Wrinkly faces..

Aging has a funny effect on people. Just to clarify for me aging would be going from 20s to 30s(Sorry, grandpa! Your story is still not funny yet).  We start losing our hair thanks to all the cheap gels we smeared on during college. We develop a stubborn beer belly (non drinkers, yours called a paunch. Live with it!). We get less aggressive and start forgiving people which frankly could just be hormonal changes. And all these things make us believe that we are getting mature and wiser and we have left their old self behind for good. In reality, we are just turning into big fat sissies.

 In the middle of all these growing up, when we are just about to reach that stage where we start embracing all the harsh realities of life, start believing that those college dreams were all a ruse and put up our rose tinted glasses for sale on ebay, something comes up. It punches (with a distinct ‘dhishoom’) a message on our face saying, “Boss, no more hiding behind your past failures and skeletons. No more justifying yourself just to sleep peacefully at night.  Get up and go for what you always wanted just like old days. Take it or go back to your current life which you were so despised 10 years back. ”


If we are smart enough we take that chance, not just to win what we couldn't get all those years back but also to relive the sleepless moments which made us believe we could be anybody we want. That we might own a fancy car, we might be the head of a company or we can get a US visa one day (it was still a realistic dream those days). Consistency is not one of life’s well known traits and a loser just might still win. 

Still if it doesn't work we shouldn't fret about it. Yes, it would hurl like hell all over again. But as long as we are ready to take then punch when it gets there and take it on our wrinkly face (Metaphorically, of course!) we just make it one day. 

Aberration

Cried and cried, little Dorin for nights.

He found the clown but not the smile!

“Where could she be!” thought Dorin warily,

“Under a book or over the blighted sky.”

Three nights he looked through dying winds.

Then his wily jackal retorts, “She is a gilded liar,

Could she be swimming in the devil’s admire?”

“What will the devil do with the smile” said Dorin,

“He’s got no love, not even a knife!” “A liar she is, thus

I need her so. An illusion this pawn wants and the smile

was its rye all along. So wait a little longer, nothing is

on blaze and desire’s fork is still stirring my ire. ”

Dorin had just realized, what's a clown without a smile!

Daily Fare

The Mumbai taxi drivers remind me of Ben Gunn from Treasure Island. Marooned in this island city of Mumbai with no way out for a long time, they lead a very different life from the hyped ones you see in the movies and travel shows. Their lives shuttle between cramped living places and abuses of their passengers. Most of them certainly don’t have any million dollar dreams. They are just so busy to get by that upon asking them about their future they just, look away.

There being a ban on auto rickshaws in South Mumbai, I have to end up taking a cab to and fro to the railway station every day. Unlike most taxis in other cities I have been to, these guys near my place hardly refuse to go to any place no matter how close by I was going, which I am sure will shock a whole lot of people. They tell me, most of them earn anywhere between a few hundreds to around one and a half grand depending upon the timing of their shift and end up paying a daily rent of minimum Rs 500 to the owner of the taxi. They are often harassed by the cops as many of the taxis run on fake permit. Anyways, showing a little interest in their story always make them start blabbering about their lives and wisdoms they learn from the Mumbai traffic.

Most of them come from places like U.P. and Bihar and claim to be from respectable families and higher castes. Once I asked them why doesn’t he drive a taxi in a city closer to his village and he says, “In a city like Delhi or Kanpur I might be recognized by a relative. That will be embarrassing.” I quipped out a cliché, “But there is nothing embarrassing about any work” and he replies, “It will not be embarrassing for me but, my parent won’t be able to show their faces in the society.” That shut me up! Few of them are yet to get over their pride over their “superior caste.” A driver once told me, “back in my village we wouldn’t have allowed these people in our house and now I drive them to places. Remember, I don’t salute them, I just salute their money.” I guess that’s just his frustration speaking. Some talk about the sad treatment they get from other passengers. Some enjoy talking about the state of the cricket and keep on asking scores of any ongoing match. Some show optimism in the improvement in their villages and hope to go back as soon as thinks get better. While others tell stories about how they charge their mobiles using a generator as they yet to get electricity in their villages.

Most of them seem to be nice people. If they cheat you they will do it politely which, for me, after my experiences in Kolkata and Bangalore is perfectly fine. It’s amazing to see their capacity to struggle it out just to survive while we splurge our cash on daily rides in their taxis.

Such Treachery

So, Ganguly along with some other senior players goes unsold and predictably the net goes buzzing about this “deliberate humiliation” by the Knight Riders’ management. I guess it makes sense. After all he is Kolkata’s “favorite son”. It hardly matters that under his captaincy KK was known more about its controversies than its performance. It hardly matters that he is now a reality show host which I guess is nowhere close to cricket. It hardly matters that he is 38 and has retired from all forms of international cricket for a while now. It hardly matters that he himself doubled his base price which his good friends in Sahara also were not ready to pay for their Pune team. KK has been consistently one of the lowest ranked team in all editions of IPL, but that too hardly matters. Dada should have been there.

