical talents with adivasis, which you will sing songs with. I have always been a great admirer of your role in Taal, and I hope to further develop that role further here in my serial. Here, you will teach adivasis to sing and dance, and your reborn daughter in law hearing your voice will recognize you. She will ask you to come to Dubai (of course you don’t know her) – however your plane will crash and you will lose memory yet again, and face change will occur. Now you will become a music tycoon remixing your own songs, while still trying to figure out whatever you were in the first place. We may also want to erase the daughter-in-law’s memory at this point, failing which at least a face change will occur, if not then the acctress will be replaced.

I am sure that with your immense experience, your creative inputs will also help us in defining the finer points about your role. I don’t think I should need to interview you, as you are already well qualified and dignified for such a role.

Indeed, when you get this letter, please come to Kompletely Konfused Production House immediately. Shooting will commence from next month itself.

Looking forward to your joyous association with us,

Yours lovingly,

Aruna Irani
Director: Tum Bin Desh Mein Chand Nahi Nikaltha & The Masterpiece : Tum Bin Main Yaha Jaoon Ke Wahan?

Weekly roundup, Skiing and more…

by

Its been one hell of a busy week this time; there’s stuff to do and then there’s more stuff to do. I am dead exhausted today; I don’t have the energy to write a full fledged post so here’s a quick post on my week that passed by

On Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday I went to work. Ha.

On Saturday we went Skiing. Last year too we had been skiing, but unlike last time, this year I had a blast. Last year, I was completely dehydrated by the time the initial class got over. This year, I was fresh even at the end of the day – tired, but fresh and willing to ski. By the end of the day I could navigate through bunny slopes and reach the bottom without crashing or falling, which is a huge achievement for me. Of course, last year I was 4 inches and 40 pounds heavier too – I was in a much better shape this year to actually enjoy Skiing.

It was frigging cold in the mountains though – we were skiing in single digit temperatures; luckily none of us had frostbites. However Sunday morning, exhaustion set in completely. Skiing is a tiring sport, especially if you don’t know how to do it. Given also that I normally experience muscle soreness a day or two later, today was totally tiring, and I am expecting tomorrow to be worse than today.

It was frigging cold on Sunday too, hence I decided to bundle up and watch Alaipayuthey (Saathiya in Hindi) again – I love the simplicity and honesty in the movie. Other than that, quite a boring week this was. I hope next week brings bounds of joy.

~~

Aside: I finally confirmed my tickets and dates for India trip – Ye!

Movie Preview: Krrish, Krish, Krrrish or whatever!

by

Its a bird. It’s a plane. It’s Krrish!

Err… Krrish who?

Remember that dilapidated piece of rubber called Jadoo? Remember the 20 year old oversized pea brain with him? No? Remember Koi Mil Gaya – no, not the song – the movie? Yes? Krrish is that peabrain’s son.

Krrish – The sequel to Jadoo, without the Jadoo is releasing sometime.

As usual, when such news reaches eyes and ears of me, I immediately set out to dig out important and irrelevant information about such exotica. So off I went hunting down familiar grounds to make sense of what Krrish is all about. My first stop was a customary stop at IMDB forums. As usual one particular thread impressed me and brought about more sense to the story.

Now the synopsis goes as this. Please read it, pretty please:

“Rohit’s son, Rohit Mehra jr. (Hrithik Roshan) grows up to be a handsome man with extraordinary strength, speed and intelligence. He is a happy young man, in tune with his natural mountainous surroundings and beauty. Into his world enters Priya (Priyanka Chopra), a beautiful girl from Singapore, who has come for camping and trekking. Karan falls in love with Priya and is heart broken when she finally leaves. When Sonia, Rohit’s mother (Rekha) sees how lonely Rohit has become, she encourages him to go to Singapore and woo Priya back. “

I’m impressed!

Points to ponder – Rohit Junior is in “tune” with his natural mountainous surroundings and beauty – somebody tell me what does that mean? Next – Priya comes for camping and trekking to this mountain, all the way from, wait… Singapore! My, that must be an expensive camping trip! And then Rohit goes back to Singapore to woo Priya. Now here’s the best part of this preview:

“When Rohit arrives at Singapore , he discovers a completely new and fascinating world. He adapts to it quite quickly, making new Chinese friends like Chang and wooing Priya. During one of the entertaining sequences in the amusement park, Rohit is wooing Priya with a song. This song will be picturized with a lot of Lion dancers in the background, the atmosphere is like that of a carnival. Most of the people are wearing masks of different kinds. The song continues into a circus, where one of Rohit’s new Chinese friend, Chang is also performing. At the end of the song, there is a short circuit and the tent of the circus catches fire. Chaos ensures and few acrobats get stranded on top. As they are screaming for help, Rohit realizes that he can help them when he sees a slightly broken burnt mask lying on the ground nearby. He dons the mask, hiding his identity and saves 23 people in a spectacular manner. This heroic deed makes the “Masked Man” a hero and a nationwide search is launched for this new hero in Singapore. Even a reward of $25,000/- is announced for the hero.”

