mY sPACE

Not Baad at all Maan!

2007-07-13T20:35:00.000+05:30

Aurangabad.

Allahabad (good memories, lived there for almost 5 school-going years - maybe a post some time later).

Faridabad.

Ghaziabad.

Moradabad.

Ahmedabad.

But this??

(Picture taken from a train door en route to Agra from Delhi)

I guess with millions of villages, creativity is inevitable. Or perhaps this is a case of ultra simple thinking!

Nostalgia...

2007-07-10T00:48:00.000+05:30

I've often tried to capture that feeling that sweeps over me whenever I visit anything from my past. The dictionary describes nostalgia as

...a wistful desire to return in thought or in fact to a former time in one's life, to one's home or homeland, or to one's family and friends; a sentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place or time

As for me, I think it's just the sweetness of the memory from one's (distant) past...a school-bus route, punishment in class, opening strains of a song (associated with, say, a college buddy's hostel room), the menu card at a restaurant, a railway station platform, a dusty book jacket...heck, I even get all dreamy when I sense some familiar smells (one that comes to mind is whenever I spray a little from a sample can of PlayBoy, my first deodorant!!)

But does there have to be a desire or sentimental yearning to return to the past? In thought - yes. But in fact - I'm not so sure.

Why can't some memories be exactly those - simply memories? Why do we have to live in the wistfulness of returning to those places, those people?

It is universally accepted that it would be impossible to foretell the future by visiting it using a time machine and then coming back to narrate what would happen next year. Simply because the very act of travelling into the future would alter it significantly from what it would have been anyways. (Sometimes I lose myself!). This complexity is, thankfully, prevented by the non-invention of time travel till date.

What I seek to know is that why can't the same logic be extended to the past? When we physically revisit some memories from time that has gone by, don't we risk changing forever our associations with places, people, events...recollections get altered, impressions metamorphose, dendrites get re-wired.

And this thought brings me to ask myself - would I always want to do so? Heck, would I ever want to do so?

Rishikesh - More Fun and Adios...

2007-07-07T00:07:00.000+05:30

[Concluding post of what started with Rishikesh Ahoy! and continued with Rishikesh - Being There.... Whew!]

Darkness descends. Out come the shawls and jackets. The sky starts filling up with stars and just goes on and on and on. It actually takes this trip to realize that there are so many of them up there. The insect life in the surrounding forest cover gets more vocal. A bonfire is lit. We forma circle of chairs around the glowing embers and warm our hands and feet. There’s a sweet ache in the muscles. Snacks and drinks commence. So do the anecdotes and banter related to the morning. Alcohol starts taking over. The sky looks beautiful. She snuggles up to me and makes herself comfortable. (I now know what heaven feels like). Someone breaks into an impromptu dance. Others cheer him on. We chat late into the night, taking breaks to chase glow worms. Dinner is laid and is easily one of the best meals of my life (it ain’t just the food, you see). And yeah, there isn’t any electricity or running water. Problem? Not one bit! Sleep is peaceful – not everyday do you have the Ganges lull you into slumber!

The morning is chilly, simply because it takes a while for the sun to peek over the surrounding hills and swathe the valley it its warm glow. Hot tea is served in small steel mugs that allow you to warm your hands around them. Mmmmmm...There is a sense of anticipation as we watch the sunlight crawl down the hill on the opposite bank of the river till it reaches camp and embraces us. A massive breakfast later, we are set to repeat the rafting stretch. Interestingly, the last thing we all feel is ‘been there, done that’.

We bid farewell to the camp staff that has looked after us as if we were royal guests, and not paying customers. There is a lingering sense of regret as we drive downhill – couldn’t we have stayed for one more day?

The drive back to Delhiis the worst part. Every limb hurts. All forms of pollution clog your senses. Cell phone coverage resumes. Madness takes over. But nothing, absolutely nothing, can take away the euphoria that lies within. And, of course, the warmth that washes over me when I hug her as she sleeps like a baby.

So, coming back to the original question, what draws me to this place? Is it the same thing every time?

Maybe it’s the feel of the sand on the back of my head as I stare up at the stars. Or the quaintness of the kerosene lanterns that dot the camp as dusk sets in. Or the sense of anticipation of catching a spectacular view of the valley as the car rounds a bend in the road. Or the sheer contentment of holding her against me, removed from it all.

