Tuesday, December 26, 2006

A trip to Ganpatipule - Ratanagiri

Its cold and its uncomfortable. Trying to sleep in a seat meant to sit is asking for too much, I know. Traveling in night in a bus is always painful but then at times it’s more convenient. I remove the so-called curtains and I look outside the window. The world outside my window appears to be hazy because of the moisture on the window. Felt as if I was looking into someone’s dream. Unable to sleep, I look back at my trip to Ganpatipule.

We started on Saturday night. We were a group of 4 girls, looking for some adventure. So, all excited we started before time, well before time meant reaching 2 hours early. It little difficult be early for some place and not to spend money in Mumbai. In Mumbai one can always find a place to spend money, esp. if you don’t plan to spend money. We went to Naturals ice-cream parlor. We sat for half an hour before buying the ice-cream, sat for another half an hour after buying the ice-cream. The place from where we were supposed to catch the bus was crowded to fullest. The long weekend approaching made everyone come out of their routine life. Families, group of friends and here and there some couples, all trying to make sense of all the confusion around them. Atlast our bus came, though half an hour late. With the entry to the bus, we marked our beginning to the journey to Ganpatipule.

A sudden jerk broke my sleep. I realize Sonali was shaking us all and realized that the bus has stopped too. Packed my blanket fast and got out of the bus. It was 5:45 in the morning. A sudden cold wave of air hit me hard because I wasn’t wearing anything warm and it felt awesome. Still in sleep, I tried to make sense of where we were. We started walking to a roadside hotel. In India, by rule everything has to be colorful. The hotel, though not very clean or big was lit up with dancing lights of all possible colors to attract tourists. We ordered for tea and sat down to plan our next phase of trip…we were 32 km from Ganpatipule. The tea came and the owner informed us of a bus that will come at 8 to take us to Ganpatipule. A rickshaw would cost us 250 rs. We decided to wait for the bus.

The tea made me feel better. It was a cold morning. I looked at the sky and realized that living in Mumbai I had forgotten how a clean sky looks. The sky was turning from black to grey and a part of sky started burning in red. Slowly and steadily the Sun appeared marking the beginning of the day. We went and stood at the bus stop. Slowly, people also started gathering around us. Within few minutes a crowd gathered around us. Far on the road we saw a bus huffing and puffing. The black smoke indicated that only few days are left for this bus to retire. All around us the crowd became alert. Everyone started running towards it. As though the bus got scared of all the people rushing towards it, it stopped before the stop only. Everyone tried moving into the bus at the same time causing more confusion and before anyone could realize what happened, the conductor screamed – “No space. Take the other bus!”. The door closed, the bus huffed and puffed some more before moving on. Some cursed, some were too shocked to react and we kept staring at the bus as if it was some bad dream.

The rickshaw ride was much better than the bus, that’s how we consoled ourselves. The road leading to Ganpatipule was narrow and smooth. We sang songs, admired the beautiful countryside. The crisp and cold wind played with my hair. We could smell the sea approaching and before we knew, the road turned and there was sea right in front of us. The sight was so amazing that for a second I forgot what was happening around me. The sea sparkled with the rays of the young sun splashing over it. The waves jumped and danced over the white sand that lay lazily along side the sea. As soon as I looked at the road ahead of me, I was taken aback by the amount of crown that was there on the road. We found a place with clean shower rooms and plenty of home-made food. All with a cost but we were there on a holiday, so just paid and went to sightseeing.

There is a Ganpati temple right on the beach. As we entered the temple we could only see heads and faces. The crowd was rowdy and unmanaged. It was like entering a battle field; you can’t come out without getting hurt. By getting hurt I don’t mean physically, but mentally. It took as an hour for the darnshan and when we came out neither of us remembered how the idol of the God looked but what we did remember was how a guy in front was taking his chances on the girls behind him. If only people would respect each other’s sanity, this world wouldn’t have needed so much of God’s help to maintain the balance.

By the time we came out of the temple, it was nearly lunch time. We headed back to for a hot and delicious, Maharashtrian style cooked meal that was waiting for us. We gulped down the food as if there is no tomorrow. After the lunch we headed back to beach, this time for fun. The water was crystal clear and when I looked towards the horizon it looked a huge blue beast is sleeping with rhythmic ups and downs of its breathing visible. The sea was lined on three sides by mountains, looked amazing. It seemed like a place where you can take a boat to the horizon and forget about the world behind. We played games on the beach, looked at the colorful seashells, ducked each other in the salty water till we were completely drenched. In between we even tried searching for few interesting faces on the beach. Well, we were sure to be disappointed on that front; we were not a part of Baywatch.

The fun and frolic ended with a 6:15 bus back to Ratnagiri, from where we had to take our bus back to Mumbai. The bus ride back is always sad. The return journey has the feelings same as the last day of summer holidays. The fun is over; the work is waiting to start. From the window of the bus I saw the sun sitting in the sea. The rays of the setting sun played on the surface of the sea. The sea looked calm and the sun looked naughty. The sun was me and the sea was my inner self. With day over and the best memories carefully packed inside my heart, I closed my eyes and slept peacefully in the rhythmic noise of the huffing and puffing bus.

The similar landmarks outside my window made me come back from Ganpatipule. I looked at my reflection on the mirror and I smiled to myself. Kritika, welcome back to Mumbai.

Monday, November 20, 2006

So, when are you getting married…?

What’s my age…?
According to me – Best age to be.

According to my friends – Have fun buddy…

According to my parents – Its getting late…you should have been married by now!

My mom gets a high blood pressure at this point.

These things have become a part and parcel of my life lately. I am at threshold of marriage. Everything is ready from my parent’s side. All I need is a guy. Well, to find that guy I have traveled a lot and I had the opportunity to meet a lot of guys. Some guys are very nervous and they cough before they speak to me. Some are late by 2 hours because they had an emergency. They had to take a friend of theirs to a doctor. The emergency was his friend was loosing his hair! Some are actually nice and stable but they kind of realize it little late that they are meeting me for a reason and that reason happens to be marriage. Of course, at the age of 29-30 they are too young to get married. I completely understand. Some want to study even after getting married and want their wives to work. That’s great. I call such people open minded. But then aren’t wives supposed to look after house and husbands supposed to work. I get little confused but I completely understand their point of view too. Some come to meet the girl because their parents want them to meet the girls. We meet, have a nice time and they go back and say “Sorry, I can’t decide in just one meeting”. It’s another way of saying – “Hell no! I can’t let go of my freedom so easily!” Somehow, such kind of guys reminds me of Rahul Bose of Pyaar Ke Side effects movie. You have not seen it? Please, do go and see it.


I am thinking of making a serial on this phase of my life…maybe I’ll call it Ms. Joshi (remember the serial Mr. Yogi). All these things and such encounters make me wonder a lot about marriage as an institution.