I am sure the high standard of his performance a decade ago should have provided him a berth and a skyrocketing salary in the KK team in this IPL too. I mean isn’t he the greatest captain of all time. Actually the govt. should force the KK management, which is a private entity, to fulfill everyone’s whims. Isn’t that’s what the “capitalist class” in such regime supposed to do. After all, isn’t “dadagiri” the catch word here?

Let’s not forget the auction itself which is being telecasted over national television. Such is the audacity of team managements that they actually pay for players who actually perform. I mean, how could they judge a player by their past performance in IPL? What treacherous world we live in! Let’s all call for another strike and scream, “Cholbe na, cholbe na” rallying on the road.

Let this “dada” hangover stay for few more years. The greater priority of moving on and create younger, world class player from the state can wait for now.

Musical Promiscuity

It’s become quite a pattern.. Whenever a source of good music dries up, I start falling into the abyss of listening to the endless chatter of keyboard and mouse clicks around me. Then suddenly, somehow I stumble upon something decent if not amazing. This time its Jango.com’s turn. I was enlightened about it by a very “No Rock Music” person. I reluctantly tried it out and surprisingly, it turned out to be a pretty decent site. Also, it’s still one of the few sites, yet to be blocked to Indian IPs. It’s not really in the same league as Pandora but it will work for the time being. It’s got a pretty decent preset playlist. As soon as I hit on the classic rock channel the speaker stared blaring “Panama” by Van Halen, after that came Doors’ turn and the mood was set. It did get stuck a few times with some sort of error but it wasn't too hard to get around it.

The thing is I need to listen to music all the time. I have been listening to music all the while in school and college, which explains my shoddy grades. But in office, it’s different. It adds a bit of drama to my usual drab job. It envelops one from all the mediocrity being fostered around. Also, it cushions the disgusting yawns of my boss and gives me an alibi to ignore his summons. Oh, I forgot, it also inspires. So, every time I automate a process which helps my client to spare few extra bucks to buy a beer, there is a Dylan or Santana whom I thank.

Life on a Mumbai Local

Mumbai local trains can make a man out of you!!! Not that you will lose your precious cherry. That will be awkward, messy and invite the ridicule of many. It will make you a man by getting you a black eye and a few battle scars on your face. It gives you lessons on aggression, discipline, basic recklessness, advanced foul language, impeccable punctuality and an unhealthy disregard of stench.

This is how the story of my first ride on a Mumbai train goes. Two of my friends and me hop on a train first class. We had bought tickets which are worth 9 bucks each thinking those were first class tickets (FYI, First class tickets are worth 40 bucks each). As our luck would go, the ticket checker also got on the train and we were his first meal of the day. On our first ever ride we ended up paying a thousand bucks as fine.

After I got myself transferred to Mumbai I got the true experience of a Mumbai train. I generally take a train from Vikroli station to Dadar where I take another train to reach my destination. So one day I end up taking a train whose last stop was Dadar itself. When we were about to approach the station I head towards the exit and stand by it acting like a ‘true Mumbaikar’. I didn’t even bother to notice that the other people had suddenly huddled near the other end. I also didn’t bother to notice that the platform was unusually crowded with people waiting to dash into the train. What happened next will be easier for you to visualize if you have seen this common scene from every zombie movies possible. Here it is,

There are innumerable zombies (People getting on the train) trying to barge through a narrow door to grab the hero (me) and the exhausted and disgusted hero (still me) is trying get out of their clutches. While the heroine (other fellow passengers waiting to get down) just smile at the hero’s foolishness.

Trust me, it is that way. Not that I couldn’t have avoided it like other passengers of the train who safely huddled in the other end, made their way out after the carnage has subsided. But then it is a part of the learning process.

It is definitely a funny sight when you see these people getting on a train. Of course you have to be anywhere but not on the train to enjoy the sight. Sometimes it gets so crowded that while a man is somehow standing by the door holding a pole, another man will stand behind him holding his waist with toes barely on the door’s edge. After sometime hanging by the door becomes such a habit that even if the train is empty with places to sit all around the only man on the train will stand by the door.

Now days, even I get off from a moving train just before the mob barges in. It does save me a whole lot of time and I also have an actual first class ticket now.

Mad Drums..

Amazing bass and drums solo by Godsmack..

Check it out...

Another City Passes By..

My last few days in Bangalore went by too swiftly to let me realize how I much I was about to miss that city. At that time I was way too distracted by the lure of the glitzy big city I was heading to. Bangalore came during a time when I just left the aegis of home and jumped into the fire of the “real world”. Well the real world turned to be overrated but Bangalore I fell in love with.

