2010 diaries...

One more year went by, with the world treading across great topsy-turvy paths. The entire European Union still crying foul over recession and devising plans which are, as if The God wants so, turning out to be futile (as I write this blog, a guy jumped off the railings in a European state assembly to protest against the salary cuts in their country). Nonetheless, our country experienced another year of shock and awe as well, with commodity prices burning holes in our pockets. That wasn’t enough so fuel prices were deregulated literally adding fuel to the fire. When there was no pocket left to burn a hole in, the entire trouser was flamed, leaving us naked, by scandals, ranging from sex to money, affecting so many things starting from telecom, sports, economy and even politics. Still we lived and are happy as ever, just like the poor naked kid, whose house is washed away by floods, but still dances, I must emphasise naked, and enjoys the rain.

So I am one of the 1.4 billion naked kids, who have found a couple of reasons to spend another year in this country, unlike the boy in front of my house who, just 2 days ago, chose the eternal sleep instead, however in a not so glorified way. So as you read this, my friend, my foe or a person I hardly know, whoever you are, I must appreciate you for choosing to fight instead of giving up.

The year started with the same panicking that we finished the year 2009 with, ‘Placements!!!’ The panicking was justified for people like us, garlanded with not-so-good-not-so-bad array of grades, and with the recession further adding spice to the recipe of trauma and apathy. In contrast to what I thought, I got placed as soon as the placement window opened and that too in a respectable company with a respectable salary. The interesting part about my placement is that I had lost an Internship opportunity in the same company just 5 months ago. If this doesn't sound interesting then let me tell you that my call letter was signed by the same guy who flunked me in the telephone interview for the same internship. This was not the only defeat I faced. I, rather we, lost the BAJA SAE qualifying round. But all these defeats were actually a foundation to the underlying success ahead. Had I been selected for internship, I might have become complacent during the Job interview. The BAJA for that matter was coinciding with a lot of important things that needed priority. This appeared as if a part of a divine conspiracy. I suspect that, as a part of this divine conspiracy, I came across so many things for the first time in this cosmic drama...(No I didn’t get laid... so don’t ask this question as you always do). I faced my first ever telephonic Interview, my first ever Job Interview, my first ever Job offer, my pointers exceeding 8.5 for the first time, my first project that got completed and so many other first times. I also proposed someone for the first time. For the first time I got confused between what I really needed and what I wanted. A guy who could speak about anything at any level of candidness, failed to express himself for the first time. Other than this, I got 5 ptr in a subject for the first time. We got our own BHOPALI-MALL for the first time, thanks to DB corp. And for the first time, thanks to the same Mall, that we Bhopalis came to believe that there are really HOT Girls in the city.

All in all, the year was totally great for me. I was destined to meet so many old friends this year. Make a journey to Ahmadabad after 11 yrs. I explored my own identity in a different manner. And most important of all, I felt so lucky for the first time. In contrast to my usual sceptic ideologies I found a great fun in superstitions this year. Number 6 is still lucky for me. A complete year has never been so great in my whole life. I guess an entire book will be insufficient to express my heart, and if I tell that to everyone it might turn my fortune the other way around.(see I am superstitious again)

A quatrain that...

A quatrain that simply emerged in my mind out of nowhere. It portrays the thoughts that are etched deep within my mind as I near the end of college life and embark on my journey of professional life.

Leagues to fly before I sleep

--in peace, scores of promises to keep

--I have; I long my neck and look afar,

I m paused,nay, poised. I am my brother

learning the sky, before flying high...

Truth locked up, but for how long

2 more days and I'll be there. Taking the famous exam that millions of students have registered for. Taking the exam that a few millions have already given up hopes for. Taking the exam that only a few thousands will crack. And taking the exam, that only a few hundred students will get the fruit of.

So am I really interested in that exam, or do I belong to the multitude that has laid its weapons down. To be honest I am not serious about CAT this year. Although I prepared for more than an year attending almost every class I could. But here I am, right at the kick off moment and SHAZAM!!!! I decide not to play. I decide, to join Bajaj and not to involve in this MBA stuff for an year or so.

The dictionary defines this attitude of mine as that of a defeatist. My neighbor thinks I am a quitter, a few of my friends think I am a quitter and God knows who else does so. And rest of them... They blame Bajaj for this. I try to wade off this discussion by crafting some lame theory or some lame logic, those which hardly sound sane. But the fact is that the truth shall remain deep within myself, deep within my heart.
Finally I have the truth locked up, but for how long?

We all were born intelligent but....

