Musings

Purple Night Dress

2011-12-25T21:16:00.000+05:30

It shimmers in the faint light that seeps in from beneath the closed doors.

Its touch is like flowers, like clouds, like breath, and it clings and slips

and makes you feel quite queen-like.

You comb your hair a hundred times and you brush your teeth.

You wash your face with the posh, age-defying face wash

and you step out of your soft fur slippers.

In a smooth, royal movement, your stately frame

struts towards your queen-sized bed

with its shiny sheets, covers and pillowcases.

You lift the covers and crawl deep into their velvetty recesses

and, then, all dressed up in your purple night dress

with pink polka dots

you turn on to your side towards

a blank white wall.

Meet the Street - Bhai Mian, the God Father of Kite Flying

2011-12-05T09:00:00.000+05:30

You do not meet someone who has followed his passion throughout his life every day. So November 27, 2011 was really special in the fact that I had the opportunity of meeting Bhai Mian and his son Jamal who have spent years making and flying kites all over the world. Bhai Mian is 85 years old now and his movement is severely restricted because of Diabetes. And this was the reason why the person who had put me in touch with Jamal had woefully predicted that probably I'll not be able to meet the national awardee at all. In fact, according to him, I would be lucky to get to meet his son in person. But when I called Jamal on his mobile, he agreed to meet me at his place in the famous Delhi 6.

Full of anticipation, I and my photographer friend followed Jamal through the labyrinthine lanes of old Delhi. This was the first time I was going to enter a home in Old Delhi and the prospects were exciting me to no end. My imagination had run wild and I had painted various pictures of the supposed abode of the great man but I was in for a surprise. One unique thing about the buildings in Delhi 6 is that often when you are standing in the street, you can't look up and guess how many stories the building houses. Soon we stood in the dark staircase leading up to the residential quarters of Bhai Mian and his family. Gradually our eyes adjusted themselves and we were politely escorted by Jamal to a room where daris had been laid out to make for a comfortable seating arrangement. And to our delights, soon the God Father of Kite-Flying, Bhai Mian himself entered the room. We couldn't have asked for more. Misty-eyed, he fondly recalled his active years and, humbly pushed aside all requests to talk about the National Award he's received or the Record for which his name is registered in the Limca Book of World records with a simple "Awards to milte hain bachche, magar apne haathon se patang bana kar, us par kanne kas kar, udhaane ka jo mazaa hai, uska koi muqabala hai?"

He recounted his experience of flying kites in various countries such as in The Dubai Shopping Festival in 1993 where he flew a train of 1184 kites and at the Kite-flying competition at India-Pakistan Border to celebrate the 50 years of Independence. He vehemently maintains that Indian Kites are the best in spite of the active Chinese intrusion in Indian Kite Markets. "China ki patangon mein balance nahin hota. Indian patangein ungliyon ke ishaare par naachti hain." His opinion, in fact, is shared by many others both in India and abroad that the Indian Kite is the ultimate fighting machine.

Passion and creativity has driven this man, whose family business is Jewellery making, ever since he was a child and he has made kites in all shapes and sizes. His smallest kite 2mm long and the biggest being 400 feet in length. He takes pride in his collection of carefully crafted kites shaped to look like a peacock, a snake, various birds, and animals. His endeavour to better his previous acheivement stems from an insatiable desire to do something that has never been done before. "Koi cheez aisee udayen jo sab dekhen to kahein ki yeh to pehli baar udte hue dekhi hai."

The family has lovingly preserved some special kites for years. Some of the oldest kites that they proudly showcase are over 50 years old. There are others that they treat as works of art and are not willing to sell at any cost. Jamal fondly remembers one particular time when he was sitting at his counter at the Craft Museum and carefully constructing a minute, few mm long kite. A gentleman was oberving each of his artistic touches carefully. And once the kite was ready, the gentleman offered to purchase it. Jamal politely declined saying that he could have any one of the other kites if he wanted but this particular kite wasn't for sale. But the gentleman was adamant and he kept on increasing the amount he was ready to pay for the kite. But Jamal wouldn't budge. The Gentleman then approached one of the managers of the Craft Museum to request Jamal to see the kite. Jamal then presented the kite to the gentleman as a gift. "Kuch cheezon ki keemat aankna aasaan nahin hota." The gentleman not only accepted the gift but also bought some kites from Jamaal that were actually up for sale.

Not only have Bhai Mian and his sons been making and flying kites, they've also been conducting kite making and flying workshops for school-children and even for the adults. Despite our fear that the popularity of kites might be on a decline in India, Bhai Mian is ever an optimist. He argues that till children are enthusiatic about kite-flying, we have nothing to fear. Kite flying is an art and, like one does in other sports, one has to take time and learn the art. On one 15th August, when Bhai Mian was still a child, his father advised him not to tie kanne of all the kites he was planning to fly at once. But being an impatient child, he still went ahead and did that and started flying the kites. Soon all his kites were lost in kite-cutting battles and he was left without any more kites to fly. His father generously bought him another batch and sat him down and talked to him. "Ek baar mein ek hi patang ke kanne baandho. Phir jab woh kat jaye to doosri patang ke kanne baandhte hue socho ki tumhari patang kyon kati. Aur phir doosri udaao." Isn't this the technique that we should be employing in everything that we do? So much of wisdom is all around us and we never ever tap it simply because we do not care to talk to each other.

We talked about many more miscellaneous things about Kite Museums, material used to make kites, Kite Flying festivals and purani dilli in general. We also visited the workshop they make kites and jewellery in, on the thirds floor of their home. And on the terrace, we visited their pigeon coup that is the home of 100s of their pet pigeons and talked about how the homing pigeons find their homes.

Bhai Mian is now retired and usually leaves all kiting to his sons, Jamal and his brothers. At night, he can sleep peacefully because he knows that his tenaciously built legacy is safe in his sons' expert hands.

In the 2 hours that we spent at their place, we were touched by their hospitality and their trust. Bhai Mian and Jamal and even the children of their family opened their hearts to us and made us feel welcome. From practically being the outsiders in Delhi 6, we were now a part of the ecosystem and felt that we were being entrusted with the deep-rooted secrets of this enigmatic place where people like Bhai Mian live humble, unassuming, and unpretentious lives. These are the people who you pass every time you stroll through the streets of Delhi 6 and never ever realize how much they've acheived in their lives and how much our society owes to them.

It was a pleasure once again to Meet the Street. Soon we will meet a security guard who considers the security of each member of the residential society he's stationed at as his personal responsibility. The purpose of this project is to bring to light the people you are likely to run into on the streets of Delhi and the project does not discriminate based on gender, age, social status, financial status, and anything else for that matter.

Meet the Street - Daleep Singh turned 40 yesterday!

2011-11-14T00:39:00.001+05:30

Daleep Singh has been driving autorickshaws on Delhi roads since 1993. Born and brought up in Delhi, he has seen the starting prices of a ride in the auto rise from Rs 3 to Rs. 20 now. Nowadays, he and his auto can be found plying between Central Secretariat Metro Station and India Gate. Though he's happy this way, he prefers to take tourists on Day-long trips around Delhi during which he shows them India Gate, Qutb Minar, Humanyun's Tomb, Rashtrapati Bhawan and almost all other monuments of Delhi. He earns about Rs. 1000 - 1500 for this kind of a trip.

It was his birthday on Saturday November 12th and he turned 40 that day.

When Hanuman and Taj Mahal Took Over the Delhi Sky- Delhi Kite Festival

2011-11-12T20:36:00.005+05:30

Yes, Lord Hanuman and Taj Mahal were hovering over the Delhi sky and no one was surprised. Yes, no one! Why? Because it was the first ever Kite Festival organized by Delhi Tourism. And Hanuman and Taj Mahal were just two of the many unusual shapes that had conquered the Delhi sky today. Kite flying enthusiasts from many parts of India headed to India Gate to unravel the strings and to let their kites soar. Never before in India have I seen such unique collection of kites even though the tradition of kite flying has been a part of our culture since the time of Krishna. And, to be honest, I was expecting to see more. Lord Hanuman, Taj Mahal, and the Smiley were the only ones that were truly unique at least while I was there. But since this was the first day, perhaps I am being too harsh.

Click here for more pictures of the event, some of them better than these.

Gaining entry into the festival was surprisingly hassle-free and in spite of VIP presence, the participants and visitors did not feel restricted in any way.

The Festival was inaugurated today by the Chief Minister of Delhi, Smt. Sheila Dikshit, who opened the festival by flying the first kite of the event. After the Chief Minister's opening note, Shayar Mirza Asif enlightened the crowd with some interesting history and patang-related shayari in his speech titled "Dastan-e-Patang". And after that, the band Soul Samvaad performed Mausiki-e-Patang to a very excited and supportive crowd that swayed to the tunes of their Patang Song. The sound system was not the best though and could've been better.

"Jab bhi hawa ke rukh se jo hat gayi patang.

Ya to giri zameen par, ya kat gayi patang."

The Pavilion displayed some interesting designs from Delhi, Rampur, and Jodhpur. Most of the designs displayed there are not actually sold during 15 August Kite Frenzy but are reserved for festivals. There were several kites with traditional Rajasthani prints in the Jodhpur stall. Femira, who was manning the Jodhpur Stall, shed some lights on those. "10 se 20 rupaiye tak mein bikti hain yeh Jodhpur mein." That sounded really inexpensive. If those kites were sold in Delhi, they would cost at least 50 each. I hope many more States and regions join the festival from the next time. It'll be nice to see kites from across India flying in the Delhi skies.

Anyways, moving on, I spotted the Delhi Tourism Stall. They were giving out pamphlets related to tourist spots in Delhi, Maps, and Posters, all free of cost. Mr. Brij Mohan and Mr. Anil Gupta who were managing the stall were polite and eager to offer information about the stall and the festival. I felt that the stall could sell some merchandise such as fridge magnets, pens, post cards, stamps, mugs, and T-shirts etc. They would have found some buyers for sure.

The festivities had started by now and patangbaazs were struggling to get their kites to take off. Kite fliers were there alone, with friends, or with their families. It was a bit congested and a bit more space for each flier would've been useful. There were several people like me who were there as spectators. Meanwhile expert kite fliers designated by Delhi Tourism held on to 150 kites each and steered them easily according to the direction of the wind. These kites were really heavy and when I tried holding one, the string almost managed to lift me from the ground and that is by no means an easy task. Mohammad Sufran, one of the kite flier who was holding and steering these kites told me "Sabse oopar waali kite ko hawa ke hisaab se sambhaalna padta hai" when I asked him whether he could tie the string somewhere and give his arms a rest. "Humein to yeh pakad ke hi khada hona padega." Commendable!

Kites were also being sold at the venue and if you were tempted to fly one yourself, you could purchase kites of all sizes and participate.

By this time, the food stalls by R. K. Caterers were also open. The quintessential Gol-Gappes, Aloo-Tikkis, Pav-Bhajis, Chowmein, Papdi-Chaats were all being sold at prices almost at par with the rest of the market. The stalls looked clean and hygienic.

I came back during lunch though there were many more things planned for the day such as a magic show, a kite-cutting competition, a mini Dilli Haat, and some cultural programmes.

Delhi Tourism promises to have this festival annually along with many other new initiatives. I feel that this is a good move. Such activities will not only rejuvenate our fading traditions but will also help in encouraging tourists to visit Delhi. To the slogan "Delhi raises its spirit with kite flying", I can only say "Amen!"

The festival is not over yet. You can still be a part of it tomorrow from 11 – 8. Hopefully, your experience will be as exhilarating as mine.

Diwali - We Love the Complexity (Article Published in TOI Jammu)

2011-11-09T11:11:00.001+05:30

Many of us may not have seen those days and some might even find it hard to believe that those days existed. But, yes, there was a time when light strings were hardly used. A lot more candles and diyas were used instead. Decorations consisted of a simple rangoli made of rice paste, a “Happy Diwali” sign cut out of card board, and paper lanterns crafted at home. And even sweets were made at home. Diwali must have meant a lot more hard work back then.

Things have changed over the years. Instead of candles and diyas that burn themselves out, twinkling light strings are used. Gone are the hassles of refilling the oil and replacing the candles, you can simply turn the switch on and sleep peacefully. Your house will not become any less attractive to Goddess Lakshmi while you dream. Special Rangoli colours are available to counter the hassles of preparing a rice paste and then getting a simple mono-coloured Rangoli at the end. Decorations of various types and sizes are so easily available in the market that you don’t have to strain your hands or brains to craft intricate designs. Exquisitely packed boxes of chocolates and specific Diwali gifts abound in the market and even online. You simply have to select and get it delivered to your friends and loved ones. You don’t even need to step out of the house to do any of these things.

But we still do step out. We explore and select the best quality light strings and the most beautiful decorations. We taste and smell chocolates before getting them packed. We don’t want to make a bad choice and end up being disappointed or worse still end up disappointing our loved ones. We navigate through the festival traffic to deliver gifts to our family and friends because we can’t bear to get them delivered through the emotionless local courier.

So have the Diwali preparations actually become any easier? No! And mostly because we don’t want them to. There’s a certain charm in putting in all the efforts and doing all the tasks with the entire family in the old-fashioned way. No other festival brings us together like Diwali does. Some things should never change.

Unusual Rituals - Windows into the Past (Article Published in TOI Jammu)

2011-11-07T12:48:00.001+05:30

Rummaging through the market to find that one elusive ingredient required for Lakshmi Puja, putting up those flickering, dancing lights to ensure that your house stands out, purchasing those sensational fireworks that light up the sky, and visiting relatives and friends to exchange those gifts bought at the last minute – yes, we are all caught up in this frenzy! It’s Diwali.

But if you think that the way we celebrate Diwali is wild and frantic, you are in for a surprise. Consider one the traditions alive here in Himachal. Much after the entire world is moving on after the festival of lights is over, a much darker version of Diwali dawns upon some villages of Kullu, Sirmaur, and Shimla districts. Buddhi Diwali, as it is known locally, is celebrated almost a month after Diwali on the new moon. The revelries involve dancing and singing mantras in tune with the reverberating beats of drums and other local instruments. Hundreds of cattle are sacrificed to appease deities. Gradually, however, breaking of coconuts is being promoted as an alternative to sacrificing the animals.

And when we head south, right on the border of Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, sits a little village called Gummatapura where the villagers celebrate Diwali in the most extraordinary way – by hurling cow dung at each other. They call it Gorehabba. The common belief is that frolicking in tons of cow dung collected near the Beerappa temple cleanses one’s soul and cures the body of all kinds of diseases. The celebrations are so lively that many onlookers from nearby villages gather around to enjoy the event.

Diwali in Darjeeling, though not as startling as Buddhi Diwali or Gorehabba, is still different. Locally it is known as Tihar. The first day of the celebrations is dedicated to the crow who is believed to be the messenger of Yamaraj. The first serving of food is offered to the crow and the family eats only after the crow has accepted the food. The same goes for the dog on the second day. The dog is believed to guard the abode of the Yama. The third day is the most significant day with prayers being offered to Goddess Lakshmi. The cow, believed to be the symbol of wealth, is worshipped on this day. In the evening, young people dress up in traditional attires. Singing devotional songs and dancing in tune with the musical instruments, they go from door to door accepting gifts and food.

In a country like India, it is not a surprise that Diwali is celebrated in so many different ways. What is surprising is that these rituals have existed in isolation for centuries and not many of us know about them. Unlike the traditions in urban India, these traditions have hardly changed at all. They are windows into what Indian society used to be in the yesteryears. Even though practices like animal sacrifice are being and should be discouraged, rest of the rituals should be preserved and cherished like a treasure.

Mumbai Meets Dilli at India Habitat Centre

2011-11-07T00:33:00.002+05:30

Humour, art and literature are perhaps the most effective ways to reflect upon a society. A society that cannot laugh upon itself loses out on growth, maturity, and health. While I was in the UK, I got enough opportunities to attend stand-up comedy shows because some of my batchmates from MA were regular performers. Most of the shows were good but they only just met expectations simply because British are known to have a sauve sense of humour so expectations were accordingly high.

Ashish Shakya

Ever since I came back to India, I was desperate to attend a stand-up comedy show in India. The expectations were again high because I've seen a considerable improvement in the standards of our comedy shows on the television. "Tarak Mehta ka Ulta Chashma" and "Lapataganj" are just two examples. I wish the same could be said about our movies.

So when Tanmay tweeted about "Mumbai Meets Dilli" scheduled for 5th and 6th of November in Gurgaon and Delhi, I immediately logged in to Book My Show and after some hassles and expert guidance from Rajneesh, managed to book my tickets and was quite excited for the event.

Tanmay Bhat

The show started in an understated fashion with no formal compere. I think that was a smart decision and the whole show had a "Straight-down-to-the-business" approach. The show started with the (comparatively) understated, yet rib-tickling performance by Ashish Shakya. His favorite topics were sexuality, sex, Dilliwallahs, Indians in general. The audience was tuned in and our expectations were constantly rising after this great start.

