Tuesday, January 27, 2009

कजरा रे

तेरे नयन
की लहरों में
डूबा जा रहा
ज़रा पलकों का
दे सहारा
कहीं इतने गहरे
उतर जाऊं
कि झपकें जब पलकें
कैद हो जाऊं
समा जाऊं तुझमें
फिर कहना
आगाह किया
तेरी नजरों के साये में
शीशे से झांकता
मैं बांवरा कजरा

Monday, January 26, 2009

Forrest's Mom Says...

Life's like the Gajendra Circle. You never know which elephant to ride on. Both are looking in opposite directions.

Life's like having four babies, one for every year of IIT life. Obviously you are biased towards the youngest.

Life's like a CRO of IE lab. You never know which way to hit to make it work.

Life's like Facebook. It's not a book. It doesn't have a particular face. Every time you try to add that Mary Jane to your friend's list, it hits with a book in your face.

Life's like a Tapti Security Guard. There always is a goddamn camera staring at you. You never know when to sleep, when to go out and take a *iss.

Life's like the Fitting Workshop. You never know how much to file to make Muthu smile.

Life's like the FRP workshop. You never know He loves your piece of plastic or you.

Life's like a freshie. You never know which senior God incarnated as.

Life's like a judge of Lit-Soc. You never know which one to laugh at.

Life's like acting adventures. You never know when it's too country even for you.

Life's like looking for XXX, the movie, on DC++. You know what you're gonna get.

Life's like Dean of Students. You never know who it's gonna be next in his office, shouting - who will win the Schroeter.

Life's like the girl next door. You never know when she is coming out to dry her hair.

Life's like monkeys at IITM. You never know which baniyaan they are gonna take next.

Life's like wing-fart sessions. You never know whose leg they're gonna pull next.

Life's like HSS class. You never know who just farted to start the fire alarm [ref: Film Studies by Ayesha Iqbal].

Life's like dance workshop. You never know whose foot it's gonna be next.

Life's like final year. You never know how many times you're gonna make an ass of yourself.

Life's like the song Papa kehte hain... You never know where your manzil is - software, finance or consulting.

Life's like a box of chocolates. You never know when you're gonna get loose motions.

Life's like your latest crush. You never know which ship you are in.

Wednesday, January 07, 2009

Cute Quote

Kaha tha seniors ne, kam kar le CG. Nahi maani maine.

Hum Hain Rahi Pyaar Ke, Phir Milenge Chalte Chalte

Bump me, wake me up at 6 am to run 8 kms in the name of footer or make me read my poems, I would still say that Rab Ne is better than Ghajini, Sajini or Rajini. I came for the tickets 2 hours earlier but looking at the queue long enough to connect Tapti and Sharav, it was only pragmatic to look for someone with a lungi-chhaap hanky on collar in a 'black' corner. Inflation has surprisingly reached Patna too and gone are the days when the 10 rupee tickets were sold for 30 in black. We had to shell out three hundred bucks for the three of us.

As the three brothers clad in winter-wear from a discount store of Levi's stood in the queue for entry into the theatre, all of a sudden, we caught the attention of a hundred men present over there who were looking at us as if we were the latest addition to the Sanjay Gandhi Jaivik Udyaan, Bailley Road, Patna 800014. Only when a few hot chics arrived in a white Ambassador and a green Gypsy did they look in the same direction as we did. As the doors of the theatre opened for entry, implementing some strange algorithm, the crowd effortlessly carried me inside the theatre on a zigzag path. There was a mirror at the corner where I went to discover the new hairstyle developed during this exercise. My hand dived inside my jacket to get the comb from the shirt's pocket, when one of the babes who had descended from the Gypsy came beside me to get her looks right. She dropped her purse which the gentleman did pick for her and just when a new film story was about to be written, the movie began. She hurried inside to occupy seat with her friends and I too got my rightful place to sit after displacing some pay-for-1st-row-sit-on-last-row activists.

