Scribbles & Snapshots

Road Trip to Pilani!

2010-11-24T18:12:00.006+05:30

On 13 November at a time well after sunset, I called Arvind (Bala) to catch up with him. We usually speak a few times every month and on that Saturday night with the scotch kicking in, a road trip that I wanted to do for a long time now was surely on my mind. A casual mention about it led Bala to instantly suggest ‘Pilani’ and there it was, we decided to make the trip during 20-22 Nov, 2010.

“Yes dude, it’s a done deal. Yeah, Pilani it is.” This is how we wound up our regular catch up call. “Cheers!”

Through the week that followed, Bala and I made several attempts to reach out to the right folks on campus to ensure we had a good stay. Bala’s email to someone out there drew a blank and me being the ‘phone’ guy, decided to call in to whoever it takes to get started.

I spoke to the Unit Chief (Public Relations), Mr Kashiramka-ji to inquire about the possibility of getting accommodation at the Guest House for two nights. He was very forthcoming but was candid enough to admit that we will not be able to get to stay at the Guest House as about 100 BITSians of the Batch of ’81 were already booked over 20-21 November. They were coming down for their Silver Jubilee Reunion. But that didn’t appear to be so much of a deterrent as I was confident of securing acco at someplace else. We were advised to consider a lodge near Panchvati which went by the name Vatika Nivas that was run by the Birla Trust. The ’81 batch was to leave campus early on Sunday morning so that meant that it was a matter of just one night for us to arrange for alternate acco. It was through Shantanu Bhowmick who was well connected with Pappu that we secured a room at the Alumni House for the first night on campus (20 Nov).

Then I reached out to the current Chief Warden, Dr SK Choudhary. Bala and I wanted to interact with a select group of students from across various batches which we thought was the best way to assess the current state of affairs on campus in comparison to the time we spent on it. The warden was more than willing to get that organized on Sunday (21 Nov) through the good offices of the current President of the Students’ Union. – the day when the ’81 batch was to leave campus.

So with these taken care of, it was all about planning for the trip and the stay at Pilani. Bala and I spoke several times the day prior to our trip to chalk out what we need to carry. The checklist included the route maps, essential supplies (spirits, of course), music for the road trip, smokes, lozenges (as both of us were nursing a cold) and of course, adequate cash (just in case). 

Onward Journey
Gurgaon - Rewari - Wilderness - Bypass to Narnaul - Narnaul - Singhana - Chirawa - Pilani

We sailed on NH8 till we had to make the turn off the highway to Rewari. The road was pretty smooth till Rewari post which we hit the trail towards Narnaul – the next town on the ‘perceived best route to take’ as per Bala’s google searches. A badly laid out signboard got us to make the wrong turn as the arrow against ‘Narnaul’ was smudged and this got us into a shanty village with dusty roads laden with cobbled stones. We assumed that it was a small stretch before we hit the highway to Narnaul but that wasn’t to be. We wandered into the wilderness of Haryana for about 20 kms through which we were increasingly convinced that we were headed to nowhere. When we approached another village, we asked a villager about where the road we were on would lead us and he said, “To the Jaipur highway (NH8).”

Oooops! Bala and I exchanged a quick glance and burst out laughing. His counter was that we got to see a bit more of Haryana than we bargained for, while my worry was that we needed to hit the right trail soon enough. After another 10 kms of dust track driving through the fields and more villages, we reached the Narnaul bypass road. Sigh!

Next town per the route map after Narnaul was Singhana and we sure did reach there in quick time as I really gunned the gas. It was already 1600 hrs and we had been on the road for 3.5 hours since we left Gurgaon and I had been on the road since 1030 hrs in the morning. The sense of relief about making it to Pilani before 1700 hrs just went out of the window as the stretch from Singhana to Chirawa was a bloody nightmare. The entire stretch of 28 kms was terrible and we were doing speeds of 20-30 kmph in the 2nd gear for most of the time. Pappu called while I was negotiating the millions of potholes on that stretch to check on where we were. I had told him (earlier in the day) that we would reach by 1600 hrs and here we were enroute to Chirawa at 1630 hrs. Finally at around 1715 hrs, we inched our way to the spot where the turn would lead us to Pilani. The rusty signboard which had Pilani written in Hindi took away all the fatigue of the past 5 hours and Bala and I exchanged a huge Hi-five. We stepped out and had our little big moments getting ourselves clicked against that board.

The final lap to Pilani was a breeze and we made it to campus around 1745 hrs.

Vidya Vihar Campus Gates
For me, it was a very surreal moment to be entering Pilani in my car, while the mind went back to the nervous teenager who went through that gate in a rickshaw way back in August 1993. Bala felt the same way as well. We knew it would feel very weird and strange for us to be negotiating those streets of Vidya Vihar campus in a car during this trip.

First Stop – Nagarji
So excited were we when we entered campus that the first thing on our minds was to go a redi. We were famished as well as we didn’t stop over for lunch (thanks to the lost in the wilderness stretch). We decided to go to Nagarji’s redi and the moment we made the right from VK to the Bank road, I slammed the brakes to come to an abrupt halt. Nagarji was not to be seen and it was only 1800 hrs on our watches. There were about half a dozen motorcycles parked where his redi used to be. The Workshop signage mocked at our frustrated disappointment in all its freshly painted glory. The Insti buildings were all shining in bright splendor against the fading light. Things had changed!

As moments passed by, we saw a motorcyclist add his bike to the line of bikes parked at Nagar’s erstwhile zone. I asked him, “Yeh Nagarji ka redi kidhar hai? Pehle yahan hua karta tha.” He said, “Woh toh ab mess ke peeche hai.”

We got the directions from him though we didn’t need to. We backed up and then went towards VK’s new wing facing the mess and there we found a tall hut-like structure with three counters on the three sides of the square. There were a few students and a few plastic chairs that were spread out in front of the hutment. It did look like a snack joint but Nagarji wasn’t to be seen. We parked and walked towards it only to find Nagarji surface from behind one of the counters with a quizzical look and a broad grin. He did recognize us or so he claimed as we hugged him. He offered his fare for us to sample and we hammered two single sam chats, two chais and one gulab jamun in double quick time. Smoking is banned on campus for students (but we were sure, those who did smoke did it on the sly). But in the fading light, we took our chance and lit up as we waited for the President of the Students’ Union to show up. Yes, I got his number from the Chief Warden and did call him when we reached Nagarji’s snack hut (not redi, anymore).

After paying Rs 37 for our quick snack, we turned our wheels towards Sky. The moment we entered Sky and called out for Pappu, he rushed out like a little boy and came running to hug us. It was a rare moment and I was pleasantly surprised with his burst of joy. Pappu’s fare is still the same – Pattis, Sandwiches, Maggi and Chai apart from Shikanji and the soft drinks. We helped ourselves to our second snack of the evening while Pappu wound up his business for the day at Sky.

Audi

Mr President apprised us about the Psenti Nite that was to happen that night in the Audi and that the commemoration of the ’81 batch will kick start the proceeds for the night. We quickly headed to the Audi and I was super excited to see the Sounds check. A 32-channel Yamaha mixer at the Sounds Console made my day. After a quick walk around, we moved back to Sky. We knew we would return to the Audi when the show was on.

Alumni House
Having committed to Pappu that we will meet him at Kamal Restaurant in C’not around 2000 hrs, we set off for the Alumni House. As we drove past ANC, we were shocked to see that it is not what it used to be. Moreover, the entire playground is now sealed off with a boundary wall which means that one can’t see the tennis courts from the ground level at Bhag/ Ashok. There is now a gate to the grounds next to ANC which is kept locked up post dark. All of ANC is cordoned off with a high wall as well making it very claustrophobic (at least for me). One can’t get a view of any of the surrounding hostels (Shankar/ Gandhi/ Bhag/ Ashok) from ANC.

We drove further down to discover that Akshay Coop was a ‘SuperMarket’ now. It is now a grand big building which houses all supplies across two levels. We were to get back to it the next day to survey the insides.

We checked in at the Alumni House (room #11) and relaxed for a while post which we headed for C’not.

C’not
Man, the first thing that one would notice about C’not these days is a bunch of cars parked on either side of the road, right through the entire length of the ‘strip’. Hardly any bicycles were seen and whatever few that were there were not visible as they were parked between cars. Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling all that bad or strange or guilty anymore as my palace on wheels wasn’t the only one around. As we drove through the strip, another thing that caught our eye was the abundance of brand promotions that donned the walls of each shop on either side. Pepsi, Coke, Vodafone, Airtel, Idea and many other brands were all there on display.

We parked at the far end of the strip where Pappu’s Kamal Restaurant still stands. A peek into the restaurant gave us a preview of how things pan out these days at C’not. There was not a single customer in it and the time was around 2030 hrs. Pappu’s younger brother Kalu was ambling around the space in a languid wait for probably his first customers of the evening. And we, in most likelihood, were to be those customers.

Bang opposite on the other corner of the strip stands Vijay Restaurant and next to it, a pale imitation of the Golden Dragon Restaurant. We were happy to see a few students grubbing away at Vijay’s and it appeared that it was someone’s birthday treat to his/ her bunch of close friends/ wingies and their inner circle. So, the students did still dine at C’not – at least some of them did.