I wonder who wrote this preview – he seems to have taken liberal ease explaining the whole setting where Krrish comes alive – a.la MASK style. And he saves 23 people in a fun filled circus! 23 people?! Who counted them anyways! I thought the movie had not even released yet. By the look of it, this movie seemed like a remake of MASK where the mask provides the power to be powerful 

But I couldn’t be wrong could I? Trust IMDB to give me answers:

anyone else notice the similarity to how Batman’s Robin came to be….

gotta lov indian “originality”

lol

Excellent point! After viewing the trailer of the movie, I felt the same! Only for a while though…

LOL OO Well Mithun style story.

LOL – Very well said my dear. I think Greatbong will be pleased to heard that. Only wishes were horses though…

it IS the first indian super hero film, also it will be more like spider man than batman for sure , coz the lead is a peter parker sort of fellow!

i hope the story is btter shown, and is not so corny!

Someone suggested this is more of a Spiderman than Batman – tch tch – these Supermen (pun intended) have serious identity crisis!! For heaven’s sake Spiderman and Batman did the same thing… almost.

Someone threw more light to the drama:

yesterday i saw the trailer for krrish and i was like WTFFFFFF
this a total rip-off of matrix … of course not the story…i dont think tht rakesh roshan even has the intellect to understand matrix in the first place…but seriously wtf man…first it was E.T. now its matrix
why do ppl watch these movies and encourage the fool

Umm… now that he says it, I have to agree – the long dark tresses and Hrithik jumping around from building to building DID definitely look like a Matrix Hangover.

So it’s a rip off off Superman, Spiderman, Batman, Mask and Neo?! Jesus Christ – Rakesh Roshan, can you stick to one rip off please!

I for one am waiting eagerly for this mega spectacle. I thoroughly enjoyed laughing myself off when watching Koi Mil Gaya – and I have no reason to believe this movie will be any less entertaining hehe!

PS: I will add more to this preview as I have more info on this movie hehe.

This post has now moved to: http://www.nokjhok.com/2006/movie-preview-krrish-2/

Weekly roundup, introducing Karan and more….

by

Its been an interesting week, this one. This week there are no news update as nothing of interest happened in my galaxy; I was hoping that something would pique my mind, but sadly the mundane world didn’t bend – instead all I heard was shopkeepers in Gaza had ordered double supply for Danish flags as it was in demand; on the other side of the world, MoFo Hussy painted mother India nude and got himself into tangles – its about time this guy is retired with 72 virgins and once and for all shut up. Unfortunately for you people, who have come to get enlightened by me this week, alas, will have to do with my bunkum.

All right, as the title of this post suggest, I am introducing a fellow writer, blogger and friend of mine whom I’ve known since dogs years (OK, not that many, but few). He goes by the name of Karan, and is an excellent writer, who at times can give even Queen of England running helter to find her dictionary. He’s been blogging for a while now, but I convinced him to move to wordpress, and I am hopeful that keeps posting his wonderful stuff, especially his critiques on movies and books. Please do check his excellent writings out at http://karana23.wordpress.com – you won’t regret it.

Ok, after this publicity stunt for Karan, I must admit I was bribed to advertise his blog shamelessly.

What else? I have got to stop eating from that Seven Seas Chinese restaurant – the food is awfully good and pathetically addictive. Not good. Not good. I also changed my website template as you can see, and I am pretty much pleased with the results. I intend to work on the theme in the coming weeks and see where it goes.

Mmmh… Yes, I went to Indian store, where I heard two Gujju oldies asking the bewildered shopkeeper – “Beedee hain?” Sadly for the oldie, shopkeeper didn’t have any – hence he declared – “Nakammu desh che!” (America is useless!) – and then said – “Mane Aa molbolo polbolo nathi bhave!” (This Malboro-Palboro doesn’t suit me!). Of course old man, you having lived your life like a miser on Beedee can’t think of anything better can you?

I made some important decisions this week, which unfortunately I am not going to tell you. Move ahead he-he.