The movie began haule haule with a geek character every parent and teacher loves to see in every child, quite similar to what a typical IITian is before IIT happens. There was an instant flashback in my mind of how IIT corrupted me, how someone who had not even said saala despite being born and brought up in Bihar was made to shout innovative gaalis during footer matches, how the poet of patriotic genre was made to write the only non-veg poem of his life and named after that just to ensure that he recites it to every other perverted senior in the campus, how a 100% attendance report card got converted into a 74.99 one, how a career-focussed sadhu became a pervert, how someone who used to wake up at 5 am and perform yoga started sleeping at 5 am after an overdose of LAN-beautiful-LAN, and how a daily-bathing-oil-on-hair-clean-the-room Apoorva became Landu. All parents and teachers can clap for the fact that in this movie, the geek is a hero. Similar to what happens at IIT, machogiri happens to the geek and an always serious looking guy acts funny and cracks jokes just to please the girl. Again, only 94.7% similarity. The 5.3% account for the dressing sense of the macho-geek which beats all the sincere and creative attempts of an IITian at dressing up like an idiot.

Teen go cheers (Bihari for three cheers) for the Punjab Power sponsored I Love You which would make any girl go ga-ga over it after which everyone starts suffering from the Rab eye. When one catches Rab eye, one starts finding Rab in every other human being, which is fine considering the theory of omnipresence of God as long as one doesn't upset one's sexual orientation. For the record, the movie is oriented straight and there's no gay-chara being offered. Given the fact that around me was the most country crowd in the country (Ashok theatre at Patna) whistling in sinusoidal amplitudes and throwing chappals on the screen, the experience was nothing short of a My Fair Lady ride at Appu Ghar. There were two junctures in the movie when my macho-giri yielded and tears almost drowned the emotional eyes. If only it wasn't dark, my brothers would have ridiculed me to hell.

The movie ended with a senti dance performance and the outstanding acting of SRK just made the day. As usual, there was a sudden chaos everywhere the moment it was over and getting out became a daunting task. Perhaps a suitable analogy would be Electrical Engineering at IIT Madras where getting in is quite easier than getting out without being screwed. Again, just to emphasize, SRK's acting was 10 on 10 and Taani Partner was a refreshing delight. A movie in which you cry and can relate to, a movie in which your favourite actor has shown his acting worth, a movie with a small town music in your hometown, a movie after which you have the best paani-poori and batata-puri of the city, surely, is one to remember. Even now, my lips spontaneously start singing 'Tujhme rab dikhta hai yaara main kya karun...' whenever I meet people close to heart like my BTP Prof. Another reason to remember the movie is the moment when Kajol danced with SRK when one doesn't know why but still one's happy to see the best on-screen couple performing.

Chachu was asked by NDTV to give his feedback about the movie as he came out of a theatre in Mumbai. Instant reply - Hum hain raahi pyaar ke, phir milenge chalte chalte. No wonder, he was aired.

Monday, January 05, 2009

Emosanal Attyachar. Patna ke Presley's

Gawd. Gawd. Gawd. I accept defeat on behalf of Tapti Drams. It's more country, more cheap and entertaining like Laloo himself. Bolo countriyaapa bhagwaan ki....