We walked around to notice that Atul (another of Pappu’s brothers) converted his STD/PCO coffee/maggi snack joint to a full-fledged store that provides all essential supplies including mobile recharge coupons (for all providers), photocopying services et al. There was not a single chair in front of his store which basically meant that it is not a sit down spot anymore. The Archies store at the corner has expanded length-wise (read deeper) and houses a plethora of gift items, stuffed toys (wonder who buys them on campus), trinkets and of course, cards. There were a couple of students who were checking out the wares in the store. On the other side, the famous MNB joint owned and run by Chintoo still functions the same way. There were a few students and a couple of couples enjoying their respective drinks (coffee and shakes) as we walked past them. I, for the life of me, couldn’t recall Chintoo’s name in all my time there on campus. I kept asking Bala if he remembered but he didn’t either. Strangely enough, the Pilani hangover lingers and Chintoo’s name just popped up in my head as my fingers race past the keyboard as I type this.

The barber shop still exists and the little book store at the corner of this side of the strip does too. Most shops have gone deeper, meaning they expanded inwards (length-wise). And like I mentioned before, the brand POPs overwhelm the place and the curves between the pillars are mostly lost. Being a Saturday evening, we surely were expecting a lot more students to be there at C’not to revel in conversations over coffee and snacks. But then, I thought that maybe this is an aberration as the Psenti Nite was on that night. Sunday evening’s presence of the student glitterati would be a true measure of the change that C’not is currently a victim of.

With that thought, we went to meet Pappu at Kalu’s Kamal Restaurant. It was around 2100 hrs by then and the Lord of the Restaurant business within campus (read Pappu) was there waiting for us. He doesn’t have his famous bunny teeth anymore, by the way. His entire furniture has been removed (a few years ago, by his own admission) and he did indeed show me his pair of false teeth at Sky earlier in the evening when I asked him, “Kya hua?” as I pointed my fingers to my teeth. He was like, “Yeh mere daant hai,” as he pulled out a plastic bag which held his pair of dentures from a lower drawer in his counter cabinet at Sky. He looked supremely happy about the fact that they lay in that plastic bag and he claimed that he didn’t really use them at all. Over the years, he has got used to having all kinds of foods without the help of any teeth of whatever kind, natural or manmade. He said that he even could chew meat with his now hardened gums. Happy for him! Physically, he looks a lot chubbier and healthier (touch wood!), and sports round glasses and has an also zen-like presence from a distance at least. He does still smoke. These days, thanks to the ban on smoking on campus, he smokes Four Square (yeah, the cigarette brand for the unacquainted). When asked why he switched brands from his traditional Navy Cut (another cigarette brand), he explained that he didn’t want to be perceived as someone who sells cigarettes at Sky, and hence Four Square as he believes no self-respecting student (of smokes) will endorse that brand. So no, chhota Gold Flake either, only Four Square.

Coming back to that meeting with Pappu, he smiled as we entered the restaurant and ushered us to the ante room at the far corner where Kalu stored his inventory of soft drinks, mineral water and other such things. No prizes for guessing why he ushered us there. Pappu had been nursing a few beers since evening (which apparently is part of his daily routine) and we had brought along our spirits. Yes, it was all pre-planned. We carried enough to cater to a couple of wings over two nights. Go figure the measure now. :)

So, there we were inside the ante room and Pappu had ordered for the lights to be taken out. We were seated in semi-darkness with some light from the main counter filtering in through the gaps between the cartons and the metallic mesh that were the walls of the ante room. The scotch flowed and so did the conversation. Pappu went into a super retro mood and he reminisced about the batches of the late ‘70s, the ‘80s and the early ‘90s. He threw in a few names to good measure and one of them that stood out was Anu Hassan (Kamal Hassan’s cousin/ niece). He did remember us as a batch but we had to give him a visual description of each person while we spoke about our times on campus. He mentioned that he remembered faces better than names and I, for sure, related to that. I am not very good with names either and I do remember from my time on campus that I would be very frequently embarrassed for not being to recall the name of the person who said Hi to me. It still is an issue at my end to this day. Unless the threshold for a minimum number of interactions is not crossed, I would not remember the name.

But for Pappu, his ‘hisaab’ (book of accounts) related to the personality and the person and not really the name. This was a fact that was ratified by Kalu who kept dropping by the ante room to check if we needed anything else to keep the session going. Kalu and Atul used to at times fill in for Pappu at Sky and would manage the counter there. But according to Kalu, they could never relay back the ‘hisaab’ for X or Y against the nomenclature Pappu had for that X or Y. And there goes the hisaab out of the window.

The BM (Baad mein) concept does not exist anymore, anywhere. Everything has become very transactional. You want a ‘patti’, you pay for it at the time to take it from the counter. A few others that we spoke over the next day as well had the same view and earlier in the evening, Nagarji also had the same view. “Zyaada BM nahi chalta hai aaj kal,” is what Nagarji had to say.

Per Pappu, the warmth is missing. There is no connect that he sees across the board and we have no choice to believe him. This was coming from the man who is an institution himself. Just like you can’t take the redis out of campus, you can’t take Pappu out of Sky (at the very least). Think Sky, and you’d see Pappu in front of you wherever you are now as you read this bit (I can bet on it). I wonder if he has been invited for the BITSAA Global Meet 2011 in January next year. Apparently, he was invited for some BITSAA event in Mumbai a year or so ago and he was asked to address the audience. VS Rao had invited him on to the stage but apparently, our man was so buzzed after a few beers that he could only manage a humble ‘Thank You’. Such is the simplicity of the guy but he is also a shrewd businessman as we all know. Yes, we made sure we paid our dues in cash for all his hospitality and time – just in case you were wondering about it being the other way.

Psenti Nite
Around 2230 hrs, we headed to the Audi from C’not to be part of the final few minutes of the Psenti nite. We managed to get a few pictures of the performers on stage and also of the back rooms of backstage. The green room was a haven for random graffiti and even the mirrors were not spared. The floor of the green room was filled with weirdly twisted iron rods that were probably the rejects from a twisted construction or a renovation project. Net, the green room was no longer operational for use. Or maybe, it was an after-effect of Oasis. I will come to that later.

We were privy to a few songs and we sure were buzzed in the heads. All I was clued on to was about Sounds. The mixing was done slickly and there was no feedback. I even walked up to the stage and was glad to note that the monitors were crystal clear. There were three guitarists playing at the same time and the sound clarity was just fine. I noticed at least 3 students play the drums for different songs. There was also a female lead vocalist who ended up playing the drums for a song titled ‘Goodbye’.

Down on the floor, there were just about 100 students who were swaying to the music being played. . And no one that was there appeared to sway due to ‘high spirits’. Honestly, I don’t remember what they were playing but whatever they were, it sounded good. It definitely wasn’t the kind of music we were used to in the Western section. In our times, we had the Indian section and then we had the Western section but in these times, the songs played out are an assortment of sorts in random order. Moreover, there were only 20-odd songs that were sung during the entire show. More shocking was the fact that barring a few scattered clusters of 4-5 people across the first few (4-5) rows, the rest of the Audi was empty and that despite not having separate sections for Indian and Western music. And that too on Psenti nite. Go figure!

Next Stop – ANC
‘A Noisy Courtyard’ is my new expansion for ANC. This favorite hotspot of our times is now a claustrophobic, concrete-floored, three counter, fixed seating (for about 30-40 at best), fully walled, run by the Insti… place of cacophony. I am sure each of you reading this remember the noisy chirps of the birds that have returned home at dusk to the various trees that surround our hostels and the insti buildings. Just replace that birdie chirps with the din of about 150 people standing in a place meant for maybe 50 – all chatting away. One can no longer take any plate of maggi or a cup of chai outside the zone to relax on the tennis courts or wherever else on the playground. Yes, it remains locked for a better part of the day and night.

We got to seat ourselves with Mr President and his few good men from the 3rd year. We kept the conversation light and sneaked in a round of drinks to the fellows from under the table. What else can it be, I say… scotch + water. The buzz got fuzzier as the conversation flowed along the lines of “how was it during your (as in our) times?” We let it rip! From the days of absolute freedom to these days of obtaining permission in writing from the wardens to leave campus, student life has come a long way but I am not sure in which direction. Yes, we were talking to the so-called elite cross-section of the junta at large and we want to give the benefit of doubt that all was still more or less the same on campus. But the more we saw, the more we were convinced that we can’t relate to life on campus as it were.

I went back to the Alumni House to procure the refill while Bala was politely escorted to Krishna which is now also the jaunt of 3rd year-ites. Oh jeez, I forgot to mention this part. SV & KG are no longer exclusive 1st and 2nd year hostels and neither are Bhag & VK exclusive 3rd year hostels. There are 3rd year students in Mal as well. The classification these days is by relevance of branches of study which basically means that since EEE (A3) and Instru (A8) go together, they stay together across batches. Similarly, CS (A7) and Information Systems (C6) go together. Now don’t ask me about the dual degree fellows. They are parked in random order based on the luck of the draw. So there it is – the masala mix called the Student Life on VV Campus.

We spent a few more hours at Krishna with guys who were jamming and smoking up and of course indulging in higher spirits till almost 0500 hrs. Then we dropped off the percussionist from Mizoram (some 0XX ID pursuing A7) at Mal and another straight degree B5 guy at Budh. The latter didn’t opt for a dual as he didn’t get what he wanted as a dual. CG was at some six point something. Nice! A bulk of the conversation also had us (Bala and me) exchange furtive looks quite frequently. Some questions were:

1. What will happen to us post our days on campus? We have really low CGs for the kind of disciplines we signed up for. (Most were A7, A8, A3 chaps).