I know a lot of people who are not happy with their marriage but are sticking on because of kids. Is their marriage successful? They are definitely not in love. Their kids know that they are not happy to be together. Everybody knows that they are just waiting to get out of each others company. Then who are they fooling. They wasted the prime age of their lives fooling themselves. Is this what I should look for in marriage – compromise?


I know people who have had inter-caste marriages too. Living in India inter-caste marriage should be titled – “Father of all marriages”! One of my cousin sisters who I frequently visit in Pune had an inter-caste marriage. They are defiantly enjoying their marriage. Though they fought for this happiness in the beginning, but looking at them I am sure that they are not regretting it one bit. Shouldn’t all marriages be like that? Is this what I should look for in marriage – friendship between two matured people?


Recently, I met a friend who is a really good looking guy and working for defence. I have seen girls die for such kind of guys. Then very casually, he told me that he is a divorcee. That was such a great painful shock for me. I had so many questions to ask him but I couldn’t gather courage to ask him. But if they took a decision to separate, it must be a valid reason. I know what a normal lovey-dovey break up does to people, so what would a divorce do to a person. However strong you are, I am sure a thing like divorce can certainly break you at some point or the other, especially if you are one of those kinds who want to make your marriage last till eternity and I am sure he is one of those. So, is this how the marriage should be – painfully alone?


Or should marriage be like what my parents have. First marry, have kids and then fall in love. Ok, I stole this line from a Bollywood movie. But isn’t it correct. That’s how I have seen my parents and their marriage. Their marriage might not be an ideal one. But I know that they love each other. It might not be a love where the husband showers gifts and flowers over his wife but it is certainly a love which has stood the test of time for 27 long years. So, does this mean I’ll have to wait for my love for 27 years of marriage? Is this what marriage is – waiting for one thing in life that you always dream of?


All these questions will remain unanswered for me I know. I am at a crossroad where I have to choose a path in life without knowing what lays ahead for me. All those who I know have sometime or the other have asked me this question - So when are you getting married? Its like asking so when do you plan to jump off the cliff. However much I try, life will flow like a river following its own course. Suddenly, there be a huge waterfall and before I know I’ll made to jump of the cliff like water falls off from the top of the mountain without knowing where it would land. So here I am, meeting guys, thinking all the while would this guy would be the one, keeping my fingers crossed, hoping and praying all the time, while my mom keeps having high blood pressure.


Last but not the least…You are all invited to my marriage, whenever that happens

Saturday, November 18, 2006

The setting sun on indian history

-Ellora Caves (11th Nov 2006)

The bright sun turns pale in the evening and one can actually look at it and admire its perfect round shape and the vibrant orange color. The cool breeze of evening playfully moves my hair. All around me people are dressed in colorful dresses. Women are looking beautiful with their hair loaded with flowers with all possible colors and men have garlands around their neck. The air is filled with fresh air and the scent of fresh flowers forms an envelope around me. Every one is moving in slow motion towards a big cave. The climb to the cave was very steep but nobody seems to mind it. Everyone is eager to reach to the cave.

Everyone slows down in front of the cave and slowly humming the songs enter the cave carefully. Inside the cave, big idols of God are carved out of the hard rock. The idols seem so real that I was even afraid to touch them, what if I disturb their sleep and wake them up. Each idol depicts a story from the Vedas and hindu mythology. The vibrant colors decorating the huge idols on the walls of the cave matched the colors flowers decorated on the hair of various women moving slowly near me. It’s amazing how a craftsman can put life in a lifeless rock. A rocky wall which wasn’t existent till few years ago, starts dancing in front of my eyes.

Suddenly, the drums start playing and everyone looks at the temple situated right in the center. The temple has finer designs carved on the walls and it simply glows in front of me. The King emerges from the main temple and everyone welcomes him by shouting his name. The king is dressed in fine clothes and the setting sun’s last rays bless him. He lets the flowers in his hands blow away with air. The flowers dance for a while in the air and slowly reaching the earth below. People around me slowly start moving up stair case towards the temple. I follow the crowd and I reach a big hall. The hall has beautiful designs on its roof, pillars and floor. The vastness and yet the simplicity of the temple is simply amazing. The whole aura had put me in a trance. It felt like a force was pulling me inside. The shivling in the temple was huge. It was decorated with flowers and sweet smell of the incense filled the air. The priests were singing bhajans and their voice filled me with certain energy. Everything seemed so pure...so unreal.

Suddenly, I heard someone calling my name and I looked back and I saw Sonali standing. I looked at the shivling again and it was barren. The walls around me were bare and the idols were broken. The temple had no life in it. There were no flowers or incenses burning. There were no lights inside the temple and darkens inside the temple sadden me. I don’t know what I felt was a dream or had a lived a moment in the golden era of Indian history. When I came outside the sun was setting. Its last rays were dancing around a pillar that was standing tall. I started walking towards the exit and looked back one last time. It felt like a setting sun on the golden period of Indian history and are we responsible for it?

Thursday, October 12, 2006

Do we live for present or mourn the past

Every girl has a dream of how she wants to get married and Indian weddings provide ample of opportunity. Indians believe in making the bride a princess before she goes off to a new home. When a girl gets married here in India, it’s not only she who lives her dreams but the whole family lives those dreams with her. Parents sometimes re-live their marriages with her. Sisters live their dreams of their marriages through her. This is the only time when she and her family don’t mind spending lavishly on things which won’t be required later in life. This is the time when all expenditures that are made, are reasonable. There are best of clothes which would never be worn again. The best and the most heavy gold jewelry which would be broken into more delicate ones later in life. In the end the justification is – Marriage only happens once in a life-time...and everyone lives through that one chance.

Well, this is one wedding which made me think about life and marriage itself. This was the wedding of my dearest friend Rajni and Bhupinder. The marriage was in Patyala. The marriage preparations started long back. Rajni’s younger sister handled all her shopping. Nisha shopped for her clothes, her jewelry, her shoes, her purses and everything in this world. Everything was going great until one day someone who didn’t care for the life hit her on her scooter and ran off. Had he looked to see what he left had left behind, he would have realized that he didn’t leave behind a wounded person but shattered dreams of a young bride and a devastated family.

Rajni’s parents took the decision to go ahead with the marriage, because that was Nisha’s last dream. Nisha’s dream to see her elder sister get married and become the Princess that every girl dreams of. The marriage happened but Nisha’s presence was felt everywhere. Her beautiful snap in the room told us that she is no more with us, but as soon as we left the boundaries of that room, it seemed that she was there with us all along. The beautiful mehndi on Rajni’s hand told us who was the bride but the emptiness in her eyes told us that she was looking for Nisha. The tears in the eyes of her family said that she was no more with us, the beautiful bride on the day of marriage said that Nisha was there with us all along looking at her sister and smiling and thinking on how beautiful her sister looked. Rajni’s parents smiled to see there daughter getting married, but their eyes said that they missed Nisha. When we all hugged Rajni with our heart full of happiness, but we carried Nisha in our hearts. Come to think of it, I had met Nisha only once in my life and yet her absence left such a mark on my life that today I curse the person who left behind so many tearful eyes and emptiness that no one would ever be able to fill. That person has lived to see happiness in his own life but he took away the most cherished dream of Rajni.