Friday, January 02, 2009

All in a Winter Vacation's Work

  1. 100 push-ups a day comprising of 50 in the morning and 50 in the evening. 50 was again broken into 27+15+8 where + means a gap of 2 mins. The Ghajini trailers had their effect.
  2. It seems strangely satisfying to dedicate every vacation to at least one thing and this time it was spirituality. After a study of the Bhagwad Gita through the looking glass of Paramahansa Yogananda, I can humbly say that till date, I haven't encountered any piece of literature which can even dream of matching the quality and style of the author's writing. Besides, almost all of my philosophical doubts have been removed in the first volume itself, which is spread across 570 pages. The second volume is scheduled for the next vacation.
  3. Every ear I could get my mouth close to, I shouted loudly about a trip to Goa from Bangalore via road. Essentially, it meant a long drive amidst the best of nature to the most sought after place in the country with a halt at a beautiful farm house. Thanks to the ban on beach parties in the state, the trip was cancelled and I came to know about it a day after booking a flight to Bangalore. So the Dil Chahta Hai song ended up in aamdani athanni kharcha rupaiya when Kingfisher charged 750 bugs for rescheduling.
  4. As I reached Patna, the whole city was under construction, with dust and elephantine concrete blocks covering the whole city and flyovers in the making where only dust is flying over. The pristine air of IIT campus has made my lungs so delicate that the place where I was born and have been sucking air for so many years was appearing a bit high on the number of suspended particulate matter. With a hope of getting some fresh air at home, my nostrils got protection from handkerchief on the way. Lo! The whole house is being renovated, with walls being painted, a few rooms being recreated & marbleized and the top floor reconstructed. Given the fact that the shreeganesh of the house had started when I was born and it is exactly as old as me, I asked pa no questions to avoid any surgery on me as well (pa is a doctor!).
  5. I cooked two chapatis which were almost round and 80% puffed. They were so delicious that my mouth still gets wet on thinking about them.
  6. The amount of street-charity got increased from all the coins in my wallet to a 10-rupee note. It all began with the stipend from internship from which 3K went to Bihar Flood Relief Funds and I plan to continue spending around 10% of the cash I earn in charity. The best part in doing this is that people around me find the initial barrier broken and lend their helping hands too.
  7. The answer to a question was found. On one hand, the Bihari khoon was boiling to become an IAS and on the other was the corporate lure. As far as interest is concerned, both of them ignite huge passion to make a difference. Based on the impact I can create in the society through both the paths, the decision has been taken. There were interesting observations on the way, though. The amount of respect an IAS has is way more than one can get through the corporate sector. Though a Narayana Murthy can say otherwise. The cash pool of B-world is ready to provide a recession salary to a conFUSED bijli mistry like me which is more than that of the seniormost civil servants. Though the babus having a life under the table would have a different story in their black briefcase. One of the people I consulted showed me statistics that people of Bihar form the majority of IAS officers and went on to show published statistics that Kayasthas (I can't believe people still belive in caste system) form the majority of Bihari babus. Hence, he says, I have a really good chance. During any conversation, there are arguments which give you an instant impulse to counter them. And then there are those you don't even feel like farting on them. Anyway, perhaps the most inspiring babu is T N Sheshan and anyone who has seen or heard him is not going to meet a more powerful personality in her/his life. It is because of people like him who have completely changed the organization they laid their hands on that the system of civil services has its dignity and charm. No wonder it's so difficult to choose between Narayana Murthy and (Al)Sheshan to help determine the course the river of one's life takes. Those who helped me take this decision, I owe you. All those who predicted that the Bihari khoon will definitely go for IAS, sorry to disappoint you. But none of you knew that I was from Bihar until I told you and even now the claims of knowing the great Bihari dream don't seem to be too reliable.

Train-Prem: From Chhuk-chhuk to Dhak-dhak

Dec 9, 2008

40 hours in train begin the moment the railway staff delivers a fluffy pillow, two off-white bed-sheets and a warm blanket at the berth. And then 8 hours pass by. If you have had a night-out as is the case with me, 12 hours pass by.

The two idlis of the Chennai Central Sarvana Bhavan have long been assimilated and the rats have started playing baseball in my stomach. Tan tanan, it's time to fish through the reserved bank of six idlis packed by Sarvana again. My rumourpedia says that there is a particular frequency at which if the human body is shaken, it goes into deep sleep. With no beautiful girl around, the frequency of train's vibration matches my crash-frequency.

Good morning, 24 hours have got down at the earlier stations and only 16 more to go. A very good morning, there's a cute 18+ lying on the lower berth. Her parents are asleep on the two middle berths. I am put up on the upper berth opposite the girl's column of berths. The gentleman that I am, instead of looking at her unawares, I start thinking of a plan to catch her along with her parents when they wake up. This is an apt time for Wodehouse, I guess (guess because I haven't read Wodehouse yet; you can bump me now). After an hour of Wodehouse laughs which manifest through changes in exhaling patterns (from ha-ha to hee-hee to huh-huh), I look through the corner of my eyes to check the girl. There she is - all awake, staring at me. It's quite easy for her in that position, lying flat on the back and looking almost straight up. For me, it's a bit of twisting my neck but as they say – no pain no gain.