2. Will we get jobs? [Of course you would. I did and I was a C4 student. For your pedigree, the world has more room.]

3. How promiscuous were BITSians in your time? [Well, we all were highly promiscuous but in the *^&*ing head.]

4. How did you guys intimate each other about meetings and interactions when you didn’t have mobile phones? [Well, we walked or biked around or passed the word around or simply put, we *&*^ing planned better. :)]

... and many such 'interesting' questions.

Overall, it was great to feel like a student again and like I mentioned in an earlier FB status message, we were thrilled that no one called us ‘Uncles’. In fact, some of them did say that we could pass off as current students which was hugely gratifying to note.

The current lot that we interacted with was equally chilled out if not more, a lot more adventurous than we ever probably were (as a majority), some were outwardly audacious in a good way and more importantly, they know deep down that they are there where they belong. It is just a matter of time when the true value of being a BITSian is realized. But as far as Bala and I were concerned, I don’t think we ever worried about ‘what will be’ in our 3rd year. Once a BITSian, always a BITSian – and Nothing Else Matters!

0530 hrs, 21 November, Room #11, Alumni House… Lights out!

The Morning After

I woke up bright and early at 0800 hrs despite the stretch of the previous day. I was hungry and needed to have a good breakfast before we unleash ourselves on campus to soak in as much as we can during the only full day we would have on campus. Bala was all curled up in his quilt and was peacefully sleeping. I decided to wake him to check if he was keen on breaker but as expected, he chose to sleep on for a while longer.

I walked down to the dining area at the Alumni House to find Kailash who was the resident caretaker of the guests. The hall was empty and the long table was devoid of anything. He was busy working something up in the adjoining kitchen. I opted for corn flakes, a jumbo egg-white omelette, two slices of toasted white bread and tea. Post breaker, I ambled back to the room only to find Bala still sleeping like a baby. At around 0930 hrs, our man woke up while I decided to slip back into bed for a short snooze while he got ready to head out.

At 1030 hrs, we hit the trail to C’not to buy smokes (yes, they don’t allow students to smoke on campus but ironically, they allow the shopkeepers to sell cigarettes) and subsequently, we went straight to Sky where Bala helped himself to a breakfast of Pappu’s cheese sandwiches over double-chai. The Sky lawns were littered with all sorts of things including paper plates, wrappers, etc but the weather was perfect. We basked under the warm winter sun for a while and we reminisced about our times on campus. Everything seemed like yesterday. Time indeed does fly but we were glad we made it to campus before we looked too old or felt too old.

Then we decided to go to the Museum but unfortunately, it was closed that day as it was Gurpurab (Guru Nanak’s birthday). I had never been to the Museum during my time on campus and here was another forced miss. We couldn’t have done it the next day, as the Museum’s weekly shutdown day is Monday. So there is definitely another trip to campus in the offing for me.

Then we walked past Malviya Bhavan to check out the Student Activity Center which has come up next to Mal, which houses the now famous ‘Food King’ joint run by our very own Sharath Babu (BITS, IIM-A). As we approached it, Bala spotted Ghanshyam, one of the mess workers in the RB (Ram-Budh) mess. I recognized him too and he was a plumper version of his old ’93-’94 self.

What was RBM mess is now RB mess with Mal having it own mess given the fact that the original Mal Bhavan is called Mal A and on the side, Mal B and Mal C have come up. Mal A was converted to be the girl’s hostel a few years ago for probably a couple of seasons as the then count of the ladies was over 2,000. Now the ratio is back to what is was during our time and the ladies are all now back in the original Meera Bhavan.

Well, Ghanshyam told us that SAC opens only in the evening much to our progressive disappointment. So we walked into Mal A to visit the wing where I had my taste of ethanol (New Wing upstairs facing Sky), while Bala wanted to visit his room in the Pi wing (upstairs facing BVP). The time now was 1240 hrs and we decided to get to RB mess for lunch. While I wanted to go to RPA mess, Bala’s heart was with RB mess as he ate there for four of his five years on campus.

RB Mess
As we walked in, we noticed a desktop computer on the mess manager’s counter. Next to his counter were two tall fridges which stored all kinds of soft drinks including the aerated ones and the fruit juices. In front was a contraption which looked like a chaat station but it was actually a counter for self service. The drill these days is that one picks up the plate and walks to this self service station where one mess worker serves you a portion each of dal and subzi or whatever else that is going. Then you help yourself to the rest (curd, fried potatoes, etc) which are all handed out by a couple of other mess workers. The rotis are all there in one large casserole and you can help yourself to as many as you like. Then you look for a spot to park and start grubbing. I didn’t quite notice the drill for procuring water as it was served to us, for the mess manager had Ghanshyam on our case. The only thing that was on the table was the bowl of pulao (Sunday special). Our lunch comprised of mutter paneer, yellow daal, fried potato chips (which were super spicy and over-salted), a bowl of curd, pulao and a few rotis. The taste of the food is still the same which made us grin. I can’t describe the priceless feeling of having mess grub. It is beyond words.

Post lunch, we said our goodbyes to the mess manager, Ghanshyam and Bachcha Singh-ji and walked back to Sky.

1400 hrs – Still no students at Sky. We decided to get back to the Alumni House to pack up and head to the Guest House. The ’81 Batch guys and their families had left that morning. When we reached the Alumni House, Kailash told us that the Guest House is currently being cleaned up and we should head there around 1600 hrs. So there it was for us – a forced siesta which actually did us good.

We moved our stuff to the Guest House which is now called VFAST (Visiting Faculty and Students’ Hostel). I just got the expansion from a 3rd year A3 student in the form of reply to my text message. It is the same Laxminarayan Guest House which now has an extended block.

1700 hrs – Back at Sky and in wait for the student interaction that we asked for. Mr President was to organize this at our behest and we were really excited about meeting a cross-section of students from all batches.

1740 hrs – Still no sign of the students and a few calls to Mr President and Mr Gen Secretary went unanswered. Maybe the hangover of the previous night was still lingering, or so we thought and gave up on any further interactions with students. We then checked with Pappu on his evening schedule and we headed to the Temple but not before we drove around.

Saraswathi Temple
A visit to the Saraswathi Temple is a must. There is a new statue of GD Birla-ji bang on the opposite side of the road in front of the Temple. We parked on Temple Road, a few yards away from the entrance of the Temple. We walked in and the usual spot took off our shoes and made our way up the stairs. There were a few students sitting on the steps that take us to the main altar. The last time I walked up there, I was obviously in serious prayer mode invoking the Goddess to grant me a few good grades as the Compres were coming up. This time around, there was a sense of gratitude and peace and I surely was counting my blessings for all the experiences I have been through since the time I stepped out with a Degree in tow. I stood there admiring the idol of the Goddess while the thoughts of those days on campus raced past yet again. And then, the priest got on to performing the ‘aarti’ as his aide blew the conch. I am sure Bala had his own thoughts to deal with. We then took the traditional walk around the Temple. The cold marble floor under our feet notwithstanding, we tried our best to avoid as many pigeon droppings as was possible in the dark. Another timeless fact about campus that will never change! We then sat on the steps of the Temple as is the tradition, and looked on admirably at the Insti building.

As far as women were concerned, I noticed the maximum number of women at one place during all our time on campus at the Temple. Maybe it was about the Compres which are around the corner or maybe it is just that most of them are from the traditional bastions of South India or maybe it was something else…

Gate Calls
From what we noticed, Gate Calls to the women at Meera Bhavan are a lost cause, at least in the most part. The only thing that probably hasn’t changed is that the guys still see off their women at the gates of MB when it is time for the forced breakup at 2300 hrs before sunrise the next morning. In these days of mobile and internet connectivity, I am sure the respective genders text each other or ping each other over IM to decide on the rendezvous time and place. Coming to think of it, it actually saves time though quite not the expense factor. But from what I know and still do believe, the women must still be excited about receiving a gate call which has a special feel to the experience. But I am not the best one to judge that specialness as I hardly experienced that side of life on campus. Bala might want to take this up a little more seriously for the benefit and clamor of all those who wanted to know.

Dinner, Drinks & Random Talk
Being on campus for a little over 24 hours pretty much got us all soaked in with all the BITSian-ness that we needed. At the cost of being repetitive, we were thrilled to have made it to campus. We drove to C’not to meet Pappu at his restaurant for another evening of indulgence. We sat in the corner room and while we sipped our scotch, Pappu nursed his beer. The evening wound up at around 2245 hrs after we feasted on some chicken curry, naans, rice and curd.

Right through the evening, we talked about those we knew around campus during our times and Pappu added his own masala with his stories of how much fun he had running his business at Sky in those days compared to the current times.

Weary, buzzed and sleepy, Arvind and I made our way to the Guest House but after a while a couple of students dropped by for another ‘lachcha’ session. And we got chatting again, trying our best to assuage the concerns of these 3rd year-ites that life goes a long way beyond CGPAs. Bala had his B5-A4 and then IIM-L experiences to recant while I spoke about my experiences on campus and how brand BITS stays with each of us for the rest of time. Some more spirits flowed as we chatted away.

Most of the guys we met seemed to have girlfriends and believe it or not, BITSians these days are quite adventurous. I remember, during our times, a rendezvous out of campus would mean a trip to Khetri or some nearby retreat like the Midway Hotel, if it was to be a short trip of sorts. The longer trips would mean a rafting expedition, or a trip to Auli or maybe a trip to the dunes of the Thar Desert around Jaisalmer/ Udaipur. These days, destinations of choice are McLeodgunj or Pushkar, to experience the ‘hippie’ side of life. Believe it!!! Like I mentioned earlier, these choices were of the tiny cross-section of BITSian that we interacted with and might not be a true representation of the overall student community. But that said, we learnt a lot more ‘life on campus’. Relationships on campus are no longer about walking around all evening from sunset to almost 2300 hrs. Life and relationships are more existential, experimental and of course, more exhilarating and exciting. We also ‘heard’ about a couple of instances where women have entered the well-guarded and almost completely grilled bhavans to spend time in their boyfriends’ rooms. I am not sure how much of that is true but it sure sounded very believable. The question about ‘promiscuity’ just ran through my head yet again and again and again.