Rajneesh Kapoor

And then Tanmay Bhat took the stage with his hilarious, energetic and expressive performance. The infamous aggressiveness of Dilliwallahs and our haughty culture of "tu jaanta hai mera baap kaun hai?" were his favorite topics. By the time, Tanmay finished, we were nearly ROFLing. Then entered, Rajneesh, the only artist from Delhi performing in this show. His sweet Punjabi accent and soft tones made even the most targetted jokes easy to bear. It was ironical that the artist from "aggressive Dilli" was the politest of all performers. He even apologised to the one woman from Mumbai because he had made fun of Mumbai to get back at Ashish and Tanmay. His was also the most opinionated and socially sensitized performance.

Rohan Joshi

The last performance was by Rohan Joshi and he took a dig at the late night Teleshopping shows and Anna Hazare. And even though this was the last performance, the show wasn't over yet. Just as the team was taking the final bow and thanking the "excellent" audience, right on the cue, an aggressive Dilliwallah from the audience shouted "Abey bahar aa dekhta hun tujhe." All of us were shocked but soon burst out laughing when we realized that the person was only joking. A great way to end the show and a great way to show the world that we too have a sense of humour and we too can take a joke or too upon ourselves.

The only aspect that was lacking was that none of the Mumbai-wallah performers made any real joke at Mumbai's expense. That would've been a true testimony of their sense of humour.

I came back home happy and rejuvenated and if any of the four Ashish, Tanmay, Rajneesh, and Rohan are performing near you, don't miss the opportunity. Do go and listen to them take a dig at you inside your own home. There's no better way to spend an evening.

Visit VJ's Traveling Camera for more pictures of the show.

World without Bhupen Hazarika

2011-11-06T11:23:00.001+05:30

(Attribution: Bundesarchiv, Bild 183-L0216-0033 / Katscherowski (verehel. Stark), / CC-BY-SA)
The first time I came across Bhupen Hazarika's name was 18 years back when his soul-touching music and voice floated in the background while Dimple Kapadia in her Rajasthani attire denuded her body of all jewellery. It was Rudali, not exactly a favorite amongst the teenagers back then but truly artisty in every other sense. What made Rudali special for me was nor the breath-taking acting by the cast neither the off-beat, heart-wrenching story. In fact, it wasn't even the silky-smooth voice of Lata Mangeshkar bringing those rustic, alluring lyrics to our homes. It was that coarse, broken, seemingly untamed male voice that sang Maula O Maula, Dil Hum Hum Kare, Samay O Dheere Chalo, that stood out even to my untrained ears.

But of course, Bhupen Hazarika is (and in spite of his demise yesterday, I still say 'is') much (and much) more than Rudali. His singing career started as early as 1939 when he was twelve and he never looked back after that. Loved and respected worldwide, Bhupenda was never hassled by political boundaries. His has been credited to be the voice of the freedom movement of Bangladesh. His music and lyrics have enabled many a young hearts to express their complicated emotions. His songs dedicated to social causes and to the great river Brahmaputra are spiritual in a very earthy way. I can perhaps never fully appreciate or sum up this great man's life and acheivements but can definitely sense his absence.

2011 has definitely been a difficult year for Indian arts. M. F. Husain, Shammi Kapoor, Jagjit Singh, and now Bhupen Hazarika are amongst the famous artists who were lost to us during this year in quick succession. It seems like the time is moving too fast with each second taking us farther still from their legacy. I wish things would slow down a bit and let us submerge ourselves in the art and music created by these artists to fully appreciate all that we've lost. And, also, to appreciate all that we're left with.

Here's Samay o Dheere Chalo by Bhupen Hazarika, in his own voice. Hope his songs keep echoing forever.

हमारा शहर उस बरस (Hamara Shehar Us Baras) - A Play at NSD

2011-09-28T13:08:00.002+05:30

Drama is closer to life than movies, simply because there are no retakes. And that is why, whenever I watch a play, I'm filled with admiration for the skills and passion of the entire team involved. While there are some who do come in the limelight, it is only the tip of the iceberg that is visible. Most of the team remains hidden, behind the stage, merging seamlessly in the background. But the play is the result of a symbiotic relation between these various players whose only motivation is to make the play a success, to charm the audience enough to earn a spontaneous applause on that emotional scene or that part of passionate speech. There's no better way to picturize the success a team that works well together can achieve.

Therefore, when my friend invited me to watch a play at the National School of Drama, I readily accepted. This was only the second play I was watching at the NSD and I was looking forward to it because the first play "बेगम का तकिया" had touched my heart and I had spent days after watching it imagining the amount of hard work the team must've put into it.

The play that we were going to watch was titled "हमारा शहर उस बरस" which was about the trubulences a city and its people go through during communal unrest. At the centre of the turmoil is a family consisting of Daddu and his son Sharad and their tenants of many years, Hanif and Shruti (a couple).

The play sensitively captures the escalating unrest in the background and its reflection upon the dynamics in the central household. Minorities are more or less portrayed as the victim at the centre while the majority is divided into three groups, defenders, attackers, and the silent. Conflicting voices of these sections of the society come across loud and clear through the course of the play. Guilt and pride about their religious roots dictates their actions and gradually, the situation disintegrates enough to let the outer unrest penetrate the erstwhile jovial and peaceful relationships in the household.

During the course of the play, the audience finds itself foreseeing the worse but the play stays clear of gore and morbidity, concentrating mainly on the crisis faced by humanity and seggregations that threaten to destroy a civilized society as well as a strong, tightly-bound household.

The precise direction by Kirti Jain carries this complicated play with multiple character interactions in almost all scenes with ease. I could recognize many actors as they had also acted in "बेगम का तकिया". It was difficult to choose the 'best' actor as it was clear that all actors gave their life and soul to the parts they had been asked to to play. And it was difficult to find any faults. But yet, there were some who stood out. For example, the narrator Ipshita Chakraborty had an impeccable pronounciation and clarity of expressions. And the actor Jagannath Seth, who played Daddu, had perfect timing for comedy as well as outrage. I already have a lot of respect for the actress Sajida, who played Shruti, Rakhi Kumari, who played the student and the kaamwaali bai, and Punj Prakash, who played Sharad as I have seen their work in "बेगम का तकिया" as well. They never fail to deliver.

I was surprised to know how simple a life these talented actors lead. They are far from the glamour enjoyed by the bollywood actors. Some people may argue but I feel that even the actors who play the smallest parts in these plays are more talented than some of the top actors in bollywood. These stage actors do not have high monetary benefits to look forward to after conclusion of each play. It's only their passion and a stubborn belief in their dreams that keeps them motivated. And I admire them for this fire. It's very inspiring indeed.

If you like watching plays, I would surely recommend "हमारा शहर उस बरस" to you. Go and watch the play with an open mind. The subject can be a little difficult to deal but the team has done justice to it. Watch this play for the acting and the screenplay if not for the subject.

For more pictures, check out http://phototravelings.blogspot.com/2011/09/hamara-shehar-us-baras-another.html
The play is on till the 2nd of October and the tickets can be booked in advance. Check the following link out for more information http://rangkarm.wordpress.com/tag/hamara-shahar-us-baras/

Poetry

2011-08-13T17:17:00.000+05:30

When I was a child, I found it lying in the streets
abandoned.
I picked it up and pampered it and hid it.
And now like a friend, through the clouds and through mist
Its genderless voice leads me to that naive sapling
who has raised its head too soon from the snow
and then goes right back in, enlightened, frightened,
and wise beyond its years. It sighs with me
at the wrinkled, entwined hands of lovers
when they walk each other from this street to that,
from this shop to that and from this year to that.
Holding my hands, it has taught me to walk
on the mystic road towards a word greater than truth.
They laugh and they say it’s all in my head.
But yet, when I least expect, it talks to me.

Gaiety Theatre - A Step Forward

2011-06-29T16:32:00.003+05:30

The restoration of Gaiety Theatre in Shimla couldn’t have come at a better time. During the last decade, the lifestyle of Indian middle class has seen a tremendous shift from the ‘earn and save’ mode to ‘earn, save, and spend’ mode. They can now afford to use their hard-earned money for recreational activities. There was a time, not too long ago, when theatre, art-exhibitions, and museums were thought to be the pastimes of rich and were never a part of our day-to-day lives. People have started waking up to the importance of arts and literature in the growth of a country. As a result, you can find more and more youngsters visiting art galleries, photography exhibitions, and dramas and studying these subjects as part of their formal education. But this change would have been pointless and self-defeating if the society and the Government had not supported it. And the restoration of the Gaiety theatre is a commendable step in this direction.

When the Gaiety theatre opened for the first time in 1887, it was a part of a much larger town hall built in Gothic style with high arches, vaults and flying buttresses designed by Henry Irwin. However, many parts of the town hall were found to be risky and had to be dismantled in early 20th century. This saw the end of the flying buttresses. However, the Gaiety Theatre survived. The website of the Theatre states that from the time it opened, legends such as Rudyard Kipling, Baten Powel, K. L. Sehgal, Prithvi Raj Kapoor, the Kendalls, Balraj Sahni, Pran, Manohar Singh, Master Mohan, Master Madan, Shashi Kapoor, Raj Babbar, Naseeruddin Shah, and Anupam Kher have performed here. However, number of performances dwindled significantly as years passed. Not so long back, the theatre was used during the shooting of the movie Gadar when parts of the theatre were hurriedly painted. Years of decay and patch works were threatening to ruin the Theatre when the Government of Himachal Pradesh took up the challenge to restore the complex with the help of various experts.

The restoration wasn’t an easy task, either on pockets or on time. It required a lot of passion as well and a heart at the right place because restoration didn’t only mean repairing all that was broken. It meant a minute inspection and research of what the theatre used to be more than a century back. Layers of paint were peeled off to uncover the original colour of each wall and pillar. As per the Gaiety Theatre website, all repairs and material used were in congruence to the initial design of the building. The process started in 2003 and took almost 6 years to complete. Recently, when I was watching Dylan Moran’s comedy show at the Journal Tyne Theatre in Newcastle-Upon-Tyne, UK, the splendour of the theatre made me realize the full extent of the task that must have lain before the Government of Himachal Pradesh when they first set out to restore the Gaiety Theatre. It must have required a lot of perseverance and dedication to go through with it.

Today when you walk in the corridors and the halls, it is very easy to find yourself stepping into a bygone era where spectres of Victorian women in their corsets and gowns stroll around with their hands around the arms of their men wearing black tail coats and hats, sipping expensive, old wines while discussing the latest developments in politics and literature. You blink and you are back in the carpeted, empty halls of today with British voices just fading away beyond the frequencies receptive to human ears. Such is the thoroughness of the restoration that I can add without hesitation that the people who undertook and completed this task have every reason to be proud of their achievement.

The Theatre has again started hosting events and their full calendar is available on their website http://www.gaiety.in/. You can already see plays, festivals, concerts and exhibitions lined up in the various halls and galleries of the theatre. Their extensive image gallery gives one a fair idea about the Gaiety Theatre before and after the restoration. It also houses some priceless photographs of performances dating back to the late 19th century. The website alone is a proof that the Gaiety Dramatic Society, which is currently responsible for the administration of the Gaiety Complex, is taking its job very seriously. They deserve an active participation and encouragement from us as a pat on their backs for their contribution in providing artists and writers a venue to showcase their talents.

For any country to progress and any society to prosper, cultural development is a must and should go hand in hand with industrial development. Culture gives a society its personality and character and is the soul of a nation. Art in any form be it paintings, poetry, stories, books or drama forces us to reflect upon our society and, as a result, take steps for improvement. One of the key strengths of Indian society right from ancient times has been the ability to change. It has never been easy but change has always had a few eager and open minds that were willing to lend their ears to its reasonings. That has helped us withstand years of plunder and foreign rule and still bounce back as soon as we had the first opportunity as a much stronger and mature society. And this is the reason why Indian society has come such a long way from where it was left, broken, in 1947. Today when a lot of people will see value in restoring an old theatre, a few will still argue that we have too many problems to solve before we can indulge in such luxuries. To them I would like to say that there will never be a time when we will not have problems. However, a healthy development in culture will always be a good move and will only help in making the country a better place to live in. A calculated and positive step in this direction can never come too early.

How to make friends or alienate people in an English office...

2011-06-25T04:06:00.005+05:30

...A lot can happen over a cup of coffee.

Before I go any further, I should mention that the title of this post was my friend David Wadieh's idea.

Coffee and tea are indispensible when it comes to offices. And in English offices especially, getting tea or coffee is an elaborate ritual. If you are going to work for an English office for the first time, this post may actually be a life-saver for you because I’ve tried to break the ritual down to three short and simple steps with clear guidelines of what to do depending upon whether you want to make friends or alienate people:

1) Ask people whether they'll like tea or coffee

To make friends - Ask everyone. Even go to the remotest end of the office to ask that grumpy dude you never talk to.

To alienate people - Don't ask that girl who always refuses anyways. This will be the one time she simply needed that cup of coffee.

2) If you do not already know how they like their tea or coffee, ask them.

To make friends – If this is the first time you are doing this and need to ask them, pretend that you feel quite stupid about not being able to magically sense it.

To alienate people – Pretend that it’s perfectly alright if you have to ask them how they like it / Forget their preferences mid-way and make 100 trips back and forth to confirm and re-confirm

Tip: It's better to keep a notepad and pen with you at this step

3) Then go to the kitchen all alone, make the tea or coffee as per the individual preferences and make the 11982 trips from the kitchen to their work areas to deliver their beverages

To make friends: GET IT ALL RIGHT!

To alienate people: Put normal milk instead of Soya for the lactose intolerant / for the dude who likes his tea with the tea-bag still in it, drain and throw the tea bag / deliver a cold beverage to the last person you are delivering to / add one and a half tea spoon sugar for someone who likes it with one tea spoon / forget someone altogether

And then depending upon the choices you’ve made through the ritual, settle down to work surrounded by radiating friendliness of all your new-found friends or stare into your computer uncomfortably aware of the cold daggers being hurled at you by the blood-thirsty eyes of the person or people you’ve managed to alienate. Good Luck!

Dear Newcastle - I'll Miss Thee

2011-06-17T22:53:00.006+05:30

And that is weird because I've never come as close to being banished from my home ever in my life. The toon (as in Geordie-talk) has given me some weird memories to ROFL about. If you do want to know more (I can't see why you would), read on at your own risk:

Crows Nest

To say that I love this pub will be an understatement. If I could, I would carry it with me to India. Staff, who are our best friends by the way, Decor, everything. It is right next to the Uni and serves superb food. Fish and Chips, Chicken and Bacon Sandwich (without Bacon if you like), Cod Fish Finger Sandwich, Tuna Melts, Diet Pepsi (not coke!) everything tastes wonderful here. But what makes this pub a winner is that it is 'reasonable'. And this website confirms it. You can get a drink and decent amount of food within 5 GBP pp if you choose your food intelligently. And the pub also has a hygiene rating of 5 stars if you are as fanatic about hygiene as we weren't. Our frequent afternoon lunches wouldn't be the same if it hadn't been for Crows Nest.

The pub earlier used to be called Bar Oz. I'm glad they took on a new name though. I wouldn't want to be associated with a bar named Oz.

View Larger Map

Here is its biggest and meanest burger appropriately called the Original Loaded Burger (special emphasis on Loaded):

Warning: Eat this only if you haven't eaten anything for at least a month else choose a lighter option. One of our friends went into a food-coma on eating this and sat listlessly for hours afterwards.

Northumberland Street:

The most happening street in the toon, as they call it in Geordie. And by that I mean, REALLY happening. It'll be boring if I tell you that all major chains have their stores on this street. So let's just concentrate on the interesting stuff that happens here. Where else can you see a band of Native Americans (or not!) performing? Anywhere else has a store owner ballet danced towards you to tell you that the store is closed? And beat this if you can. Has a nun driving a piano ever stopped by to ask you how to get to San Jose? If you think I am lying (and I won't hold it against you), here's the proof:

Ducks and Swans at the Leazes Park
Owing to the poverty associated with studentship, I preferred walking down to the Uni from my home and it is a good 2 mile walk one side. It helps that the entire way to the Uni is downhill though that means that the way back is entirely uphill. Anyways, there wasn't much motivation for me to walk to the Uni everyday (classes don't count!) and I would do it very reluctantly. However, one day I discovered a route through the Leazes Park. And inside the Leazes park I discovered a lake dotted with magnificient Swans and ducks. And the world changed for me from that day. I actually started looking forward to the walks now.

And this is where I saw the first ducklings ever.

Flowers with a Personality

They start appearing everywhere in Spring. Does anyone plant them there before the beginning of the season? I don't think I'll ever know the answer. Perhaps there's a flower Santa somewhere. Anyways, what is unique about the flowers here is that they have a personality and seem to say something. Such as these:

Daffodils that look down upon you.