Rajni’s marriage made me think about the irony in choices that life gives us. Either her parents could have chosen to mourn their daughters’ death or they could live their daughter’s happiness through her marriage. Looking at Rajni’s parents I couldn’t help but ask myself – Do we live for present that is there in front of our eyes or do we continue to live in the past which is no longer with us? Rajni and her parents took a decision to move on in their life but at the same time included Nisha’s memories in their life. This gave me my answer.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

The world has changed...For Worst!

The date is – 2nd September 2006. I am standing outside ICICI ATM waiting for my turn. In front of me, the famous Ganpati festival is going on. There is huge crowd assembled for the evening aarti. Kids are playing near the idol of Ganpati. People look happy, the music is loud but it only adds fun to the whole scene.

Suddenly, a guard comes to where I am standing. He looks suspiciously at me. I stare back at him, wondering what’s wrong. Suddenly, he asks me pointing to a parcel near me – “is that yours”. I look at that brown unidentified parcel. Fear grips me. I look back at him and started to shake my head to say it’s not mine. Even he gets scared. He looks around trying to search for a person whom he can verify with about the parcel. Another guard comes from the bank on the other side. Both of them have a conversation among each other, trying to know who this parcel belonged to. For a second, even I get scared and all I want to do is to drop the idea of withdrawing the money and run away from there. We all have same fear in our hearts. What if it’s a Bomb!! My heart starts beating faster and I can feel the sweat on my palm. Then the person inside the ATM comes out and takes the parcel in one hand and looks around at us, wondering what is wrong. The guard realizing that it is not a bomb but the parcel belong to him start scolding him. I breathe a sigh of relief. With my heart beat returning to normal, I could hear the music in Ganpati pandal and I look up to God and ask – “What has happened to us! Some people who are fighting in the name of religion have forgotten what God preached. Where is this world going to?”

The date is – 12th July 2006. Its 3:30 in the morning. Our cab is rushing towards our home with full speed on a nearly empty road. Inside my cab there are 3 more people. I don’t know anyone of them. I have never met them. Perhaps I will never meet them again in my life but what binds us together is an urgency to reach home. All four of us are quiet and thinking about an event, which will change each and everyone of our lives life for days to come. The silence in the car is deafening but neither of us can speak anything. On the road, the business is going on as usual. The milk van is delivering the milk to the various shops. A drunk staggers on the road losing his balance and nearly escapes being run down by a van in front of us. The buildings on the either side of the road are standing tall and safe, giving an impression that our fears are baseless. Some of the lights in the flats are on, telling us that our safety is at stake and our fears are true because in some of those flats, some people won’t come back home tonight or forever.

The date is – 11th July 2006. Its 6 in the evening and it’s nearly tea time for all of us. We are laughing on a stupid joke when someone shouts – “Lets, go for tea”. We readily agree. It’s been a nice day. It wasn’t raining that much. Weather was cool. I have just joined Accenture and there wasn’t too much of work for us. We have been in training and a tea break was a thing which everyone is looking forward to. While walking along with my colleagues, I make a stupid joke and everyone started running after me. I enter the cafeteria thinking what new I should try to eat today. Looking around I realized that there is a crowd near TV. At the same moment my phone starts ringing. It is my mother. The first thing she asks me is where am I? I am little taken aback by her tone. I tell her I am in office and I am thinking what to have in snacks. She then tells me that there have been blasts in Mumbai and I suddenly look up at the TV and start walking towards it. While watching the news on the TV I tell my mom, it’s not one blast, there are two. Within few minutes the TV is full of coverage of not one, not two but 6 bomb blasts. Through the news I come to know that several blasts have taken place in the first class compartment of local trains in Mumbai. Local trains – the life line of Mumbai. I keep looking at the screen, not knowing what to say or what to do. I inform my mother that I am safe in the office and she need not worry about me. I look at the screen and tears tickle down my cheeks. Some people wont be alive to say this to their loved ones.

How can one kill an innocent while still believe in God? Which religion preaches killing of an innocent? Whether you are a Muslim or a Hindu or an American or an Indian, a life is a gift of God, how can one take it away in the name of God? Give me an answer to this then I can decide whether to believe in this or not.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

The Other Side

My Window - It protects me from rain and sun but lets in the fresh air when I feel suffocated. I can close it when I want to hide and I can open it when I want to look outside at the other world that exsists with my own world. The world that might not be as good as mine or at times maybe much better than mine.

That window can be the window of my cab with which I go to my office. In the afternoon, speeding on the highway I can see buildings standing tall on the one side of the road and a flat span of slums on the otherside. The buildings with so many people living dont know whats happening to the people living next to them while in slums people living in one room can feel the pain and joy of all the people living around them. The cab stops at a red light signal and a big car comes and stop next to me. I see a person reading newspaper and a sleek laptop lying beside him. He is wearing gold frame glasses and the windows are up to indicate a/c is on. The money is definately there but is he happy? Sitting on the other side of my window...am I happy? The signal turns green and a bike rushes past my car and I see a young guy with a flashy helmet rushing past. Makes me wonder, whats the hurry? Why everyone is rushing somewhere these days? While my car slowly picks up the speed, I see an old man sitting under the shade of a huge baniyan tree selling newspapers. Atleast someone is sitting peacefully in this age of unneccessary speed...

Then there is the sliding window of my home, where I can sit comfortably and look outside and beyound into the open space. That is my way to the outside world during night when I usually come back from office. Its beautiful to look outside when the whole world is sleeping. The magic of sleep creates an aura of silence which seems pure after the whole day of work. Beyond my window stands an almond tree, which stands there battered by winds and rains. The fruit hanging there respective of the fact that all leaves have fallen and the tree itself looks weak. In that almond tree I see the reflection of most of us as however winds of change try to bend us, we protect our dearest ones with atmost protection. However tired we are we never let go of the things, people or memories which are dearest to us. Beyound that is an open area where the construction of a new building is taking place. Most of the people live in make shift arrangments. There is smoke rising from one of the tin house there. Seeing that smoke makes me feel good...atleast the people inside had their meal. It starts raining. The smoke slowly fades away into the darkness and people run to take cover into their houses made up of tin roof and tin walls. Seems like a doll house from my window with real people living inside it. The voice of the rain drowns the silence I am used to. Seems like rain got tired of the silence of night...

So what does the world on the other side of your window tells you? What stories stick to your mind when you look outside into the world which at times is so different from your that it makes you feel...will they ever meet?