Apart from the cynical insinuations and much widely accepted belief that it being a mere manifestation of an educational renegade; the motto “I was born intelligent but education ruined me” speaks more of a common grudge that nearly every one of us holds, although secretly, against the prevailing education system. A couple of years back, engineering used to be a priceless achievement, meant only for those who deserved. But today, India can boast producing more graduates than the economy can accommodate. Sadly, in addition to this, out of this ‘qualified’ multitude not everyone justifies the meaning of the adjective.
Recently in a conference, Kapil Sibal made a statement that the education system will take 5 to 10 years to change. I am neither supporting, nor contradicting his words. But may I ask him if the argument behind opening new colleges, without achieving any substantial results from attempts made to provide basic education to everyone. And, for that matter, the number of qualified persons merely adds up to the unemployed multitude of society. We start looking at various jobs with prejudice and opinions as soon as we get qualified. All that matters for us is money, name and fame, for we think that we deserve more than what they are offering us
I remember, as a kid I wanted to become a scientist. About whom, I had an image in my mind of an earnest gentleman, rather a respected nobleman wearing a double breasted jacket with an aura of mystic and a smoking pipe for the countenance. However this image didn’t last long and very soon gave way to that of a ‘mad scientist’ which appalled me so much that I swore never to become a scientist in my life. Gradually my childhood fantasy took shape of a pilot, a soldier, a singer, a doctor and the most hilarious aim of my life, a match bookie aka matka king. Thankfully I ended up as an engineer, although not sure if I am the qualified one or the pun.
Just like me, every kid has his own fantasies, and opinions about what the world could be. There is nothing outlandish about it. But as we grow up, we need to make a decision about what we want to become. In India this decision is the sole right of parents, which the child has to cater anyhow. Even I thought sometimes that I’d become an Ad-maker or an Auto connoisseur. But my parents hold a different opinion. This issue however is not as serious as the one which explains the fact that out of 220 million kids registering for school every year, only 14 million of them make it to the colleges. Indeed I am pointing out at School drop-outs. There is nothing wrong with school-drop-outs, a poor labour is not a far-sighted being who will believe the benefits of education that we try to explain to them. All he worries about is earning bread. So from his position, barring his kids from going to school is justified. With the deceptive policies by the ‘chosen ones’ for the pariahs of the ‘ India 2020’ we can expect the 92.6% dropouts to go even higher..
Whatever educational model Mr. Sibal might propose, it won’t turn over a leaf unless the economic model accommodates the outcasts. From our part, we can contribute by changing ourselves, and consequently our society.

long awaited heavenly showers

Often I wonder if any other weather could pluck the chords of my heart as much as this long awaited rain does. There is no denial that the weather was a bit harsh for the last couple of days. But finally it rained, and it rained like a blessing, a serenade in my ears, a nectar to my throat. This joy has no equal anywhere in the world. When drops of rain make sound on earth after such a long silence, it feels like heaven. And the smell of rain, it has a spell in it. It freezes my mind, and I just wish it never fades away. I wish it tickles my olfactory senses forever, and ever. But then, since pricelessness of beauty lies in its evanescence, so I wont ask for more of this. I sit by my verandah, with lappy on my lap, and as I write this article I can see the lightening across the sky. Today, its not roaring like it does, I can only see the light and a mild purr... may be God is also in love, with its creation

Commonwealth Games and my misplaced dictionary

When India won the bid to host commonwealth games 2010 , hundreds of echoes were heard that this event will make us 'proud' and earn us 'respect' on global platform. I had no idea what the words 'pride' and 'respect' mean. I went to my room and looked out for dictionary. I searched every nook for it, but couldn't find it. So I finally gave up and quietly waited for the games to arrive hoping that I might be able to decipher the words in their dynamic form, that is to say when the games will be round the corner and my entire country will be experiencing the so called feeling 'pride' and earning 'respect'.

Finally the games neared and I was quite eager that finally my curiosity shall be quenched. I picked up the newspaper and switched on the TV. My curiosity was no less than that of a kid waiting for a surprise gift on his birthday, rubbing hands, fidgeting legs and going to the window frequently to check if the gift has arrived. Finally my gift arrived and what came out was indeed a striking surprise for me. Just like the birthday kid staring at the gift with shock and awe, I watched the TV with an equal amount of, however, horror on my face. All I could see was authorities of organising committee, politicians and media people running amok, one after the other. Throwing loads of accusations on one another and trying to evade the one being thrown to them.

In India, a strikingly similar game is played, however with colors and water, during a festival in the month of march; we call it the Holi. A festival to rejoice the killing of an evil king by lord Vishnu, to celebrate the Rabi crop . Holi, unlike what most people misconcieve, is a festival played round the year in India. Pardon me for digressing from the topic but it might be informative to share about the year-round Holi played in India. Pick up any month of a calendar and you will find scores of instances of Holi being played with sanguinary colors, ranging from terror attacks, honour killings, road-train-and-air accidents, murders and gory group clashes. What follows these incidents is yet another type of Holi that more or less resembles the one being played before common wealth games. We nickname it as blame-game.

On one hand Kalmadi, when asked about the crippled channelising of cash, could be seen shivering like a sheep cornered by a pack of wolves, meanwhile Manishankar aiyar, on the other, would chuckle in front of camera like a pesky little goblin does, after playing a prank. Media is busy stripping everyone. The entire organising fraternity is running naked like vietnamese people struck by napalm. I have learnt, that it's not just the preparation of commonwealth games that stands in shambles, but the entire country as well.

Fed up of all these, I finally switched the TV off, and stretched back on my sofa and all of a sudden, as if by some divine intervention, I found the dictionary as if smiling at me from the table. I quickly seized it and fluttered the pages looking out for the meaning of pride, and here is what I found: "a feeling of pleasure or satisfaction that you get when you or people who are connected with you have done sth well or own sth that other people admire." Indeed I admire Kalmadi for such humungous money laundering. Indeed I praise the cash receipts for standing unquestioned when hiring rates of treadmills were cited as Rs. 9 Lakhs for 45 days. Indeed I praise the taxpayers of our country for not reacting to such unscrupolous waste and magical act of conjuring of the money they pay. Ironically they do get raved up by a 25 yr old pending decision on a Gas tragedy, although any plausible decision might vindicate the virtues of justice, however justice delayed is justice denied.

Finally i searched for 'respect' and realised that it's a vicarious form of 'pride'.

Thinking was a real waste of time...

Years ago one of my teachers once told me,"Samrat tum sochte bahut ho..."