Compared to our times, many more students are hooked to the real side of campus life related to their indulgences. With getting specific (about which I am sure each of you are well aware of), students get hooked to these right on from the very first semester on campus. Average out-of-pocket expenses of students have also gone up (~Rs 4-8K depending on one’s indulgences) and so have the average mess bills (~Rs 3-4K a month including extras). Everything adds up right from your outstation trips to hotel room charges to mobile recharges to simply having a good time with buddies over jam sessions and drinks. But who cares, as long as Daddies and Mommies are paying up.

So, there it was… the continued reinforcement that the younger lot were having a ball on campus but in a very different way, from what we did. We planned for an early start the next morning so we had to wind up at around 0300 hrs but only after gifting away the remaining scotch we carried. And it was lapped up with broad buzzed grins.

Next Morning
I woke up at 0800 hrs and decided to get through with my ablutions at the soonest before I woke up Bala. We promised a ride to one of the students who wanted to go to Delhi for a couple of days to meet with his friend. We had also promised Pappu that we will bid him goodbye before we embark on our return journey. So by 0945 hrs, we breezed through breaker at the Guest House, tipped our hosts and made our way to Sky.

But yes, we had to do one more thing before we set sail… which was to buy the memorabilia – Tees and Sweat Shirts. While I parked in front of Ram’s new wing facing the S-block, Bala had made his way to the BITSAA store in the same block. We quickly checked out the wares and picked up a few tees including the all-time favorite, 333031 one. Bala was a tad disappointed as the sweatshirt that he wanted (BITS Pilani, Estd 1964) wasn’t available in his preferred XXL size while I managed an XL for myself.

We then had our double chai at Sky, bid our farewell to Pappu and hit the trail back to Delhi. This time around, it was:

Pilani – Loharu – Satnali – Mahendragarh – Rewari – Gurgaon with two stopovers. One for ‘Child Beer’ and other to drop Bala at his pad in Gurgaon.

It was a trip that will remain etched in our cumulative memories for the rest of time and I am sure we will make a few more back to VV campus in the not-so-far future.

I hope each of you who read this could rewind your mind to the times you spent on campus. Regardless of where we ended up getting to post our days at Pilani, campus was the place where I firmly believe, we walked in as ‘boys and girls’ and walked out as ‘men and women’.

Long live the tradition! ‘Gyaanam Paramam Balam.’

Inch by Inch

2010-09-08T16:13:00.001+05:30

I just had to post this. :)

This is the transcript of one of the Greatest on-screen Monologues Ever… Truly Inspirational Stuff!!! Phew! I recently saw the movie on WB but the transcript which I first read in July 2008 still revs me up. I still do read it every now and then and let it take me to a different plane each time.

Use your discretion to share it with your teams, friends… and whoever else you might think will draw value from mere words that have so much depth. Be well, Do well & Stay Close!
----------------------------------------------------------

Al Pacino's ‘Inch-By-Inch’ speech from ‘Any Given Sunday’ (the movie)!

I don't know what to say really.
Three minutes
to the biggest battle of our professional lives
all comes down to today.

Either
we heal
as a team
or we are going to crumble.
Inch by inch
play by play
till we're finished.

We are in hell right now, gentlemen
believe me
and
we can stay here
and get the shit kicked out of us
or
we can fight our way
back into the light.
We can climb out of hell.
One inch, at a time.

Now I can't do it for you.
I'm too old.
I look around and I see these young faces
and I think
I mean
I made every wrong choice a middle age man could make.

I uh....
I pissed away all my money
believe it or not.
I chased off
anyone who has ever loved me.

And lately,
I can't even stand the face I see in the mirror.

You know when you get old in life
things get taken from you.
That's, that's part of life.

But,
you only learn that when you start losing stuff.
You find out that life is just a game of inches.
So is football.

Because in either game
life or football
the margin for error is so small.

I mean
one half step too late or too early
you don't quite make it.
One half second too slow or too fast
and you don't quite catch it.

The inches we need are everywhere around us.
They are in ever break of the game
every minute, every second.

On this team, we fight for that inch
On this team, we tear ourselves, and everyone around us
to pieces for that inch.

We CLAW with our finger nails for that inch.
Cause we know
when we add up all those inches
that's going to make the fucking difference
between WINNING and LOSING
between LIVING and DYING.

I'll tell you this
in any fight
it is the guy who is willing to die
who is going to win that inch.

And I know
if I am going to have any life anymore
it is because, I am still willing to fight, and die for that inch
because that is what LIVING is.

The six inches in front of your face.
Now I can't make you do it.
You gotta look at the guy next to you.
Look into his eyes.

Now I think you are going to see a guy who will go that inch with you.
You are going to see a guy
who will sacrifice himself for this team
because he knows when it comes down to it,
you are gonna do the same thing for him.

That's a team, gentlemen
and either we heal now, as a team,
or we will die as individuals.
That's football guys.

That's all it is.

Now, whattaya gonna do?
-------------------------------

People Who Matter.

2010-09-07T21:25:00.001+05:30

India offers the luxury that the west can never have. There are people everywhere and that translates to a far greater frequency of connect. These connects means dependencies which transpire into reverse enslavement. Yes, while we hold lofty views about freedom, we are actually very very dependent on the ‘People Who Matter’.

There was a post that I wrote a couple of years ago which is titled ‘Survival Ecosystems’ which you can find in the 2008 drop down.

I wrote that as an ode to the man who made sure that he ‘took care’ of my most prized material possession along with that of many other hurried office goers. Mishraji, the Lord of the parking cartel and his ilk continue to prosper even in these times. The job description for these brave souls almost never changes. And there there is never a frown or a grimace that appears in the line of duty. The contentment that they have in doing what they do, hour after hour, day after day, month after month, and year after year is unsurpassable and it just seems to reach stratospheric proportions. I moved on from that zone that Mishraji rules in, meaning I changed jobs. But I do manage to get to his kingdom every other month and he still can spot my car from a fair distance. He has the same smile that can lift the spirit of the most depressed souls on the planet. His simple demeanor that has a warm approach says it all. With a circular iron ring slung across his left forearm which has hundreds of keys that are worth over a couple of crore rupees, he commands his post like a General at the warfront. He doesn’t seem to realize the value he has and the pity is that neither do the hundreds of those who entrust him with their assets know it. I am probably the only one who knows his life’s ambition which is to go back to his village and get back to a quiet life of farming. But this can happen only after his four kids are up on their feet in the big bad world of urban indifference.

I am always in awe of people like Mishraji. I always imagine how life in India would be if these unsung warriors were not around. Who is going to fix the frequent disruptions that happen to our domestic lives? What would I do without Dinesh, the electrician who doubles up as my man Friday? What would I do without Rout, the plumber who almost always drops everything to come repair a leaking tank or a faucet? What would we do if Rupa, the cook, didn’t show up? There are many whose names are just a memory now but I have a deep sense of gratitude for them.

Every trip back home is mandated by a visit to Koti’s shop who prides in his snipping abilities. He is the same guy who snipped my mane from the time I was four years old. From those days of shearing the top to this day of ‘special’ treatment to the boy who he saw grow up. He looks frail now but his fingers still work the work with the same speed and precision that only a seasoned hand has mastered. Ashok, the kirana store owner on our street back home, is reminiscent of Pappu, the skylab icon at my alma mater. Both look very similar with those stained bunny teeth imploring the lips to make way for a world view. Ashok always had a candy ready for me when I used to return from school. It was probably his way of working at customer loyalty but the real reason (which I realized much later) was that he expected us to stop by every time we passed by. It didn’t matter if we bought anything or not, as most often we did. His store was at the corner of our street which had a dead end and he knew he had to ensure to stay well in the eyes of his captive customers.

Going further back, Mallanna was the man who instilled the confidence to try the untried. He was the milkman in Narsapur, who taught me how to ride a bicycle when I was there during the summer of ’86 to visit my maternal aunt. He even taught me how to ride a buffalo in his milk yard where he owned about nine buffaloes. While I mastered the bicycle, slow buffalo riding was not a sustainable option. Today, Mallanna is a grandfather who lords over this dairy business which apparently diversified into a couple of sweetmeat stores in the town. His brood of buffaloes apparently is over a hundred strong today, which is bound to be, as he must be servicing the sugar needs of Narsapur through his extended empire. Happy for him!

Today, I went to visit one of my four band of ‘barber brothers’ – Anwar, Riyaz, Usman and Salim. Usually, one of these four answers the phone and then gets to my place for a quick personalized snip session. This being the season of Id, I decided to go to their shanty shop and it was Salim for this time around. Riyaz and Anwar were back in their village for a brief vacation from the rushes of urban strife while Usman was at home recovering from the flu. Each of these brothers ‘know’ what is expected and they take special care for the little extra that they always get from my end for their personalized attention. What is more amazing to me is that our conversations border along philosophical lines and not so much about it being a monologue from them about bad their existence is. Salim told me that Usman was keen to get well soon so that he could go home with him to be with family on the holy day of Eid. Every Eid, they get a handsome tip and the only trade off is some yummy mutton curry that they are yet to get me to taste.