I’m still not sure about the answers. I guess that’s why I just can’t wait for October. Maybe I’ll find out this time!

Rishikesh - Being There...

2007-07-06T08:42:00.000+05:30

[Continued from Rishikesh Ahoy!]

Arrival at camp is a mixed bag. You’re shaking off the exhaustion of the journey and simultaneously trying to get glimpses of the Ganga while adjusting to the almost eerie silence (save the occasional honking truck or bus that passes by). The camp staff leads us to our tents and we dump our stuff and walk out barefoot savouring the soft sand – it’s time for a well deserved cup of tea. This is where it gets a little difficult to explain. You see, the tea is nothing exceptional. The weather is typical Delhi winter. But the hot liquid trickling down your throat feels like never before (every time, without fail). I can’t think of when I last smiled by myself, to myself.

It takes some time to digest the calm that surrounds the place. The loudest noise (oops...sound) comes from the river as it washes over rocks and gurgles its way down towards the plains. It is a privilege to see it in this form before it is ravaged by the millions in the name of religion. There is no network coverage for cell phones. That’s worth expressing twice over. There is no network coverage for cell phones. No bothersome calls, SMS beeps – even if you want to. Therapeutic. Birds twitter, cicadas buzz and the camp staff animatedly goes about doing routine chores. I go up to the river and let it wash over my feet. The water is freezing cold. I smile again.

Soon, it’s time to raft. To most, this activity represents the central purpose of the whole excursion. Rightfully so, rafting was what drew me to this haven in the first place. Lifejacket, helmet and paddle in place, it is time for a quick lesson from the rafting guide (a hardened local who is usually full of anecdotes and stories from the region). Soon, we assume our positions in the raft and push off (literally!).

Initially, it’s like one enthu boat ride. We’ve all got our paddles and are keen to get the technique right. But the first rapid soon approaches and nerves give way to adrenaline. It’s a funny hormone – this adrenaline – it beats me why no one has isolated the stuff and mass marketed it in ubiquitous little bottles that line departmental stores. But I’m glad as hell no one has done so. Waves rock the raft gently and some water spills in as well, chilling us to the bone. We shout. We laugh. And concentrate on the guide’s instructions. It passes. We rejoice.

Then comes a stretch when the guide asks us to jump into the river and float along the raft. Jump? Is he nuts? But we do. It is difficult to describe how entering the water feels...simply because I think for that briefest of moments, you stop feeling altogether. It’s a classic instance of not knowing what you’re feeling but, at the same time, knowing that this is what you’ve always wanted to feel. We float on our backs soaking in the sun and water at the same time. Time freezes. I hold her hands because she’s tentative to leave the raft and float adrift. Holding hands has never felt better. She smiles as she gingerly leaves the rope attached to the raft. I smile.

The arms and torso get tired as we progress down the river. But this registers only a day or two later. At that very moment, it’s pure bliss.

The rapids become faster and more furious. The guide yells and gesticulates wildly. We flail our paddles and grind to the task. But deep down, we know we’re at Her mercy. And that very instance – of feeling powerless yet at the top of the world – is an absolute privilege in itself.

Just before beach our raft, we stop over by a cliff that juts out 15-18 feet above the water surface. The idea is to jump off this cliff and into the river. (Just when you thought that you were through with adrenaline for the day). I know how to swim and have jumped from such heights into swimming pools before. But I get goose bumps looking down at the water. And this while the life jacket is firmly strapped on. I muster the courage and step off the precipice. Splash! Feels exhilarating as I resurface and inhale deeply. She’s readying for her jump. She’s terrified of heights. And has barely seen a swimming pool before. She steps to the edge. Then steps back allowing the next guy to jump. I shout encouragement from below. A friend motivates her from behind. Little do we realize the futility of our voices – it has to come from within her. She calls out to me to swim over to near the landing area. I give the thumbs up and set off. She leaps. In slow motion. I have no clue what is going through her head. She lands in the water and almost instantly pops up to the surface. I stroke my way over and grab her by the shoulders. Everything’s okay – just a little bit of water that’s being coughed up. She clings on to me as I swim ashore. Relieved. Secure. Smiling.