I 'contemplated' a lot, but couldn't figure out why he said that. 5 years have passed since that incident, and suddenly, today I realised what he wanted to say. Too late of course, but then they say ‘better late than never’.

Man has always been known for his intelligence, diligence and common sense, the last one being not so common contrary to what the name suggests. Shadowed by this fact, man has declared himself to be the most superior species on earth. Ironically, the most famous and the most successful persons on earth share a lot with beasts. Their spontaneity, aggressiveness and survival instincts are what helped them reach that far. Every human possesses a little bit of all these. But those who can master all three are sure to break the shackles and rise above all.

Today, I realised that I have wasted a lot of time in thinking. Before taking a decision, I used to think; think before thinking, think during the thinking and think after thinking. If I had to decide upon something, I used to do three things before it. Think, think and think again. Then either I used to take the decision or drop it. And if things didn’t turn up as I had expected them to, I would start thinking again. After more than a decade of dilemmas and conundrums and thinking over them repeatedly, finally I have stopped!!! No more will I rely on my frontal lobe but surrender purely to my intuitions. I am really sorry that I can’t write you what forced me to believe that I have finally given up my inhibitions, but trust me, next time you will hear what is really in my mind, not what I want you to believe that is in my mind.

A quick trip to delhi

­‘Sahab, Dilli mein jo cheez meethi honi chahiye, wo bhi meethi nahi hoti. FDA kehta hai malai kofta white gravy mein banni chahiye, lekin kaun sunta hai.’ Saying this, the waiter wiped his face with the towel hanging down his shoulders; the heat from the Tandoor could be felt even on the first floor. Swami could still be heard humming in the background in his much loved south Indian accent ‘e delhi ai mere yaar’. A song that could have had no better situation to sing than the one we were in. One thing is clear about Delhi that it is a haven for gourmands and epicureans; however the malai kofta was a nightmare. While eating it i recalled the waiter’s words and wondered if the first sentence had a hidden pun. Saproo was busy eating his shahi paneer and occasionally checking his mobile for texts and service messages. We had been in delhi for the last 12 hours and were falling in love with it, especially the food, the one that quenches the bile and not the one for eyes.
Earlier that day, as our train was nearing to delhi, we were silently looking outside the window and were fidgeting since we were totally new to the event we came to delhi for. Swami broke the silence and asked ‘bai yaha chakke nai aate?’ I couldn’t get him so I asked him again. He was asking about eunuchs. Jadhav replied that it was because Bhopal express has very less stoppages so they don’t show up.
Saproo lifted his gaze from mobile and added, ‘Most of them are fakes, I saw it in a documentary’.
‘So did you sleep tight?’ I interrupted to change the topic since fellow passengers were suddenly straining their ears and finding discussion on eunuchs as intriguing.
As far as the sleeping was concerned, I had very little of it. I am not much used to sleeping in a rocking cradle, so i find it hard in train journeys.

The train reached Nizamuddin station on time and we quickly made our way through the crowd and walked out as if the train would leave any time. Seeing us hurrying like this, the fellow passengers also did the same; although nizamuddin is the last stop. Haste is contagious after all. In India people are always looking forward to get ahead of you. Be it the theatre, train, buffet lunch... people act as if this is their last chance. That’s why stampedes are quite common in India. We quickly brushed past the crowd and perched Bus number 181 and headed for PahadGanj, the place where you find cheap hotels, cheap food, and cheap ... forget it. As the bus rolled, I recalled a line from William dalrymple’s book, The city of Djinns- a year in Delhi: “... dust was everywhere and the city’s trees and flowers all looked as if they had been sprinkled with talcum powder.” Indeed the city air was stuffed with talcum powder and I was finding it hard to breath. But being a capitalist somewhere deep inside my heart, I admired the rapid growth the city undergoes every single day and forgot the filth. One more thing we noticed from the bus that common wealth games, this year, is sure to become a humongous slap on Indian sports committees, and the Govt for that matter. The city looked hardly prepared and i doubt if it will be before 3^rd of Oct.
“Pahadganj aa gaya” Vaibhav said. Swami and I were so busy Cracking jokes on politicians and commonwealth that we didn’t realise how the time crept and we arrived at pahadganj the very next moment.
We descended and checked in a pretty economical hotel. The hotel guy asked for our I-cards and kept calling on hotel phone again and again to confirm identity, finally apologising for the inconvenience explaining that it was for safety purposes. They doubted us to be terrorists. No wonder since Saproo does look like one.
I remember, as a kid, once I read in a popular comic book that Pahadganj was quite famous for getting pockets picked. We didn't have to wait long enough to catch a glimpse of it when Saproo’s pocket got picked in the afternoon as we were returning to Hotel after having lunch. Swami, Jadhav and I had crossed the road while Saproo and Tyagi trailed behind on the divider, still trying to cross the road. They employed a pretty clever trap using a kid and an accomplice. They were on the divider so the pickpocket couldn’t get far and was nabbed.Thanks to the Delhi traffic, you cannot cross a road so easily. The guy who accompanied the pickpocket immediately created a scene to save the latter. He yelled," Kucch lia to nahi.. sab theek to hai na bhai saab.. ye saale ma*****... bhag yaha se.."(Did he steal anything? Is everything ok? These mot****.. Get Lost!) Finally we realised that there are fair chances of us being outnumbered if we hit him as we were planning to, so we took a wise decision and went on our way.