There are at least a couple of dozen more people about whom I can go on. In retrospect, I have always learnt something from each of them. I have smoked beedis with rickshaw-pullers with the same enthusiasm I have for conversations at work or at home with friends and colleagues. I have been amazed at their outlook towards life and the subtle humor they have developed to deal with the vagaries of life.

After many such wonderful touchpoints, life continues to be impacted by many more who are innocuously all around us. Most of them are simple hopefuls who do not expect more than a kind word and a friendly smile. They are not greedy by any stretch of my imagination. At least most of them are not from what I have seen. It is the proud silence and diligence with which they go about doing their work. And from this, I learnt that no matter what, it is passion for life and work that counts in the final analysis.

I continue to bow my head in awe and respect of those who appear to be God’s lesser children but are the true custodians of his creativity. These are the ‘People Who Matter’ who make things happen! Without them, the wheels of life will get derailed, at least in this part of the world.

Rude City

2010-09-07T14:11:00.000+05:30

It doesn’t take too much to lose it up north. There are two ways to read the earlier statement. On one hand, it’s about losing it in the head and the other, more relevant aspect is that people who live up north in India come to the planet with this trait ingrained in them.

Delhi is not an easy city to like. There was a day, during the months after I first started to live here, that I told myself that one year is all I will give to this city. That was not to be as the Lord above heard that resolve louder than any prayer of mine. He knew how to show he was the boss and decided to ground me in Delhi till date. When you are stuck, you can only so much to try to free yourself. So I decided to free my mind instead, to embrace the city of space. Yeah, it is really huge. This probably is the only definition that I can attribute to Delhi that still has a positive connotation. Each city teaches you a lot of things but Delhi teaches you a tad more than you can brace up to. You learn to deal with abrasiveness that is so in your face, aggression that doesn’t have a mother or a cause, callousness that puts devils to shame, crassness that will make you try harder to remember the last good thing you heard, insensitivity that sends shivers down the spine of even butchers, and many such more glorious attributes of the made it ‘Crude’. But I have grown to love it over the years. The mantra is to ignore respectfully as one can’t reason with madness.

Walk into a general store and you know you are not wanted. The shopkeeper doesn’t care if you buy are not, and he does not make the effort to sell. The economics of demand and supply play up, almost always. The mall culture promised to change that a bit but that was just an aberration. Talk to an auto driver and you will get a firm lesson on how to say ‘No’. Try to travel in a bus and you would get a first hand feel of how to grope. Road rage is commonplace which one can be subjected to even if you are walking. You can stay at the same house for years and not know your neighbor. People just don’t make the effort to be pleasant. They specialize in making life harder than what it is. There is anger and indifference everywhere. And it loves to provoke itself raise its ugly head at the slightest cue.

But there are extraordinary moments of endearment that I have experienced that made me tighten my embrace for Delhi. There also have been a multitude of instances that make one cringe as well, sadly. The predominant Punjabi culture and music does add that lilt to your life and a spring to your step. To smile is a concept that people up north doesn’t quite warm up to too easily. It’s the whisky and the chicken that almost always break the ice.

The average man on the streets is hopeful but scared. The Metro and the BRT have made their impact in opposite ways. The largest city of India and the nerve center of governance has a long way to go to be one of the best in the world. I won’t mention the fracas around CWG as it is an issue about national pride and not about the national capital.

For me, right here, right now, Delhi is a Rude City. Love it or hate it but learn to ignore for your own good.

How would it be to...

2009-10-15T14:09:00.004+05:30

... not do anything?
... not sleep at all?
... get the mind to move things?
... have flying spoons and forks feeding you when you want to be fed?
... lie in bed till noon each day?
... talk to a cow - as in have a real conversation, one on one?
... have pets? (Eeeks!)
... have four day work weeks with Wednesday being the day off as well?
... get rewarded adequately for all the good work done? [Never happens as easily]
... be a lot luckier? [I can vouch for that.]
... feel a lot luckier?
... teach kids at/ through an NGO?
... talk less? [Scary thought!]
... spend lesser?
... spend more?
... vacation more frequently?
... be tireless?
... just have someone drop by to have a drink without 'asking' if they should drop by?
... not have maid support? [Chaos!]
... not have bootleggers on call?
... not have man-fridays to do odd jobs?
... not have mobile phones?
... not have the internet? [Phew!]
... just feel relaxed without telling yourself you need to take that break to feel so?
... be shared? [Controversial, huh!]
... not have hair loss issues? [I wish!]
... not a bad hair day? [Every day is one.]
... have a unbelievable phase of great luck and providence? [Waiting...]
... roll back the years? [May be not.]
... not smoke? [Well...]
... do different things beyond routine?
... have no watches, anywhere? [Ahem.]
... work from home, always? [:o)]
... be invisible? [No fun.]
... cycle to work?
... be lonely in a crowded place?
... not have cricket as a game?
... have perfect vision?
... be a farmer? [Back to the roots.]
... not know to walk, talk and speak in 'Engleees'?
... not have social networking sites?
... be overhelmed with the noise of silence?
... be at peace with the pace?
...
...
...
... feel good, always? [I feel good now.]

[Unfinished but I guess the list is endless.]

Thinking Aloud... 'Feeling Good'!

2009-10-08T12:03:00.004+05:30

1200 hrs, At the Office. On a mini-break from the frenetic pace of juggling multiple tasks over the past fortnight. The past week was particularly crazy but it is all good. The fun part is that it gives me the rush that keeps me going.

I just told myself over the weekend that I should be more regular with my blog posts. It is not meant to be a personal diary made public. It is always nice to feel good about the fact that your friends get to read a bit about you every now and then, even though you are not as apprised about their lives. Sometimes I wonder if all the effort that I make to be in touch is really worth it. But again, it is all about the 'feel good' factor.

I feel good about making the effort to be in touch. I feel good about knowing or in most cases assuming that everyone who I have ever known this far is out there doing well while fighting their own battles and waging their little wars. I feel good just being me.

Each day has its share of surprises. Hopefully, the happier surprises are the ones we all should be dealing with for a long time to come. On that note... I am getting back to work. Cheers!

What More Can One Do...

2009-10-06T19:43:00.006+05:30

... to prove you are not a potential immigrant.

Life has been a roller coaster but the hits were taken well with a lot of positivity and renewed zest to fight the odds. Having traveled moderately well to a few countries on business which include Australia and having traveled to the United States to study (although for a brief while), the last thing that was expected was a business visa application being declined at the US consulate. Not after more than 12 years in the industry, not after having all the documents in place, not after actually aspiring to get back to servicing the US market from India. It surely is inexplicable in many ways.

Then on the other hand, there are scores who get to the land of opportunity to stick one's guts into the soil just because they got 'lucky'. That is surely the operating word when it comes to being 'granted' or rather 'blessed' with a US visa. And many of these people get to do what they aspire to do but I am very sure that there are quite a few out there who 'hang around' despite not doing well just because they want to live in America. It's not a case of sour grapes at all. Almost everyone I know who went there to study has never returned for good. And everyone who has ever said that they will, won't for the longest time. Not qualms there as each has their own destiny and aspirations to deal with and I am happy for every one of them. It gladdens me that they are all doing well, wherever they are.

Here one has pretty strong roots in India, has a stable job that ensures a good enviable life, has a child who will grow up in India as there is no way the cultural ethos of one of the world's oldest civilizations can be compromised with the Aston Martin's of the world. The list is endless but here one just wants to do justice to the job that your employer has hired you for.

To try to excel is in our DNA and we are brought up with that drilled into our impressionable minds from our childhood days. But what can one do when a mere whim can rule things against you.

I really can't fathom what more is needed to get 'lucky'. I am sure there are quite a few out there who want to travel the world but still will never leave India for greener pastures. There can be nothing better for me at least as you get the best of both worlds. And as I see the plight of many who are denied a chance to get ahead in life, I wonder... when will be a time when at least the well qualified and experienced professionals don't have to live on a prayer against a whim!

Being born on India's Independence Day, I can only say that patriotism runs in my blood. Tomorrow is another day! :)

Adieu - Mr King Khan!

2009-04-28T12:27:00.003+05:30

Feroz Khan. The very name effuses panache, style, confidence and and glamour. He was flamboyance personified. His raspy voice tangoed with his swagger.

For the audience, his presence on screen always meant that something different was to be expected. He was the master of bedazzlement. He was one among the bastion of actors who had the charisma and the guts to chart his own niche to become the Cowboy of Bollywood. He stood tall for me in all I could see of him. He was pure fun to watch.

Award shows will miss his larger than life presence. The red carpet is surely in mourning. He always wore a big smile and never failed to surprise his audience by doing something different.

I read that he lived a very lavish life and I hope and pray that he gets to rest in royal style that is only his to claim. I surely will miss his swagger, the warm smile that he always wore and of course, the sunglasses.

Feroz Khan, for me, is the true King Khan! May God bless his soul.

The Buzz about the FIP!

2009-04-23T17:47:00.002+05:30

I got on to reading the current buzz boy's notes on the ongoing IPL tourney in South Africa.

Irreverent, crass, interesting, humorous, insinuating, entertaining... are some of the words that came to my mind as I moved from one post to the other.

The casting of the players with their idiosyncracies and their call names on the blog has been well thought through. I am not trying to critique the blog and neither am I trying to glorify it. It is sheer entertainment paisa vasool for the general online readers who also need to quite well versed with the cricketing world and its constituents.