We get back to camp to a piping hot lunch followed by some rock climbing and rappelling. There’s a casual, relaxed attitude to the activity – probably because all of us are feeling a sense of achievement from the rafting.

[To be concluded. Tomorrow.]

Rishikesh Ahoy!

2007-07-04T22:27:00.000+05:30

[Note: This post started out from a question that entered my mind JLT. But when I actually started to write, the words just flowed and flowed. Will be completing it in two, maybe three parts. This, of course, is the opening salvo.]

Over the years, I’ve found myself taking a weekend breaks from the madness of it all to the cooler climes of the foothills of the Himalayas in the lap of the mighty Ganges just beyond the holy city of Rishikesh in Uttarakhand. Have been doing so religiously(?) every six months for a little over 2 years now. And the best part is that every trip leaves me feeling so fulfilled, so refreshed that I tell myself every time, “That’s it, I’ve finally had enough; this trip was the best ever – next break to a different station.” But six months down the line, it’s that same familiar itch and the SMSing and e-mailing commences in search for partners in crime.

Sometimes – at the most random of times too – I ask myself what draws me to the place? Why can’t I tell myself to experiment with a different destination? Or give in to my parents’ pleas to visit them in nearby Dehra Dun instead? Why do I utilize the precious license of leave from a hectic job for the same experience spanning the same activities at the same place time and again?

Or is it the same thing every time?

I certainly DON’T do it for a number of reasons: Am I religious? No. Most certainly not. (Am a teetotaler, hence not even ‘spiritual’ so to speak!). Is it the climate? Negative again. It’s great weather year round up there, but the same can be found at myriad hill stations. The food? Nothing exceptional. Lodging and living comfort? Hah, no chance. Drive must be terrific? Nope.

Then WHAT?

I’m in story mode now.

Once one decides to set out to Rishikesh for a weekend of adventure sport (read: rafting) and camping, the first thing that hits you is the pathos on the highway. Old-harboured notions of a road cutting through fields of mustard take a back seat as reality hits you hard in the face (uh-okay, at least in the nostrils and ears). The exit from Delhi-NCR ranges from bothersome to torturous. Traffic snarls, blaring horns, tempers – heck, it’s like driving to work!! Once out of the capital, the highway never seems to break free from the shackles of urbanization, it’s mile after mile of townships, industrial areas, even bazaars, educational institutions. Small positive is the famed Shikanji (lemonade) of Modinagar, where generations of families have been dispensing this refreshing drink to highway travelers. After a couple of hours from Delhi, the road opens out and you ease the car into top gear but not for long – the township of Meerut is surrounded with sugarcane fields and one has to put up with massive convoys of bullock carts and tractors ferrying the reaped cane to nearby sugar mills. Back to 2nd gear. Foot on clutch. Palm on horn. Patience on edge!

Slight digression here:
Being in Delhi, one is pampered by the developments made by the National Highways Authority of India (NHAI); it is an absolute pleasure to cruise on the National Highways towards Jaipur or Chandigarh or Agra (okay, okay...the pleasure commences once the chaos of the NCR satellites of Gurgaon/Faridabad has been overcome, though nowadays the drive to Gurgaon gives one an idea of why the things are called ‘flyovers’ in the first place). The drive to Rishikesh is the same distance as Delhi-Jaipur but takes a little over 6 hours. I think that conveys the point!

Back to narrative: Finally, after a snack break roughly halfway down the drive, we leave behind the pothole-ridden road behind and head for the UP-Uttarakhand border and the drive improves. After the towns of Roorkee and Haridwar (one gets fleeting glances of the IIT and Har Ki Pauri), one moves through the jungles towards Rishikesh. It’s a magical drive – dense forest interspersed with open spaces where you catch the occasional neelgai grazing, crystal clear babbling brooks, butterflies (and glow worms at night) along the road, clean and cool air. You hit Rishikesh and then begin the ascent beyond (all campsites are located along the river going upstream for about 20-30 km).

And that’s when it hits you for the first time. That’s when you feel that all the discomfort during the drive has been worth it. It’s not just the sight – the pristine waters of the majestic river winding through the gorge – or the slight nip in the air, or even the brightness of the sunshine and blueness of the skies above. It’s all that and much, much more. What truly hits you is the sheer magnificence of Mother Nature at her very best – the lungs fill up just that little extra with the mountain air, the eyes adjust to the wonderfully bright sun as you stretch your limbs. All senses go “Wow” at the same time.