Speaking of Delhi traffic, it works on one single rule, “Drive to kill; kill to drive”
“well we shouldn’t move and not run when we are caught in traffic” One of us said.
“ In that case you will be ran over. Delhi roads show no mercy. Traffic won’t allow them to go right or left or to stop. They have only one way, and you are standing on it. So they ‘hit and run’ away...” I argued.

The next day we checked out of the Hotel and headed for the India Habitat centre on Lodhi road. We were delighted meeting some of the greatest automobile experts and participating in BAJA SAE, a dream of every mechanical engineer. Everything went quite smooth, but nothing can be said before the results are out. After this we decided to go to CP but with our luggage it was impossible for us to wander anymore. One of my friends had to answer a ‘call’, a pretty important, vital and indispensible call that you answer every morning. So we waited outside the palika bazaar till he came back.
Delhi is a blend of thousands of religions, sects and nations. All live under the same sky, taking the pills of both harmony and agony in equal dozes. But one specific section of the society has to face hideously unruly behaviour of Delhites. The people from north east and Tibet, stereotyped and abused as ‘Chinkies’. I recalled reading an article some 6-7 years back on the condition of these people in Northern India. The article read, ‘They are harassed, abused and ridiculed . The number of crimes against girls from north east is on a rise. Some of them even underwent surgery to look like North Indians and avoid being noticed.”
I mentioned this to my friends as soon as I spotted a trio of north-eastern girls.
“So you want to say that we should not discriminate and never prejudice against any section of society while teasing a girl” Swami said in amusement.
“Yes I certainly mean Secular Eve teasing” I summarised his words.

Meanwhile the friend, who had been away answering the 'call', returned and we headed to nizamuddin station. Vaibhav left for meerut and Saproo for Noida. The remaining three of us sat in the waiting room, staring at our ticket with 317,318 and 319 waiting list. The journey to Bhopal was sure to be a torture and so was it. But at the end of the story we reached Bhopal safely in one piece.

Roadholding in the Indian corners.

I was thinking of writing this post since a pretty long time but this road is something that squeezes everything out of my mind. At times the situation turns so pathetic that I actually forget that whether am I returning back from my college or going to college, or any other destination for that matter. This road kills you, surprises you, thrills you, amuses you, disappoints you and I don't have any more words for what else it does to you. But one thing is assured, this road has made us feel proud( some say it is a matter of shame, but then it's about how you percieve it). It has made us proud in front of the entire world that thinks that 'if you can drive safely on Indian roads, you can drive anywhere...' So the next time you are rutting across the pheriwalas, dodging the naked kid who just crossed the road, after doing his morning job, like a headless chicken, felt as if your shock absorbers took their last breath as you bump into the pot hole, then be proud to be an Indian Rider.

I decided to write this post in two different pieces. One from the driver's perspective, and the other from the pedestrian's. I have never been much of a pedestrian since I passed 10th grade so I hope to recall those memoirs as vividly as I can.

[Posts coming soon...]

P.S.:-

I am not expecting you to have understood the meaning of the title. So I am explaining it. Roadholding is the ability of a car to remain stable while negotiating corners. But the word corner in the title implies the most populated and crowded roads. So roadholding the Indian corners reflects the idea of remaining stable and in control while driving on Indian roads

Next time please don't ask why we are not in FIFA

Today, as a matter of chance, or perhaps calling it a result of nightmare will be better, that I rose at 3 o'clock in the morning, the time at which I normally retire to bed. Now since I had woke up early I moved to my room and started downloading songs. I must admit, the download speed is quite fast at this time. So download before the dawn loads.

As the first light appeared in the sky, I walked to my balcony and pulled out a book by Arun Shourie, quite an appealing book, but I'll spare the details about the book till I finish it. Right now I am sitting in my balcony, reading the book and I see two kids walking in soccer attire. Just a couple of days back, I remember, I saw them regularly going for cricket camp. The cricket part is obvious since India is a land of Crick-freaks. But then the uncanny phenomenon of the two kids going to soccer camp is something which we see during FIFA world cup only. A couple of days back the hockey craze could also be seen hovering the city. Of course it was ephemeral as well.

May be we should be thankful to our law that forbids an easy hand on guns, or else Abhinav Bindra's gold could have resulted in heavy casualties, with the kids aiming for the "Bull's eye". And the bull could be anyone. Or perhaps we should thank the sports ministry for not allowing formula 1 into India. I seriously don't want kids vrooming cars all around my house during the formula 1 season.

One thing is assured that except the game of cricket every other game is played as a matter of 'trend'. Sports is never taken as a serious matter by a large section of the society. With the 'worn out' ministers denying to give up their places as Henry the II of sports, how can we expect our country to move up in the medal tally! How can we expect us to qualify for the FIFA! How can we expect a non-cricket sportsperson that his life after retirement won't be as pathetic as that of hundreds of sportsperson today!

P.S.: The nightmare I had was quite disturbing. I saw my English teacher in my school's annual function. I couldn't figure out what was I doing there, or how I reached there.

As soon as I came out of the gate, I was in an unknown place. I started walking totally directionless when suddendly a herd of weird animals started chasing me. I still can't figure out what they were. They seemed like cross between zebras and hyenas. Whatever they were, but the part where I met my english teacher was the most petrifying.