Fake or not, it sure is quite riveting. Let the buzz buzz around...

Sad-yam. Very Sad-yam.

2009-01-15T14:54:00.002+05:30

The man who stirred the hornet’s nest is one of our own. Barely a month ago, he was one of the stalwarts who had earned a place with the stars among the stellar entrepreneurs who transformed the IT industry.

Byyraju Ramalinga Raju now is associated with ‘Bhayyam’ (the vernacular word for fear in the Telugu language). The gults (as Telugu people were referred to at our famous alma mater) are an extremely proud lot. Now that pride is dented by the hammered force of the greed of the son of the soil.

Well, he is on the boil now… with the world calling him the greatest ever fraudster from India. We are all wondering about the sheer callousness and irresponsibility with which he staked the lives and careers of people who were sworn in to be his loyal comrades at Satyam. He is probably being called ‘Deyyam’ (meaning ghost in Telugu) whom everyone wants exorcised.

Maybe this was the reason why there are two ‘y’s in his name. He became the satan that he didn’t intend to become. On the contrary, having names that means God in some way, couldn’t dissuade the Raju brothers from being erroneously human.

But hey, let’s not get myopic with the ‘blame it on, Andhra’ rhetoric. There are overtly greedy, charlatans of goodwill and trust in every corner of the world. The latest (as and when it happens) is always the biggest and the most disturbing. And this day’s latest is the Satyam fiasco. I can’t say there won’t be another new swindler on the podium tomorrow but I definitely can hope that there won’t be.

As the elder Raju admitted, they probably thought that the tiger they were riding on was worth the risk as long as the juggernaut continued. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t realize that greed ends at infinity. And the tiger lost steam along the way.

[In his most innocuous way, Aravind Adiga might be sniggering at Raju for his reference to the Tiger. And I am not even hinting that Adiga might have got himself a few more readers for his book thanks to this ongoing saga.] (Bad joke, I know. I am yet to get over the White Tiger. Read my other recent post)

‘Plain Woeful Crooks’ should be what PwC should rechristen itself as. They still seem to be hanging on to the ‘disclaimer’ note claiming they didn’t do anything. But the whip is about to slam into them any one of these days (or so we think)!

Raju, in all his goodness, attempted to hoodwink the world by stating that he was the sole master chef that cooked the books with no fringe players to support him. A scam of this magnitude definitely needed a lot more c(r)ooks to stir the stew.

From ‘Brothers in Arms’ to ‘Brothers in Alms’. My heart bleeds as an Indian and as a gult. Let the truth prevail.

Sad-yam. Very Sad-yam. :(

A Roar or a Whimper?

2009-01-09T13:54:00.002+05:30

Ah… the White Tiger!

Well, the book promised a lot more from the outset – the Booker win, the unassuming South Indian who stirred the literary world with the roar of the Tiger, the media buzz around it, etc – than what it finally delivered. It was a good read and I am not complaining. The story is a mug shot from life around us. It could have been a short story within my own ‘Survival Ecosystems’ piece on this blog. It is subtly comical at certain places. It is satirical in most. It was irreverent, amoral, self-deprecating, repulsive, stirring and quite obviously boring as well.

Maybe Aravind could have held on to the drama/ suspense till the end even though I did not expect a very shifty plot. The enigma of unraveling to myself what maketh a Booker winner pretty much goaded me to finish the book even though I lost interest midway through it. I had my wife asking me if the story was so riveting that I refused to let go of the book even when my glass needed a refill. I replied, “I just want to finish it.” I finished it over two 4 hour sittings which were continually disrupted by the din of the television (that my wife was watching), our kid’s nursery rhyme rehearsals (playschool hangover at home) which had me participate and the attention that my mobile phone demanded when it buzzed. Not that I am slow reader. I just wanted to read each and every word of the novel unlike the more accomplished speed readers who do a 400 page novel in 2 hours. And I didn’t want to do the ‘do’!

I wanted to get under the skin of the protagonist of the plot. I wanted to be ‘a diggah’ (a digger, not Adiga)! A diggah of the subterfuge that Adiga pulled off so well. I kind of liked the imaginary conversation with the Chinese Premier but it was a real drag after a while. The Chinese connect is difficult to justify despite certain references to the nation.

Maybe it is not so difficult to write a book after all. It just requires some serious intent and a story (any story). The catch is probably about what the reader would take away from the effort. And this book kind of confused me a bit on that front. Maybe the reader is not looking for anything. Works of fiction are not read to take home a message that one would seriously consider working on. They provide the non-rush hour rush. The White Tiger hardly roared along its journey. Even at the end, I felt the protagonist’s personification was quite misplaced. But hey, the jury lapped it up as they probably heard a roar while I heard a whimper. The world is creaming over it. And some more people are probably even more motivated to write.

The book is worth a ‘A Dig, eh’, for sure!

India Irked! [Part III]

2008-12-16T16:32:00.000+05:30

Citizen Cognizance

In today’s troubled times, the air is rife with mixed emotions of fear, hope, anger, frustration, helplessness, loss of faith and skepticism. As the noted industrialist, Srichand Hinduja pointed out recently; maybe it all happened for the larger good of world society. Indians were not the only ones killed in the attacks. Some visitors from the rest of the world also lost their lives and some more were very grievously injured. All those who survived and went through the trauma in the line of fire will carry the nightmarish experience all their lives.

The corrupt politicians always will continue to harbor their vested interests, the media will tend to be crass, the blame games will continue but at the top of it all, the emergence of a world code to snuff out terrorism is vital. To my mind, this emerges from the average person on the street.

As Citizens of India and the world at large, we need to be Cognizant.

The global society indeed did wake up for the first time to the carnage at Mumbai albeit it was ravaged with mindless acts in the past. This time around the difference was that the enemy was there to see as the acts of terror were unleashed on innocence.

India was plundered and pillaged many times so in a way, the rape of our nation has been a continual occurrence. But in a more stoic sense, we hid the scars and moved on without a whimper. But not anymore!

Every Indian should take it upon themselves to watch their back. The average person on the street should be more aware of their responsibilities towards the larger interests of society. We should stop disrespecting ourselves by making sure we adhere to the rules of the land. So hopefully, we will witness a lot less lawlessness on the streets. Fewer traffic lights being jumped, lesser road rage, better civic sensibilities, etc. A lot of self tuning will need to be done by each of us. Indians are proud people but somehow, the pride gets buried in diversity.

We need to be…
~ Cognizant of our Responsibilities towards our Society (and not just for ourselves),
~ Cognizant of the Reality of the Threat(s),
~ Cognizant of the Gravity of the Resolve we make as People of India,
~ Cognizant of the fact that Nothing is to be Ever Forgotten,
~ Cognizant of having the Grit to Give it Back,
~ Cognizant of Safeguarding ourselves,
~ Cognizant of Civil Citizenship.

The mayhem that unfolded across 10 odd locations in Mumbai and on India that fateful Wednesday night will remain etched in the minds of all of us.

Let’s remain Cognizant!

Jai Hind!

India Irked! [Part II]

2008-12-05T17:13:00.005+05:30

India Irked!

Political Pandemonium

In parallel to the Media irrationality, the Politicians of the world’s largest democracy proved yet again that there can be no ilk like theirs anywhere else in the universe, leave alone the planet.

Their time-tested modus operandi invariably adds to the confusion at Ground Zero and they just don’t realize what they are up to. They paraded themselves only to be chided and hated for their insensitivity to reality, for their audacity to disrupt the proceeds (as the already spent security force is stretched thanks to them in the hour of crises) and for their incompetence to work together to prevent the continual violation of India in recent months.

We were born in a free society and we always took our freedom and peace for granted. And so should it be! But with each passing month with incidents related to terror and with each passing day with incidents relating to lawlessness and crime, no longer am I inclined to believe that our children will grow up in a safe society unless something drastically effective in set in place. Our internal law and order situation is a squalid reality while the external perpetrators continue to sharpen their knives and point their guns at us compounding the security situation. Who is responsible for the gradual erosion of the organized society? The Political Establishment which through the years ensured that India will remain divided on the issues of caste, sect, religion, etc without any remorse at all. Instead, we much rather have the Political Establishment work towards making India a nation that the world will want to live in. On one hand, we send an unmanned mission to the Moon and on the other hand, we can’t even protect the borders of one of India’s largest cities. What a shame!

I remember my childhood and teenage years as a period of carefree fun and frolic. My parents were never worried if I didn’t return home after play till the late hours of the evening. And those were the times when we had only Doordarshan for entertainment, landlines were not part of most middle class homes and mobile phones were unthinkable. Yet the friendliness and warmth of the society in those years (‘70s & ‘80s) makes us wonder if we would have been better off at status quo than not having taken off post liberalization. As a parent today, I know life can never be that way ever!

The son of the CEO of a multinational company gets abducted in broad daylight, a media professional gets shot on her way back from home, tourists are molested on the pristine beaches of Goa, a retired army general gets car jacked on his way back from a party… the list is endless.

In these times of global terror, we are increasingly being perceived as a soft target for our over-resilient, overtly tolerant approach to dealing with the forces of disruption. We need better rules, we need more order than chaos and more stringent laws that are enforced without exception. We really don’t care how it is done as long as it is done. We do not want to be the prey on another occasion to mindless savages who believe in salvation through barbaric inhuman acts.

Any self-respecting individual owns up to his/ her mistake when pointed out. But these leaders of society are so immune to the expectations of the citizens of India that they keep proving it to us time and again they simple don’t get it! Every politician should be made accountable for the charter they are responsible for. Ideally there should be a review mechanism (just like the corporate world works on numbers), so that they can be made more accountable for the initiatives that they lead.