[to be continued...]

Six Hundred and Seventy...

2007-07-04T01:10:00.000+05:30

...days since my last post. That's a shade over 22 months...almost two full years. Wow!

Older. Wiser(?). Overweight.

But still as confused :-/

Well, someone's back.

The Embarassment List

2005-09-01T23:24:00.000+05:30

Was thinking some time ago (after watching Nagesh Kukunoor's Iqbal) that I am real unfortunate to have missed out on the same guy's Hyderabad Blues (both parts), Rockford and Teen Deewarein.

Then it occurred to me that there are a zillion movies that would be classified as classics by any yardstick and should feature on EVERYONE's must-watch list that I haven't seen.

I'm not a CD/DVD rental kinda guy at all. So it is unlikely that I'll ever catch up on these masterpieces :(

It actually embarasses me to reveal this list. There have been instances when I've admitted amongst people that I've not seen one of these flicks and I have received some pretty unmentionable reactions (the worst ones have been of people offering me sympathy saying that I don't even know what I've missed).

So *deep breath* here goes...

1. Anand (nice start, wouldn't you say - but I just haven't seen this beauty)
2. The Matrix Trilogy (nopes, not even Part One)
3. The LOTR Trilogy (not read the book either)
4. Star Wars (yep, you read it right..I'm turning red as I type)
5. Deewar/Zanjeer (AB's angry-young-man ones)
6. Casablanca
7. Schindler's List
8. The Lion King (am a sucker for animation, but have missed the Big Daddy of 'em all)
9. Lagaan (don'tcompare it with the rest of this list, given its staure around the time it was released, the Oscar nomination and all...one would think it should've been difficult to miss)
10. A Beautiful Mind

There. I've spilled all. Doesn't make me feel any less...well..guilty, if you may.

So next time you feel silly or self-conscious about not having seen a particular movie, think of the guy who hasn't seen Anand, fer cryin' out loud!!

Thank You, Mr Kukunoor

2005-08-29T01:12:00.000+05:30

Just saw Iqbal today. And loved it. Just loved it.

I walked in slightly skeptical – simply because NO Bollywood movie based on a sport has come even close to being impressive. (The last Hollywood flick involving a sport I’d seen was The Longest Yard and I thought it was really good).

The emotions, the dreams of a simple village boy are captured very beautifully indeed. Each character (there are very few of them, thus ensuring that the story doesn’t stray one bit) is very consistent, the acting is just appropriate. The relationships of the protagonist with his family and coach are depicted each with a distinctiveness of its own. Once again this year after Black, we have a winner where the central character doesn’t speak a word in the entire movie (okay, granted that Rani M did have a background narrative going in Black).

And the visuals. Ah, what pleasure. The cricket seems real, Iqbal’s bowling action is a visual treat (move over Shane Bond!) and the Ranji selections and matches seem really…well…real. The final scene with our hero walking out in Indian colours is one helluva heart-warmer.

Naseeruddin Shah’s performance makes you wonder why is this actor not seen more on the screen. Or maybe he gets offered a lot of stuff but turns it down – yep, that seems to make more sense. While on Naseer, it was in one of his earlier movies that I really enjoyed watching some cricket action. Way back in the 80s, he and Satish Shah had everyone in splits in Malamaal (Sunil Gavaskar actually descended to the ground in a chopper – would you believe it??)

Now I’m feeling like a real big loser – I can’t believe I haven’t seen any of Nagesh Kukunoor’s earlier movies. (Not only Kukunoor, I am pretty much a loser in this department – more on that later)!!

I'm Back (so move over Arnie)!

2005-08-20T00:46:00.000+05:30

Man, there's no feeling like the one you get when you take a prolonged (and much deserved?) break between jobs!! Although deep down I'm getting a feeling that perhaps this may be the only way to enjoy a decent holiday... (ouch!!)

Drove from Dehra Dun to Shimla. Amazing what a good monsoon can do to the landscape - I had no idea that the first half of the drive between Doon and Chandigarh was SO picturesque. Then, fulfilled a dream of riding the hill railway ALL the way down from Shimla to Kalka. Apart from the winding tracks and breathtaking views, what I found most appealing was how the stations on the way were miniature replicas of regular ones - bifurcating tracks, tiny platforms, signal posts... Hopefully will post pictures some time.