Friday, May 05, 2006

Its Summers Again

The fan is humming slowly. Lying on the bed and facing the fan in my small room of hostel, I see it going round and round non-stop. The humid air weighs down on me like a thousand kilo. The sweat never leaves my skin. I again look at the fan thinking maybe it has stopped. Why can’t I feel the air? But when I look at the ceiling I realize the fan is still going round n round non-stop. This rhythmic motion of fan takes me to far of land, my home - Udaipur.

The summer holidays, after long, cruel and grilling exams, was always a pleasant change. While, during exams I was sleepy all the time, summer holidays I used to be up early and waiting to go out. During exams I used to curse heat because the pen used to constantly slip out of my hand because of sweat, during holidays the scorching sun was least of my worries. The air in Udaipur is not least bit humid and is always fresh and crisp. Sunburns and sunstroke are common factor there. To beat the heat, my mom used to keep the fridge sufficiently stocked through the summer with all the goodies. There used be all kinds of juices, kayri paani(juice of raw mango) and ice-creams. After a hard day of playing around in the sun, when I used to get back home a glass full of cold milkshake or kayri paani used to be ready for me to gulp down.

Then there were Mangoes. Summer holidays are never complete without mangoes. My house has some 3-4 mango trees. However hot it is during summers, my permanent address during those days was - "on top of mango tree". I, along with my sister and brother, would try and reach the farthest of raw mango hanging from a very thin branch. My dog used to bark continuously. Maybe, he also wanted to join us. My grandmother used to curse us for picking mangoes from the tree before they were ripe. Those days, climbing on the walls, climbing trees were never a worry for us. We thought ourselves to be born Tarzans.

The scorching sun used to get tired during evenings and that would give us official permission to go out. That was the time when my friends and I used to hit FatehSagar. That’s a huge lake in between of the city. During evenings, the colors of the sky used to splash itself on the water of the lake. The lake used to look like a huge canvas of a very well known painter, known as, God! Riding my kinetic with my sister, cousins and friends along FatehSagar, treating ourselves to orange candy, laughing on worst jokes, noticing guys with good looks and trying all stupid stunts to attract their attention. When evening became night and when colors of the sky vanished into the darkness of night, we never noticed. It was time to head back home. Home cooked meal, pampered by my mother, dinner table full of my family and my dog barking for that extra bit of sweet mango from my plate. All these marked the end of the day. Post dinner, TV room used to be filled by my family trying to catch up on gossip, while we kids were trying to catch up on the all movies which we were not allowed to see during our exams.

Late nights, which are forbidden during school days and exams days, used to be a hard earned reward. When my mother used to look at me to tell us that the reward points are long over and its time to hit the bed, I had no choice. She was still the boss of our house. The water cooler, which is better than A/C in the dry heat, is switched on to keep the room cool. The day is sealed to end with a kiss from my parents and the lights are switched off. The humming sound of cooler and fan on the ceiling sounds sweet to ears. With a blink of an eye, I am back to my hostel room, sweating under the fan and missing those days, when summers meant freedom.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

It's not just an Orange Candy...

Orange candy. It's my favorite ice cream. I could never enjoy any other ice cream as much as I enjoy Orange Candy and this is the best thing to enjoy in hot, humid and sultry summer. Its sweet and its cold. Its made up of ice and flavored syrup only. Nothing to make mothers proud of while they give it to their children, but still the pleasure which comes from it, no other ice-cream can come near to it! The moment I take it out of the wrapper, the humid air around it creates a dense cloud of condensed vapors. I can feel those cold vapors on my nose and my mouth starts watering with the anticipation of what is coming. The moment I put it in my mouth the ice melts away to give the sweetest flavor. The ice, which melts in the mouth, sends the chill down till the stomach. My eyes shut automatically to cut away the disturbance which could take away the pleasure of having my favorite and one and only Orange Candy.

Every time I have an Orange Candy I get transported to the days when I was just 9-10 years old in Agra. I used to study in St. Patrick's School. The best thing about that school was, till 5th std there was no exams for us. We used to have class tests at regular interval and depending upon how we performed in those class tests, we were graded at the end of the year to be promoted to next class. Well, during those days, that was least of my worries. I used to worry about getting 10-10 in my class tests because that carried a promise, which my father had made to me. Every time I used to get 10-10 in class, I used to wait for my father to come home after office because he had promised me 1 Re if I scored 10-10 in class tests. That 1 Re was the most prized possession for me in those days because with that 1 Re I was able to buy an Orange Candy after school. When school used to get over I used to proudly go to the ice-cream man and buy myself one of those orange colored sweet and cold candy. When all the kids used to go to their respective rickshaw, I used to stand at the gate to show off, in front of everyone, my prized possession.

From those days, its not just an orange candy for me. It's a symbol of joy, pleasure and sense of achievement. It was not the matter of earning 1 Re. It was how I earned that money for myself. And hence, the joy and pleasure got stuck to that simple ice-candy with no nutritional value. Even today when I pull the candy out of its wrapper, that sense of achievement never betrays me. Though today its cost is 5 Rs and the money comes from my own pocket and not my father's, but still the flavor and cold and sweet sensation transports me back to the days when it was worth 10-10 marks in my test copy.

Monday, April 17, 2006

Mumbai Uncut.

Its Friday night and when I looked at my watch its already 8 in the night. The best day of the week, but I am still in office, trying to send a product to the client. To make the matter worst, it's an optional holiday in our office and most of the people have either left early or didn't turn up. The effect, I am sitting in an empty office! The security guard comes and starts switching off the lights of the places where people are not working. The effect on me - I just want to scream and run out to freedom!

Atlast, the product is mailed to the client. I have a company to head back to hostel. His name is Rohit. Together we took a rickshaw to Chembur thinking as its a public holiday today we would not have face the wrath of traffic. The rickshaw picks up speed and I am longing to reach hostel. I look out side the rickshaw and wonder the joys of reaching home and finding home cooked meal laid for me by my mom. Suddenly, I miss my home so much, as these are the joys, which I can only dream off. I was shaken up from my dream when I realized that Rohit was speaking something to me. He was speaking something of traffic and then I realized that the rickshaw wasn't moving. I felt like crying when I saw the traffic in front of me. I prayed to god -"Please God, not today!!" I requested the autowala to take another route to which he readily agreed. As, soon as we took the turn we realized our mistake. The traffic wasn't moving there also and we were stuck in between. I cursed everyone and everything. Everybody who wanted to escape the traffic on the main road tried to take this short cut and the result, a bigger traffic jam! The lanes were so narrow, that at times I felt, if I would have stretched my hand outside the auto, it would have entered a house and I could have had a cup of tea with the family inside, while sitting in the auto.