Room on the Roof

I am perhaps the only Indian college student who cannot recall reading Ruskin Bond during school days. By reading, I mean books from curriculum and not novels. Since I have read only one novel in my whole school life, you can easily interpret that I wasn't much into reading back in those days. My teachers can testify this statement as well.
Anyway, three days back I found this book in a nook of a local library which I am a member of. I came back home and started reading it. The very name of the character, I realised was hidden somewhere in my memories. My rusted brains recalled the name Rusty, about whom I have heard a lot but never read any story. Finally i was reading one.
The Room on the Roof' starts with his usual cravng for adventures in the street of Dehradun, which consequently gets him caned from his guardian. Very soon he realises the futility of his life and runs away to his local friends Somi and Rajbir. From this point his actual adventure starts as he joins a job of a home tutor for a spoilt kid Kishen.
The beauty of the story lies in the similarities between Kishen and Rusty, there friendship and drooling for aloo-chaat. The story finally ends with a tragical twist and an obvious happy ending. Yet the book was really worth reading.

Nine Lives, a fine travelogue

For the last 9 days I was madly immersed in a book written on spiritual India. Nine lives, as the name suggests accounts nine stories from nine different walks of life, which I finished precisely in nine days; reading one story a day. Undoubtedly it is a travelogue which deserves immense appreciation from Indian readers and those who prefer to read about India. William Dalrymple, a British journalist turned writer, has written some really famous books namely the Last mughal and In Xanadu, but this one really stole my heart. No amount of appreciation can quench the pulchritude of this book.
The protagonists in most of the stories narrate their stories that stand entirely in contrast to what they turned out to be, yet there is no missing link and not a single story appears to be concocted, as the writer claims it’s ingenuity in the beginning.
The first story tells the story of a Jain nun who was a girl with all the luxuries and love of life. But one day she is moved by the Jain asceticism and decides to choose the path of renunciation. Her battle with emotions and family are beautifully written in the book. Apart from that the magnificent description scenes of the places of rendezvous is yet another ornament.
This book brought a little amount of disappointment for me, when I learned about so many things about my country that I never ever heard of. Each one the nine stories tells you something that you never knew. For instance folk singing in India, specifically in Pabusar of Rajasthan, thought to be a mere entertainment, has a much deeper sense. William meets a local bhopa singer, Mohan Bhopa who is preserving the 600-year old tradition of epic singing. They have sung 4000 line long poems for generations. It is believed by locals as an art of resurrecting the warrior God Pabuji, who looks after their perils and problems. However, the bhopa singers are struggling hard to keep this art alive, which is fading away with time and new modes of entertainment.
Out of all the nine tales, my personal favourite is of course the The Singer of Epics, about a Bhoopa singer, who explains, exemplifies and brags about the magical abilities of Bhoopa singing to William. As the story nears the end, the message becomes clear; not always does the destiny favour the good. Perhaps the most dramatic story of the book followed by The monk’s Tale.
I decided to finish this book in nine days, and I did it. For sure this is the only book so far in which I did so. This book is a real magnet.

I am undone...

It has been 10 years, roughly, since I haven't fallen ill; not accounting the uncommonly common colds I have caught. But this summer, my record seems to have finally broken. I have been seriously ill since last 7-8 days. My obduracy forced me not to accept the fact that I was unwell, and I continued to deter my health. Now things have gone far beyond control and yesterday I was literally hallucinating when my body tried to suppress the pain I am experiencing.
I am utterly disappointed to see my inertness against sunstrokes. I hadn't expected myself to be so easily affected by this. But as fate had it, I was skipping breakfasts for a couple of days so I finally paid the price for it.

Indian Summers, snapshot

We live in a country where people are 'taught' to learn and preach the things that the Government wants. This of course keeps us in the dark, away from the truth and we blindly believe what we are shown, but the lamenting part is that this is the only way to keep ablaze the flame of patriotism. Sounds uncanny, but truth is sometimes an acid tongue.

Gandhi, well known as Mahatma, along with Nehru was in fact a blind ideologist. So strident their ideologies were, that the price was paid by India in the form of Partition and millions of life in the carnage that followed. Ironically, in 1942 Gandhi gave up the ideology of non-violence and ordered his followers to do what it takes to annoy the Brits. Alex Von Tunzelmann in her book Indian Summers puts together all these events and evidences lined up around the clandestine amour between Nehru and Edwina Mountbatten which helps the reader understand the missing links in the story of Indian Imperial days.
The beauty of the book becomes eloquent as it begins with a terrifyingly catchy paragraph,
"In the beginning there were two nations. One was vast, mighty and magnificent empire, brilliantly organised and culturally unified, which dominated a mass swathe of earth. The other was an underdeveloped, semi-feudal realm, riven by religious factionalism and barely able to feed its illiterate, diseased and stinking masses. The first nation was India. The second was England."
The Indian history is no less than a typical soap opera, spilling upto the brim with betrayal, emotional moments, provoking dialogues followed by their heinous consequences and what not. The most famous of all examples is the provoking statement delivered by Nehru against jinnah, which provoked the latter, who had given up politics and was liveing a solitary life in London, to return to Indian politics, shattering the Indian movement to the worst possible extent.
Very few people know, rather very few people are told, that Jinnah was the icon of Hindu Muslim unity when he came into politics. Further few people know that it was Gandhi's obduracy that ushered Muslim leaders to believe that India will be unsafe for Muslims. Had gandhi paid heed to the dissent of followers and fellow countrymen and tried to curb it, then India'd have been in a different positon today.
We live in a country where speaking against gandhi and nehru, and speaking for Jinnah is a punishable offence. So I cannot write more on this topic.
The book mentions the most hillarious acts of buffoonery commited by Louis Mounbatten, the last Viceroy of India. His Quixotic milliary expeditions are perhaps the most enjoyable part in the book.
Further it reveals the reason why it took us so long to gain independece, rather took the brits so long to give up the land. Indian independence movement was an utter failure. just like the 1857 uprising, we never had a common cause to unite us. We were always divided, as we are now.
In addition to the narration of Indian history the book reads the ugly politics that hovered the british crown. The writer accessed the imperial archives to spoon out the most detailed descriptions of events that took place. Further she requested access to the love letters exchanged between Nehru and Edwina Mountabatten from both the Mountbatten and the Nehru descendents but was denied.