Flowers that want to break free

Courage on the streets

Geordie women are famous for the war they have waged against weather. And the weather here deserves no less than that. See this for example. And to protect them from everything else, superheroes descend upon the streets. Do you think any town can be safer than Newcastle then?

The Snowman that made us famous

Now this is getting emotional for me. This is where I saw my first snow falling. And it was as pretty as I could've imagined. But then, it kept snowing. And then, it still kept snowing. And I've pretty much had enough for a lifetime. But during this snowfall, I built my very first snowman. Well there were others involved but I'll just steal their credit.

And this was a very special snowman. It had green eyes and and was animated in the sense that its wide smile turned into a grimace gradually. And today, even in the middle of summers, children in our neighbourhood ask us at every opportunities "Are you the people who built the snowman?".

And, finally, a river that likes to flow backwards

I was so surprised that I wrote a poem about it and after I had performed it at a festival, a woman came running to tell me that she could completely relate to what I was talking about. I was glad of some support. May be now we can start an awareness campaign.

And then there are things that I have learnt in the toon and I'm not talking about Creative Writing. So watch out for the next post.

From the Editor - Getting the Most Out of Your Trip

2011-06-16T01:33:00.001+05:30

Becoming a traveller isn’t easy. Just like any other hobby or profession, expertise comes with experience and one has to polish the skills over years. Some travellers have a natural talent whereas some work hard towards developing it. Some learn by making mistakes. But those of us who have made these mistakes know that most of the times these mistakes are very expensive. I mean literally. For example, choosing a hotel at an impractical location may result in you spending a lot of money in cab fares. Or shopping without research may result in you paying much more than the item is worth. And when we make such mistakes, we wish that we had known better.

All experienced travellers have their own set of tips to make the most of a trip. And at Ghumakkar, we have no dearth of experience when it comes to travelling. Here are some lessons that I have learnt during my career as a traveller.

Do some research
Find out as much about a place as you can. Go beyond the standard ‘places to visit’ pages and Wikipedia. Read travelogues by people who have recently been to the place. If needed, ask them questions. Gather as many details as possible. Knowledge about common attire, customs, and mannerisms can be very useful especially if you are travelling to a foreign land. Research ensures that you won’t miss out on specialities of a place and be at a lower risk to be conned into paying more than necessary.

Travel without Prejudice

This is the best way to truly experience a place. Form your opinions once you’ve been to a place but avoid doing so before you reach there. Who can understand this better than Indians? Our country has long been seen as the land of snake-charmers and spiritual Guru. As a result, foreign tourists often come to India expecting to experience some aspect of spirituality at every corner. And yes, they do find it. But India has so much more to offer than this. So be open-minded and approach a place with the curiosity of a child.

Click here to read rest of the tips

Dear God

2011-06-09T12:57:00.002+05:30

Your Little Girl

2011-06-08T21:30:00.000+05:30

In the fabric of time, if there was a tear,

I'd enter and emerge the bright-eyed little girl.

Her school bag and water bottle

slung carelessly on her shoulders

bouncing along as she walked, unworriedly

behind, while you, her invincible hero,

ran your last run to stop the school bus.

When your hands were still smooth,

the wrinkles yet to come,

and your body could still bear the weight

of her lying on your stomach.

And you told the old stories, told and retold.
while she fell asleep there, peaceful, fearless.

When you were up, unblinking,
the whole night through as she lay in the bed,
burning with fever. Now and again you asked
“How’s my baby feeling? May be a little better?”
You kept your hand on her forehead
and though the virus took its time,
you’d make it easy to bear.

How I wish it was there, this tear in time.

I would enter and stitch it up,

and holding your hand, go back

to the cheery past, the place where you could run

once again, with strong and healthy knees;

Go back to being a little girl, your little girl,

to my eternal childhood, to your eternal youth.

(This poem is very special to me for two reasons. The first reason is that this poem is about my father who is my hero and also the best papa in the world. The second reason is that I performed this poem during my first ever poetry performance at A Night of Poetry @ The Northumberland Arms on 28th Feb 2011.)

Kidnapped

2011-06-01T00:52:00.005+05:30

2nd January 1996 – I was taken away on this day. Kidnapped, if you would like to use the word. I was only an hour old then. My mother had planned this long before I was born. If I turned out to be a boy, I would stay in the family, grow up with them, and one day help on the fields. One day I would bring in a wife and then help create a son to carry on the family name. However, if I turned out to be a girl, I could not stay. I had to leave. So my mother had arranged with the widow who lived at the end of the village to sneak me out and take me to the Mahila Kalyan Sanstha and then leave me there to find my destiny, to fight my own battles.

And as the fate would have it, I was born a girl.

My father did not want me. My grandparents did not want me. I was useless to them. And my mother knew this very well. She knew secrets that were thought to be buried so deep that no one could ever uncover them. She knew why so many baby girls were born dead in the village. She knew why after nine-months of pregnancy, often no cries of a hungry baby echoed from the expectant house.

My mother wanted me to live. I wanted to live.

When the widow came to take me away, she remarked how unusually deep my gaze was. I wanted to remember my mother’s face forever. I knew I would never see it again. In spite of her painful labour, my mother looked beautiful. Her red dupatta with green block prints are imprinted on my mind as are her dark eyes and a smooth brown complexion. She put a locket of Goddess Kali around my neck for strength and to ward off the evil eye.

I held on to my mother’s fingers for a little longer. I wanted to be hugged by her, to be fed by her, to be cuddled like baby boys are when they are born. But deep inside I was resigned. I let go of her fingers and tore my gaze away from her face as she wrapped me in a tattered blanket and handed me to the widow. I did not cry.

There was no time to waste. Soon my father and his brother would come for me. So the widow fled with me held gently against her breasts. I don’t know what happened to my mother after that. I don’t think my father would have bothered too much about the missing baby girl. It was better this way for him too.

I know I will survive. I stand a better chance out in the world than within the muddy confines of my home. I can feel the strength burning inside me with each tiny thud of my heart. I know I will go farther than anyone in my family has ever dared. And my father was right. Girls don’t carry on their father’s name. I won’t too. But, yes, I will always remember my mother. I will be her daughter. I can’t wait to start exploring the world. But I feel a little scared too. Because along with my mother’s courage, I also have a bit of my father’s cowardice flowing in my veins.

Note: This is a work of fiction and is not related to the person in the picture

My God!

2011-05-28T14:57:00.006+05:30

I was raised by a very flexible Hindu family. We didn't go to temples as often. We didn't fast every now and then. We never organized bhajans and kirtans at our place as is customary in many Punjabi families. I took off from there. My visits to temples are now restricted to the times when I really feel like going. I haven't fasted for the past 4 years.

So do I believe in any of the many Hindu Gods? To say that I believe that there is a Ganesh with the head of an elephant and the body of a human being who looks after all our new businesses will be a lie. I don't believe that when angered, Shiv performs a tandav to inflict a pralay on earth. And I don't believe that Vishnu sits on that huge lotus while his wife, Lakshmi massages his feet. But they are interesting characters, never-the-less.

Having said that, I do feel like a Hindu because Hinduism gives me freedom to believe in any power I can bring myself to accept. That makes it easier for me because while I can't acknowledge a human God, I can respect a supreme power. And one reason why I want to believe in a supreme power is because I like to think that there is some order in the universe and there is a reason behind everything. I want to trust that there is some meaning to this life and we are here for a purpose.

There is another reason why I want to believe in God. Because that gives me a right to believe in the spiritual cycle of life. It is very important for me to think that spirits exist and afterlife and rebirth do happen. It is comforting to know that the loved ones we have lost in this life are out there somewhere, living another life, perhaps happier now than they were earlier. It is a beautiful feeling and something that makes going on with one's life much easier.

Magnifying Glass

2011-05-24T17:59:00.000+05:30

Put down that magnifying glass because it will reveal a lot of flaws in her. That one white hair, the scars on her body, the limp in her walk, the stutter when she talks, the smudged make-up, the crow's feet around her eyes, the laugh lines around her mouth, and the patch on her dress.

But if you look at her without the magnifying glass, you will see that she may not be perfect but is no worse than everyone else around you. You may notice that her eye light up when she sees you and you may find out how proud she is of you. You will understand why she is the way she is. And once you have done that then you may realize how much she loves you and how much joy she brings to your life.

So put down your magnifying glass and look at her without it.

Because she kept her magnifying glass down a long time back...

Doodles

2011-05-20T15:00:00.000+05:30

I doodle during classes. So if you happen to be my professor and have noticed me scribbling incessantly on my notebook while you talk, I am not taking notes. I am doodling. But please don't be offended as doodling helps me concentrate on what you are saying.

Anyways, here are some of my doodles. Dancing ants!

More to come - Scottish ants and a horse with a bow.

From the Editor – See What a Comma Does to a Species!

2011-05-15T17:24:00.004+05:30

When you are an Editor of a website that has passionate authors contributing to it, your life is quite easy. But not everyone is as lucky as me and that is why there is a need to stress upon the need to run a spell-check and an grammar check on whatever you post online so that you don't end up becoming a Chatur or turning a harmless panda into a killer.

To find out why the old-school concepts of spelling checks and grammar checks still hold good today, read the Ghumakkar Editorial for May 2011.

From the Editor – See What a Comma Does to a Species!

Ink

2011-05-14T18:53:00.001+05:30

Never before have I seen such an assortment of talent in such an informal setting. Yes the Ink Festival in May 2011 was my first experience of this kind. I have performed poetry before but Ink Festival was unlike anything I had ever expected. It took place across four nights. Following was the schedule:

May 5th - Comedy Night
May 6th - Scratch Night
May 7th - Scratch Night
May 8th - Music Night

Of these, I had the priviledge of attending the first 3 nights. Couldn't go for the fourth because I was too exhausted. I cannot even imagine the amount of stress the organisers would have gone through to organise this festival. I met two of them, Becci and Rachel, and I am sure there are many others behind the scene who made this excellent show possible.

I was all excited to attend the comedy night for two main reasons:

1) This was the first one that I would be attending
2) I was getting a 50% discount owing to the fact that I was to perform on the scratch nights

So even though the venue was far-off at The Corner House in Heaton, I hired a taxi right after my evening class and headed there. In my enthusiasm to get the most from the night, I chose the front-most seat, a decision I was to considerably regret and enjoy later because I was picked on by every single performer that night. I was propositioned, pretend-licked, scared out of my wits by the ugliest doll I have ever seen, all in one single night. All performers were amazing though there was a prevalance of toilet humour in some performances which I didn't really enjoy as much. The host was the brilliant Graham Oakes who was the star of the night along with the guy who was asked to extend his act at the last moment from 5 minutes to half-an-hour and did it brilliantly.

The Scratch Nights were held in a Cafe, known as The Blake's Cafe right in the middle of the town which wasn't such a good idea considering that it was a weekend and there was a game on at St. James Park and Newcastle United was playing in it! The compere for the first scratch night was Liam Frost and all performers were brilliant. My personal favorites were Shakirah Bourne's Rock-a-bye (the actor who performed this was brilliant) and Jonny Bussell's Nod of War (Absolutely Hilarious). I also liked the actor who played the Redundant God and the Intrusive fellow traveller in another play. The first night was unexpectedly quiet outside the Cafe. The only noise being that of the performers, compere, and generous applauses. I performed my poem "Drifting with the Tyne" and I think I did alright. Moreover, I had my friends in the audience and that mattered a lot. Here is a video that one of them recorded of me performing.

The second scratch night was so much more inappropriate and hence a lot more fun. All performances from the first scratch night were to be repeated and the event was to be hosted by Graham Oakes, the guy who hosted the comedy night. The town was unexpectedly loud that day because Newcastle United had won a game. We had a lot of window thumping, shouts of "You suck!", and naked-ass-rubbing on the glass doors of the Cafe that night, all from drunk people outside. Some of the actors even reacted to these insults by incorporating the responses into their acts much to the delight of the audience. It was much more fun because the actors could barely stop laughing during their own acts. We could see them trying to suppress the grins and even full-fledged laughters while they were performing. But it was awesome and added to the fun. My own performance was better than the first scratch night. Unfortunately, I did not have any friends in the audience that night to record my performance. But I was delighted that I got an opportunity to perform in front of such a supportive audience.

Overall, the festival has encouraged me to send my creative writing to other festivals and publications. If my poem could get selected amongst such brilliant writing, I feel that my skills as a poet have been validated. On to other goals now.

Thanks Ink Festival Organisers. I wish I am here to perform again the next time you organize the festival.

Cheers.

Meet the Author - Aditya Khandelwal

2011-05-02T03:51:00.000+05:30

On my visit to India during the Easter break, we thought that it would be good to meet some of the authors at Ghumakkar. One of the authors I met was Aditya Khandelwal. Aditya published his first post on December 25, 2010 and since then has gone on to publish a total of 14 posts, each unique and inspiring.

Nandan arranged a meeting at 1:00 PM at Costa Coffee and Aditya generously agreed to take time out of his lunch hour for the meeting. Though I have interacted with many authors at Ghumakkar, this was the first time I was going to meet one in person and I was really looking forward to it. However, my outdated estimates did not work too well especially because I missed a key turn and, therefore, When I arrived, Aditya was already waiting. I had no trouble recognizing him from his profile picture. After apologising for my lack of punctuality we started our discussion over coffee.

The purpose of the meeting was not only to talk to Aditya but also to get first hand feedback about the Ghumakkar experience and Aditya had quite a few valuable inputs to give on this front. I asked him questions about his backgroud, his experience at ghumakkar, his travel interests and his inputs about various activities we do regularly at Ghumakkar and he answered all of them very patiently. During the course of our discussion I learnt that he hails from Patiala, Punjab and completed his Engineering in 2009. Since then he has been working in Noida and has started travelling extensively. And just like his straight-forward, right-from-the-heart posts, Aditya is soft-spoken and unpretentious.

Here are some excerpts from the interview:

******

Me: How did you chance upon Ghumakkar?

Aditya: While planning one of my trips I was searching google and chanced upon Ghumakkar. The information was very helpful and I thought that I could also document my travel experiences at Ghumakkar and help some traveller in need like I was. And that is how I started writing at Ghumakkar.
Me: Apart from Ghumakkar, are there any other sites that you refer?

Aditya: I haven't found any other site like Ghumakkar. It is really unique because all of the experiences documented here are personal travel experiences. Otherwise, I do read the stories at Outlook Traveller too at times.

Me: You must be receiving the monthly newsletters. Do you find them useful? And what else would you like to see there?

Aditya: Yes, I do receive the newsletters periodically and I find them useful. Apart from what you already cover in the newsletters, it will be great if you can provide information about some offbeat places or some interesting facts about tourist destinations.
******

From discussing travel we went on to discussing the traffic and electricity problems in Noida and soon realized that our scheduled half-an-hour was long over and the meeting had almost consumed his entire lunch hour.

So after an information-packed, fruitful discussion, I bade farewell to Aditya and walked back to my car thinking about this interview. It is interesting how much we can learn in less than an hour. The discussion with Aditya not only gave me a glimpse into his personality but also a tiny peep into the Ghumakkar community. However different we may be as persons, there is one thing that holds us together and that is obviously our passions to travel. And that was perhaps what prompted Aditya to miss his lunch hour and me to drive across Delhi to get to Noida for the meeting. Deep inside, after all, we are both Ghumakkars.

From the Editor - Rare and Elusive and Right Under Our Noses

2011-04-15T10:59:00.000+05:30

They are rare and they are elusive. In fact, they are so difficult to spot that at times their existence is shrugged off as another unsolved mystery in the same league as the Little Green Men from Mars and the Loch Ness Monster. However, for us at Ghumakkar, they are a reality since we can proudly boast that we have them amongst us. Yes, we are talking about that rising and rapidly multiplying breed of travellers – The Indian Women Backpackers. If you have been reading Ghumakkar regularly, you could not have missed Nisha Jha’s recap of her travels in her story. And those of you who have been around long enough would have immediately thought of our original backpacker, Lakshmi Sharath, whose Ghumakkar ID ‘backpakker’ says it all. Indians are social people and when someone talks about travelling alone, the first question that comes up is “Why? Won’t you get bored?” And if you are a woman, you have to fight through additional layers of approvals and disapprovals. You need to have a certain ‘dabang’ streak to be able to rise through these social barricades and to fulfil your dreams. A woman travelling alone is not such a rare sight in the Western world. Neither is a western woman travelling alone in India such a rare sight. But when an Indian Woman travels alone with no fixed agenda in India, it is a sight that few are ready to accept without questioning. In an effort to find out about what motivates these travellers, I asked both Nisha and Lakshmi about how and where they embarked on their first journeys alone. For Nisha, her “first ever trip alone was for appearing for some competitive exam in another city in India.” Since then apart from travelling in India, Nisha has been to 21 countries and “each of them holds some special memories”. The challenges that travelling alone throws at her every day keep her motivated and each solo trip adds to her confidence. Lakshmi has been travelling for so many years and to so many places that she cannot exactly recall how it started for her. She says “have travelled alone as a student or as a professional and I guess I started just that way”. For her, travelling is a way of life and in her own words, she is “sort of addicted to it”. Travelling solo means that they can choose their own activities, places, mode of transportation and hotels.