Last weekend movies: Madagascar and The Interpreter. Passable fare. I love animation and though I went to the latter looking forward to Nicole Kidman, it was Sean Penn who stole the show!

Finally was able to read some stuff as well. English August by Upmanyu Chatterjee was interesting, although the pace sometimes seemed a tad too slow (just like the town the book is based in); Vikas Swarup's 'Q & A' was absorbing - beautifully narrated in most parts. Inside The Kingdom by Carmen Bin Ladin somehow came across as an attempt to merely cash in on the hype generated by the author's surname, though the details of a woman's life in the Saudi Arabia of today were rather disturbing.

More on new job later.

Try THIS...

2005-07-26T17:28:00.000+05:30

With your arms down the side of your body, stand next to a wall with your left shoulder, outside of the left arm and side of the left foot touching the wall.

Now, without breaking contact with the wall, try to lift your right foot.

Go on, try it!

(If you want, you can give it a shot from the other side around as well).

Even I didn't believe it at first, but this simple sounding act is a physical impossibility!!

Hasta La Vista, Baby!

2005-07-19T23:14:00.000+05:30

It's over. I've finally decided to call it quits. No histrionics, no you-can't-fire-me-I-quit scene in office. Just a 3 minute phone call to the boss followed by an e-mail.

19 July, 2005

Dear Sir

I wish to resign from my post of Area Sales Manager, Delhi w.e.f. today.

I would like to be relieved at the earliest possible as stipulated by the terms of my appointment.

It has been a wonderful experience to have been associated with [The Company] for the last fourteen months. I am also grateful to all my colleagues for their support and guidance during this period that has contributed to my personal and professional development.

It has been a privilege to be a part of the North & East (and specifically Delhi) sales team under your leadership. I would like to wish you and all of [The Company] the very best for the times to come.

Thank you,

Yours sincerely,

Not Applicable
Employee Code #####

Must admit, am feeling really wierd.

Have I got it all wrong?

Father time will tell...

Certainly not High and Dry

2005-07-17T22:12:00.000+05:30

Buying movie tickets yesterday night at PVR Saket was an exercise in simple-decision making. Reached with my roomie to watch Dus (I'm an AB Jr fan). But then it was felt that a LOT of bright people would've had the same idea s we should have a Plan B. Maine Pyar Kyun Kiya, Fantastic Four and Sahara (in no particular order) fell into this.

And then roomie reached box office. The only seats available were for Sahara, that too in the front row. That was an easy decision. (Well, at least leg space is not an issue - I'm quite the optimist)

And the movie turned out to be a surprising entertainer. I guess it helps when expectations are low (or non-existent).

Matthew M as the former Navy-guy-turned-private-artifact-hunting-sea-diver is cool and Penelope Cruz playing the WHO doctor in Africa is understatedly hot. But for me, the Oscar for comic timing goes to Steve Zahn. This guy justs let it rip with his one liners (more like two-worders) and characeristic "Hi, how are ya?"

Visuals are good, the Niger river looks breathtaking and the action-and-escape sequences have a Bollywood-ish touch to them. Was wondering as I walked out - I wouldn't have enjoyed the same stuff in a Hindi flick! Perhaps it has to do with the slickness of the cinematography and editing. Enjoyed Musafir for the same reason - trashy movie otherwise as far as content went.

Like always, saw quite a few trailers of in before the screening started. Love that bit of a movie theatre experience. More on that later

Little Johnny wants to play

2005-07-11T23:51:00.000+05:30

Y'know, if it hadn't been for the weather, a LOT of people would have struggled for conversation. And bloggers for content.

But this is a case of discontent.

First Delhi heats up like a veritable tandoor. The sun beats down mercilessly. Tempers rise. Water runs dry. Power cuts only add to the collective misery. Everybody prays for rain. The weatherman goes into overdrive and (without fail every year) announces - "the monsoon will be normal."

Then it clouds up. Dark clouds. Thunder. Stray bolts of lightning. Gusty wind. And a whole lot of dust that envelops the city just REFUSING to settle.

And finally, Hallelujah. It actually rains. Motorcyclists get drenched, pedestrians get stranded at bus stops and under trees. The earth smells amazing.