On Friday, I and my friends went bowling – I finally scored decent figures, though still was third. Then we watched the match, and thankfully India won to justify my lack of sleep! On Saturday it SNOWED!! Finally. It was about time that “real” winter set into this place, and it snowed more than 12 inches in our area.

To celebrate snow, we decided to cozy up at home and play board games like kids. We first tried to play Lord of the Rings, The Battle of Moria Board game. The freaking game is so complicated and so insanely bizarre, that by the time the evil guys had killed of Aragon and were about to attack that nitwit Frodo, we decided to stop ourselves from being hammered by such hopelessness. Advice to you: never ever pick up that game unless you want to torture someone.

We switched over to more simpler game called “Life” in which you play out your err “Life”. So we went to college, got married, bought a house, changed careers, had a mid life crisis, took insurance and basically did all the mundane things there are to eventually retire rich. I won with 1.6 million dollars in the end – unfortunately, this happens only on board games; I so wish it happened in real life too, and much sooner.

Sunday, we went to lasertag. If you don’t know what laser tag is, then I will tell you: You wear armor with laser guns and act like commandoes; then you start shooting people with those guns and collect points. We were 6 adults and around 20 children playing around – I reluctantly joined the game, but it was great fun!!

We also got to choose our alias for our names to make it more interesting. Some of the names my friends picked were Maximus, Tombraider, Maverick, Top Ace and such. One kid named himself Terminator, while another named himself Executor, and more interesting names like Agent 005, CookieMonster, Zaki-the-Paki and such…

Mmh, other than that the week was pretty much normal. Sigh. Till next time, see ya around!

And oh, I named myself –Mogambo… err…ummm. They didn’t let me have the punch line.

The Price of Freedom

by

I originally wrote this in 2003; I decided to put it up, more or less the way I wrote it – I changed names – thats about it. The story is mostly true, with a little bit of fiction added in.

October 2, 2003

The Price of Freedom

Years later we would realize the price of freedom in our own terms. However that was far away, nearly 5 years away. As we sat down at Shabs to have our evening tea, the topic for the day’s rant was whether we liked our own freedom or not. Shabs was the local tea-shop, where, in evening you could find a herd of college students sipping away tea and puffing away smoke. It was almost a cultural gathering of sorts; there were the regulars for whom life lived and revolved around Shabs, us included, and those who were occasional visitors. The bakery next to the shop served Samosas and Kachoris, making it the perfect spot for a college-goer. That it was also at the proximity of a corner at crossroads made it an even more lucrative to spend time in the evenings. However that day we were ranting on freedom.

Suh as usual was argumentative in the least – he didn’t actually like taking part in discussions which didn’t involve him to speak. Simply put he was not a good debater. He was kind of guy who preferred quiet talks and simple arguments. Once the argument got out of control, he is a kind of guy who would stay back and let the argument flow. Sach was the other way round. The only way he knows is to argue; however he wouldn’t irritate you – that was the beauty of his way of fighting. Never screaming, never angry, yet prudently insistent, he was a guy whom you could argue. While I, it was just I and no body else. What began as an argument which was not going to go for 10 minutes became a big debate later on. The price of freedom as we called it later on, was a memorable discussion on the topic, not because we discussed it, but what we realized later that made it memorable.

However all that was 5 years thence.

Sitting in my lonely room, today I wonder whether we know the price of freedom at all. Whether an average person actually knows the freedom he is enjoying. Exactly what was the meaning of freedom that we enjoyed, and what was the understanding of that amongst everyone. I had once read in a book which talked about our independence struggle. In it a character moans – “what does freedom matter to me? Before independence I lifted these sacks for the British; after independence, I will do the same for my Indian boss. ‘freedom’ is not going to make a big difference to my life”. It was an amusing line for me to read , because it represented what many people actually thought in those times. Did freedom make much of a difference to life of a slum dweller? Did it make the life of sweeper better? It simply didn’t matter. Or maybe they were not that educated to even realize the meaning of freedom and what it actually meant.

“Kounsi Azaadi, what did it do to me man; I still poor” began Suh that day “what difference has it made to this Babs who is serving us tea? He works almost 18 hours a day in this shop, what freedom has he got?”

Babs was the main waiter at Shabs. He was the chief person who would serve everything to everyone, and also had the privilege of getting and listening to everyone’s insults too. We too would get angry with him when he screwed up the amount of coffee in the coffee – however like everything else we and he had got used to each other.