For women backpackers the strife usually begins at home. We are not used to seeing our daughters travel alone. Until recently, parents were wary of letting their girls go out in groups and, even today, this continues to be the point of contention in many families. It is no surprise then that travelling solo is unthinkable for most of us. The concern is usually security with crimes against women rising every day. However, there is also the metaphorical magnifying glass through which the conduct of a woman is inspected in our society and, as a result, propriety is another concern. Due to various social reasons, independent women are still looked at with a lot of suspicion and families want to fiercely protect their girls against any mishap or questionable reputation. This is perhaps the toughest barrier to break for a woman backpacker in India. Nisha who is a seasoned traveller now says “later it became habit though parents were always concerned as any parent of a girl would have been”. Things invariably get tougher after marriage because then you have two sets of worrying parents to convince. As in case of Nisha whose first solo trip after marriage to the USA “was vehemently opposed by both sets of parents since it was for around a year and leaving your newly wedded husband behind was something they could not come to terms with.” It requires a great deal of conviction and self-assurance to break through this barrier of concern without hurting people close to you. And, of course, a supporting spouse helps a great deal. You, however, have to be fairly thick-skinned to not let yourself get effected by the distant relatives who think that they have a say in how you should lead your life. And then there is the other side of the coin too where families are more worried about a particular destination “but not the concept of travelling” as in case of Lakshmi.
Click here to read the whole article at Ghumakkar.

India Against Corruption - The battle is won but the war goes on...

2011-04-11T01:05:00.000+05:30

Too many minor victories often result in no final outcome whatsoever. Such dates are often lost in history. Now that Anna Hazare has won the first battle against corruption through his almost 5-day long fast, it is our responsibility to ensure that the date 9th April 2011 goes down in the history as the day when the first battle in the war against corruption was won. What has happened in just the beginning and once the excitement of the victory dies let us keep the fire burning. The rest of the road is all uphill. We have to keep a watch that the government fulfils all that it has promised within the timeframe that Anna has set without any excuses. The responsibility rests on our shoulders. Youth has to carry the movement on. My friends who visited India Gate during the protest were impressed by how calm the entire place was in spite of the huge crowd. Anna Hazare has set an example. Let us follow it with honest hearts.

Once the Jan Lokpal is formed, we should be ready to deal with it with patience. Any new system should be flexible and it will be a grave mistake to be fiercely protective of Jan Lokpal instead of nurturing it like a child. Half of us live in denial, the rest of us give up too soon. Let us take a middle path this time and get better with experience. However well thought out a solution is, it is impossible for it to be perfect at its inception. So will be the case with Jan Lokpal. Let us not expect it to work in all cases. But let us learn from all its failures and successes. The body will work best when it is not a snob and that will happen only when people who work for it and as a part of it are not snobs and are open to criticism and suggestions. A system that adapts itself is often misunderstood to be weak whereas it is perhaps the strongest and will withstand the test of all forces that work against it.

And it is obviously not enough to get a bill passed and a Jan Lokpal formed, it is also important for all of us who have stood behind Anna Hazare in his fight against corruption to pledge to stand against corruption in all forms. Let us not encourage it at any level. The Jan Lokpal deals with corruption from the top. Let us start from the bottom and meet halfway. So the next time you have to choose between paying a fine for a traffic violation and bribing the traffic policeman, choose the former. If out of those who are now dancing in glee at the victory of the ‘India Against Corruption’ movement even a few still bribe or accept bribes, the entire struggle will lose its meaning and we will be no better than the politicians we hope to bring on the right track through the Jan Lokpal.

The battle has been won but the war goes on...

Deep Within

2011-04-10T22:58:00.005+05:30

I laugh
I cry
I accept
I lie

I am a funny heart
That suffers wrongs
That keeps peace
That breaks into songs

I love
I hate
I envy
I care

But deep within
Where solitude stays
I feel no fear
I weep for days...

Beyond, a photo by Vibha Malhotra on Flickr.

My Little Angel

2011-04-06T23:40:00.001+05:30

Nishu and Me

I am here in India for a short visit during my vacations. I was expecting my 4-year old nephew, Nishu, to have distanced himself from me over the past six months but exactly the opposite has happened. It has forever changed my opinion about children. I used to believe that children live only in today and get attached and detached very easily. But here is my little angel breaking my heart with his little gestures because I know that I will have to leave him again and go back. Here are some of the things he has done in the past couple of days to make me unbelievably happy and sad at the same time:

1) He pouted yesterday and asked why I need to go back to the UK. Then he told me straightaway not to go back. I felt immensely sad because I know that I have to. At least for the next 6 months.

2) He kissed my hand without me asking for it.

3) Everyday I try to make him take an afternoon nap by reading stories to him. I doze off while he stays awake. He lies there quietly in my arms without making a sound. And today when my mom came in while I was sleeping but he was awake, he silently gestured her to come into the room. He is not a quiet child by any means. And the care he takes not to wake me up simply amazes me.

4) Today his driver who picks him from the school along with my mother did not come for work so I picked him up instead. And in the evening, Nishu told his mom "I wish Deepak uncle does not come again tomorrow. Then maasi will come and pick me from school. We cannot do it the day after because maasi has to go to Adobe."

All these incidents and many more make me never want to go back to the UK. But some things have got to be done. Nothing has more potential of making you feel guilty about the choices you make in your life than the unselfish love of a child.

10 Tips for Writing a Good Travel Post

2011-03-31T13:57:00.001+05:30

Many of us have read travelogues by Bill Bryson ('Down Under' about Australia is my personal favorite) and William Dalrymple ('The City of Djinns' about Delhi has won a million Indian hearts). No doubt these are extremely well written and very well-researched travelogues. I love Bill Bryson's wit as much as I appreciate William Dalrymple's depth. But this article is not about them. This blog post is about those short travel posts that appear on various blogs adding to a wealth of authentic information available about travel destinations worldwide.

I have come to trust these blog posts more than I trust travel agents, 'Places to see' posts on tourism websites, and, I am sorry to say, even the painstakingly compiled travel guides published by reputable travel companies. How many times have you visited a place at a popular tourist destination and been completely disappointed by it? Or you have missed going to a beautiful, 'must visit' place because the travel guide did not mention it or your hotel-wallah said "Wahan kuch nahin hai dekhne ke liye." I have been through this many times.

One reason why I find individual travelogues more reliable is that the short travelogues published by actual travellers are their own experiences of the place. And most of the times, these blog writers do not have anything to gain from writing the blog except sharing their experiences. And the other reason is that someone who travels and then puts a considerable effort in writing about their travel experience is often passionate about travelling and after reading their posts, if you have any questions, these blog writers are most of the times happy to answer them. They are reachable and approachable and, hence, more helpful.

But what makes a good travel blog writer (term used to differentiate from the likes of Bryson and Dalrymple) and what makes a good travel post. Following are some tips that may prove helpful if you are already writing travel blogs or are planning to write them.

Tip 1: Strike the right balance between talking about the place and talking about yourself.

While it is not a sin to talk about yourself in a travel post, you need to strike the right balance. Too much can distract the user from the place that you are talking about and too little can make it sound like the emails we receive from tour operators. In most cases, your reflection about the place you have visited will tell the reader a lot about you. And also a description like "As the bus plied on the risky mountain roads with breathtaking view of the river on the left side, I felt quite motion sick and had to request the bus driver to stop the bus for some time. I was already regretting the heavy breakfast of aalu-parathas with Dahi." can serve two purposes. It tells the reader to be vary of heavy breakfast en route. And has a considerable bit of your personality in it.

Tip 2: Support Your Story with Photographs with suitable captions

Photographs serve three purposes. They provide a perspective to readers so that they can see through their own eyes the place that you are trying to describe and form an independent opinion of it. If your photographs have suitable captions, you create the image of a place in the readers' minds. Readers are more likely to visit a place if they have seen the photographs of the place. The second purpose is that photographs give credibility to your post and you as a travel writer. Readers are more likely to trust you if you have something to show for your trip. They need proof. It is human nature. And good photographs add visual appeal to your post. While browsing through websites, users are more likely to pause on the ones that have good pictures.

Tip 3: Refer to Your Notes

For this, the first step is to take notes. Believe it or not, human mind is trained to sieve information as time passes. So if you depend upon mental notes, there are good chances that you will miss some important detail or the other. The notes will also prove to be of help to you later if you plan to visit the same place again. And notes also serve as a proof. You can even scan or take picture of your notes and post as an image in your post. Something about paper with striped lines and words written in author's own handwriting, however bad it is, gives your writing a personal touch. Your readers will love it and will be more likely to view your post again and will watch out for new posts by you.

Tip 4: Do your research both before and after you come back from a trip

I will not go so much into why it is important to do research about a place before you plan your trip as that is self-evident. It is the same reason for which your reader is reading your blog. One thing that we usually do not do is to research about a place once we are back from the trip. It is not humanly possible to remember all names that you have heard when you visited a place (unless you have been taking notes!). And in every trip, something about some place would have struck you a unique. For example, a particular type of tree you saw or some particular cuisine of the place would make good candidates for a research. Find out as much information as you can them and write the interesting bits in your post. Your reader will thank you for this. As you will not only be informing the reader about a place, you will also be helping in increasing their general knowledge.

Tip 5: Describe the place as you saw it, not how you want the reader to see it

Readers read your blog to make their mind up about a place, whether it is worth visiting or not. So it is important that you tell them what you thought of the place. Call a spade a spade and the reader will be grateful to you. The travel blog has all the right to be opinionated so give it to them. At the same time, tell them clearly what you did not like about the place so that they can make up their own minds about it. For example, if you are a party animal and do not like serene, unexplored places, make sure that you mention that this was the reason you did not like the place. If possible, describe the place in clear words or even better, post a picture of it. Your readers are then free to take their own decisions.

Tip 6: Add stats

Data such as Money spent on the travel, distance from the nearest bus station, weather, best time to visit, average temperature, ticket prices, equipment allowed etc. can make and break decisions. Therefore if you are adding stats, make sure that you get them as correct as possible. And hence, you may need to go back to your old friend ‘research’.

Tip 7: Split the post if it is too long

From the speed with which we flip TV channels, there remains no doubt that humans have a very short attention span. So if your post is too long and the readers needs to scroll down more than twice, chances are that that they will not read your whole post. So if your post is too long and can easily, without making it look unnatural, be divided into two or more posts, go ahead and do it. It also helps to give readers an idea about what the next part is going to deal with to keep them interested. And don’t forget to link the posts to one another because if it takes some time for readers to locate the next part, chances are, they wont make the effort.

Tip 8: Use Audio and Video Files

If you think that photographs and written words cannot do justice to some experience, feel free to upload audio or video files. For example, if you are in a park and some birds hidden in the trees are singing beautifully, pull out your mobile phone and record the sound. Another situation can be the sound of a waterfall. And imagine if you are in the hills and clouds are rapidly covering the hill across the river, go ahead and take a video. And add them to your blog post. No picture or words can ever explain such experiences. At the same time, don’t go overboard. Only use this media if something is spectacular and the quality of your recording is good. Otherwise, it’ll be a massive waste of your readers’ time and they may lose interest in your blog.

Tip 9: Provide helpful contacts and sources if available

If you know a reasonable and reliable hotel or if you know a taxi company that gave you the best service or even if you feel that there was a blog post by another writer who had inspired you, do mention them and share their contact details, it they are OK with it. This will help two people, those who ensured that you have a good time during your vacation, those who will make their plans depending on your blog.

Tip 10: Run Spell Check and Grammar Check

Always run spelling and grammar check on your post before publishing it. Read it out to yourself. While readers are more than happy to ignore a few, small mistakes, too many of these will make your blog look non-serious, which you don’t want. Even if your blog is written in the most breezy, humorous tone, you would like to be taken seriously. So do pay attention to this old-school concept.

You can make you travel post shine by using some of these suggestions. And at the end if you feel that all this is too overwhelming for you, just chuck it all aside and write. That is the first step towards writing your travel blog. Rest is all secondary. Hope this will help all you enthusiastic Ghumakkars out there who are getting ready to don their writer's hats. Feel free to post your stories to http://www.ghumakkar.com/ for an instant feedback from the enthusiastic and encouraging readers.

Places to see before I die

2011-03-19T20:12:00.000+05:30

Inspired by Kelsey Malia Chapp's post, I decided to put down the list of places I have to see in my lifetime. I have been talking about these pretty much all the time but probably writing them down will make the dream more substantial. So here goes:

1) New Zealand

I know it is beautiful and I know that you not only have to see it but also experience it. So I would like to spend a year of my life there walking, trekking, hiking and just breathing in the New Zealand air. Perhaps soon. Keeping my fingers crossed. :)

2) Iceland

Another place I would love to go once. A short vacations (2 weeks) would perhaps do. There are two reasons I want to go to Iceland. The most important one is the Northern Lights (Aurora Borealis). Watch this video to see the amazing natural phenomenon:

and the other reason is this article by Vir Sanghvi.

3) The Grand Canyon, US

And when I get there, I want to walk on this skywalk:

4) Alaska, US

Need I say more? I looked at the world map the other day and was shocked to find that Alaska is almost a swimmable distance away from Russia. Wow and I used to think that if Russia and US bomb each other, the missiles will need to fly over Europe. I still find is tough to accept that the world is not flat. Guess they should use globes more often than maps in schools.

Anyways, back to the place. It was featured in the movie "The Proposal" which I watched recently so my fascination with Alaska is fairly new.

5) North-East India (Particularly Shillong in Meghalaya)

I have heard about this from so many friends that I am dying to go there. Being in India, this should perhaps be the easiest to do.

I am glad I have put this down. It'll help me stay focussed :)

An Extraordinary Prequel - A review of David Almond's 'My name is Mina'

2011-03-01T16:27:00.000+05:30

When requested by his publisher to write a sequel to his award-winning book Skellig, David Almond chose to write a prequel instead. And what a prequel it has turned out to be. The book is beautifully fresh, both in appearance and content. Almond uses it as a device to challenge basic beliefs about almost everything in a playful, light-hearted way. The book is unusual. The peculiarity starts right from the beautiful cover, which is gold and white with some words from the beginning of the book embossed on it. It continues inside where a variety of fonts and layouts are used without any inhibition. And it does not stop here. This is a book in which “nothing barmy happens at all”. In the name of plot, there are only a couple of mild twists, the first on the day of SATS and the other towards the end when Mina, the lead character, goes up to say hello to the boy whose family has just moved into Mr. Myers house. This sets a very nice tone for Skellig.

The best way to describe Mina is to use the same word that she uses to describe various things that fascinate her – “extraordinary”. Mina is an intelligent, clever, and witty girl who has an extremely believable voice for her age but a maturity far beyond her years. This practically makes her a “misfit”. She has a warm, inquisitive and open-minded approach towards everything. World is beautiful from her point of view. Even in this, the book is unusual in being remarkably clear of clichés. Mina finds beauty not in butterflies, flowers, clouds, and rainbows but in night, bats, blackbirds, owls, owl pellets, eggs, and black cats. Her affinity towards the so-called dark side of the world and her reflections about the possible tediousness of heaven tugs at readers’ prejudices without making them feel resentful.

Mina is “strange” and through this strangeness Almond takes a jab at the stencilled approach towards schooling. “I was told by my teacher that I should not write anything until I had planned what I would write. What nonsense! Do I plan a sentence before I speak it? Of course I do not! Does a bird plan its song before it sings? Of course it does not!” Similarly he questions the usefulness of SATS – “And did William Blake do writing tasks just because somebody else told him to? What level would he have got anyway?” One can very well imagine Almond chuckling while writing this clever book, which seems more like an experiment that went well.

A creature of the night, Mina dwells in the nature among trees, blackbirds and owls. She comfortably dabbles in the spiritual beliefs of Plato, Hinduism and Buddhism. Her effortless wondering about complicated concepts such as metempsychosis and her exploration of the underworld in search for her deceased father bring to light the main theme of the book, her coping with her father’s death. The book deliberately stays clear of mundane details about the death and focuses, instead, on her subtle longing for her father. Nothing exemplifies it more beautifully than her remarks at Mr. Myers’ daughter’s callousness. “You had him until he was old! You had your dad till he was old and you didn’t care!”

Mina and her mother share a friendly, affectionate relationship. They understand each other’s strangeness and deal with it lovingly and empathetically, whether it is about Mina ruining her SATS or her mother dating a man. And towards the end of the book, holding hands and talking about walking and drawing and Wordsworth and meditation, they accept their loss and its irrevocability. “I do shed a tear. I do know that wherever he is or whatever he is now, there’s no way for him to come back again. There’s no underworld to go to. There’s no Pluto to go to.”