Everyone happy? Well, not quite!!

The pot holes fill up with water. And (horror of horrors) new ones materialise overnight. Traffic clogs up everywhere. The air is stickier than superglue (creative idea for Fevicol's next!?). The sweat doesn't flow - it just forms an irritatingly thin surface all over your skin and you end up sticking to anything you touch :(

Hot roadside pakoras or dal vadas and chai are the saving grace.

Winter is the only season which hints that God could be a Delhi-ite!

He's Good

2005-07-10T23:35:00.000+05:30

Why can't people evaluate Abhishek Bachchan for the way he performs on screen? Why does Bachchan Sr have to creep into every comparison? The last few AB Jr movies I've caught have been real crackers - and Abhishek's perforance has been real good!

I refer to Dhoom, Bunty Aur Babli and Sarkar (missed out on Yuva and thankfully on Naach as well)

Incidentally, Abhishek Bachchan comes out tops in yet another role that sees him sporting a beard. Enjoyed him in Refugee way back in 2000.

Now waiting to catch Dus.

A bit on Sarkar. It was great that RGV dedicated this attempt to The Godfather at the very outset. He has this way of doing these things (remember that autorickshaw driver in Mast?). Abhishek is intense, there is minimal verbalising on his part. For that matter, the film dwells little on Big B's character that the title alludes to. There are other characters, incidents that bring out the power carried by Subhash Nagre. No songs, well done background score. Well worth the money (my first experience at Cinema Europa, Gurgaon. Yay!)

Read THIS

2005-07-06T22:48:00.000+05:30

Just back from a company meeting at Chokhi Dhani, Jaipur. Sometimes these sales meetings make no sense whatsoever. What's the point of staying hunched up in conference rooms from morning till night (so late that you are running to the restaurant before they run out of dinner!) that you cannot take time off to see the city you have gone especially for the meeting. Bah!

But more importantly, here's what I want to write about. My last post apparently served as a trigger for this one. And through it I reached here. It's the most amazing story of someone who stood up against not only an individual, but against an entire mindset, a whole system and emerged victorious. A must read.

I Feel Privileged...

2005-06-23T00:01:00.000+05:30

...to have railway-ed these stretches:

Delhi-Dehra Dun: The wisps of fog in the bleak winter sun as the Shatabdi tears across the plains of Western UP are an unforgettable sight. But the best part is the home stretch into the Doon valley post Haridwar. The track actually cuts across dense jungle that is a part of the Rajaji National Park and there is an upper limit to the speed for the sake of the elephants that may wander onto them. Pitifully, many a beast has lost it's life on these very tracks.

Konkan Railway: One cannot affort to sleep on this ride. The best train perhaps is the Delhi-Trivandrum Rajdhani as it traverses the entire stretch in broad daylight. The western Ghats are mesmerising as the train snakes in and out of HUGE tunnels and crosses bridges that are amazing feats of structural engineering. The best of them all is the span across the Zuari in Goa. The most picturesque station is Ratnagiri (can't find words to describe it). And after Goa, the sea plays a tantalising game of hide and seek with you. Beautiful.

Ratlam-Baroda: Picturesque. The hills look as if a gigantic hand has etched lovely designs on them. The terrain forces the tracks to take big, loopy curves enabling one to get a full view of the entire train as it cuts across the landscape.

Mumbai-Pune: Need I say more. I've been lucky enough to have traversed this one in the monsoon. It's the expressway that hogs most media coverage but it's not a patch on the rail stretch. Not by a long distance.

Delhi-Kurukshetra: Pure nostalgia. I can still rattle off names of more than half the stations that the EMU halts at.

Churchgate-Andheri: Nothing great, one would think. But at 6:30 p.m. On a working day. In a Virar fast local. Believe me, it's worth writing home about. (Ok, on a blog at least!)

The Metros: Both Delhi and Calcutta. Spanking. Delhi scores hgher due to the amazing views of the cityscape on the elevated section.

Food not to be missed:

Chilled Rabdi at Abu Road.
Piping hot Bhajjiyas for breakfast at Godhra
Masala Chai anywhere in Maharashtra or Gujarat
Chholey Bhature at Mathura
Rajma Chawal at Jammu

Yummmmmyyyy!!!