Even autowala got tired and said "You trust me on this one, I'll take you through another route which I seldom take". Having nothing to loose, we agreed to him. He took us through the slum of Narayan Nagar. Well, the luck was definitely in my favor as we got stuck there too. The autowala, switched off the gas and relaxed himself on the narrow seat. Realizing that even I didn't have another other choice, I gave up the dream to reach hostel in time and I looked outside to pass my time. Outside, some kids were playing on the road. As a kid myself few golden years back, I used to play with marbles. In this game one has to throw the marbles on the ground and is asked to hit a particular marble. If one does that he gets the particular marble. Well, coming back to present, these kids on the road were playing the same game but with stones. The amazing part of all this was, they were really happy playing with whatever they could lay there hands on. In the game of throwing the stones, one kid got hurt and he started crying, but within few minutes he stopped crying and joined the game back. Then I realized, few more of such incidents and the kid will stop crying all together. The life on road will make him tough and here I was complaining about such trifle matters of life! Suddenly, all the anger inside me was wiped out by the smiles on those innocent faces.

Some kids noticed that I was looking at them, and when they realized that they were the center of the attraction, which they seldom get, they started putting up acts for us. There was music playing full blast in an auto right in front of us. Those kids took that as a chance and started dancing to the latest music of our own "Nasal King"!! One of the kid got some weeds from somewhere, they all took some and decorated it on their own heads. The dance was nothing different of what you see on Mumbai roads when Ganpati festival is going on. The jerky movements make me wonder - how come the bones don't dislocate on the joints? Within few minutes I was laughing my heart out. Encouraged by my laugh they climbed up the rickshaws back in front of us. Suddenly, our autowala shouted at them and they scrambled away! I was little upset on loosing my army of entertainment, but then our autowala started explaining us that if they fall they would come under our auto and people around wont see that it was the fault of their kids but would gather in large number to harm us in return.

Well, with nothing to do now, I turned my attention to our autowala and started talking to him. In the talks I gave my address to him and when I turned to see Rohit he gave me one of those looks telling me that I should not have had given up my address! I knew what I did was wrong but then I kind of trusted the guy who was trying his level best to make us reach our destination. The traffic started moving slowly and along with the slow pace our autowala was giving us the geography lessons of the area. "Now we are on top of Narayan Nagar hill", "dekho idhar the Muslim area ends and Hindu area starts" and so on. After a point I saw a clear road ahead and then I realized the reason of traffic jam. There was a PC placed on top of a very old and shaking table and with a bed sheet hung in front of it to give it an effect of curtain. There were people seated in front of it and there was loads of noise around. The crowd was in a very jubilant mood with everyone trying to speak something or the other. Then I realized, that its Friday movie especial day for them. The movie would play on a computer. As my auto passed this place, the time just froze for me for a second and I was transported to one scene in Swades where they showed that in villages, they are still using the projectors to see movies. How can such diverse things still manage to exist side by side?

I felt soft wind touching my face and I realized that traffic jam is over and our auto is flying. Our autowala told us to go till Vidhyavihar and crossover the station to take another auto to avoid another traffic jam. As we had totally surrendered to him, we didn't say anything except to nod in agreement. Finally, after 1 and half of traveling for a 20 minutes way and totally exhausted from the day's work, I paid the due fair and stepped out of auto. Then, I looked back to say Thank You to our autowala. In response he smiled to reveal pan smeared teeth and he raised his hand as a gesture, common to us Indians, as a way to give blessings. In that one second I saw love and best wishes for me in those tired eyes and come to think of it, I just knew him for 1 and half hour. A person whom I never saw before and whom, I am sure, wouldn't see again, left such a strong footprint on the sand of my heart that it would take another life to wash it away. What more can I say of this city - It makes you hard enough to wipe your own tears but it also gives you so much of love that it washes away all the hatred.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

The Magic of FIVE...

Monday - The piercing sound of alarm drills through my ears, with an extra energy and my eyes refuses to open up. The shock that the weekend is over still lingers around like a thick aroma of an incense stick and mind refuses to wake up! Well, its the worst day of the week...its Monday. Lying on my bed, when i hear the birds chirping and when the sun rays slowly fills up my room, it seems that God is really trying hard to cheer me up. I slowly, very slowly get up from my bed with just one thought on my head - "Where the hell, did the weekend go!" .The routine starts and I get ready for office. Makes me feel like bounded labor but cant help it. These working days kind of fills up my pocket which I so easily spend up on weekends. At office too, I see same feelings in the eyes of my colleagues. The work doesn't pick up speed till late in the afternoon. Thats because everyone is trying to adjust to the jolt of "another weekend gone"! Its only by evening, that the mind comes to term that its a working day. The bus ride back to hostel marks the end of another day, but within heart of heart I am happy because the day that ended is Monday...just 4 more days to go.

Tuesday - Alarm is still a jolt, which ruthlessly wakes me up from my sleep. Still lying on the bed, I wonder what if the clocks stops right here and right now (sounds like AB junior singing!) and I'll get all the time to sleep. It takes all the strength for me to get up and start my daily routine. Slowly, the sun also wakes up as if it is also deciding whether to come out or to sleep a little more. The breakfast tastes better, the tea tastes good and the air feels fresh and I wonder where were these things on Monday. Office looks better, the work starts on time rather there is energy to complete the work. Whether is con-call with clients, or it is sitting late to complete the work, I am ready to handle all with an energy which I didn't know was there in me. World seems to be a happy place as I am happy from inside. When the day gets over, I wonder where did it go as I was so busy doing work. The drive back home, whether its in bus or auto, makes me feel happy from inside and then it suddenly strikes me - just 3 more days to go...

Wednesday - I wake up before the alarm rings and wait for it to ring and then before the first sound penetrates through mobile, I switch it off and try to catch that sweet, seductive 5 minute sleep. After 10 minutes when my eyes open again to remind me that its time to get up, I try to convince myself to wake up as its already Wednesday and just 2 more days to go before the week ends. As the morning rays of sun dances in my hair, it feels as if even the sun is happy that's it Wednesday already. The birds are happy; the air smells of sweet flowers and incense that burns in our small little mandir in my room. Even office is bright with bright smiles on faces. The work seems to be good. Brain works with endless energy and when breakfast time becomes lunchtime and when lunchtime becomes evening teatime, I can't make out. In the evening when I come out of office the sun is smiling away to sunset as if it's waving me goodbye with a promise to meet me the next day. Back in hostel, weekend plans starts taking shape. There are always loads to do and loads of places to go. Mumbai as a city can always keep you on toes and that's what I love about this city. When my tired body lies on the bed and my head touches the soft pillow, my heart is dancing with joy - just 2 more days to go.

Thursday - My Thursday starts even before my faithful alarm rings. It's switched before even it dares to create the noise pollution. Sometimes it feels so amazing when you just lie on the bed early morning, see the light penetrate the darkness of night, feel the early morning chills which makes you snuggle into the blanket, the sweet and fresh smell of the morning. Then I slowly get up from my bed, not because I don't want to get up, just because these little things seems so precious at that time, I feel I'll disturb them if I am too quick. Thursday kind of slows me down. It's like yesterday but its not going to be the same as tomorrow. The work happens like the rest of the days until unless some PM needs the fire extinguisher to control the "fire" on the project. The day is relatively slow, because there is a wait for the preceding day. When the day finally gets over, I feel like doing "phew" because I just have to bear with just 1 more day.