She is from Bhubaneshwar but her accent has a tint of Delhi as well and one can't classify her to a particular region based on language. I am about to say - Excuse me, could you please pass on the newspaper. Suddenly I have this feeling that something is not quite right here. I turn a bit left and the next scene is straight out of Aahat Part 3. There is another character in the plot who was doing God-knows-what till now and is giving a frosty-nose look to me. She, without a speck of doubt, is the Daadi Ma who is all set to change the course of the story. As far as my experience goes, you can cross the hurdle of any girl's parents through the pole of your JEE rank but Daadi Ma is a real tough nut. She doesn't know the 1,75,000 people who appeared in JEE. She needs to be totally convinced that you are a Ram and only then will you be able to get Sita. Sounds like a challenge and the game has become interesting now. I have two females staring at me, one for the very right and the other for the very wrong reason and I don't have the guts to look at either of them. Daadi Amma is trying her best to find in me the wicked young lover who first traps gullible girls into his prem-jaal and then runs away with them.

I slowly fish out the other nice reads lined up for the journey, not to mention the 4 magazines I had bought at Chennai Central. All of them are piled up towards granny and then I sit facing her in a one-on-one battle. 8 hours elapse and the brave knight is either napping or reading. In this battle, even the soldiers who sleep in the runbhoomi are worshipped by prem-pujaris. But I have this strange feeling that the old lady is a Hitler. The devil would have rejected his son's application for succession the moment the old lady whispered to her son - Radhika ko idhar bitha do, wahan upar ek ladka hai. She has no mercy for the guy who has not uttered a single word in the last 32 hours. All through this time, she's been constantly monitoring me. God favours the brave and the granny gets her piece of cake when her son buys her a bright yellow, red & green coloured book from an unauthorized similar-books-carrying vendor who later tries to sell me some pink books in the shady corner connecting two coaches, completely unaware of the amount of exposure an IITian has to such stuff. The Dadi Amma's book is entitled Ishwar ke saath Sawaal-Jawaab – Special edition in Q & A format. She kept saying no but her son was an iron-willed man. I could agree no more to whatever reasons he thought for her to read the book and spare me the dragon eyes. Although now I have the opportunity/luxury to look in better directions, I am in no mood to break my tapasya. The man of dignity is not scared of walking on fire. Finally, the destination is about to arrive in half an hour. I slowly move out with my big suitcase and small bag. No glance at her, absolutely. And then, the Hitler moves towards me and says - Kahan ghar hai tumhara, bete? Kahan padhte ho? Abhi aadha ghanta hai station aane mein. Aao yahan baith jaao. For those of you who haven't guessed it yet, 'yahan' is straight in front of the girl and I feel like hitting three goals in a row in the inter-wing footer match. Radhika is giving me strange looks, with a slight smile and bewildering eyes. I can't help but smile back.

Instead of any intro-wintro which would have resulted into a detailed account of IIT life, I start a conversation with Daadi Amma about spirituality, the softest part of any old woman. As I open my gyaan ka pitara, granny starts raising her voice to strengthen her points and by now Radhika is laughing her head off while looking at the defeat of 'be a Ram/Sita' arguments she has been subjected to for ages.

The station comes. I quietly leave with my big suitcase and small bag without even talking a word with a cute girl near my berth throughout the journey, for the first time in years. And there were days when any such girl used to spend her journey reading my poems and leading conversations which used to begin with IIT to proceed towards more interesting things, with nobody around interfering. After first year, I left using IIT or poetry in train-encounters-with-girls. IIT brings more attention than one needs and poetry, the song of my heart, is reserved for someone who turns out to be more special. But right now I am just wondering why I converted a journey which could have been full of conversations with a cute girl and her family, ending happily with her cell no, into a fundae session on Bhagwan Krishna and his Maya with a 60+ lady? May be I wasn't desparate enough, which is a shame for someone from IITM. May be sometimes it's the squeeze that matters more than the juice.

Thursday, January 01, 2009

Cute Quote

सोच रहा हूँ तेरे इश्क में एक कविता लिख डालूं, श्रृंगार रस की नदियाँ बहा डालूं
ठीक है बाबा, सुनाऊंगा नहीं, तुम ख़ुद ही पढ़ लेना