Cant wait to pack my bags for:

Delhi-Udhampur (and a few years from now, Srinagar)
Any hill railway (I can't believe I've missed all of 'em - an ultra-short ride on the Nilgiri one notwithstanding)
Konkan (again!!)
Palace on Wheels (yeah, I wish!)

I wonder if anyone noticed two songs in recent releases (Dhadak Dhadak, Bunty Aur Babli and Kasto Mazza, Parineeta) didn't just feature trains extensively in the visuals, but the chugging and clatter on the tracks forms an integral part of the rhythm. Awesome.

Choo Choo

2005-06-22T02:22:00.000+05:30

I just LOVE trains. Gimme good ol' Indian Railways over any airline any day. Can't stand the arriving-one-hour-before-flight funda, check-in procedure, security check, the agonising wait in the lounge and in the aircraft, cramped seats, rubbery food ugghhhhh :(

I'm smitten with the chaos at a railway station, the vendors with their penetrating 'chai, chai', AH Wheeler stalls, that typical ding-a-ding-dong that precedes any announcements, I could go on and on and on...

But positively the best part is standing at the door with the wind blowing through one's hair. I've shocked a few travel companions by refusing to sit in the comfortable climes of an air conditioned compartment and favouring the hot and dusty (and at times stinky, ugh!) space just outside the insulated area! There's something almost intoxicating about the diesel fumes that come wafting by soon after the engine goes chugga-chugga-chug as the driver ups the tempo.

I still go 'paani, paani' and point downward excitedly when a bridge comes along, still count the bogies of passing or stationary goods' trains as they pass by and exult each time the number surpasses the highest on that journey so far. Junk food at the railway stations, precariously collecting the cup of tea through the grille....ah, gimme good ol' Indian Railways over any airline any day!

Am not through with this topic. No way.

But It Rained

2005-06-18T00:13:00.000+05:30

Never heard Parikrama before.
Most arbitrarily ran into their website.
And downloaded this song.
It's hitting me at some level.
Still trying to figure it where, though.

Wrapped in a polythene tucked away safe in my mind
A little goodbye maybe or just a passing smile

The birds fly away to the southern sky searching a home
A bunch of paper flowers or a little boy left all alone
Can somebody hear me I'm screaming from so far away
Morning who will calm you now, the evening is eclipsed again

Well does life get any better
More yesterday than today
How I thought the sun would shine tomorrow
But it rained . . .

Listen to it here

Gotcha!

2005-06-14T12:20:00.000+05:30

It's quite unbelievable that I've been lucky enough to stay clear of people selling credit cards over the phone. Still trying to figure out how I managed it this long. Honeymoon ended this weekend. But by the second call, I realised I'm a pro!!

Smart Sales Guy: Sir, I'm calling from American Express. I've been referred to you by Mr Kartik Chandra for a special credit card offer.
Innocent Me: Okay, tell me...
SSG: There's this Gold Card that will give you features like...[launches into delivery outlining how perhaps the card just about stops short of enabling me to buy the moon!]
IM: Umm..okay...SSG (hyper as ever): And, there's no fuel surcharge, no hidden charges....blah blah...
IM: You know, I'm not so sure...
SSG: It's the best deal, sir. Plus you can also avail of facilities like....
IM (partly confused, and partly falling for the pitch): Listen, I need to think; can I get back to you on this?
SSG: Certainly sir, I'll call you in two days time. Have a good day.

Sheesh, this guy almost got me. Now I was determined to (over)compensate with the next call. Didn't have to wait too long. Come Sunday...

Smart Sales Gal: Hi, I'm calling from Citibank.
Well Prepared Me: Yeah!
SSG: We have received a reference for you for our Gold Card.
WPM: Er, reference from whom, may I ask?
SSG (sligltly shaken, possibly not used to such a retort): Sir, I cannot say that...
WPM (cutting in): Then that makes this call unsolicited. Are you aware of a recent Supreme Court order regarding such calls?
SSG (definitely rattled): Uh...let me tell you about this card sir. It's free for life with a credit limit of Rs 2.5 lakh.
WPM: Listen, I understand all that but I'm not interested. Thanks.

You know - all said and done, I sometimes feel sorry for these guys selling cards over phones.