Friday - Have you ever got a feeling when you really want something to get over fast, even though you know its not possible. Well, that how Friday is for me. A day has to have 24 hours i.e. 1440 minutes, and we definitely can't cut it short. But then it's so unfair. Right from the morning when I get up I just wait for the day to finish. In an attempt to make the day get over fast, I try to do things fast, thinking maybe if I am fast, the day too would get over fast. But then, earth being so bulky at the wrong places, we cant expect her to be fast. So, while I am all ready to start the weekend, the day, runs at its own pace. I can dance to any tune, I can laugh to worst jokes just because it's Friday. All the work in office gets postponed to Monday as its Friday. No one, including me, wants to take heavy work as no one, including me, wants to stay back late. Have you ever run out of class even before the bell rings to mark the end of the day in school? Well, if you haven't, then that's the best feeling and that's how I feel when I am ready to leave the office in the evening. It's the feeling of being free. Hostel is full of energy. All plans for the weekend are made. There is no urgency to sleep as there no early mornings the next day. The music is on, full blast with the feet tapping and hands moving in the air. Its ritual to mark the beginning of the auspicious period - The Weekend! Pledging to sleep till 10 or 11 in the morning, we finally hit the bed late in the night.

Saturday - Its 7 and I am wide-awake. I can't believe that it's Saturday. Its holiday, there is no office. I force myself to sleep again, convincing myself that I can sleep, as there is no office. Its 7:30, and my eyes open themselves as if trying to deny me the pleasure of sleeping late. I again force myself to sleep again. Then at 9 I finally get, fully satisfied with the sleep and being very sure that I can't sleep anymore. The weekend has begun. Standing at the window, stretching to full extend and smelling the fresh, warm air of morning makes me feel at the top of the world. The day begins with self-grooming, extends to lavish lunch and proceeds to Colaba, or Bandra bargaining for the smallest of thing. It ends with a beautiful sunset at the Bandstand or Marine Drive with sea winds playing with my hair and my eyes dancing to the music of happiness. A more lavish dinner follows and we drag ourselves to hostel for the night. Tired but still in mood we go over the purchasing of the day and feel bad if we didn't bargain enough or pledge to return back to the same place to buy something that we left because out ego won't give into buying that thing for something more that we decided! Feeling great that there is one more day to go we hit the bed...

Sunday - Get up at 9, eat breakfast, search for a movie post lunch, have lunch and sleep in the afternoon. This is heaven. Get up by 3 or 4, and rush for the movie. By evening, when the movie is over, depression starts sinking in. Gosh, weekend is over. It's Monday tomorrow. We have a sumptuous dinner and then drag ourselves to hostel. Once back at hostel, we force ourselves to prepare for the next day...Monday. Sleeping with a heavy heart, I console myself - Just 5 more days to go...

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Shantaram - The Book

What do Richard Attenborough & Gregory David Roberts have in common?

Shantaram - a beautifully written book on Mumbai. The book, is not only just about mumbai. Its about the way author has felt about this city, seen it and has written about it in a manner that no Mumbaikar has ever come close to it. But for you to relate to it, you should have an exprience of Mumbai - the city of slums.

While reading the book, I could sense the love he has for this city, the city where he was not born, the city where he didn't grow-up, the city where he didnt get married or spend his early, better years of life. The way he has sketched each and every character, made me feel the characters were standing right next to me. I could feel the tears and laughter of every person in the book because somewhere in this city I have seen them. I could feel the evil side of the characters because every day I read about some of them in papers. I could feel the crowd, because I belong to the crowd of this city.

Before I read Shantaram, I always had a feeling of disgust for slums. For me they were unwanted people distroying the city and its beauty. While reading his book, I realised that even such in-human places have people living there, people who have a heart to love and a mind to dream. They came here to look for better opportunities, but then even I came for the same thing miles from my home town. Then they are no different than me. All the things that seperates me from them is too materialistic, like a posh office building with a/c, clothes bought with branded lables and a solid roof to sleep underneath each night.

He has written about the beauty of this city and tolerance of its people. Speaking about people of Mumbai, little piece from from his book - " They are not perfect, ofcourse. They know how to fight and lie and cheat each other and all the things that all of us do. But more than any other people in the world, the indians know to love one another. India is 6 times the size of France, but has almost 20 times the population. If there were a billion frenchmen living in such a crowded space, there would be rivers of blood. As everyone knows, french are the most civilised people in Europe. Without love, India would be IMPOSSIBLE!" . Isn't it so true. The floods in Mumbai on 26th July 2005, proved it, when compared to Cyclone Katrina which hit USA. There were people all around always ready with a helping hand. I myself was so shaken up during that period, but this city took me into its arms and I never felt alone.

Right from bumblebee(thats what Gregory called our mumbai taxis), to special mitha paan with loads of coconut( I still can't relate coconut to paan!!!), to village on the sky(this one is for who will read the novel), to the winds of sea filling every senses of your body, to the most beautiful sunsets of my life, to the rythme of the local trains while you are travelling in it, to the mad rush which you will find here 24 hours of the day, to the love which people here are always ready to shower...I simply love this city because of all this and lots more.

Well, coming back to the question in the first sentence, "What do Richard Attenborough & Gregory David Roberts have in common?". Well, as we can make out from their names, both are not by any chance of Indian origin but one has directed the much acclaimed and an Oscar winning film called Gandhi and the other wrote Shantaram. Don't get me wrong. I am not comparing Gandhi & Shantaram. They are very different. All, I want to say here is - How we need people from other countries and nationality to remind us that we should be proud to be an Indian. Irony of the situation, people who did justice to our culture, our country, our Mahatama Gandhi by writting about it, making a motion picture of it, were not among the billions of Indians, but were from some other country and another culture.

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

I am a Rebel.

In last few days, some incidents have greatly affected the way I think and perceive people around me. They all mean different things to different people, but this what they mean to me.

Raang De Basanti -

A movie, which didn't remain a just a movie for me. When I went to see the movie I went with a free mind, thinking it to be one of the lot, which comes out of Bollywood these days. When I came out after watching the movie, I was totally shaken up. For me the movie was not about how Aamir khan and his friends took the decision to kill a high profile minister. It was not about why commandos were sent to kill young college students who were already repenting for what they did. Its was not even about MIG pilots getting killed and the govt not taking the responsibility but is ready to wash its hands off by making a patriotic dead pilot a scape goat for its mistakes. The movie was about ME. I am like what Aamir and friends were like in movie. I always have fun in life, while I easily blame these corrupt politicians for everything that is going wrong in my country. I blame corruption but if my work has to be done in a slow govt office I always try to find a short way out. I make face at the garbage on the street but wouldn't think twice before throwing something on the street. I blame the bad traffic everywhere but while I am driving I don't even follow lanes properly. Its no use blaming the politicians, because we elected them. We have to correct ourselves first before we blame others.