Amazing act by Pakistan

As a fiendish gesture to India, if latest reports by Intelligence agencies are to be believed, the Pakistani agencies are offering double salary to terrorists in kashmir. Ironically entire Pakistan is suffering from an economic crisis wherein citizens are being asked to cut down their expenditures.
Austerity drive, a term adopted by our Govt., that was recently declared pejorative by media pointing it out as meaningless and a mere charade, is now the law in Pakistan. The inside story came into light during Sania Shoaib marriage for which they were dragged to court for not being Austere. Humorous news started flooding Indian TV channels, denuding the Pakistan economy to its scantiest garments, as Pakistani people watched in despair.
The inflation rates have shot up as high as 22.35% in 2008 and this year stabilised to 13%. But inflation is not a mere index of economy. If we look into other data we will find our neighbours in hard time. Still they continue aiding terror activities in Kashmir.
Incredibly the salaries have been raised from 5000/- per month to 8-10K per month. A rare act by any employer...

Weirdly enough... the series of incidents that unfolded this monday after my viva won't have driven me as much crazy as they seem to have done, had I not foreseen them, the very previous night, in my dream. For the entire narration.... wait for some time...

The Vivalogue

Well, no matter how much I keep on writing on my blog, I won't cease to be a clown, however occasionally, in technical vivas in this semester at least. When it comes to technical vivas, sometimes I do some of the most hilarious gaffes ever possible. One such incident took place today in my thermal Viva that will ever remain etched in my life.
2:30 PM, Mr. Lanjewar stood in front of the exam controller room of Mechanical Dept., infuriating at a couple of boys who had arrived there on time, by mistake. We had been asked to assemble in Mech dept by 2:30 PM, but we presumed that the external will arrive late as they do always, so we delayed. I walked near and smelled the situation. Actually the external was so EXCITED to conduct the viva that SHE arrived 20 minutes earlier.
We called up our friends, who arrived after a further delay of 10-15 mins. Finally the Viva started and Binty-group was summoned. We were next, so we were prepared for the call.
The door opened, Binty came out. This is a really disappointing part, even after not being the first group to be slaughtered; you never know what is being asked inside. Moreover the external is always beaming with energy for the early ones so that's yet another problem that we have to deal with.
We squeezed inside the room; I heard some noise above my head. I turned my ead to the roof and I nearly fainted. I saw two men hanging down the loft, with mallets and hammers. 'Am I hallucinating??' I asked myself. Then I saw my friends staring at the roof as well, and I felt comforted. The two spidermen seemed to be mending the walls, but had they continued to hear our replies, they'd have probably fainted and landed on our heads.
We seated ourselves, however not comfortably in the congested place full with stuffs, and the interrogation began. Usual questions, funny answers and best of all, Hitendra Kumar nagesia... His thrilling VIVA adventures deserve a separate blog post, so I am sparing the details. But yeah!! I need to mention that he was literally in trance, don't know why... or maybe I do... He is a full-pack entertainment for the external and us both, in every Viva :D
The Vivasorous, that's what we call an external, an innocuous lady this time, seemed apprehensive about asking us questions. Still she did, after all she is being paid for it. Capitalism at its worst... we drench ourselves in sweat writing and studying lab record and what's the reward?? Nothing. While the external get's paid for asking stupid questions, no matter if they know the answer or not!!! At least she can offer us her Samosa-Patties-etc !!! We won't feel bad if she gives us 7 ptr after that... But not less than that...
Very soon she attacked me and asked "How do we classify boilers?". I was stunned for I couldn't recall, but the very next moment I did. I replied in a choked voice, "I said: well according to pressure and position and ummm.. THEY ARE CLASSIFIED... she gave me a weird look... I realised what I had said. And she realised that I am in no mood of sharing any "classified" informations...
Overall, the Viva was cool, and she seemed quite a friendly creature. At least not like the Legendary H.B. Khurasia, better known to mechies as Universal Viva Machine. During our sophomore years, every night, many mechies woke up in the middle of their sleeps shouting "UVM aa gaya" and went back to sleep when we realised that it was just a nightmare... He was our bogeyman!! But today we can say that we met the tooth-fairy...(No she was not pretty, if you have interpreted that way)

please kill 'em

If God gives me one wish that he can grant me, I'll ask for death of all Indian authors... Stupid books, zero logic, improper design(yes I just solved a couple of Gear design questions and obtained better solutions)... and plenty of reverse engineering( modifying the solution in order to arrive to an answer which you already know)... Bhangaar Bhandari he is the most preferred writer in Machine design.. But so awefull that students lose interest in machine design!!!

what should be the theme??