Sach as always countered “But without the very freedom, he wouldn’t be able to work for his family. Imagine if he had no freedom – if we were still under imperial rule. Imagine then, would we be so free and sitting here? Would he be so ‘free’ with us – he jokes with us, even gives hidden discounts to us, and acts like a normal guy with us – would he do that if he were not free? Freedom didn’t mean we got freedom from what we do for living, but freedom gave us the freedom of expression, the freedom to be free.”

I wasn’t convinced, and noticing I had to chip in something I merely quipped “but freedom without the ability to enjoy freedom is useless – look at Babs – he enjoys with us all right, but where does he have the freedom to do anything more? Even if he has to see a movie he will first have to make sure his employer doesn’t throw him out, gather some money and do a quick return. Then is he enjoying his freedom? He would like to spend some time with his family, but 18 hours drains him out; what part of freedom is left for him to enjoy with his family then?”

However Sach charged in “dude, what I am talking about is the nature of being free rather than the feeling of freedom. Ask a man to enjoy freedom – he won’t. It is impossible for him to enjoy freedom without first being free within himself. If he is bound by fear of something, than no freedom can set him free. Talk about Babs, I agree that his freedom to even see a movie is limited, but at least he knows that when he reaches the theatre, he won’t be thrown out just like that. Or that when he goes out with his friends every once in a while, he doesn’t need to worry if someone is going to catch him for doing something. That is the essence of freedom – to enjoy the freeness of freedom”

Maybe Sach had been right day. Sitting here in this lonely room, I mused back to the day I was sidelined to allow entry in a bus for someone else to enter it. Was I free then? Sure I enjoyed the independence and freedom of the foreign country; however how much free was I really was?

It was during the days of the war, when we met our friend Akaash; he had an interesting story to tell us – the other day he was in his lab with his friends, mostly Americans who were discussing about the war. Akaash being an Indian remarked without any ado that Bush was a disgusting person and America’s acts were not honorable. He hated America for doing this.

His American friend who ‘also’ didn’t support the war, however quipped – “if you hate our country so much, then why you do stay here? Go back to your country! Nobody asked you to come here; you enjoy the independence of the country and yet you speak back at us?”

Akaash was understandingly surprised. It dawned on him however that his right to freedom ended with his country and not others. I wondered then, had my right to freedom didn’t actually mean I am free? I realized then that what Sach has been telling to me that day was right. I was a free man in India. I was a free man in America. However I paid the price of freedom by leaving my free land there and coming to a foreign land. I am no longer the free man I was in India, but yes, I do have freedom. Still.

“But how do you justify a man’s freedom by the freeness of mind” asked Suh to all of us “Freeness of mind is a different thing than freeness of a being. If you are not free to “feel” free, then what is the point of this freedom? Can Babs enjoy freedom without first being free himself? Without him getting the time to analyze his life, how do you think he is going to be free? If I were in Babs’s place, I did not be feeling free at all!”

“But dude, that is exactly the difference I am pointing out” Sach jumped at the question – “My argument is if you are free in your mind, then you are using your freedom. As long as Babs has no fear of someone treating him like a mud-sling slave or a pathetic human being, and that he was destined to do menial work, he is actually free. He is not bound by the fear of not doing something totally wrong!”

I wasn’t convinced “So do you say Sach that Babs is enjoying his freedom? Lets leave freedom for a while. Why are we assuming that Babs is being treated like human here in the first place! For one thing, he may not be given money at the end of the month, his employer may be a nuisance, he may be using him to his advantage, he may be overworking and underpaying him, there are a lot of million different things which may be true for him; then how tell me is he not still in the fear of doing something wrong? What if his situation is so bad that he needs this job desperately that he dare not do something wrong? Then what kind of “freeness” is he enjoying pal? He is neither free nor can enjoy freedom!”

Suh agreed with me then and added “Exactly Sach – Unless you are actually in a situation to think about freedom and appreciate the meaning of it, there is no freedom”

Sach had come along with me to the land of Uncle Sam to do his masters. He always wanted to come here and there was no doubt whether he wanted to study ahead or not. His idea was to master gaming world here and work for about couple of years before heading back to India to open his own company – something which I want to do myself, sans the company though. We talked for the first time in august of 2001 when we both landed here. Expectant, hopeful, we were both happy and sad at being here. Suh couldn’t make it here, but he did go to the other part of the world – UK. While I and Sach stayed with Uncle Sam, Suh took refuge in UK. The next time when I and Sach talked to each other was actually December 2002. Half year without talking had us both strangely quite on the phone, though in spite of chatting on mail day in and out.