What we witnessed in Bombay was the unsolicited carnage of innocent lives and the complete annihilation of our faith in our National Leadership. The Media is still having a field day tossing up the Politicians in a slug fest on issues relating to National Security and the ‘Whodunnit’ factor. They continue to mock themselves and the politicians with needless verbal aggression and reckless finger pointing.

India needs to shake itself off these elements that are pulling it down. India needs to develop a code of conduct to enable us to function cohesively as a progressive nation. We should set aside our differences and should work to reawaken our collective will to fight back. We are down but are not out and we will never be so.

India Irked! [Part I]

2008-12-05T17:10:00.003+05:30

It has been nearly 10 days since the bedlam of terror hit our shores in a manner which stirred up a nation. We have been cowed down by a bunch of heartless individuals who in their insane judgment dreamed of disrupting the collective conscience of India. Yes, we are a scared society today and India is irked beyond measure.

Media Mayhem

While India bled in Bombay, the Media channels portrayed the 60-hour siege of Bombay as a real time movie which was broadcast into millions of homes across the world. And what a sham it was. While the heart bled and the eyes wept, the mind was raging with anger, disgust, dismay, disbelief, shock and hopelessness, all leading to a crescendo of emotional and apolitical outrage.

What started as ‘Breaking News’ ended up being a ‘Broken Affair’ with the very aspect of freedom that we were so proud of. The Free Press made a mockery of the very art of reporting. Top anchors with a pedigree of many awards inadvertently made us realize how crass insensitivities towards those affected, the lame verbiage that mocked at the anguish of the pain we were feeling as a nation, the inept attempts to rationalize, further deprecated the well intended reporting motives of the media.

It was an asinine race to be the ‘first to report’ and to have an ‘exclusive’. Frankly, I don’t think any Indian really cared about these trivialities. The media got their TRPs soaring but they ended up denigrating themselves and fell over each other to bring us the latest. Being professionals, didn’t they have the basic sense to refrain from beaming live pictures when the forces were fighting a faceless enemy within the corridors of the star hotels and people died earlier on the streets and railway platforms. What is ironic is that they actually reported that ‘they have been asked’ by the NSG to stop the live telecast as suddenly someone realized a ‘little too early’ that the media shouldn’t have been doing this in the very first place. Initial kudos turned into chaos. In the midst of all this relentless ‘me-first’ reporting, the media leapfrogged itself into ignominy.

The Media should be slammed for their insensitivity and over-sensationalism. They are for sure the masters of speculation and the stalwart anchors pitiably try hard to pin their guests down in a manner that is quite irascible. They are short on patience, don’t let people finish their points of view (I know they have to keep an eye on the clock) and are quite judgmental to the extent that they feel like the makers of ‘what is supposed to be done’.

Not once during the three days, did I see any of the leading channels talk about the fact that terror was unleashed on a nation and that India was under siege albeit at Bombay. The headlines screamed breaking news on ‘War on Mumbai’, ‘Mumbai Attacked’, ‘Maximum City under Siege’ etc. Should we be telling the custodians of free speech aka the Media that the nation comes first and everything else follows.

India was violated yet again. India was ripped apart once more. India was targeted. And the jealous neighbor is zealously involved!

Even after the perpetrators were snuffed out, the media went on about how Bombay has been crippled yet again and about how this city known for its ability to bounce back with to do so with elan. The thought of India was nowhere to be heard or seen while the anchors took turns lambasting everybody in their tired stupor to make an impression. And on whom?

Then, at the Taj minutes after the siege ended, there was more ineptness on display garbed in a cloak of impalpable disbelief. Barkha Dutt in her hoarse, anguished voice (which I am praying in retrospect that it was not put on), asks a fireman at the sea facing corner of the beleaguered Taj soon after the perpetrators were vanquished, “Please, please say something.” The fireman tries in vain to walk away while saying ‘No’ to her request. Ms Dutt has her way and points to the 1st floor and asks him about the fabric rope made out of bedsheets which is tied to the window – “Is this the way the trapped guests escaped?’ Obviously, the fireman nodded in agreement and then came the shocker of the century. Ms Dutt reported, “So this the way the fire department helped the guests get out of the Taj.” I am sure the fireman and his department folks would have cringed with utmost disrespect Ms Dutt for her intelligent inference.

For God’s sake, the very purpose of the Free Press is to give a voice to the common man, the average person of society and NOT put words in his mouth. They are meant to mediate and moderate, not to intervene and irritate. They are meant to make the unheard heard, the unseen seen, the unspoken spoken and not to desecrate the very spirit of the freedom of expression. They need to realize that they have a far greater responsibility than what they currently seem to fathom – towards the society, towards the nation and towards themselves as well.

As we bled, India invoked the resolve to fight back.

Those Little Feet...

2008-10-30T19:09:00.008+05:30

The sound of the rain woke him up and his feet walked him out to embrace it. His skin glowed with the touch of every raindrop and the smell of the earth made him smile. He had to get out and drench himself silly in every watery decent of the clouds above. Nature was his first love and this was one of his ways to live.

His heart rejoiced at the sight of his daughter. Her laughter was his lullaby. Her presence was his prayer answered. Her dimples were his eye candies. Her hugs and kisses were his peace. He loved his coffee and enjoyed his untimely forty winks on the couch. Simple things made him happy. The child in him was always alive even in times of adversity and strife. He smiled his way into people's hearts and his eyes sought love, friendship and happiness in every aspect of his daily routine. The earth was his playground and he loved his world.

He was a genius with an unmatched memory, an avid reader who doubled up as his journalist/ novelist wife's best critic, a spiritual wanderer who knew where God resided, and a connoisseur of many fields - literature, sculpture, history, geography, mathematics, and astronomy, among others.

His little feet carried him through many a grueling grind, to the most magnificent of ancient architectural masterpieces, to the banks of almost every Indian river, to the depths of the thickest forests, to the homes of his countless friends and finally to the stairs of heaven.

He redefined simplicity. He was always there for anyone who needed him. He ensured he visited everyone he knew in every neighborhood that he passed through. He would do anything to make others happy. And along his adventurous and arduous journey, he unwittingly ensured that there could never be another of his kind. He gave me wings and the will to dream. He is always around and his little feet's number is the best track I'd ever hear.

Take care, Dad.

Mettle Class!

2008-10-29T16:11:00.000+05:30

Most of us have been seemingly stunned by the developments in the global markets. These are tiring and trying times for each of us. The meltdown has led to some drastic steps taken by a few individuals while many more are a worried lot. In India, the game has just begun.

The likes of me have never invested in the stock markets and that by no measure means that we are insulated from the spin-offs of this global chaos. News reports talk of a slowdown in almost every sector. B-schools are a worried lot with most companies likely to stay away from campuses. IT firms have suddenly clamped down on their indirect costs and are taking extreme measures for cost control. Consolidation of the workforce is another hot issue of discussion these days in the murmury corners of offices across the board.

Working professionals in most industries are treading the line of caution and are literally playing it safe. This has augured well for some companies where the productivity levels have actually improved with people working harder to ensure they don't come under the scanner. Yes, there is a positive flipside to the chaos after all. If only the tenet of perseverance was an ever prevalent factor rather than the Excalibur of severance goading people to work harder.

Performance is something I have always retained at the top of the value chain. It is the ability to assess, analyze and adapt that works best for anyone who believes in the art of living. It is the inherent ability to introspect well enough to be able to tide over the rough waves of uncertainty. Asset balancing and spend management are a couple of terms that are high on one's evaluation list when it comes to tightening one's urge to splurge.

The middle class has paved way for the 'Mettle Class'. And we are the 'Mettle' Class. This creed of professionals has always been around in a state of dormancy. In fact, the middle class reeks of mettle. However, these times have evoked the latent caution triggers into motion. We are the ones who have worked hard to make the investment made in us (read 'education') make a difference to our lives and the society at large in some form. The average consumer spending in India shot through the roof over the past few years and the easy availability of credit only added to the surge. But the boom period also opened avenues of destruction in its own subtle way. Riding high on the mettle factor, almost everyone jumped on the 'acquire' bandwagon.

Acquire a house (why? Because you felt settled!), acquire the best gadgets (why? Because the guy next to you at work has it), acquire a swanky car (even if it meant that a smaller one would have still taken you through the next decade without offering a space crunch), acquire an accent (why? Because you wanted to be treated as the 'global' person)... The list is actually quite endless but I will draw a line here to get back to the mettle factor. There is nothing wrong with being in 'acquire' mode as long as it doesn't outrun your ability to keep pace with it.

The mettle factor is our trump card for sustenance, for survival and for glory. We need to nurture it to ensure that the future continues to be secure. Hail the Mettle Class!

Drag... Flick!

2008-08-25T11:50:00.009+05:30

If you are thinking it is something to do with Hockey, then just read on! I would rather replace the word 'drag' with a more globally accepted term for it has a different connotations but I will let that be for now. The title is pretty appropriate for the way 'the act' happens.

The most surreally habitual, involuntary set of actions defines the genesis of this multi-daily routine. It started as a 'motion to deny' those who were seemingly reveling in its zephyr. There is the perception that one's nerves are assuaged by its indulgence. It appears to be the uber cool (won't know what that is though) thing to do even before you get yourself a degree to walk the talk in life.