I am still facing difficulty in deciding upon the topic I should write a book on. I am sure it will be a fiction but can't decide on what topic should it be. If I write on relations.. people will have a hearty laugh, because it will be like an Eskimo from antarctica writing about the backwaters of Kerala. The only options I am left with are either writing on friendship or college comedies. But I won't have time till the fall of 2010 to start pondering. However, I am writing this to keep me reminded of this task. I will start with the first chapter as soon as I arrive upon the decision of which topic should I write on... suggestions invited

biggest gameplayer

When I talk of true bargaining it's not the Indian Market that pops in my mind. Of course it did, a couple of years back, but now I have a contender in my mind : our very own UPA govt. Recently when the cut motion that was put forward by opposition a whole new drama came into picture. Mayawati, who had filed an application for withdrawal of case against her disproportionate assets, decided to support the Govt immedietely after the CBI accepted the plea(1). Amazingly the Shashinath Jha murder case is also lagging on dates for the last couple of times, owing to various reasons like absence of Soren, transfer of judges and few more uncanny yet obvious reasons(2). Moreover, since Soren had no reasons to call BJP as a communal party, since they have an alliance in Jharkhand, he coined an excuse which is no wiser than 'dog ate my home-work' . The story recurred few years back when Shibu Soren was released from prison, where he was confined under life sentence, in a bargain of supporting UPA govt.
So accept it, either UPA always reserves some poker chips for the 'fair' play or the Govt is really unscathed from the modern tactics of policies and always achieves a victory by the scruples
1) http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/Maya-U-turn-came-after-CBI-backtracked/articleshow/5865919.cms
2) http://www.indianexpress.com/news/2-days-before-ruling-on-soren-judge-opts-out-murder-case-transferred/607641/

help me!!! i am drowning...

I have so far been known as one of the most sanguine guys in my class. My philosophy tells me, ‘Never bother about what’s hidden behind that curtain, Go ahead, find it yourself. If you find nothing, then look for another curtain.’
But yesterday, when I creased this special curtain for the first time, I found myself sinking deep within a bog of conundrums. A bog, where there is no vine, hanging down the trees nearby, to moor myself to them. Save me from this excruciating pain, for this bog is sucking me within itself. It’s tearing me apart. I don’t know if I will survive... People may not survive the pain and forever remain in this bog, with the venom paralysing slowly from inside.
When my friends will know about it, they'll think I hardly care about this thing, for they have seen my idiosyncracy in some of the most shattering circumstances.But of course this one is unprecedented. May be I don’t care at all. Or do I?? Then why am I writing this post?? I am confused....I have never been so easy in admitting mistakes, but today I am doing it. I made a mistake, a blunder perhaps. I didn’t have patience to wait for the curtain to be raised. I did it all by myself and got restless when I found nothing, I ushered forcefully inside to know the truth, But got caught in this bog...

I can solve the DOHA problem

I can suggest a solution for DOHA round... change the meeting place to some remote city of Madhya Pradesh from Geneva.. the members will surely reach a solution in an attempt to never come here again... Electricity problem is really hideous in our state

I found a friend

In this transforming world and my ever-changing life, there is one thing that has never changed and perhaps will never change; the way i treat my childhood friends. Amongst all the transient factors this conspicuously constant behaviour is what I cherish the most. Be it all my Ahmadabad Buddies, one of the closest one to my heart (so what if Shishir acts indifferently), few of my buddies from KV2 Bhopal, (yeah, I found it hard to resonate with these guys), and of course some of my Kali Bari buddies, I will ever remain the same kid for them.
Now what might amaze you is why I am writing this post. It’s because this Sunday I came across another childhood friend. I have seen her around a lot of times but never gathered the courage to say her ‘Hi’. The reason was not that I enjoyed pestering her in school, along with my buddy Yash. Nor, for that matter, we fought stupidly for getting ahead of each other academically (Well I guess I have made clear how ‘fast’ friends we were. But then this is yet another type of childhood friendship). It was because physically, I have changed drastically and at times people deny recognising me. But I finally gathered the courage and called her name. She paused... creased her brows... her lips were confused whether or not she should smile... She stepped forth and suddenly with a beam of delight spoke,” SAMRAAAT” (yeah there were 4 A’s in my name that evening). I had a sinking feeling in my stomach for I couldn’t believe that she would recognise me. Anyway we couldn’t converse much, but then I always find it hard to speak out in front of girls. No I am not pretending to be innocent. Actually I always run out of topics while talking with them. Luckily we had so much from our 7th class days for chat.
Well about this girl, I must tell you our friendship was like that of a cat and a dog... (Yeah I know all men are dogs... so am I). I must admit she remembers a lot of my nonsense acts way too much than I could even recall. And I thought I had a good memory.
Finally it seems to me that I have added one more friend to my friend list, whom I can really call a friend.

The blame game continues...

The failure of operation-green hunt is being credited to the slag in communication between intelligence and state govt... remember 26/11?? Someone has rightly said- a bad workman always blames his tools...