Cartoon of Muhammad -

There is a world over staging of protest for this cartoon. I always wondered, what could have been so drastic that people have come out on streets to protest over a cartoon. Out of those thousands people who came out on streets to protest, how many of them have actually seen the cartoon? I searched on google (I am hard core googlian) and found the following link. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jyllands-Posten_Muhammad_cartoons. You can yourself see it and don't worry no one is going blow you up with a bomb for seeing it. Yes, that's what I want to talk about, the fear of these religious fanatics. Which religion preaches the killing of innocent people? Which religion preaches violence? Yet you find that in the name of religion these people are killing innocent people, giving guns in young hands, creating rifts between peace loving people. The cartoon talks about what Islam is doing to world. Well, I want to talk about every religion here. Every religion is going corrupt. As they say "Power corrupts everyone". We have given power to religion and has corrupted it too and to such an extent that the same religion which used to tell us to respect life, in today's time kills without any reason. I refuse to believe in such a religion and refuse to respect those who preach such a thing.

The Jassica Lal Case -

"Would the accused please stand up!".
He doesn't.
"Would the eye-witness please stand up!".
He isn't there.
At this point a voice say - "Would you please take the blind lady out of the court, we don't need her anymore!".


Whether is Jassica Lal or Best Bakery Case or Tandoori Kaand, politics has guaranteed the release of the accused. I read the polls done by news papers asking people who would stand up to a case like Jassica Lal. All the newspapers are going crazy over her case. They say "Justice delayed is Justice denied". There are debates over who is right and who is wrong. One of my friend even said that all these cases, which are politically motivated have women involved. Every one of us has something to say. Anyone of you remember, Damini, the movie. The wife has to give her statement against her bother-in-law. The family tries everything right from emotional blackmail to kicking her out of the house. Why? Just because she decides to stand for the truth. Even then she stands up and gives her statement which the only truth and nothing else but the truth. Three hours movie is over and everyone goes home. Well, for all of us, our life is not a three our movie. I don't blame those who go free after putting pressure on people. Everyone wants to live. Why should they be blamed when we ourselves don't have the guts to stand against them. We are scared for our lives, our family and our children and until we have that fear, people in power would always find a way to escape and even return to normal lives. As they say "Ones weakness is someone else's strength".

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

MUIP - Please bear with us for a Better Tomorrow


Yesterday I started from office little late so I missed my company bus. I had a friend along with me who was also going to the same place where I was heading to, so we decided to share the auto. When we came out of office we saw the road was completely choked up with traffic. The reason for this permanent traffic jam is that the government has decided to expand the roads and for this to happen they need to dig up the roads. Now to do this they have dug up the roads on both the sides leaving very little space for the traffic to move. The dust from all the digging up and the smoke from all the standing vehicles made it difficult to even breathe. Irritated with it all I looked around to see if anything is moving and I saw the sign board - "MUIP - Please bear with us for a Better Tomorrow" !!!

We realized that its no use taking an auto because the rate at which the traffic was moving, the auto-meter would move faster than the auto itself. So, we decided to walk down till wherever the traffic becomes bearable! Well, in Mumbai it's easier said than done. There wasn't any space left to walk. Traffic was occupying all the space on the road. The only place left for walking was the dug up area, which was filled with wet cement. We tried to walk on the huge moulds of mud. My feet got all dirty. With every step I feared losing my balance. I looked up in frustration and the signboard - "MUIP - Please bear with us for a Better Tomorrow" stared blank at my face!!!

My friend suggested that it would be a better idea to cross over and walk against the traffic. At least we'll get some space to walk. We crossed the road and started walking. Even that side of road was dug up. The BEST bus stop was over turned and people didn't know where to stand and wait for bus. The boards, which displays the bus numbers, were standing in a far corner of the road where no one with proper eyes could read it and if one even tried to reach the board to read it wouldn't return in one piece. The amazing part is while they have taken the liberty to dig up everything, they have left the illegal shops and slum areas on the encroached land so carefully as if they are the prized position of the Government of Maharashtra. My friend and I kept walking for nearly half an hour without even realizing. Every time I looked to the other side of road, the traffic was at standstill. While walking we crossed an area, which was completed. It gave an impression of what this road would look like once the construction is complete. In one corner there was a huge pile of remains of the construction material and stones, and in the center was the sign board - "MUIP - Please bear with us for a Better Tomorrow" !!!

After half an hour of walking we came to Saki Naka signal. The traffic scene had not changed on the other side, which we were supposed to take. Relieved that we didn't take the auto, we looked ahead to see how the traffic was on the road ahead. We saw some relief there and decided to take the auto and head towards home. On the way to home I couldn't help but think that while walking the stretch it would have required just a slip to land oneself in hospital. The most amazing thing is if they want to dig up something, it is done almost over night but when the time comes to make it, it takes ages for them to complete it. Wherever the construction is taking place, there are no proper lighting systems. One of my colleague in office once took a snap of a overturned jeep in the crater which as usual was easy for them to dig than to fill up.The image you see at the top is the one I am talking about. It even got published in Mid-Day here in Mumbai. By the time they'll finish filling up all the places that they have dug up, it would be time to build 6-lane road instead of 4-lane road, which at present they are trying to build. At such time the message on the sign board sounds ironic...at least I don't know which "Tomorrow" they are talking about because as we all know - "Tomorrow never comes" !

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

New Year Trek to Siddhgarh


A very Happy New Year.

Well, 31 Dec of every year is that time of the year for which the people start planning much in advance. For a person like me who lives in Mumbai money is also a big criteria because special occasions like New Year's Eve is pretty costly affair. If it would have been value for money it would have been ok, but they charge you as if you are going to get a home pick in limousine and you would be given a royal treatment but you end up in a place which is so crowded that one doesn't get enough space to shake a leg, one has to fight for drinks n food and when you get in the mood to enjoy its time to close.

Thanks to Kartik who took the initiative to organize something very different this New Year's eve. We went for 2 days trek to a place called Siddhgarh near Kalyan in Mumbai. The planning for it started much in advance. Kartik and Puneet organized everything, right from pick-up points to music and drinks. We were completely spoiled, as we didn't have to bother about anything.