It is supposed to be the pied piper for all those desperados who yearn for some meaningless attention. Most are under the delusion that it gets them into that 'class apart' strata of the already frivolous society. It manages to cast a cloud of illusions where the self-deprecating individual gets thrown in a realm of make believe. This is a world where one is the Lord, the King, the Invincible, the Ultimate in being-the-one. It infiltrates and cons the sane mind to portray a false impersonation of a rather staid individual who begins to think it is a style accessory.

Amidst all these myriad thoughts and theories, one gets hooked! And it'd be part of your routine. Unfortunately or rather fortunately for me, none of the above so called reasons were part of getting indulged. I stated the above as it is part of psychiatric folklore to associate the habit with being an answer to some non-sensical, self-deprecating reason for suffering from an intolerable case of insecurity. Huh!

It all started on 25 September, 1995 at about 2000 hrs. Minutes before that I was headed back to my hostel room to get some air after a pretty introspective evening about how the semester was progressing. Something in me told me to take a detour... and my feet took me to the All Night Canteen that was a hop away from my room.

Getting this monkey of a habit off yourself is a herculean effort. And believe me, I have lived with it for years. Millions of drag-flick acts later, I tend to realize the colossal waste of time and resources that was expended with pretty much no value add. It is a habit that needs a strong will to shake it off your routine. And mine is just getting stronger towards the moment when I will give it the final 'flick'! :)

High Time!

2008-08-21T12:09:00.005+05:30

It has been long since I took an innocuous reprieve with the bottle . It was supposed to douse those fires. It was supposed to help me think better. It was supposed to cajole me as a friend when all else is lost. It was supposed to be my elixir.

It turned out to be a constant companion over the years which has been privy to every subtle nuance of my personal life that comprised a rollercoaster set of experiences. Comfortably numb was I in the shelter of the high that assuaged my spirit. So constant was its presence that a spare moment without it - outside the realm of the 'win my bread' routine - was unthinkable. Acquired or not, it was definitely gaining ground to be an indelible part of me.

It never asked for anything. It didn't need any occasion. It prodded you to embrace it regardless of which emotion you were feeling at any given point in time. And succeed it did, in a spirited way!

But then comes a time when you know that it fogged your mind all along, keeping your focus away from the more important things around you. It was a realization that can't be ignored. Everything ages with time but only the spirits age better with time. Not us.

Loyalties are profound and the love for the high is immense. But one has to move away from the lure in the interest of a more staid, responsible innings of the future. I have had my moments with probably my best non-human friend and will always cherish those boisterously funny, slurry, slippery, raucous memories. I will miss its constant presence but will reach out to it on a need to interact basis. I am sure my friend will understand the pain with which I will turn my back to it.

And I am sure when we meet again, we would smile to each other and say, "High Time!"

Survival Ecosystems!

2008-05-07T15:20:00.008+05:30

This piece is dedicated to all those people that impact your lives every day but get away without getting your due attention. These are people that matter to you and very dearly so. For a nanosecond, if you were to consider them to be 'not there' when you need them, then you would realize the profound impact that their presence makes to your life.

I tend to bond with people very naturally. For me, it is as easy to dine with a C-level executive in the swanky ambience of a 5-star restaurant as it is to hobnob with a day wage worker over a stick of unrefined tobacco while he tends to some restoration work at home.

In this part of the world, and to my mind in many similar parts of the world, there are ecosystems of survivors that surround us. These microcosmic ecosystems comprising of men and women are prevalent everywhere - at home, at work, at markets, at local retail stores.

Parking Ecosystem
Mishra-ji, as I fondly call him, is a scrawny, high energy, low momentum person. He is the high priest of the parking lot next to the office. He, to my mind, is the lord of the cartel that comprises of skilled chauffeurs who make a living out of hustling the cars of the employees of organizations that operate in the vicinity.

The demand is pretty simple. Each employee expects his/ her car to be parked in the most best place possible across two crowded narrow streets. The drill seems even simpler. The employees arrive and promptly get off their 'most loved machine on wheels' handing over the keys to the lord or one of his croonies. Then the real game begins. There is a frenzied pace of taking each car to their designated cocoon on the dusty street in the fastest possible time. Rush hour (0900 hrs - 1000 hrs) is privy to the alacrity with which each member of the cartel hurries around the parking area (which is pretty much across the sidewalks that were once there). Engines are revved up, mental notes are made about each car's day cocoon and the service continues to be extended to other people who keep driving in onto the street. All of this happens while the regular traffic is moving across these narrow streets. A temporary reprieve happens when the frenzy dies down. There the respective car keys are slipped into a metallic hoop that is the resting place of other car keys till dusk arrives.

Daily parking fare for each car is 25 cents (American). Now, despite the fact that the owners of these cars demand excellent parking service, the mindset of people is usually quite miserly when it comes to payouts. The lord encashes his cartel's efforts when the cars are ready to be driven home by their owners. The average number of cars that are hustled vary between 50-70 cars a day, give or take about 10 that move out during the day which means that 10 fresh cars can be accomodated. Doing the math brings me to a range of $12.5 - $17.5 per day as income for the cartel. These are for steady cars that come in during the morning and move out only after business hours. Factoring the 10-odd cars that move in and move out during the day adds another $2.5 to the overall income. Net : $15 - $20 each day. During a typical month with 22 working days, the monthly income for the cartel ranges from $330 - $440. Pretty neat deal, one might think. But if you do the math in terms of the number of cars hustled during 2 peak hours each day for 22 days, then the number is quite whopping.

Then there is me to whom Mishra-ji extends a small favor. The deal is that I get to keep the keys of my car to myself and he needs to get me a decent dusty cocoon for my car. The cost of this favor is double the parking fare per day (50 cents). That makes it $11 per month for me while my peers pay $5.5 a month. Each time there is a festival, I contribute about $2.5 for the cartel's celebrations. On days when I don't show up due to business travel or otherwise, I make it up to the lord by offering a token amount which varies based on the period of absence.

For me, it is all about the joy of contributing to the daily strife of these tireless individuals. It doesn't take much out of me to do what I do. What takes me to peace is when I notice the quiet look of Mishra-ji acknowledging my arrival or when he smiles his toothy grin when he receives the extra contribution. He knows the moment I arrive, he needs to pull out a car from its cocoon to get me to get my machine in there. He also admonishes me at times for not speeding up the parking process the way he does it as I park my own car and seldom let him take the wheel. I am not as skilled as him or his croonies are though. It is during those times when the space in the cocoon has only just enough margin for a man his size to wriggle out of that I hand over the keys to him for those few seconds. At the end of the day, he does hustle bigger cars to accomodate my machine and I am eternally grateful to him for that.

It's his affability in the face of palpable indignation of office-goers that makes him taller than some others whom I know in the corporate world. At the epicenter of all this hustling activity, there is a calmness to the execution extending into the serenity of purpose which is to 'Survive at all Odds' while maintaining a standard of excellence. Mishra-ji and his ilk will continue to rock the scene across the multitude of parking lots across the country and beyond while touching our lives in their own subtle way.

Just a thought...

2008-05-06T14:50:00.001+05:30

I imagine sitting on an elevated flat rock, with a drink at hand and with the wind blowing into my head, while I am tapping away at the keyboard of my laptop. Yes, I am imagining myself to be the isolated, elevated, king of wilderness… wanting to write the history of his thoughts. It is a tremendous rush in the head as the images unfold in the chambers of my mind.

An Ode to 'the' Woman.*

2008-05-06T14:30:00.000+05:30

It took us a long while…
To come to terms with reality.
But there comes a time…
When one can’t fight love’s destiny.

The winds of change are here…
And love only goes to blossom further.
There’s a feeling of unbridled joy…
Ushering from the heart’s nether.

I see a future of us…
Built on a bond of trust.
The odds are tough…
And we fight, for it is a must.

Life feels complete…
With the presence of you.
I can ask for nothing more…
In a life that gave me you.

The days are brighter…
And the nights are cosier.
The hopes live on…
To have you around me forever.

I thank you for being you…
For this is an ode to the Woman in You.

*(Written on May 06, 2002)

Onboard 'Scribbles & Snapshots'!

2008-05-06T13:25:00.000+05:30

Well, I finally got myself to shrug off the perceived discomfort of engaging myself on a blog. It seems to be a rather cool place for a part of the soul to hang out. It will be interesting to see though how my musings will elicit myriad opinions from everyone.

I am not thinking of writing anything in particular at the moment. I am meandering in the labyrinths of my mind trying to figure out what I probably should write about. It took me a fair while to get down to giving a title to my blogspot.

'Scribbles & Snapshots' will be my space which will have open corridors, defined sound corners and other such areas that hopes to sustain a hygienic mix of ideas, experiences, observations, thoughts and views. I will begin by opening these corridors to my friends who in turn (I hope) will pass on the good word about 'Scribbles & Snapshots'.

This space will be worth watching once in a while... and might eventually end up being quite an online addiction.

The Anthology of Me.

2008-05-06T13:11:00.000+05:30

The mornings usher in with renewed zest
But the day frays away the energy.
The nights cajole the beleaguered soul
But strife traverses relief.

One moves through the myriad patterns that is life
Hoping and working for a better tomorrow.
The race is for a place with the stars
But there is no straw to cling to.

Tepid shivers that remind…
The song of the seagull that haunts.
The cry of the wanderer that hurts.
The laugh of life that provokes and shouts.

Melancholy has lost its tone
And the hyenas are feasting.
The lion is a distant loner
Wondering at the wound of the bee sting.

Life has its animated existence
Mocking at the call of the soul.
Expectations are a worried cousin
And peace the ultimate goal.

This is the beginning of my anthology…