Noida

2005-06-12T11:25:00.000+05:30

Finally broke the PVR/DT mould and hit Noida for an evening out yesterday.
Wave is good.
Will now seek to break the psychological barrier and go there more often.
I'd say Gurgaon and Noida are equidistant from my place but Noida just seems farther off!

Mr and Mrs Smith.
All about Chemistry.
And Angelina Jolie.
And Brad Pitt's irrepresible one-liner deliveries. (Best one comes at the very end: "Ask the sex question again!")
And Angelina Jolie.
And about slick effects.
And Angelina Jolie.
About a climax sequence that's choreographed to (what sounded like) Latin American music.
And Angelina Jolie.
(I think I've conveyed my point!)

Dinner: Lavanya
(Once vaguely knew someone by that name. Will check out the meaning.)
Standard North Indian fare.
Yummy.
Service could've been quicker though.
Waiting for roti with food on plate is not very pleasant.

All for now...

It ain't THAT bad!

2005-06-09T09:16:00.000+05:30

This is in defence of Bunty Aur Babli. All those critics gunning for Shaad Ali Sahgal's head should take a hike.

The lead couple looks good. Abhishek Bacchhan's UPite accent comes across as natural and Rani Mukerji portrays a convincing sardarni. The cons are refreshing (even though predictable at times). The songs seem very out of place but once they start, each one comes across as hummable. The rap number in the end is downright hilarious. The background score with all the 'appropriate' numbers from the 70s gives a sorta funny-funny feeling even when words or antics of the protagonists aren't there.

Sheesh, it's a Bollywood film for cryin' out loud. Give it a break. Everything's relative - and you'll have to agree B'n'B has been better than a lot of flicks thus far in 2005.

The crappy coverage this one is generating is just beyond me.

Undoubtedly the funniest moment from the flick -
Rani M: "Agar maine ek martaban aam ka achaar aur daala, main mar jaoongi!"

Close second -
Rani M: "Oye Rakesh, just married!!"

Can't wait to see it a second time!

While on B-School...

2005-06-08T23:55:00.000+05:30

The problem with [a] first job is that we come out of b-school thinking like CEOs but do the work of chaprasis

I got this gem of an SMS from a friend this morning. Yea man, agree that field sales (esp in Delhi's criminal heat) ain't the greatest. But, like I asked him in the afternoon, does the problem lie in the first job or in the way b-school formulates our thinking before letting us loose?

(Sorta funny that this one comes along just after I post something anti-bschool!)

Hypocrisy

2005-06-07T19:48:00.000+05:30

My b-school e-group gets all abuzz with activity whenever a magazine featuring management institutes' ratings hits the stands. People question rating methods, even accuse other colleges of bribing their way into the top positions, the latest is talk of understanding how different publications rate institutes and try and score well on those paramaters. There'll be long threads of e-mail, bitching on internet fora, the works.

Question is: do these same guys then raise questions when a second magazine comes out putting our institute right at the top? No, we deserve it you see. Of course we're better than IIM, Ahmedabad!

We're all in agreement that our insti is right up there in all regards. Rankings should be incidental. Plus, with 5 different rating approaches giving diverse results, who should have any faith in the rankings anyways? Problem is that the aspiring MBAs use these as inputs for their college selection decision. So, confusion rules.

On a slightly different note, I think management college is called b-school as a shortened form of back-to-school. Seriously, school shared more similarities with MBA than with engineering (no wonder, they ain't called e-schools, jus' plain engineering colleges)!

Of Priorities...

2005-06-05T01:55:00.000+05:30

Late morning today, one of my friends was on his way to a weekend class for a course he's taking. Concern: backlog on assignments, pre-readings, this morning's opening two hours already missed. Then he sees this damsel in distress standing next to a (broken down) car on the roadside and pulls over.

He's no genius under the hood, but that's not an impediment. 30 minutes later, car heaved to safety, he's dropping the lady to her destination.

Mission accomplished, our hero looks at watch and promptly decides to skip his entire session (no point walking in late to the second half of a lecture, you see).

When we meet in the evening and I hear this story, I ask - "What if it had been a forty-something guy?"

Response - "Nothing. I had a class to attend!" *evil grin*

Cool friends I have. (Well, at least his hormones are working fine).

Update: Chatted with Superman today afternoon, looking back, he says, it was real philanthropic of me (aakhir main ek insaan ke kaam aaya). Wowza!