Invariably like any expatriate, our focus would come back to the life we led in engineering days and the life we are living now. He would mention then “Man, life sucks here! I have to go to campus jobs every day, then study, and then complete those freaking assignments! By the time I reached home, I am dead tired, and the only thing I do I sleep!”

“that’s true dude. Same here, same campus jobs, same assignment, hardly leaves me any time! I haven’t even seen a desi movie in years now!”

“Seriously man, life was better in engineering days! I miss those days dude – especially the evenings at Shabs! All that you see here is those damned burger kings and Mc Donalds. How I wish I had failed a couple of subjects and stayed back man – that was life! The freedom and independence we enjoyed was awesome!”

I agreed, and after a couple of more pleasantries, I hung up. You see I had my job to go to.

It would be fair to assume how our discussion went thereafter. Sach stuck to his point of being “free” from the mind rather than freedom itself, while Suh and I argued otherwise. Like any other argument, that too ended with Suh keeping quiet, and finally we having our cups of teas and samosas and then as usual, there was always something else to talk about. They both forgot about this discussion right after, and arguably, I did too. It was yet another discussion we had. Life had so much in store for us that none of us would have the time to realize whether freedom came from within or freedom was bestowed on you. Whether a man free from his mind enjoyed freedom, or did freedom engulf the very man who wanted to enjoy it so much, but simply couldn’t.

We always used to hear, “America is a free country”. People said “People can live any ways they want to there”, sometimes my friends quipped “God, people stare at you here if you wear shorts and go outside, in America this doesn’t just happen”. My aunty also had a view “I am sure no one bothers about their neighbor as much as we do – my neighbor has all the information on my family matters – I just don think we have privacy”. My dad wouldn’t’ be left behind “In America” he reasoned rather maturely “It’s the small nuances of freedom which appeal to everyone, however it is not true. People are individualistic here, and that’s the reason people feel free there, and you will too”

I first didn’t grasp what would be the meaning of all this. However when I came down to Uncle Sam, in a few days I knew what my father meant. I could be free here as long as I didn’t “interfere’’ in other’s matters, “talk” to my friend only after checking he is free, “plan” in advance for the weekend and getaways, and probably be my self if had nothing better to do. So much for freedom. However it was freedom all right!

Suh always wanted to leave India. He had this great theory that everything in India was corrupted and how the west was less corrupted. I had several times reasoned that he was not true and his abilities in life didn’t depend on the level of corruption, however he felt he would do better outside. After a failed attempt to come to Uncle Sam, he decided UK was a better choice, monetary wise as well as educational point of view. Off he flew to London by the time I and Sach had almost completed one year. As was his dream, Suh got admission for his MBA program in finance, which he was very interested in. His initial days were difficult like any of us in states – the campus jobs, the assignments and the desolate feeling of being lonely. However like Sach, Suh too enjoyed the “freedom” of the other land, but after a year changed his opinion, to almost as much of Sach. It was during those transition periods we would be talking and reminiscing about our discussion on freedom, and Sach would be jubilant. After all eventually what he told was right, and we tended to agree with him at that point of time.
How does a person know he is free? Do you tell him he is? Or do you let him realize it?

5 years thence, we all have paid the price of our freedom. We all have come to terms with our own freedoms. Like said, Sach was right then, and Sach was right today. Suh misses the freedom of his own country in spite of being in a socially freer country. I am missing my homeland more than anything else in this world – though I know that socially I am not as free as I am here. However that is the quite the point – I am free from my mind when I am in my homeland. I am not when I am here.

Then what is this price of freedom that we have paid for so long? It is nothing but not realizing it very then 5 years ago that the price of freedom lay not in the essence of being socially free, but in the freeness of the wonderful mind. In essence, nor was Babs really free – for he was bound to his job, but nor was he not free. If not his present employer, there was always someone else whom he did work for wouldn’t he? Whom would the same laborer work for in Middle East if his passport was not given back to him by his previous employer? Surely Babs enjoyed more freedom than this.

I guess everyone pays the price of freedom. Some realize it sooner – others prefer to realize it later. Maybe I caught up with it somewhere in middle.

Things that make go grrr…

by

Shruthi had tagged me on this a while back. It took me 2 weeks to get to it (apologies Shruthi), but here are my answers!