And, by the time you reach the end of the book, as Mina embarks on a new friendship, you fall hopelessly in love with this strange book and this strange girl and hope that they never go through the “destrangification operation” ever. Extraordinary!

Please Forgive Me

2011-02-01T21:09:00.005+05:30

If you were ever lonely

And I wasn't there for you,

Please forgive me.

If you ever wanted to cry

And I didn't offer my shoulder,

Please forgive me.

If you were ever afraid of dark
And I didn't turn on the lights,
Please forgive me.

If you wanted to fly high

And I didn't let go,

Please forgive me.

If you wanted to dance

And I switched the music off,

Please forgive me.

If you wanted to be punished

And I was too kind,

Please forgive me.

If you wanted me to be happy

And I only smiled weakly,
Please forgive me.

If you wanted me to move on
And I would rather cling,
Please forgive me.

Now I have moved on
And life ahead looks bright.
Go on! Walk your separate way,
Till we meet again...

In the crowded streets

2011-01-11T06:37:00.001+05:30

We were roaming together hand-in-hand in the busy streets of karol Bagh. It was what you always did. You never let go of my hand when we were together. It was a sunny day in winters and the place was over-crowded as ever. After finishing the shopping, we had a quick lunch at a roadside restaurant and we started walking towards the auto stand.

All of a sudden the street seemed to become even more crowded. Everyone was franctically moving towards a bus that had just stopped ten meters before the bus stand. I felt the grip of your hand loosening and suddenly we were no longer holding hands. I couldn't see where you had gone. I panicked. And started looking for you everywhere. I am sure you were also looking for me. As suddenly as it had appeared, the crowd thinned and both of us saw each other at the same moment.

You ran to me and took my hand in your hand again--the grip firmer than it was before. You looked into my eyes and said "Sorry." I relaxed and knew you meant it. The look in your eyes told me that you will never let me get lost in the crowd again.

Storms, Screams, and Secret Notes from a Ghost

2011-01-03T16:27:00.001+05:30

Our house seems to be haunted by some very hi-tech Ghosts. Yesterday, we had to reboot our Internet router because we could not connect to the internet. And we also had to reboot our systems. Since then whenever I reboot my system, I hear sounds of high winds blowing and a woman screaming over and over again. Also, when I leave my system idle for some time, a notepad opens up and a message starts typing all by itself. Here is the first message that I received:

"Hello Vibha Malhotra,
Please don't tell to anyone that I am talking to you.
Please, I need your help. I am feeling very lonely in this house.
I am Sally, and I am living in this house since 73 years. All alone.
Like you, I also like this skylight a lot.
Please keep the skylight always open. So that I can come in my room any time I want.
Thank You.

I will talk to you later.
Bye."

Unfortunately for the ghost though, I know how wav files can be put in your startup programs to make them play automatically when you reboot your system and I am also aware of how processes can be set up to start when a system has been idle for some time. So I have now removed the two wav files "high_wind.wav" and "woman_scream.wav" from the startup program. I also noticed a "vibha.exe" in there which I think opens notepad and starts typing messages on it. But I let it be there for some time just for fun and to find out what else the 'Ghost' has in store for me.

This is the result of the reputation I have earned as the one who is most easily scared in our house. And I know exactly who the "Ghosts" are. They are expecting me to show some reaction now. I keep on pinging them on chat saying things like "Something weird is happening". They reply, obviously excited, "Weird? What?" and I follow up with something as mundane as PDFs not being delivered on my kindle etc. In my head, I can see the graphs of their excitement go up and down with it. Heh heh...

I am sure that I am suspecting the right people because yesterday right before we had to restart our internet, one of them came to my room and on the pretext of trying a program that doesn't run on his laptop, fiddled with my laptop for some time. And right after that we had to reboot our laptops in order to be able to connect to the net. Even while that was happening, I was able to connect to the net without restarting my system (owing to my IT background of 11 years). So they again fiddled with the net settings and made sure that I had rebooted my laptop before they set them right. The success of their plans obviously depended upon my rebooting my laptop.

I am duly impressed by the elaborate preparations and the execution. But they sadly underestimated my IT skills. heh heh...I will play on for some more time before laughing out loud in their faces...

Things I love to see

2010-12-26T00:59:00.000+05:30

A couple in love dancing together
People offering to let old people go first in the queue
A baby flashing an instant smile at me
Decorated Christmas trees
People carrying shopping bags, talking to each other, and laughing
Emails from friends that are more like letters
Facebook updates
British people gathering in large numbers to enjoy Community Diwali fireworks
Dark,winding passages in old forts
Wild streams flowing in dense forests

Kissing a Frog

2010-12-01T20:03:00.001+05:30

Based on the fairy tale "Princess and the Frog" in which a princess kisses a frog that turns into a handsome prince upon being kissed. As always, they live happily ever after. Click here if you want to read the whole story. "Kissing a Frog" is my take on the fairy tale.

Kissing a Frog

It was the most beautiful night possible. High up in the sky, a full moon shone brightly and around it twinkled countless little stars. Fireflies fluttered from shrub to shrub and the moonlight reflected off delicate drops of dew. The whole landscape was bathed in a silver light. There was hardly any noise except harmonious sounds of little creatures of the night.

Things were as serene as they could be and the air was cool. Tired birds had just started to fall asleep in their little nests when they were cruelly shaken out of their stupour by the sudden, crashing noise of Princess Greta emerging out of the shrubs.

“I will catch him tonight,” she exclaimed loudly to the wilderness thereby eliminating any chances of taking her intended victim by surprise. Elegance wasn’t her cup of tea. She believed in action. The clumsier the better. Fortunately for her, her victim was rather deaf. With her vision limited by the darkness, she depended upon her keen sense of hearing to move ahead towards the lake, where, upon a dry lotus leaf, sat the shiniest and the smoothest green frog one could ever have imagined.

Freddy the Frog reflected upon his life as he sat on his favorite leaf near the lake. Having had a good dinner, he let out a satisfied croak every few seconds. To Greta, this was the most attractive sound. She had been fascinated by this frog for a really long time now.

Her father, the powerful King of Dimsland, had been apalled by his daughter’s choice when he had first heard about it from the queen.
“Have you gone crazy, Greta?” he had asked.

“Papa, I love Freddy,” Greta had insisted.

“For God’s sake girl, he is a stupid frog,” the King had replied gesturing wildly at his daughter.

Turning a deaf ear, Greta had argued, “Frog or no frog, Papa. Love is blind.”

“I wouldn’t have worried so much if it was only blind, but in your case it seems to be crazy as well. I will not have a frog for my son-in-law ever.”

“Oh, you will have this frog for your son-in-law, papa. I will see to it,” Greta had replied, stubbornly.

“Princess, think about it. What would you talk to him about? And when time comes for both of the you to ascend the throne, what will he say to my subjects? CROAK? No I will not have it at any cost.”

“Papa, my love will change him. Don’t worry. Only if you could see him through my eyes, you would realize what I am talking about,” Greta had replied poetically.

“Why? What do you see in him?”

“His skin is so smooth that it shines in the moonlight and when he speaks, its like music.”

“Greta, he doesn’t speak for God’s sake. He croaks! And he eats flies!”

“Papa, I know I can change him. You will see that my love will transform him.”

The King had let the craziness be for a while. Greta was a passionate girl but he hoped that the frog would be more sensible. He was sure Greta would also get over this crush pretty soon. Girls her age were known to be driven by their hearts. Little did he know that she planned to go and get that frog the very next day.

So here was Greta, bravely fighting the darkness and pushing aside shrub after shrub to get to the lake where Freddy sat oblivious of the fate that awaited him. The noises that Greta made drove rabbits out of the bushes and birds out of the trees. But they failed to stir the deaf frog. So he sat there lost in his own world until Greta was almost upon him.

When he saw a great shadow loom upon him, he turned to face whatever it was that was blocking the moonlight. But it was too late. With one swooping motion of her arm, Greta grabbed Freddy in her hand and lifted him up in the air. She brought him close to her face. He looked at her and she looked at him. Both looked into each others’ eyes for what seemed like eternity. Then Greta leaned and kissed the frog and again looked at him carefully.

“Ah, I think I can see little ears sprouting from your head,” she said.

She put Freddy inside her handbag where he sat wide-eyed, shocked, and perplexed but still very much a frog and with no intentions of ever being anything but a frog.

PS: Please forgive the bad drawings...I was so scared of accidently using copyright images that I decided to draw a few myself.

Shopper Stop Woes

2010-11-13T22:48:00.000+05:30

I had planned a nice surprize for my sister and brother-in-law for their anniversary that is on the 23rd of November. It was a big mistake using Shopper's Stop for it though. I had placed an order for Shopper's Stop gift vouchers to be couriered to them and because Shopper's Stop's stupid website does not allow me to specify a date when the gift should be delivered, I left a standing instruction for them to ship it a couple of days before the 23rd. They responded graciously that they would do the needful.

However, they went ahead and did excatly the opposite. They shipped the order right away and, as a result, my sister and jeeju have received the vouchers full 10 days before their anniversary with a personalized message from me that sounds pretty foolish because of the fact that it was delivered earlier than it was supposed to be delivered.

I have just sent a scathing email to Shopper's Stop and have vowed never to use their service ever again.

Spoil Sports!!

Travellers

2010-11-12T06:50:00.000+05:30

The bag full of stones
gets heavier by the minute.
Should I keep it down?
I wonder. Is there time?

For A little rest? A little nap?
Or for even a short wink?
No, I wave these lazy thoughts,
away. Far Away!

Treading the rugged path,
I must keep going, I must move on.
This is the way it works,
The force that pushes the earth.

"But my feet hurt!",
a small voice, petulant, weary,
makes itself heard
from deep inside my tired heart.

"Let them hurt, let them bleed",
And I Pull out the thorn
that has broken the skin
"Does it hurt now?" The blood dries.

Won't a little bit of sun,
shine down upon my brow,
and break the shiny little beads,
strung by dancing drops of rain?

No matter if it does not,
It will always be this way.
Just like yesterday, just like today,
just like tomorrow.

I can never stop,
and neither can you!
for we are together in this.
Eternal travellers!

Life before Death - A Review of Jenny Downham’s “Before I Die” by Vibha Malhotra

2010-11-09T00:36:00.004+05:30

We always assume that we are going to be around for years. And as every step takes us closer to our own respective deaths, we philosophically ponder about what awaits us after death. In the process, we often forget about the present. Jenny Downham’s first novel, Before I Die, successfully shocks us out of this pointless reflection and brings the focus back to life before death rather than after it.

Though the book is targeted at young adults, it lingers on in the readers’ thoughts once they have read it, irrespective of their age. The book does not advocate stoicism, it does not set rules, instead through the eyes of terminally-ill, 16-year old Tessa Scott, it sets out to reflect on Tessa’s and her family’s constant struggle to hold on to the time that is slipping away.

Tessa Scott, the novel’s central character is perceptive and analytical, wise beyond her years. This is most evident when she reflects upon her father’s unique position and surmises that “his shambling protectiveness towards me might be attractive to women. It makes them want to save him. From me. From all this suffering.” Elsewhere, when she wonders how she can feel older than her own mother.

She knows she is destined to die in a few months and has a list of things that she wants to do before it is too late. While some of the things on her list are fairly straightforward like wanting to have sex and take drugs, some of them are more difficult to come by, such as her parents getting back together. In her own words: “I don’t want to die like this, not before I’ve even lived properly.” And live she does. Her list keeps her going. The reader shares her elation over her small achievements as she crosses out things on her list one-by-one. Miracles happen in her life. Things she could not have dared to wish for come true. She falls in love with a boy who reciprocates her feelings. But her fate does not change and, in spite of the reader’s constant hopes that she will somehow get better, she does not.

Despite her unquestioning acceptance of her fate, Tessa obviously lusts for life with her constant pondering about the ways through which she could indefinitely postpone death.

“I know I won’t die with a Strawberry Mivvi in my hand.”

‘You never know, maybe I won’t die if I’m at home.’

And even in her last moments, ‘I won’t die if I’m thinking of Adam’s hot breath between my legs.’

The novel’s true strength lies in its empathetic handling of emotions that Tessa, her family, her friends, and, later, her boyfriend go through during the course of her long drawn illness. Her father’s constant devotion, his denial of Tessa’s imminent death, and the role reversal between Tessa and him towards the end of the novel touches the reader as much as her mother’s fear of responsibility. And only through the non-judgemental voice of Tessa and possibly the author herself, the reader is able to look beyond the conflicting emotions of Tessa’s younger brother and recognize his constant suffering when he, at one time, tells Tessa that he is going to miss her and, at another time, asks his parents “When Tessa dies, can we go on holiday?”.

Also remarkable is the way the narrative successfully avoids defeatism to which a topic such as this is very susceptible and, at the same time, steers clear of unrealistic forbearance as well. Walking on such a narrow line is a difficult task that the author accomplishes albeit a little self-consciously.

Tessa’s short life constantly reminds us of our own mortality and subtly urges us to prepare a list of our own because even though we may have many more years to live than Tessa, there is simply no time waste.

Game

2010-10-20T01:28:00.002+05:30

It was a game they used to play often. They would sit across on a table and stare into each other's eyes. The one to blink first would lose. For Anand, it was an opportunity.

Anand sat with elbows resting on the table and both his hands under his chin. Mamta sat straight back right across. And they tried hard not to blink.

"Deep blue just like Pacific ocean!" he thought as he considered the unusual hue of her eyes. "How lovely would it be if I could just look at her like this every second of my waking hours!" The tables, the chairs, the walls, and rest of their friends disappeared gradually to be replaced by angels playing harps on cotton clouds. A deep fragrance, possibly her new perfume, filled the room. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes for while.

"Caught!" she cried. "I win again."

(This was done as an exercise on the flow of time in fiction during one of my classes today. The first sentence of this short piece of fiction is iterative time and the rest of it is slow motion.)

The Little Green Man

2010-10-15T19:17:00.001+05:30

Today was one of those rare days when I was headed to the library to actually pick up a course book. (Usually, I only go there to chat for hours and post insignificant updates on facebook.) I was waiting to cross the road when an elderly couple holding hands of a 4-5 year old boy who was walking between them joined me in my wait. The elderly couple were taking this opportunity to educate the boy about the art of crossing the road.

To give you some context, this crossing was one of those where, before you cross the road, you need to press a button and then wait for the light signal to turn green. The light signal is in the form of a little red man. When the little red man turns green, you can cross the road, else you (should) wait.

The elderly woman gently explained to the little boy that we are only supposed to cross the road when the little green man appears. And now the little boy was eagerly waiting for the man to turn green. This being a busy intersection, it was taking forever. While we waited, a lot of people crossed the road without waiting for the signal as soon as they had the opportunity. The little boy kept asking "Why is that man crossing now? The Little Green Man isn't here yet." The elderly man went (mostly for the benefit of the little boy) "tut tut tut...no, no you shouldn't. You could get hurt doing this." So the elderly couple, the little boy, me, and a couple of more people stayed. I would have crossed the road, if it had not been for the little boy. I somehow did not want to set a wrong example for him.

I was also reminded of what Kazuo Ishiguro had to say yesterday at Newcastle City Hall about how the world conspires to make a child believe that everything is perfect and that the world is a nice place to live in. He gave beautiful examples of how sometimes people pause their fights and hide their cigarettes and put on beautiful smiles when a child is passing by. Of course that doesn't happen everywhere, but I am sure all of us do this to some extent in some form or the other.

Anyways, this was turning out to be a rather long wait and I was silently praying for the little green man to appear soon or for the elderly couple to cross the road without waiting for him. When no one could bear it any longer, the elderly couple finally started crossing. The little boy protested that the green man isn't here yet. The elderly woman vindicated their little infraction by stating that the little green man had probably called in sick today. But anyways, as soon as they started crossing the road, all of us who had been waiting patiently soon followed, relieved that we were still in the little boy's good books as law-abiding human beings.

Our Waste Bin Woes!!

2010-10-05T19:22:00.000+05:30

The first day we put our garbage out, our garbage bin was taken away...perhaps by the council or probably some neighbour who liked the way it looked. Here is a short poem dedicated to the bin:

Ahem!!

Oh! Our dear bin,
where hast thou gone?
Your green splendour!
Oh yes, we miss you
a lot!

We remember well
the last time we set
our eyes on you!
We took out our garbage,
all our dirty secrets,
and stowed them deep
into you!

Then we dragged you out
through the slippery floor
of our backyard.
We remember the sound
your wheels made
as they squelched through
the moist moss.

But now, as we step out!
Outside the yard! We search
for you dear friend.
But you are all but gone.
Did someone steal you?
or did the council take you away?
For us, they are both the same,
as we cannot see you anywhere!

Oh our dear green bin,
How much we miss your charm!
Now that your green spelndour
no longer dots our backyard!

We promise to take more care,
and to watch out for you
as we would our best friend
or our soulmate too!
We fold our hands and pray
to the lord. Oh Lord!
please show us a miracle and
make our dear friend appear
back into our back yard!