The city was magnificent. It had great weather, trees all around, a college which was ready to take me in and the smell of a new city ready to take the mantle of greatness from other metros. Over the last seven years it did waver a lot from it initial promise. But, lot of things got their sheen back after a small hiatus.

Bangalore was place where I learnt the ways of life. I turned from a pampered gullible child too scared of seniors on the first day of college to a guy who fought hard to get his way in the workplace. It certainly gets the credit of changing almost everything about me. I got my taste of rock and beer from the evenings I spent head banging in haze or listening classic rock and jazz sipping ice tea in Java City. It lets me boast of the great concerts of Satriani and Maiden I went to. It has to be blamed for the black rock band tees I wear all the time and all the kannada curses I spew out when I am disgusted.

It was my friends in Bangalore who taught me how to tuck in a shirt properly, made me understand the tricks of a good bottoms-up and the difference between classic milds and kings. It was my friends in Bangalore who encouraged me when I had another crush and lightened me up when I realized she too was committed. The list just goes on and on. Seven years is long time and with all such memories it’s hard not to miss the city.

It’s true, in time the glamour of Mumbai will replace some of the fond memories fade away. Until that time comes up every time I lazily sit in my balcony staring at the vast sea, it will be the memories of Bangalore which I will be cherishing.

Pic courtesy: http://www.shunya.net/Pictures/South%20India/Bangalore/BangaloreSunset1.jpg

I AM BACK!!!!!

(Heh!! I always wanted to say that)

It’s not like my last trip to Goa was so traumatic that I decided to stop writing. That has been put away long back and another trip is already on the cards. The last few months have been a bit crazy for my laid back standards.

After spending a whole 7 years living like a hippie and making my kidneys go through all sort of gastronomic experimentations I decided to call it a day and head back Mumbai where a very cheap and therapeutic spa called home was warmly inviting me to experience its goodliness. But then how could the supreme forces have let me just have what I wanted. Being generous is really not their forte, is it!! So I ended up facing the apathy of the guardians of my “9 to 6” universe. All sort of alibis failed to persuade those cold hearted devils. Taking cue from others I started to earn myself some leverage against them and after 3 months of struggle I finally got it and predictably was transfer to Mumbai immediately.

So now I am in basking in the glory of the persistent rain, humidity and the stinking trains of Mumbai. It’s been a bit difficult fitting into the city’s vibes, but then this is what I asked for.

But on a brighter sarcastic side the world has hardly changed in the last few months. The TV still sucks, may be a tad bit more. Batman is still my hero and source of entertainment. Good book stores are still hard to come by. People are too snooty and honk a lot. I am still single much to the dismay of my mother and suspicion of my father. Parents don’t realize, the world is a boring place for the really really smart.

Goa gone wrong...

My second Goa trip turned out to be quite an experience. It was a peculiar mixture of high hopes, “on your face” reality, small instances of relaxation and a disappointing but relieved return.

I guess Goa is all about excesses. It’s so full of it that at the end of the third day you just want to run away from the very reasons you are here for. Today I hate lazing around, beer and that god-forsaken psychedelic trance. Oh!! And skimpy Russians too. The place got vacation written all over it. Forget the tourists even the locals are laid back and seem to be having the time of their life. It’s so easy to find a bike on rent even without a license but it’s just impossible to find a decent doc in the middle of the night. Now if that’s doesn’t make a place a vacation spot then I don’t know what would!

Coming to the trip, it’s quite easy and depressing to summarize. We reach there Friday morning and started scouting for a shack where one of our friends got bitten by a dog twice. Needless to say we enjoyed that a lot! Afternoon was spent in one of the innumerable shacks where surprisingly the food is actually good and gulping down King’s, The sunset took us to Curlies which is an isolated shack playing psychedelic trance. The place was filled with the new age hippies mostly from Israel and Russia. I guess they were looking for spiritual upliftment in the Goan trance (The DJ seemed to be playing tracks from pirated CDs but then most were too high to care). A while later, I find my dog bitten friend hopping around with a sprained leg begging to be taken to a hospital. With that my vacation ended. After getting him checked out by a Doc in the middle of the night, my entire trip was like taking an elder to Tirupati. He always needed a shoulder to hold while limping around and sadly he couldn’t walk on the sand. Next two days found me wishing for a quick exit to the beautiful normalcy of my office.

The last morning before we left seemed to be pretty uplifting and the fact that I was finally leaving in the afternoon actually let me have a good time. Goa in the mornings seem to amazingly charming. Especially, the interior country-side which I never find anyone ever talking about. Riding through winding roads going up and down and seeing the Portuguese houses tucked in every corner what as relaxing as sitting by the sea.

But undoubtedly that trip was the saddest trips I had. What hurts more is that it was to Goa. A better trip is certainly on the cards. This trip certainly made me sit up (while waiting for the doc to wake up) and think up some must dos and don’ts about trips. More on that in a later post.