  1. Bad people. LOL.

  2. Hypocrites

  3. Chick Flicks like “Sweet Home Alabama” and the likes.

  4. Mc Donalds burgers. Please don’t eat them unless you want to get fat 😛

  5. George Bush

  6. Sushi. Yuck! This is the worst cuisine I have eaten.

  7. The sight of extra cheese on fries.

  8. The sound of clock ticking in darkness.

  9. Irregular sound patterns coming out of AC or heater when I am asleep.

  10. My alarm clock in morning. Dammit!

  11. Britney Spears

  12. When its cold and raining, but not snowing! Hmmph!

  13. Rain in general.

  14. Karan Johar

  15. Fat & Obese people complaining about putting on weight!

  16. Known acquaintances that I run into in restaurants ever so often, on looking at me ask – “here to eat?” (What else, my precious?)

  17. Geeks who find it cool to bash Microsoft at drop of a hat.

  18. India-bashing, especially by people living outside India who’ve just been on a trip back home.

  19. Aditya Chopra

  20. People who think blogs are solution to world peace.

  21. Tulsi, Parvati, Rhimjhim, Kussum and other world saviors.

  22. Gays trapped in women’s bodies. I don’t mind them if they can be normal men without flaunting their preferences.

  23. British Accent.

  24. Americans faking Brit accent

  25. CNN, Fox, MSNBC and their phony reporters.

  26. Weather channel (I can’t believe there is 24 hour channel dedicated to just weather. How mundane!)

  27. Indian public toilets.

  28. Sony. Never buy Sony again.

  29. People who leave me an offline asking – “Are you there?” (Yes honey, so?)

  30. Economists.

  31. Smell of dead rats or pigs.

  32. Flying cockroaches – eeewww!

  33. Whipped cream on Coffee

  34. Expensive upscale Indian restaurants.

  35. Vietnamese cuisine – after Sushi, this one sucks too.

That’s about it. I hereby tag Nirwa, Jedi, Chetan, Silverine and Manasi to continue this trend hehe.

Weekly roundup, wordpress crash and more…

by

All, time for another weekly roundup. Many interesting things happened in India this week. I wish I knew, so I could share them with you :P. Nonetheless, here’s a quick update of the world this week.

More people have died in Middle East for various reasons, bird flu being one of them. The Islamic nations have erupted in violent protests around the world for depicting cartoons about their prophet. I support them in this uproar and firmly – Freedom of speech is one thing, respect & responsibility is another. I am though, enjoying the debates the desi bloggers having in the community about free speech and all that – must say, I would love to see some of their own Gods, family members or relatives made a mockery of in the papers; I would love to hear their debate then 

Last week was bad for my blog. I don’t know what I did to fix a small bug, but throughout the week I spent more time fixing, installing, re-installing and re-re-installing WordPress and Squible to solve my problems. Sadly, the problem still remains, and the lack of any kind of support from Squible has bugged me. Sigh, that’s an issue with open source isn’t it? However I did successfully incorporate Pandora’s my current listening list to my home page, thanks to their RSS. I am happy about that at least…

What else, I was dragged to see RDB again, and sadly enough my reactions stay the same about the movie. We also saw Madagascar which was not really impressive; we topped it with Swordfish, which I don’t know which-eth time I saw it.

I also ate a 3000 calorie meal at a restaurant today – I just haven’t been able to forgive myself for it – now god only knows how many days I will need to run to burn those extra 1000 calories. Boo Hoo 

Steelers won the super bowl – good for them. My TV blew up today. Ok, its not as dramatic as it sounds – the lamp inside the TV blew up – it went kaput! Right in the middle of the game; we had to replace the lamp and all was well again.

What else… I guess, that’s about how interesting life went this week. Adios!

Strangers In The Night

by

Time goes by, and even before you start remembering that you have begun to forget, you would’ve forgotten a lot already. At one time, I remembered the exact date, time and the year this happened. Today, as I sit to write this, except the hazy recollection of time, I have no idea when or which year this happened. All I know is, this incident had or rather has left me quite humble and hopeful that good still exists in this world.

~~

It was almost afternoon when I and my two friends Sach and Bads started for our journey to Gangavati from Hubli. We were all going to our friend’s Vishu’s house warming party at his hometown Gangavati and we had planned to visit him there. For a town that was not entirely accessible easily, it boasted of a thriving industry, and really rich people. So much so that this place had around 5 or 6 hotels (lodges) back then to host people from outside. Perhaps its closeness to Hampi had a lot to do with it, but nonetheless, lets just say that Gangavati was a small thriving town.

We had missed our bus from Hubli to Gangavati that afternoon, hence we had settled to our next best alternative. We would take the next bus to a town which was not too far from Gangavati and that station would have local connection to Gangavati. However things as imagined never went smoothly for the three of us.