Just to be sure!

2010-10-05T17:58:00.000+05:30

The second day after I got a University Bus Pass, I boarded a stagecoach to the University. After occupying the most convenient seat available, I relaxed and started reading a book. At the next bus stop, a middle-aged white man dressed in a formal trouser but an informal jacket got into the bus and came towards me. He asked where I was going.

"King's Gate", I said.

"Can I see your ticket please?" he muttered (or something that sounded like it).

Unsure of what I had heard, I showed him my bus pass reluctantly. He scanned it with a fancy scanner and then scanned a bar code on a paper that he was carrying. After almost two minutes, he looked satisfied and moved on.

He did the same routine with a few other passengers and then came back to where I was sitting. I looked at him and our eyes met. Just to be sure, I asked him, "Were you checking the tickets?"

"Yes!" he chuckled. He went to the front of the bus, smiling to himself. And just before he got down, he looked back at me and waved a good bye.

Technical Humour

2010-08-27T09:54:00.004+05:30

Apart from releasing a high quality software product, our team has various other talents. Amongst those, there is one that just cannot be overlooked. If some of my team mates are reading this, they would probably know what I am talking about. Yes, it is the ability to crack pathetic jokes about anything and everything on the surface of this earth. Over the last 7 years, I remember two "technical jokes" that deserve a special mention. If you know more, please feel free to add.

Technical Joke #1 (Joke Creator: Saurabh Gupta, Audience: Me, Comic Creator: Me)

Technical Joke/Puzzle #2 (Joke Creator: VJ, Audience: Whoever he could catch)

There was a group of 30 people and a tray of 30 sweets. The first member of the group said "Lo or aage pass kar do." So the tray went around the room and when it reached the last member, it still had 30 sweets in it. Why?
.
.
.
.
.
Try harder!!
.
.
.
.
.
because the instruction was "Lo OR aage pass kar do" and not "Lo AND aage pass kar do."

----
Now this is what I call talent.

A Tiny Voice

2010-08-20T09:27:00.000+05:30

(Wrote this about four years back. But has remained my favorite till now.)

Vinay was a sound sleeper. He usually slept late in the night and, as a result, woke up late. Very few things could disturb his sleep. He barely stirred when there was an earthquake. He would not budge if clouds thundered themselves away. He would not even wake up if his cell phone shrieked right next to his ears.

Things looked the same that night too, when after a wild evening at the local pub, Vinay came back home and slumped down on his bed. He fell asleep right away and started dreaming almost immediately. He dreamt that he was back in the pub surrounded by beautiful girls and having the time of his life drinking and flirting. This was his favorite type of dream and he was thoroughly enjoying himself when something very unusual happened. He woke up!

Surprised, Vinay looked around for the source of this nearly impossible interruption in his sleep. A very low but continuous static could be heard. He tried to locate the source and traced it to a very small ball of milky-white light at the foot of his bed. “What in the devil’s name is this?” He mumbled to himself. Slowly, the white light spread and took an indiscernible form that loomed above his bed. This freaked him out. “What the hell!” He said loudly.

“Don’t be afraid, child. I am not here to harm you. “, said a soft but clear voice from somewhere within the huge white blob. Strangely enough, the white blob glowed but its light did not reflect off the surrounding objects. And the voice! It was amazing. Very sweet! Vinay could not make out whether it was male or female. It sounded like thoughts. Thoughts that are clear, audible, and human but neither male, nor female.

“I am here to help you.” The voice spoke again. “What are you?” Vinay asked nervously, trying to sound stern. “I am God.” The voice replied.

“God! Now I understand. Nishant, come out from wherever you are hiding. I know it is you. And how did you make this white creep?”

“Child, there is no one here but you and me. Just think, would Nishant or anyone else have been able to wake you up?”

This made Vinay ponder. It was true. Nishant or any other friend of his would never have been able to wake him up. After a short silence and a bit of looking around the room, Vinay admitted, “Okay, so you are God. Now what? Do I die?”

“Die? Of course not! I just thought of visiting you because I thought you needed help.”

“Me? Need help? Someone has definitely played a trick on you. Go Home, God. Or to heaven, or wherever it is where you stay. Whoever told you that I need your help, needs to see a psychiatrist.”

“Child, do not talk about your poor cat like this. He has been living in heaven for the past three years, but still cannot stop talking about you.”

“Babba told you about me?”

“Yes, he was very concerned. He was sure that I could help you. I told him that it will be of no use as Vinay has never listened to me. But the stubborn cat just would not listen. Like master, like cat.", sighed God. "He kept pestering me until I promised him that I would visit you.”

“When have I not listened to you? This is the first time I am seeing you. If I have never met you, how can you claim that I never listened to you?” Vinay was getting impatient now. He just wanted to go back to sleep.

“Calm down, child. Do you think I have so much time that I can visit every single human in person? Do you think I have more than twenty four hours in a day? If I do not visit you, it does not mean that I am not there. I have tried to get across my point to you many times, but you have always ignored me.” God answered peacefully.

“And when was that? May I know if it is not too much trouble to you?”

“No, not at all. Nothing is too much trouble for me. I have advised you a lot of times in your life. But you always turned your face the other way and chose not to listen.”

“Go on, give me an example. I am all ears.” Vinay mocked.

“You remember the time you broke the beautiful vase your grandma had gifted to your mother? You did not listen to me and blamed Babba for it.”

“Well, call me stupid, but I do not remember you popping in at that time.”

“Of course, I was there. Do you not remember that voice in your head that kept nagging you to own up for the incident and not blame the cat? You just ignored the voice.”

A little ashamed, Vinay argued, “But God, Babba was not punished for this. I would have been.”

“That is true. Babba was saved then. But that was because your mom listened to me when I whispered to her to let go of her anger. If she was as unreasonable as you, Babba would have been homeless after that incident. Do you agree?”

“I didn’t know you talk to mom as well.”

“Of course I do. I talk to everyone. My voice can be heard by anyone who wants to listen to it.”

“Ok. But that was just one such incident. How does this one incident mean that I need help?”

“Child, I agree with Babba. You do need help. I have tried to tell you the right way a lot of times, but you have always gone in the opposite direction and done the wrong thing. You may not be aware, but your actions have hurt a lot of innocent people.”

“God, I may have hurt Babba, but I don’t think that I hurt anyone else. I just live my life according to my own rules. If someone does not agree doesn’t mean that I hurt them.” Vinay persisted.

“There is nothing wrong in living life in your own way. It is wrong only when you do not own up to your mistakes and try to blame others. Like when you broke up with Mohini.”

“I broke up with Mohini because she flirted with Nishant in front of me.”

“She was just trying to make you feel jealous as you were continuously eyeing the bar girl and ignoring her. I tried to tell you at that time to show Mohini that you cared for her and not for the bar girl. But your ego made you deaf and you, as usual, did not listen to me. You flared up and shouted at the poor girl.”

Then Vinay understood. “So you mean that you are the voice that keeps on telling me stuff that I think will ruin me.”

“Yes, that is yours truly.”

“But God, I think your advice will, in most situations, make me appear stupid and mean to others.”

“Yes, I know. It may. But it will help you be a better person as well. It will make you feel proud of yourself. And, above all, it will prevent future visits from me.” God smiled.

“Yes, that kind of convinces me.”

“Ok then, my work is done here. I have to be off to help someone else like you.”

“Don’t go yet, God. I am just starting to enjoy my conversation with you.”

“Child, I have to go. I think you have understood enough already.”

The voice and the white light faded away. The room suddenly became very warm, and Vinay sat up in his bed.

“Is this a dream?” he wondered to himself. “No, it isn’t.” replied a tiny voice in his head. And, this time, Vinay heard it, loud and clear.

Anxiety, thy name is Tiger/Lion

2010-08-18T15:59:00.000+05:30

(Photo clicked by my friend, Sachin Jain)

I am not afraid of Tigers and Lions. I love watching them hunt on National Geographic or Discovery and am not repulsed by the way they devour their hapless victims. I do not jump out of my skin when I see their pictures. They are the animals that I find most interesting when I visit the zoo. And while on a Safari, I keep my fingers crossed for a sighting. I am not intimidated by them provided they maintain their distance.

People claim to have recurring dreams or nightmares. I do too. I dream a lot about Lions and Tigers. They do not attack. That could be quick and clean. Instead they stalk. The general pattern of these dreams is that there is a village or a town where these tigers or lions or sometimes both, are roaming around. I am trying to get somewhere while avoiding these predators who, by the way, seem to sense that I am trying to do just that. On my way, I take shelter in various houses and many times narrowly escape being spotted by the animals. Even though I have had these dreams a zillion times, I am yet to see one with a conclusion, either ways. But I always wake up feeling relieved that it was just a dream.

When I recently had one of these dreams, I tried to make out the pattern behind this and discovered that whenever I am anxious about something, there are chances that I will dream of Lions and Tigers stalking me. Why would I dream of Lions and Tigers of all the things? There can be hundreds of other symbols that I am in touch with in real life that could symbolize 'anxiety'. For example, it could be my boss (Sorry Boss, if you are reading, I am just kidding ;-) ) or traffic police or anything else. Why my subconscious mind has chosen Lions and Tigers is beyond my comprehension. Probably even my subconscious wants to be politically correct all the time. :-)

A Post Office with a Difference!

2010-08-02T10:36:00.001+05:30

On Saturday, I had to deal with India's Snail Mail System after ages. I do not remember when I last received a speed post. Yet I received one on the 27th and that too at my Indirapuram flat which is currently unoccupied. So it was only by chance that my friend went up to the house to show it to some potential buyers and he discovered a note stuck on the bolt.

The note stated that the Ghaziabad Post Office had received a Speed Post in my name and I would need to collect it from the Shipra Sun City Post Office the next day from 9:00 AM to 10:00AM. My friend went to the post office to collect the letter but the post office did not hand it over to him. They insisted that someone from the Malhotra family would need to collect it.

Everything about a Speed Post suggests that it is important. They are mostly used by government agencies as they are considered safer. And the term Speed Post also carries with itself the connotations of urgency. And an urgent letter from the Government is not something to be taken lightly.

So I found myself on my way to Indirapuram on a Saturday Morning amidst heavy rains and a looming threat of traffic jams. I had braced myself for the infamous bureaucracy of Indian Government Offices and approached the person at the desk humbly. The time was 1:45 PM, which is dangerously within the limits of the famous lunch hour and much after the time mentioned on the note. I was surprised to find the entire staff at their desks busy with their work.

I enquired about my speed post. The person sitting there told me that the speed post can only be collected from 9:00 AM to 10:00 AM everyday since that is the time when the post man from Ghaziabad post office is available at Shipra Sun City post office. He carries all speed posts with him.

I asked whether the speedpost can be collected on following Monday. At this, he seemed to consider the situation for a while and then gave me a mobile number of the postman "Mr. Kaushal". He also advised me to call Mr. Kaushal immediately.

I made the call. The voice at the other end was a typical U.P. voice with a typical U.P. accent. When I asked him about the speed post, Mr. Kaushal asked me the date on which the notification for the speedpost had been placed on my door. I told him that it was the 27th. He enlightened me with the information that undelivered speed posts are sent back within 4 days. I said that this was the 4th day as it was the 31st. He corrected me and told me that it is the 5th day since the counting begins from the day that the post is received in the post office.

I was crestfallen and lost all hopes of ever knowing what the post was all about. After all, I had driven for over a couple of hours in an unfriendly weather to get here. Hopelessly, I asked him what were the options for me now. He took pity on me and asked me to wait while he checked whether the post had been sent back yet. So I held on to the phone with my fingers crossed while he looked for the in-demand post.

After half-a-minute, which seemed more like half-an-hour, he confirmed my name and address and, to my utter disbelief, informed me that he still had the speed post. And, miraculously, he was distributing letters just a couple of blocks away and I could collect the post from him. Within the next five minutes, I had the elusive, almost-missed, speedpost in my hands. And all of this happened with a lot of smiles and pleasantaries.

Though good luck had a huge part to play in this chain of events, I was not expecting things to be so hassle-free. I had never heard of helpful government employees. And it was such a pleasant surprize to find them so willing to go out of their ways to help me. They did not have to do it. As per their process, I had already missed the chance to collect my speedpost. Probably, this was one of the encounters with the new India. Looking forward to more...

Think!

2010-07-23T16:16:00.000+05:30

Imagine a world where you cannot scold your children. Or a world where your other half hurts you but you dare not retaliate. Forget about having an argument, imagine a place where you cannot even 'not talk' to your friend because she or he did something to hurt you. Imagine a world where we are too scared to express our anger, disappointment, or hurt to people we love. World will be a strange place if all of us need to be so petrified.

Will we like to live in such a place? Or do we want to be in such relations?

It will get terribly lonely place if this happens. And this is where we are headed. Children today are so fragile that if their girlfriend's father scolds them, they will go consume poison. If their teacher slaps them, they will hang themselves. Also consider grownups, if their boyfriend/girlfriend decides to separate ways, they will go and jump outside the window.

Have we lost the power to think? If not, then before doing the ultimate, why can't we spare one moment for those who love us? Those, who may be angry with us or temporarily not understand us, will still be devastated when we are gone. Those, who will never be able to recover.

"They deserved it!!" You may tell yourself.

But isn't that the most selfish stand to take? Will it really give you pleasure to see them suffer? And if it will, then please take a moment and consider what kind of a person likes to inflict irrevocable damage on his/her loved ones. Definitely not a good one.

Do we really want to snatch away our parents' right to scold us? Or do we really want to make our beloved boyfriend so scared that he cannot even be annoyed when we are insensitive? Put yourself in their shoes and imagine. Do you want to be so scared of your relationships?

Blood Relations

2010-06-27T17:23:00.001+05:30

Nishu (my nephew) and me

What is it with blood relations?

I was never too fond of children before Nishu came into my life. A few minutes with a child were ok, but anything beyond that got on my nerves. But I absolutely adore Nishu and my relationships with other children have also improved. Before Nishu, I wasn't able to talk to children much. Now some of them are actually fond of me.

When Nishu was about to be born, I used to fret that I wouldn't get on well with him. But now, I laugh at those worries as Nishu and me are best of friends. My mom used to tell me that it is always different with children of your own family. I was always incredulous. But I think there is some truth to it.

Debates and Group Discussions at Inlingua, Delhi

2010-06-23T16:07:00.002+05:30

inlingua is one of the world's leading language training organizations with over 350 Language Centers in 44 countries across Europe, Africa, Asia, North and South America. In India, Inlingua has centres in Delhi, Bangalore, Kolkata, and Pune. If you want to know more about Inlingua, you can visit their Website http://www.inlingua.com/

For their English Language students, all centres in Delhi organize Debates and Group Discussion competitions. And once in a quarter, students who have won in these competitions, participate in the Finals.
I was invited to be the guest judge for the 6th Activity Finals on June 19th and was looking forward to meeting the talented young students.

The Finals were held at the NCUI Auditorium near Sirifort (http://www.buzzintown.com/delhi/venue--ncui-auditorium/id--10169.html) and were attended by Inlingua Students and faculty members. The event started at about 2:00 PM and concluded by 5:45 PM. And the entire duration was full of fun.

Audience

There were 4 main activities:

Lower Level Group Discussion
Higher Level Group Discussion
Lower Level Debate
Higher Level Debate

The event was judged by Mr. Vikram Bajaj, Director, Inlingua, New Delhi and myself.

Judges

The Topic for the Lower Level Group Discussion was "Will computers replace teachers in the next ten years?" Participants were given 3 minutes for peparation. It was really good to hear the unique opinions. For example, there was one argument that computers cannot replace teachers because even though computers can provide data but they cannot guide you about morality. Another student talked about how facial expressions and body language are important aspects of teaching and as of now robots seem to be very far from doing this. Very thoughtful!!

The Higher Levels were assigned the topic "Is life imprisonment a good alternative to capital punishment?". Preparation time was again 3 minutes. This is one hot topic but I was very impressed by how the participants were able to think about this logically while retaining their passions about their opinions. The arguments were empathetic as well as pragmatic. On one hand, participants were talking about retaining capital punishment to set examples and, on the other hand, some argued that Life Imprisonment is pain elongated and, therefore, more severe. Again, it was evident that these were reasonable people who are well aware of the issues of the society and actively think about them.

Group Discussion - Lower Levels

The best aspect of both the group discussions was that they did not end up in shouting matches. People were interrupting one another but mostly to give chance to someone who had not spoken till then. And even these interruptions were polite, for example, "I am sorry but I would like to interrupt. Mr. X here hasn't got a chance to speak yet. Let us listen to what he has to say about this." All of us could learn from this. Our regular discussions often end up in an attempt to out-shout one-another. And here was a group of young students who had an award at stake but still behaved politely.

The next session was the debates. Students had to stand up in front of the audience and make speeches in a language that they are still learning. One has to be very brave to be able to do it. And these students succesfully conquered their fears and performed.