This was my first experience of a trek on a New Year’s eve. Quite aware that my mobile won't be working and I would miles away from civilization I climbed up the mountain to seek something different. I was not in best of shape, I must agree and hence it made the climb up little difficult. I slipped a couple of times and yes it was painful but it didn’t matter that time. I was so busy having a blast of time. Though it was difficult, it was worth every drop of sweat and every layer of dust on my face. Going back to nature made me realize the importance of silence, of observing the beauty around me and of friends around me. For every hand that was raised to help me, I knew I had someone who cared for me. As we climbed up, we saw a snake's skin in one piece. There were beautiful little flowers blooming along the path. Dried leaves covered the path. The branches of the trees along the path touched me to wish me a safe journey. Slowly, it started growing dark. I saw the most beautiful sunset of my life. It was like God speaking through his eternal light from behind the mountains. Between the mountains sun slowly said good-bye with a promise to meet us in a New Year with new hopes and dreams. It was a moonless night, which made the surrounding even more beautiful for me. Climbing up in dark was quite a challenge, as I didn’t know where I was stepping. When I looked up at the sky and it was an amazing experience. I had never seen so many stars in my whole life. The sky seemed like a black velvet cloth where the jeweler has rolled out all its diamonds for everyone to see.

Slowly and steadily we made it to our campsite. Someone switched on the torch and we could see the tents all at a comfortable distance, laid down on a clean area. The tea was ready and we all crashed on the ground with the bags still on our shoulders. Hot tea with snacks arrived and our warm clothes came out. It was then that I realized that it was cold. Tired and shivering, I felt happy. We sang songs and danced too. Food was ready and while we were eating we started our count-down for welcoming a New Year. Everyone shouted "Happy New Year!!!” I looked down in the valley and I could see the fire works happening in Mumbai and I knew I was away from that crowd who would be so drunk that they won't even realize that a New Year has slipped in. I was away from the city of glitter, false smiles, girls drunk and falling on their drunk boy-friends and a city of pretence. I felt happy to be where I was and I hugged my friends and wished everyone who was there a Happy New Year. Though I did miss my parents and sister and all those whom I love so much.

After wishing everyone we all gathered around the fire and talked about various topics. It was getting windy and I was tired. I proceeded towards my tent. Well, if climbing up was difficult, climbing into the sleeping bag was hilarious. We were 4 in one tent. After adjusting ourselves one by one we realized something was not right. In that small tent we tried to adjust in our sleeping bags by turning around in that little space. It took time but once we all got comfortable I realized it was my first night out in open in a jungle! I was damn scared. First of snakes, then of wild cats and then out of the blue moon I remembered "Blair Witch Project" and I couldn't sleep the whole night!

The morning was beautiful. In the night, if the valley seemed a large stretch of darkness, in the morning I realized it was so full of life. Birds were cherping, people around me were waking up and coming out of their tents with a sleepy face. Slowly, the sun peeped out from behind a mountain. Even in winters, everything around us was so green. Standing right at the end of the mountain, watching the steep slope all covered with trees and rocks, with cold wind gushing through my hair and breathing the fresh air, I realized that simple things in life are the most beautiful things to experience and at times doesn’t cost like a rocket too. I had never felt so fresh.

After little rappeling and breakfast we started our climb down. It had started getting hot and all we wanted to do was reach the base camp. I was tired with all the climbing, celebrations and of course all that thinking too! People got lost in the way, we had to wait for some and some had to wait for us but in the end when we all reached the base camp, it was a great feeling of achievment.

It was not only related to doing something different, it was more of knowing my physical strength, going to a place as beautiful as Siddhgarh and seeing nature so closely. I know I am city girl. All this is only good for a few days, but whatever little time I had spent there, it made me feel fresh like never before. On the first day of the year I wasn't cribbing about no-value for money parties or getting stuck in traffic or breathing pollution or cursing everyone in govt! I was happy and fresh and ready to start another year with more strength and willingness. It was an amazing experience and I would always look forward for another chance.

Monday, January 09, 2006

Mr. Amitabh Bachchan - The Emotional Factor

I have never been a die-hard fan of Mr. Amitabh Bachchan but these days due to constant bombarding of his image everywhere I couldn't help but stop and think about him as person who seems to be everywhere. From posters on the back of BEST bus generating controversies over smoking of cigars to every advertisement on TV to KBC to every movie that comes in theater these days. India as a nation is breathing and living on Mr. Amitabh Bachchan these days!

The Bachchan family has become the First Family of Indian Cinema. The Kapoors are no longer visible with only Kareen Kapoor coming in newspapers for all the reasons except for her work! Whether it's a new movie or a new advertisement or it's the small screen. Mr. Amitabh Bachchan seems to be everywhere. So, at times I wonder what does this person has to attract all the attention and respect he gets.

Those who are die-hard fans of him and those who are not would know his life's story very well. All the magazines and news paper have made sure that we all know it, its another question whether we really are interested in it or not. He, started as a wanna be actor. The articles in magazines and newspapers have told that people didn't recognize him as an actor then. Everything was wrong about him, his height, and his voice. He even failed in an audition at the All India Radio! He had to struggle a lot. His first film 'Saat Hindustani' (1969) failed miserably, with Mr. Bachchan going almost unnoticed. It was his 13th film 'Zanzeer' which shot him to fame and we talk about 13 being unlucky!

Well, today everyone who wants to direct a HIT film wants Mr. Bachchan in it. He alone, its believed, can make or break a film. Films like Black proved that he is one of the finest actors in Indian cinema today but there are films where his presence was done to just pull the crowds like in "Kyun Hogaya Na". Then there is "Kaun Banega Crorepati" series. So many game shows came but none could surpass the popularity of KBC whether they promised more money or whether they had other celebrities like Anupam Kher and Manisha Koirala! There is a whole range of products for which Mr. Bachchan does the advertising. From soap bars to best clothing line to cold cream, he is everywhere. If you sit and watch TV for half an hour you would be able to count his presence more than the actors for which you are watching TV!

Can you imagine any other actor taking the place of Mr. Bachchan in Black or Anand or Agnipath? Why can't any other game show become as popular as KBC? Why can't we have a "Pappu Pass Hogaya" without Mr. Bachchan? When he was hospitalized recently, Mr. Bachchan occupied the front page of every leading newspaper for almost a week; they even gave his pulse and diet! Wasn't there any other news important enough to occupy the first page? Everyone was praying for his long life. The hospital was flooded with newsmen, well wishers and also by those who have their money running on Mr. Bachchan. I got a feeling that if (god forbid!) he had expired PM would have been forced to declare a National Holiday!!

What is it, which makes this person so popular for us Indians? Is it the feeling that a common person can also find a place among starts, which attracts everyone to him? Is it because he gives strength to the belief that "Its 50% hard work and 50% LUCK"? Is it because everyone lives his or her dreams through him? I am sure of one thing...the popularity of him has nothing to do with his acting skills. Why we have so many good actors like Nasruddin Shah, Om puri, Nana Patekar...etc. For him it's the Emotional Factor that no other actor could generate. It's only the Emotional Factor that makes him so big that he can pull off any movie or TV serial or any number of advertisement or a whole nation on his shoulder alone. I am sure it has to be this because I, myself couldn't address him without a 'Mr." prefix through out and come to think of it...he is just doing his job!