First during the way, the bus got a flat tire, right outside a village a good half distance away from Hubli and another half still towards the town we were supposed to be. We knew we were a little short of time, and the last connecting bus out of the town would leave for Gangavati somewhere around 9.00 pm. Much to our dismay however, changing the flat tire took more time than what we expected to take – two hours. It was not before darkness that we started our journey again, just to travel another 50 kilometers and get stuck again in an accident – the accident brought us back by another hour. It was getting really dark, and we could notice a few clouds nearby. We really wished whole heartedly that it wouldn’t rain that night.

Except that it did.

By the time we had reached the connecting town, it was almost 11 or 11.30 in the night; a good two hours after our final bus had left for Gangavati. It had started to rain pretty hard, and the lights had begun to flicker in the small shops outside the bus station. We were still considering our options when someone called out to us and asked “Going to Gangavati? A tempo is going there right now, jump in – this is your last chance!”

Without giving a damn who he was, we thought this was the best opportunity to get to Gangavati fast – after all as the locals told us, it was a mere 30 kilometers from the place we where. It had begun to rain a little bit harder now, and given our options was so limited, we decided to jump into the van – at 12.00 am in the morning, we were hardly expecting any traffic in the tempo.

But for a village with not enough humans to socialize, the tempo seemed to project a different picture – it was literally packed with people in every available place. And there were still three of us, none of us whom you would have called thin back then, to fit in, including the person who asked us to join the party. The trip of course would cost us money. Living true to the Indian tradition of “Swalpa Adjust Maadi”, we finally squeaked into the overflowing tempo – all I knew was that my hands had surrounded two other humans, while my one leg was on the shoulder of someone else. Nonetheless, it was a matter of just 30 kilometers and we couldn’t care less at that time.

However those 30 kilometers proved to be the nightmare drive of a lifetime. It had begun to rain pretty heavily, and considering India’s highways of just one lane, without any lights, the driving had become visibly difficult. After about 5 kilometers, suddenly everything went dark. Pitch dark. The vehicle had stopped completely; my first gut reaction at that moment was – Veerapan. Others had begun to shout inquring about the situation when the driver silenced everyone and said –“The headlights have stopped working!”

At that moment, we knew we had to beat up our friend in Gangavati for asking us to endure such torture. Some ludicrous guy suggested that if some people had torches with them, they could use it instead from inside the vehicle itself to guide the direction. Much to our dismay, the idea was accepted. The tempo owner (the guy who let us in) did have a big torch, the oversized torch that you get in India, especially for night time and he decided it was the best way to get to Gangawati. What we didn’t know back then was that such a suggestion would be acted upon immediately.

The next part of the journey was quite scary to say the least. The guy sitting next to the driver was guiding the driver with the feeble light that big torch produced; luckily as the driver did mention, the road was one straight patch of land, and not too many turns. “The only risk” he mentioned was “Vehicles coming from other side may not spot us! And that too in the rain”

Someone suggested that since we could spot them from their “working” headlights, we should get off the road and continue the journey once the other vehicle had passed by – the suggestion seemed agreeable. During the course of this 10 km / hour speed journey, we stopped thrice to let others go by. At all three times, we narrowly missed the other vehicle.

On the way, some villagers in the tempo joked about how this was a usual affair for this tempo, while others started singing to keep up the spirits. Still others warned that this was a curse and we would be killed! And then some more who rebuked those thoughts and began arguing in high pitch voices. All of this, while the tempo was trying to reach Gangavati safely.

At around 1.30 or 2.00 am in the morning, the tempo did finally reach Gangavati, much to our relief. The rain had stopped. There was a lone auto rickshaw on the road which we took to the hotel our friend had given us to check into – except that he didn’t book any rooms for us; his words “who comes to Gangavati this time of the year anyways?!” seemed reassuring that we would find accommodation in this supposedly best hotel of the town.

However to my friend’s misguided calculations, the entire continent seemed to have come to Gangavati that night. As we tried to get a room into a hotel, we were told that some rich party was having a marriage 2 days later, and the entire hotel was booked by their party. The hotel manager also assured us that not only them, but all hotels in the town had been booked towards this gala marriage.

This had considerably dampened our spirits – we were dead tired by now, and would have even slept on the roads by then; however we decided to try our luck at another hotel half a kilometer away. At that place too, we were given the same response – the entire hotel had been booked for the marriage. Dejected, depressed and really irritated, the tree of us began walking back to the bus station (and we didn’t really know what to do – we had our friend’s number, but it was not the cell phone era and we didn’t feel like disturbing the friend’s family at 2.00 am in morning).