The debate topic for the lower level was "This house believes that the national craze for cricket harms all other sports." A very sensitive topic considering that every other Indian is a die hard cricket fan. :-). The pattern was that each student got 7-8 minutes to speak. After that, audience asked questions and the students answered. Students were judged on clarity of thoughts, command over language, presentation style, manner of answering the questions etc. Speakers raised some good issues about lack of sponsorship to other sports, Deitification of Cricketers, and how performance brings rewards like in case of Sania Mirza, Abhinav Bhindra etc. There was one student, Baljit, who himself was once a national-level gold medalist in 800m race but had to quit the sport because of lack of sponsorship. All arguments were coming straight from heart.

Debates - Lower Levels

The higher levels dealt with a more global "This house believes that social networking sites do more harm than good." Arguments circled around security issues, addiction, reduction of personal interactions, wastage of time on the -ve side and knowledge sharing, maintaining contacts, and sharing of thoughts and feelings on the +ve side. Obviously this was an issue that most of the speakers were dealing with in their personal lives thanks to the ever-increasing craze of facebook and parents fretting about the good old days. Someone even mentioned that people waste a lot of time playing Farmville. I myself am a Farmville buff :-). But ofcourse I did not take that personally.

Debates - Higher Level

Prize distribution was a happy affair and Mr. Bajaj made a very thoughtful speech where he highlighted how the quality of debates and the group discussions have constantly been going up. He applauded the fact that the participants all maintained decorum through it and gave each other a fair chance to speak.He concluded that what you have to say is more important than how you say it and appreciated the courage that each of the participant had showcased.

Winner of Lower Level Group Discussion, Ramandeep, Accepting her Prize

Winner of Higher Level Group Discussion, Deepak, Accepting his Prize

Winner of Lower Level Debate, Baljit, Accepting his Prize

Winner of Higher Level Debate, Mohd. Kamil, Collecting his Prize

These types of activities are good initiatives. I would like to compliment Inlingua Delhi for thinking about it, organizing it, and persisting in the efforts. It is definitely a good way to help students gain better command over language and actually face the world with this skill. The enthusiasm in the students was very contagious and charged up everyone who was involved in this activity.

Participants Enjoying Tea and Snacks

Judges Indulging in a Little Post-Event Discussion

Illusion

2010-06-19T10:46:00.002+05:30

Through the mirror, she reaches out,
her arm outstretched.
I blink, she blinks, I smile, she smiles
She is real. I am real.

The beautiful vase, a gift, a memory,
the shining woman in gold,
Mystical! Beautiful!
It is real. She is real.

Lovingly, I lift the vase,
And hurl it at the mirror.
Anger, love, hate, peace
All exist, all are real.

Broken mirror, shattered ceramic,
chipped paint, threads, warmth.
melt down, leave nothing, but a void.
Was it real? Was she real? Was I real?

Sunset at San Francisco

2010-06-08T12:14:00.001+05:30

I love sunsets and find them beautiful.

Here is a picture from San Francisco shot with my Nikon D90.The hill in the background is home to Alcatraz.

Curious Curie

2010-05-31T14:52:00.000+05:30

Once upon a time, in a city full of traffic, houses, and people in Northern India, there lived a curious cat. For the sake of this story, lets call her Curie. Though she had a perfectly acceptable name in Cat language.

She was a very likeable, furry, black and white, one year old kitty, just on the brink of her youth. She had just one annoying habit, Curiosity. Curiosity, in itself, is not bad. But in Curie's case, curiosity often got better of her and she nosed around in people's houses, kitchens and even refrigerators, if she could get her paws into one. If a door was open just a crack, she would open it and enter, prowling around in people's living rooms, hiding beneath the couches, beds and trying to figure out what all was happening in their homes. If she was fortunate enough to get into a kitchen, she licked the utensils and tasted all uncovered dishes. Milk was her all time favorite.

People in the neighbourhood were kind and put up with Curie most of the times. Only twice in her life had she been thown out of households. Once when she had upset a pot full of hot curry that Mr. Kumar had painstakingly cooked as a surprise for his wife. And another time when she had walked on baby Neha's mat with muddy paws.

One evening, Mr. Thomas was cleaning his car. He had to go out of station with his family and just wanted to make sure that he would not have a smelly car when he got back. This was a whole new opportunity for Curie. She had never seen a car from inside. She sneaked around the car and jumped inside when Mr. Thomas was not looking.

"Amazing!", she thought to herself in cat language when she saw the numerous levers and buttons on the dashboard. Sitting on the drivers seat, she tried to reach out to the big red button but her legs were too short. She shifted slightly towards the edge of the seat and tried again. She couldn't. She shifted a little more and leaned out towards the button. And down she fell to her utmost dismay. But as you know, a cat always lands on her feet, Curie was back up in no time and jumped on the seat once again.

She gave up on the red button and decided to explore other things. The big round wheel in front of the driver's seat was most interesting and, what more, Curie could also touch it. She ran her paws along the leathery surface and mused upon the smoothness of the cover. "Wow, just look at it shine." She said to herself (in cat language, ofcourse). The feel of the leather made her aware of the hunger pangs that she had been ignoring for quite some time now. She decided to conclude her explorations and go out in search of food.

Horror struck her when she looked around. She could not see any way through which she could go out. Mr. Thomas was no where to be seen. In her preocupation, she hadn't noticed when he had locked the car and had gone back into the house. Alarmed, she looked around for any small crack that she could pry open. There was one small hole in the floor of the car. She put her paw through it and tried to feel around if there was any way to open it further. But, unfortunately, there was none. She jumped up on the driver's seat again and looked out of the window. When the night came, she saw Mr. Thomas put his luggage in the boot of a taxi. She called out to him with all her might, but he did not hear. Curie saw him and his family board the taxi and drive away. And now she truly panicked.

With no way to get out of the car, Curie tried to put her paw through the hole again, but was unsuccessful. She tried jumping out of the windows again and again, but struck the glass and fell down each time. Exhausted, she fell off to sleep.

Thankfully, the night was cool. Curie woke up early wondering whether what happened earlier was just a nightmare. But, unfortunately, she found herself locked up inside the car. So she renewed her attempts to get out of the car. The day got brighter and hotter and the car started heating up. Curie now started fearing for her life and simply sat on the drivers seat saying "Help!", "Help!". Ofcourse, no one heard, because she was speaking in Cat language. Her voice grew feebler as the day wore on.

Mr. Thomas's neighbour, Dr. Sharma, thought she must be seeing things. She was walking down the stairs when she happened to look into Mr. Thomas's car.

"What is that?" she exclaimed. "There cannot be a cat sitting on the drivers seat in Mr. Thomas's car! How did the poor thing get in?"

Dr. Sharma knocked on Mr. Thomas's door. There was no response. She knocked harder and even called out "Mr. Thomas." "Mr. Thomas". But Mr. Thomas was in train travelling towards Chennai at that moment. Dr. Sharma knocked on Mrs. Banerjee's door. Thankfully she answered.

"Hello Mrs. Banerjee. Do you know where is Mr. Thomas? He isn't home."

"Oh! don't you know? Mr. Thomas's sister has had a baby and he is off to Chennai to see her", Mrs. Banerjee replied.

"Oh no! There is a cat trapped inside Mr. Thomas's car. She will die if we don't get her out now. It is getting hotter." Dr. Sharma said, alarmed.

"What?!! How can that be possible? Let me see."

Mrs. Banerjee went out and peered inside the car. And sure enough!. There was a cat sitting on the driver's seat.

"Don't worry Dr. Sharma. I have Mr. Thomas's house keys. Let me call him up and ask where he has kept the car keys. Lets hope he has left the keys home." said Mrs. Banerjee.

So Mrs. Banerjee called up Mr. Thomas and, thankfully, he had not taken the car keys along. Mrs. Banerjee and Dr. Sharma unlocked Mr. Thomas's house and got out the car keys. As soon as they opened the car door, Curie jumped out and ran away with her tail between her legs. Who says only Dogs do that!!

Curie learnt her lesson that day.

"I will never sneak into people's homes, kitchens, refrigerators, and cars ever. I will only go if invited. Thank God I was saved today. What a way to learn a lesson!!" she said to herself (In Cat language ;-) )

Long Haul Flights

2010-05-13T12:34:00.003+05:30

3 Reasons why I hate them

You can't do anything but watch movies, read books, listen to music throughout the day
There is no fixed schedule for sleep.
Your mobile does not work.

3 Reasons why I love them

You can't do anything but watch movies, read books, listen to music throughout the day
There is no fixed schedule for sleep.
Your mobile does not work.

Displaying your Picture along with your Comments at Ghumakkar.com

2010-04-25T10:06:00.006+05:30

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I haven't done anything selfless. Ever! Have you?

2010-04-06T23:15:00.003+05:30

"I have done so much for her and see what I get in return."
Sometime or the other, all of us are prone to feeling this way. It becomes worse when this feeling creeps in between two people everytime they have the slightest of the arguments. The next stage is more often than not 'regret'.

Feeling cheated in this way does not make you a bad person. It only makes you human. But if you hold these thoughts somewhere within you, they are sure to surface some time in form of words or actions. And this can deeply hurt your friend/spouse/parents/children/siblings...

I started thinking about this when someone told me that it is difficult to avoid this frame of mind. I agree to a certain extent. In extreme cases, it is often important for you to know for yourself that you have done the best for something. For example, in case of a cheating spouse, if you know that you haven't left any stones unturned to make the marriage work, you are more confident of your choices and you get the courage to face the world, including the errant spouse.

The next question that automatically comes to mind is what is the difference between "I have done everything I could to keep this going so what has gone wrong." and "I have done so much for him so why is he doing this to me." If you haven't realized already, let me explain. The difference lies in the fact that in the first case, you are not doing anything for somebody else. If you have tried to make the marriage work, it is not for someone else. At the end, it is always for yourself. You can argue that you did it for your children so that they don't have to suffer a broken home, or for your parents so that they don't have to face the society. But at the end it is only because of the fact that you will not be able to face yourself if you harm your children or parents in some way through your actionsor the lack of it.

If you wish to refute, give me an example of a single action performed by anyone you know that wasn't for self gratification. Biggest charities are done so that the one feels satisfied that one is giving back to the society in some way. Or simply for the fact that it makes one feel like a better human being. One even takes care of one's parents to prevent a feeling of guilt.

So, coming back to the first point, the best way to stop feeling that you have done a lot for someone is to realize that every single action that you perform is for your better self image and, therefore, for yourself. Once you imbibe this truth, you will slowly stop feeling like a martyr in all tussles with your loved ones and you won't accidently hurt those whom you hold dear.

The best way to be selfless is to realize that all of us are selfish to the core and that being selfish is not so bad. Selfishness helps your conscience keep you on track.

One Question

2010-04-04T01:33:00.001+05:30

For those who read Harry Potter:

The ownership of the Elder Wand could only be attained by defeating the previous owner. Gellert Grindelwald stole the wand from Gregorovitch. So even if Grindelwald now had the wand, Gregorovitch was still the owner as he had not been defeated by Grindelwald. Albus Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald and took the wand. But Gregorovitch was still the owner as he had not been defeated. Voldemort killed Gregorovitch. So shouldn't the ownership of the wand have transferred to Voldemort and not Dumbledore?

Just Like That

2010-03-27T12:22:00.002+05:30

There could be three reasons why what you said didn't make sense:

-you had nothing to say
-you had too much to say
-you chose the wrong audience

My First Rendezvous with Snow

2010-03-26T10:37:00.001+05:30

A month ago, I used to lament the fact that I have never seen snow in my life. Then, just like that, my wish was granted. I visited Dalhousie in March when there is almost no possibility of snow. But what are a few rules to bend if a wish needs to be granted. Thank you God.

City of Lakes - Udaipur

2010-02-26T08:15:00.002+05:30

Udaipur is also known as the city of lakes. The biggest lake is the Pichola Lake which is located at the center of the old Udaipur. This picture, however, is of Fateh Sagar Lake which is set amidst the hills.

Sunset Point @ Monsoon Palace

2010-02-25T18:46:00.002+05:30

The Monsoon Palace is placed right on the top of the Highest hills around Fateh Sagar Lake at Udaipur. It is also famous for the beautiful view of the sunset.

Ajmer to Chittaurgarh

2010-02-24T11:20:00.003+05:30

We bid farewell to Jackie and left Ajmer at 8:30 am today. The highway is excellent. 50 kms more to go.

The Companion of Our Evening Reflections @ Pushkar

2010-02-23T22:51:00.003+05:30

This great dane, Jackie, owned by the owner of The Pushkar Heritage, choses to spend its evenings brooding by our side. The droopy, sad eyes are a deception. Jackie is still a puppy at heart!!

Dhai Din ka Jhonpra @ Ajmer

2010-02-23T13:44:00.002+05:30

This monument is a couple of hundred metres away from Ajmer Sharif. Local autowallahs, if you have hired one, may try their best to deter you from going there. They go to the extent of telling you that it is just one building. But that is only to convince you to hire the auto for the complete to and fro trip. The jhonpra is worth seeing. So don't be deterred. Go for it.

The Pushkar Heritage Resort

2010-02-23T08:11:00.002+05:30

Lawns of the Resort and the Hills in the Background
Our Rooms

One with Nature

2010-02-22T20:43:00.002+05:30

It has been raining on and off since the evening. The owner of the Pushkar Heritage Resort has attributed the rains and a brief spell of hail to the presence of Delhi-Wallahs in Pushkar.

It is a lovely weather. Cool and calm. I am sitting on the porch outside while my family is watching TV inside.

The resort owner has a huge doggy who has chosen to come and sit beside me. The restort itself is located on the foot of a hill

This is sheer bliss!

Royal Rajasthan on Wheels

2010-02-22T11:09:00.004+05:30

Royal Rajasthan on Wheels Parked at Jaipur Junction.
Tariff: about $590 per night per person
Total Trip Duration: 7 nights/8 Days

Happy Valentine's Day

2010-02-14T11:58:00.002+05:30

One Dark Stormy Night...

2010-01-28T21:58:00.005+05:30

It was a dark, stormy night. One little Maruti 800 was battling the fierce winds and the lashing rains and was going down slowly on the deserted road. The trees swayed to and fro and threatened to fall down any time. The driver Vishwanathan (a.k.a Vish), a young Floor Manager at a call center, was suitably frightened. "I wish I had stayed in the office", he said to himself. But now it was too late to go back.

So he drove on.

All this while, the fierce wind kept blowing as if it would never stop and would tear the entire surface of the earth. Suddenly, though it did not seem possible, the downpour became heavier. The windshield wipers were rendered useless and absolutely nothing was visible. Vish had no choice but to park the card at the side of the road and wait for the storm to pass. He sat inside and prayed hard. The storm had turned Vish from an agnostic to a believer.

The wind howled like a trapped wild animal and the lightning threatened to reveal something dreadful. Vish put his head on his windshield and tried to block scary thoughts from capturing his imagination. He stayed like this for a few minutes when all of a sudden there was a knock on the driver's window. Vish was startled out of his escapist reverie and he turned to face whoever it was who was knocking on the window at this ungodly hour.

The face on the window was looking at him eagerly and gestered him to roll down the window. Guided by an unheard voice in his soul, Vish obediently did so. The stange man on the window asked in a comforting voice, "Sahabji, what are you doing here? This is not a very safe place to park yourself, especially in this weather. Last week, a man was looted of his car and other valuable possessions. Worse still, they left him to wander in the jungle that looms on both the sides of the road. By the time he was found, he had gone half mad."

Scared, Vish asked, "Where did you come from?".

"I was driving by when I saw your car parked here.", the man replied pointing towards the road right ahead of Vish's car.

That is when Vish noticed the huge cargo truck parked right ahead. "How did this huge truck get here without being heard?" Vish thought. "May be the storm drowned the noise."

"I am unable to drive. It's raining too heavily.", he replied.

"Where are you going? May be my truck can help tow your car." inquired the truck driver.

Even though Vish was still skeptical, he decided to take a chance. The truck driver looked pleasant enough. "I stay at Nehru Colony around 15 kms straight down this road."

"That's perfect. Let me tie your car to my truck and we will soon be on our way." The truck driver replied and went to fetch the rope from his truck.

This seemed too good to be true. Soon Vish's car was tied to the truck with a sturdy rope and they were on their way. In the meanwhile, the storm still refused to abate. The wind howled, the trees swayed, and the rain still lashed across the windshield.

And they drove on.

It is said that staying idle is the best way to go crazy. And that is what happened with Vish. As soon as his car started moving, with his mind off the worry of reaching home, the very obvious question occured to him, "Why is the truck driver still driving at this hour?". Nervously, Vish squinted out of the window to confirm that they were headed in the right direction. That is when he saw it.

They had just crossed huge Mall that indiacted the entry to his colony. Vish Panicked. He blew the horn madly to stop the truck driver. However, the truck didn't stop. It went on. Vish blew the horn again. But to no avail. Just when he thought of opening the doors and jumping out of the car, the truck stopped at a crossroad. The truck driver got out and walked towards the car. Vish froze in his seat. The truck driver knocked at his window. Vish rolled down the window and shouted, "Are you deaf? I have been blowing the horn for the past 10 minutes and you just wouldn't listen. Where were you trying to take me. We left my colony behind."

The truck driver looked hurt and said, "Sahabji, I am deaf. I could only understand what you said till now by reading your lips. I did not hear the horn. Even now I stopped only because I thought I will tell you that I will be taking a left turn from here. You should have used the dipper."

Moral of the story: "USE DIPPER AT NIGHT".

[The story was created in our car pool between Garima, Vaishali, and Me with all of us adding one line in turn :)]

Ramblings at midnight

2010-01-25T10:07:00.002+05:30

A wild creature shrieks close by, and it startles me out of my sleep. When did I doze off? I shouldn't have. With danger at every step, falling asleep is unforgivable. But I am tired and my feet hurt. I know I need to keep walking. What do I seek? What am I so restless about? The warmth of the cradle that I so often dream of fills my heart and I suddenly have no more doubts. I must keep walking till I arrive. Till that mysterious voice whispers calmly in my ears, "My child, you don't need to run anymore. You don't need to seek. You will be well taken care of. Just close your eyes and relax. Sleep, if you must. When you wake up, you will still be safe." But that voice, that cradle is not yet near. Why do I feel that it is going farther away? It's getting cold around here.

I must keep walking.

Huge black trees surround me. The forest is so dense that I cannot see the sky. I fight my way through the tall grass. I cannot see what lies ahead or, for that matter, what was left behind. But those eyes seem to guide me. They are gigantic and full of love. They look down upon me from the tall trees. Sometimes i see them amongst the grass ahead, sometimes i step on them. But they never seem to blink, nor do they let me out of their sight. Now I see them on the bark of the broadest tree. I stand on tip-toes and try to touch the dark lashes. They wink at me and flicker out. Scared that I have lost them, I frantically look around and there they are, quite far, on another tree. I run to reach them, but these phantom eyes play hide and seek. I run around, stumble, and fall. I can not hold it back anymore. These words come rushing out, drop out of my eyes, and wet the earth below. "Why do you keep making me walk to you? Why do you keep going away? Why do you test me every time?"

I wipe my eyes and stand up again. I look around. The phantom eyes, the warm cradle and the calm voice, all seem distant. I run after them, but they get away faster. The kind eyes furrow, the voice is no longer calm, and the cradle turns colder. Slowly they fade out and the jungle is devoid of its serenity. For a while I keep running with a sacred hope that i will see them again. But gradually I slow down until I stop altogether. For a while, I look out to see if they are coming back. Eventually, I turn around and walk away.

A Poem

2009-12-29T10:07:00.004+05:30

When he went blundering back to God,
His songs half written, his work half done.
Who knows what paths his bruised feet trod,
What hills of peace or pain he won?

I hope God smiled and took his hand,
And said, "Poor truant, passionate fool!
Life's book is hard to understand:
Why couldst thou not remain at school?"

- by Charles Hanson Towne

Jonathan Livingstonism

2009-06-14T13:42:00.006+05:30

You don't have to be a seagull to be "Jonathan Livingston". Anyone who pushes the boundaries dictated by the physical, mental and emotional limitations of their species is "Jonathan Livingston". Evolution itself is a proof of this. Every specie has had its fair share of "Jonathan Livingstons", except perhaps the Dodos. They never had a chance. A blink, and they were gone.

Let us consider the example of this Giraffe, who has to resort to inconvenient postures to be able to quench his thirst:

By the next photo, it seems to have realized the absurdity of its posture and is asking me "What is so funny? Be thankful that you don't have stick-like front legs."

Now what it chooses to do with this realization will decide whether this Giraffe is going to be a "Jonathan Livingston" Giraffe. A giraffe doesn't usually sit down because it cannot quickly get up and get going. This giraffe can accept that this is what it has and learn to make the best of it. Or it can decide to explore whether there are other possibilities. For example, it can exercise its knees and make them strong so that it can sit down and get up as quickly as a deer.

If it chooses the first option, it would be just another Giraffe. However, if it chooses the second option, it could become a "Jonathan Livingston" Giraffe.

In most cases, the choice lies with you. Whether you want to be just another one in the specie or whether you want to be "Jonathan Livingston", is for you to decide. Every challenge is an opportunity to be "Jonathan Livingston". After all, homo sapiens is the specie that has seen the most "Jonathan Livingstons" till now.

Phrases that I coined...(contd.)

2009-04-14T10:22:00.003+05:30

"There is pattern in all that is random"

Even the most complex of Random Number Generation Algorithms have a pattern. Let me know in case you know of one that doesn't.

The same is true for every other aspect. When the civilization began, very regular events like the sun rising, must have appeared random to the human-kind. Movement of Stars, Shapes of moon, flowing of rivers, aging, birth, everything must have appeared random. But the introspective human mind searched for and identified patterns in them.

In our lives as well, we assume that some things simply happen randomly. However, it is my personal belief that there is pattern and predictable behavior behind these as well. We are just not big enough to understand that.

Urban Sunset

2009-03-22T10:42:00.003+05:30

Even though the landscape around us is rapidly changing, a few things never change. A sunset is as beautiful on beach as behind a construction site. While we cannot do too much to stop our world from changing, we can still keep on enjoying the little things that never change.

Phrases that I coined (contd...)

2009-02-20T09:00:00.005+05:30

The biggest indication of lack of faith is when you start being prepared for disappointment...
If you expect to fail in the end, can you put in your best effort? If you try to play safe to prevent disappointment in case something doesn’t work, do you think you can give 100% to the cause? And if you don’t give in your best, don’t you think that you have lesser chances of succeeding?

Battles are fought and won only when you have complete faith in the cause. Either you want to win or you don’t. If you want to win then believe that you will win. Otherwise give up right now and move on to something you really believe in…

Phrases that I coined

2009-02-16T11:49:00.003+05:30

1) Only when you apply brakes do you realize your speed...
Thought of this while driving on the DND flyway in Delhi. I was travelling at about 80 km/hr (which is the maximum speed limit). I think it is very true for life as well. This is why we feel lost when there are commas in life. It is really hard to get up and get going again...

2) As soon as you cease to value what you have, you lose everything!
There are times in our lives when all of us feel lonely and lost and that life is not worth the effort. When I thought about this and looked around, I realized that we feel this way when we stop valuing those who value us. This happens when we yearn for things that we do not have and in the process ignore everything that we have. So it feels like we do not have anything...

Our French Mis-Steps

2008-10-16T11:20:00.008+05:30

Our Team had completed the basic level of French Language training last year and this year we thought that we would take advantage of the 'lean' period between the projects and go a step forward in French. However, the French Language institute had less faith in us that we had in ourselves and told us that they would need to assess whether we have remembered enough to go for the next level. They informed us that they will hold an assessment over phone for each candidate and then evaluate whether we can go ahead.

Many of us made the examiner's day by providing her enough material to laugh about for at least a couple of days. Here are some snippets of the conversation. All of this happened in French. What you see below is the exact translation in English.

Snippet 1: Examiner talking to Punjabriti (name changed)
Examiner: Do you have children?
Punjabriti: Yes, I have a daughter.
Examiner: How old is she?
Punjabriti: She is three years old.
Examiner: Do you also have a son?
Punjabriti: No, my daughter does not have a son. (Do I need to explain more?)

Snippet 2: Examiner being run down by Car-run (name changed)
Examiner: Can you describe your house?
Car-run: There are 3 bedrooms, 1 drawing room, 1 dining room, 3 bathrooms, and two swimming pools in my house. ((in French, swimming pool is 'piscine' and kitchen is 'cuisine'. My friend here, obvoiusly, meant two kitchens)
Examiner: Two swimming pools?
(By now Car-run had understood that he had goofed up, but decided to stick with it)
Car-run: Yes, one very big and one small.
Examiner: Do you swim?
Car-run: No.
Examiner: Does your wife swim?
Car-run: No.
Examiner: Does anyone else in your family swim?
Car-run: No.
Examiner: You have two swimming pools in your family and none of you swim in them?
Car-run: Yes that's right. (I don't know about the examiner but I was convinced)

Snippet 3: Examiner being led on by Siddance(name changed)
Examiner: Is your home close to office?
Siddance: yes its very close.
Examiner: How do you go to office?
Siddance: I go to office on football. (when obviously he meant that he goes to office on foot)

Snippet 4: Examiner interviewing ChinChin (name changed)
Examiner: Do you have a car?
ChinChin: Yes, I am a car.
(here the examiner corrected ChinChin that he/she should say that "yes I have a car". )
(After a few sentences...)
Examiner: Which car do you have?
ChinChin: WagonR
Examiner: How much does it cost?
Chin Chin: It costs Rs. 40 Lakhs (Hell of an expensive WagonR!! But if ChinChin is the car, then I guess it is quite reasonable)

At the end, may be because of the entertainment we all provided, we all cleared the assessment and are on our way to the next level.

Change

2008-10-03T13:09:00.003+05:30

When I slow down,
the world goes by,
so fast that it's nothing,
but a colorful blur.

I stand still,
and try to make sense,
of all that's happening,
without and within.

All things that I hold dear,
vanish one by one.
Everyone who is near,
is changing with the tide.

And it is then when I feel it,
As slow and quiet,
as the blooming of a rose bud,
the small but sure changes in me.

It is a comfort,
to say the least.
While the world's not constant,
I, too, am changing with it.

Extremists Never Learn

2008-07-27T20:22:00.003+05:30

The serial blasts in Bangalore and Ahmedabad, including the one in the trauma center, has brought the focus back on Terrorism. Never before has a medical facility been targetted. The cold-bloodedness in these attacks is increasing. It is unfortunate that these organizations think that they have a right to end so many lives and traumatize countless other people who are not directly affected by these incidents. The dreams that end with these attacks are countless and priceless.

However, extremists fail to realize that they have never been successful in this. People always bounce back. No market has ever been shut down because of this, no place has ever been boycotted. People still tour Kashmir at the slightest indication of peace there and they will keep doing that. So what are these Organizations trying to accomplish by these terror acts especially since they do not have even one success story to boast of in the past?

Markets are still crowded near Diwali. People still go to movie halls. In fact, the number of people doing so has increased. I think it is high time the extremists should realize that they are fighting a lost battle and they will never succeed in breaking peoples' spirits.

My heart goes out to those whose lives have been brutally cut short because of the extremists' need to attract some attention. And I pray for those who have lost their loved ones in these bomb blasts. I know you have not and will never give up on life. This is the only way to show these terrorists what big failures they are in their lives.

People are born brave and they will not change.

Can it ever be?

2008-07-14T14:25:00.001+05:30

Moving On

2008-05-17T10:25:00.003+05:30

Deep inside,
there's a knot
that doesn't dissolve.

A pain that refuses
to be revealed,
to flow out.

A few tears
that linger
and sting my eyes.

A little worry,
that shouldn't be
as now your pain
isn't mine at all.

A little sorrow
for the wrong step
that led us here.

But life goes on,
and I will too
till your memory
doesn't hurt
and you are nothing
but a speck of dust
to an eagle
soaring high above.

Intrusive Us

2008-04-19T21:43:00.005+05:30

To even mildly religious people, the post may sound blasphemous. So please proceed with an open mind.

I have just recovered from a long session of Bhajans and Kirtans carried out at our neighbour's place with the loud speaker turned on to its full volume. And the singers were so hoarse that they sounded like a pride of wild cats fighting. I tried my best to shut the noise off but ultimately gave up and the chaos became a part of the background noise. And I do mind that because otherwise the background noise often comprises of the sweet song of a koel that lives on a mango tree behind our house.

Considering the regular occurance of such events, it surprized me that this was the first time I asked my self why? Why do we shout at the top of our voices to let the rest of the world know that we are praying? Why do we assume that everyone else would want to hear us pray? and Why do we decide that listening to us pray is good for everyone living around us?

More than praying for our peace of mind, we pray to live up to a pious image that we imagine will earn us a good reputation in the society. We don't live for ourselves or even our families. We live for the society. Hypocrisy is the most hazardous disease that this fear of society imposes.

And after all this, do we feel an inch closer to God? I bet not. On the contrary, all this noise is sure to drive God away. When we think of God, the first thing that comes to our mind is peace. But a lot of tuneless loud singers singing devotional songs hardly sounds like "peace".

I resent this intrusion into my private space. I resent that I am being forced to pray in a way that one of my neighbours thinks is right. I resent that I am being denied a right to shut off your voice that echoes around in my brain long after you have stopped singing.

After all this ruckus, I don't feel uplifted at all. I feel resentful and that definitely does not make me a better human being, which I suppose was the intention behind installing the loudspeaker facing outwards in your balcony. Please stop assuming things for me and the rest of your neighbours and leave us with a choice to listen to the koel's song that gives me a doze of instant peace and makes me thank God for the bliss.

Awards - Most Modern Person of March 2008

2008-04-07T08:09:00.005+05:30

Who is modern? Being Modern, what does it truly mean? To me it means someone who can defy the world and stick to their principles and can view the world without a bias. Bravery, Self-respect, and Non-judgemental attitude are a few attributes that are essential aspects of a modern human being.

On this blog, I am making a very humble attempt to recognize these undefeatable, courageous forces of humanity that are contributing towards making this world a better place. I am starting out with "The Most Modern Person" award and intend to recognize a new person every month. This may later branch out towards the "Most Modern Woman" and "Most Modern Man" categories if we get enough contenders (the more, the better).

The award for the most modern person of March 2008 goes to Salim. For more information, please refer: Man agrees to buy wife to save her from flesh trade

Some people have expressed that he has sacrificed a lot by accepting a wife who had become a prostitute. I don't agree. You are bound to regret a sacrifice some time in your life. This is not sacrifice. This is a proof of Salim's pure, brave heart that gave him the courage to accept the fact that his wife is suffering for no fault of her own. His care and concern for her prompted him to risk his life and rescue her. By calling this a sacrifice, we are insulting the goodness of his heart and the strength of the love between him and his wife.

Salut to Salim for listening to his heart and following it. He is now one step above the rest of us in humanity.

Broken Dreams

2008-02-23T13:43:00.002+05:30

I was on my way back from office when we passed a house under construction. Unexpectedly, the first thought that struck me was that 'here stands someone's dreams' in the making. The subtle delight and sense of satisfaction and pride that comes when a dream is on its way of coming true was palpable in that incomplete abode.

But the joy was shortlived as I remembered the tragedy of countless homes and buildings that were gutted during the Latur earthquake in 1993, the tsunami in 2004 that was caused by an earthquake in the Indian Ocean, and for that matter even the attack that demolished the World Trade Center in 2001. All that was material and physical including the property, human lives, money was accounted for, but all that was implicit was lost. All the dreams woven inside the bricks, the pillars, the steel bars, the walls, the rooms, the homes, and the offices, were broken and lost forever.

Here is my tribute to this huge disembodied loss.

A dusty curtain slowly lifts,
threatens to reveal the breathing mass,
Every single pebble of which,
is still alive with broken dreams.

Each red brick lies shattered,
aware that it has fallen short,
of the worthy task bestowed,
on it by a million human souls.

Every slab of cement regrets
all it couldn't hold together.
No matter how hard it tried,
the shuddering earth took apart.

The majestic tower stood proud
minutes before this cataclysm
brought it down on its knees
and into the ground, head first.

With it died a million songs,
a million smiles, a million tears,
Countless dreams, unfulfilled hopes
and wishes of a happy life.

One by one each little pebble,
breaths its last without a sigh
too sad to cry out loud in pain,
it closes its bruised eyes forever.

Maruti Suzuki Zen Estilo

2008-02-19T12:12:00.003+05:30

I am back to crib about another advertisement. This time one on the radio. I wonder if you have heard that cheeky ad in which a family friend calls on the landline number of a friend couple. Their child who sounds anywhere from 8-11 picks up the phone. I don't remember the exact words but the conversation goes something like:

Adult: Hello
Child: Hello

Adult: Beta, papa ghar par hain?
Child(mimicking the adult): Beta, papa ghar par hain?

Adult: Kya?
Child: Kya?

Adult(getting a bit worked up): Beta, mummy ya papa ghar par hain?
Child (in exactly the same tone): Beta, mummy ya papa ghar par hain?

Adult(gathering patience): Beta?
Child(in the same tone): Beta?

Adult (Angry) : Beta?
Child (mock-anger): Beta?

Tag line: "Looks like some one is still not back from their Zen Estilo test drive"

Now the Adult and the Child on the phone were really good actors. They conveyed a lot through their expressions. But other than that rest all is awful.

Child is awfully rude. Moreover, what were his parents thinking leaving such a rude child behind alone? What if he burns the house down in their absence. How irresponsible?

I wonder what irresponsible parents, rude children, and hapless callers have to do with Maruti Suzuki Zen Estilo. Interesting...