While we were walking by the side of the lonely road, three people on a single motorcycle passed us by. One of them turned around and looked at us. We watched them pass by as one of them turned back and seemed to speak something. The motorcycle stopped at some distance and turned around. It was quite a lonely street, and having already been through a lot, we expected worse. We reasoned – they were three, we were three; we could perhaps handle them if it came to that.

As the guys approached us, I knew I had begun to feel a little uncomfortable already. The motorcycle stopped in front of us, and the guy who was driving asked – “What are you doing here at this time of the night!”

Sach gave him a recount of what had happened and how we were out of luck with rooms. The guy remarked – “I think I can get you a room. I know all the rooms are booked for a couple of days now”. He asked Sach to tag along, while living one of his aides with us. They being perfect strangers, I was not very comfortable with the idea of breaking up, though nonetheless Sach was so assured by the guy about the room, that he left with them. So I and Bads, along with this stranger started walking again towards the hotel that they said we would get a room.

Half way down the distance, Sach came back again with the guy and told us the first good news we had heard since that afternoon – “We have a room! And it is the best hotel we had been first”. Our joys knew no bounds at that moment. Finally, there was something to look forward to; we couldn’t wait to get to the Hotel and sleep, and couldn’t care less how this room came to us.

Indeed, we did have a room that night. And it was a great big bedroom with 2 beds, and one extra bed – for the three of us, with TV and cable and A.C; for a town of that size, it was a commendable hotel. After we checked into the room, the guys who gave the room to us bid goodbyes, and offered to meet up with us next morning, and advised to take rest.

It was then Sach told us about this room. The guys were the bridegroom’s friends who had come from different parts of the state for his marriage. The room which we stayed belonged to them. Sach remarked that something about us convinced those guys that we were not robbers on the road, but homeless people looking around for a room to stay – and they decided to help. Since they had the whole hotel to themselves, and half of the rooms were occupied by the groom’s friends, the three of them “adjusted” into many different rooms to give up their room for us. It took a bit of convincing on their part for Sach to agree to this idea, but given the state we all were in that night, he did take up the room for us; and not only the room belonged to us for the night, but for the next night too.

And since the hotel was booked by marriage party, we didn’t end up paying for it either. “Its all taken care of”, the guys who helped us had told us then. After the nightmarish night, we did sleep very soundly. Next morning, the first thing we did was to meet up those guys and couldnt stop thanking them; we all had tea later. After which we proceeded to beat Vish black and blue.

~~

This incident still remains etched in my memory because of those guys who helped strangers out of nowhere. The funny thing is, I don’t even recall their names anymore, but I do recall their deed. Many a times I have often felt that if I was in their shoes, I probably would not have helped someone like that in the middle of the night. I wonder why they decided to help us out.

After that meet, we never really met them any time again. One of the guys met Sach over dinner in Hubli, once after which neither we heard from them, nor they from us. After some months it just slipped away – and slowly it just became another memorable incident. Till today however, I still wonder who were those guys and why did they ever help us.

Maybe, they were just good people, and we had the fortune or running into good people, when it mattered most to us. That one incident has made hopeful that good does exist in this world, and you do find good when you need it the most.

Pablo Picasso

by

I first heard Citizen Cope when I saw the Ad for Pontiac, which featured his song “Son’s Gonna Rise”. Many people actually heard about him from that ad, and the song that became an underground hit. Being a huge Indie music fan, I immediately listened to the entire album “The Clarence Greenwood Recordings“, which I must say has some really great songs.

The song below is called Pablo Picasso. The tune is beautiful, but its the lyrics that stand out. Quite simply, this song has one of the best lyrics I have heard in a long time. Note the last line.

The woman that I love
Is forty feet tall
She’s a movie star
She’s all in the papers
And everywhere i go
People hand me quarters
And they pat me on the back
They treat me like im famous
I’ll never leave her side
‘Cause today can be dangerous
And when the night arrives
The light hit her features
And the cars drive by
Just so they could see her
And she never bats an eye
When someone takes her picture

Mr.Officer if you’ve come to take her
Then that means one of us
Gonna end up in a stretcher
Gonna end up in the papers, going end up in the papers, yeah

If i had a pistol
I’d brandish it and wave it
She’s the only one alive that knows that I’m not crazy
She’s gonna testify on my behalf
Down at the Navy
So I can get some peace
And provide for my babies
I got a stick and a bottle
I’ll pretend I got a razor
Helicopters and cameras all shottin’ for the station
They say that a wild man defending his lady
But for some odd reason they keep calling you a painting

Â