A 'minor' incident

I furred my hair and tried to bring my ever messed up coiffure to a tolerable look. Brushing the dust off my head-wrap that has become indispensible for me after so long a hairfall era in my life, I crumbled it and stuffed it inside my bag. My hair... I find it hard to keep it the way I comb it in the morning... So I have stopped combing. I nudged Ankit to make way for me to the class, and climbed up he stairs to my place. No matter how much we try to change our seating arrangement in Minor exams, we always get caught and are made to sit as usual. The sophomores, prefinal and final year mechanical were busy with their last minute preparation and the class was beaming with weird voices filled wih technical babbles. As soon as I placed my stuff on the desk, the voices became intense and a whole bunch of students funnelled inside the class like sheep herded by a shepherd into the fences.
Someone shouted," Lanjewar aa rha hai"
Another replied," wow yaar mast cheating hogi"
Third voice interrupted," are nahi be wo Mtech waala C!@#@!# aa raha hai"
About this Mtech Guy I just mentioned... He is a real ..mmm... smart guy... Reason??? He always nabs you when you are not doing anything unfair. And when you are actually doing, so he never figures it out... Ranjit was an exception.. he git caught. So statistically speaking, in a one hour test, if you spend 5-6 minutes playing peek-a-boo with your neighbour's copy... This means this guy will pester you for the rest 54-55 min.
A month ago, which was ofourse winter, a season with only one reason to be hated by me that being my olfactory senses becoming useless due to leakage in my phlegmatic reservoir. So I keep a handkerchief at hand to wipe my tunnels off to avoid any disgraceful dripping in front of someone. On that day, I did the same and my handkerchief was dripping with phlegm.
I know that sounds gross, but this is a biological flaw with me. My nose leaks out more water than a common kitchen tap does in an entire day, if not closed properly.
The test commenced, I had written necessary formulae on my table for reference... ;-) I wrote the paper without much problem, except for my oozie nosie... I bent forward to wipe off my nose with my hankie and this guy saw me. He came over to me...
checked underneath my desk, made me stand up and checked my jeans... and then... ewwww... he picked up my hankie dripping wet!!!! and asked..." ye geela kyu hai?"
I replied with a sniff... He still didn't realise what a disgusting thing he had picked up...
Anyway that 'smart' guy couldn't see the formulae written loud and clear on my desk.
I was shocked... with amusement... :-D

Some memories are really worth preserving. Just played the months-old recorded interview of Roopa over his Copenhagen strip club adventure...

The new divide

Hindus were not enough so they divided Muslims... now Muslims will also have quotas according to cast. The quota privilege will exclude Syeds, Pathans, Iranis and Arabis. Seems like the general category, which is actually an excruciating minority in front of all the reserved classes put together( not including women), will have to stand and fight for its existence. The conundrum of reservation is not whether it should be sustained or not, rather whom should it be given to. I have been repeatedly supporting the idea that criterion for reservation should be money instead of progeny. If a candidate is pathetic inspite of a firm financial pillar underneath him, then why is the caste system being blamed.
Possibly 'they' want to convey that the candidate had recalled the atrocities against his forefathers just before the exams, interview or whatever he couldn't perform well in. Or maybe he was afraid that the invigilator, professor or interviewer might expel him out of the room at any time because of his origin. Or may be they have some better reason than I can think.
Whenever I mention that income should be the agency of reservation, people try to refute by mentioning the illegal proofs of income. I do admit the problem, but is there a better way to appease the unrest in unreserved class? The solution to the question just posed can be introducing strict norms while availing for reservation. We do have evasion of income tax, but still it is collected. A sub-middle class man, who has hardly any other income, and the one I advocate should cherish reservation, won't find it hard to disclose his entire incomes. Perform hard core raids where you suspect a fish, nab them and 'reward' them. Bet my money India will be a better place again.

An excuse for agnostics

I am really confused, so long I have been declaring myself as an atheist. Rather I had been dwindling between atheism and theism when finally I have felt the need of God. When I wrote about this on facebook, Manish kumar agarwal, a friend of mine, gave me a neo-kabeer doha:
Dukh mein sumiran sab karae, sukh mein karae na koi;
Jo sukh mein sumiran karae, TO WO SUKH KAAHE KA HOE.!!

Ready for the ride

It's time to gear up for the BAJA.. the ultimate dream of every mechanical engineer... We have a long and hectic path to tread, with placements, CAT, college projects and BAJA of course. I am sure this ain't gonna be a smooth ride but I... err.. we will have to manage these things

New MANIT motto

'fiat lux ' is the motto of university of california which means 'let there be light'.... MANIT's motto is 'Docomo Dettol' which means 'life can change in seconds, so be prepared with the solution'

only 1409 left... tiger project needs a correction

This is a short post dedicated to the recent incident of the cloud that hovers Ranthambore National Park. Recently, on march 7th 2 Tiger cubs were found dead which, sadly, corrects the save tiger project to only 1409 left. What added to the grimmace was the news of a man-eater in the National Park. Officials have firmly denied existence of any man-eating tiger in Ranthambore, possibly to pacify the tourists who were woken up one morning and given the news of 50-yr old villager being killed by 'some' animal. Forest officers are strongly rejecting any possibility of a lurking man-eater and trying to give the credit to jackals, inspite of canine marks being found on the victim's shoulder and throats. I wonder which jackal dares to clench a human by throat.
Anyway the point of discussion is not who killed whom and who is being blamed. Instead, if at all a man-eater exists he will be killed in a few days, if forest officials don't succeed to catch him alive. .If we look into the matter more deeply, we will find that about 60 Bigha of forest area has been encroached in 1998-99, Data about later years are not available. Besides Illegal poaching still continues in that area. I assume the reader is better acquainted to th fact that the biggest dealer of Tiger hide and its body parts is The China, where tiger is believed to possess medicinal properties. The solution to this lies in tightening the patrols in Tiger Reserves and providing them with more sophisticated equipments for surveilance and security, which at present are hardly anywhere near modern technologies... (blog post coninued...)

R.P. Singh Rocksssssssssss... not the cricketer but our director

Finally the 5 day technosearch-Maffick is over... But I won't say that College is back to it's early schedule, because Sportomania will start from tomorrow. And even after that I don't think our Golden Jubilee celebration will allow us to... err.. allow college to return to it's original state.
The Techno Maffick was a huge success and my favourite event, of course after the Kailasa night and Kumar Biswas, was our Director's fundoo speech. No event can equal the cheer and claps that the director earned in his speech. I must quote one such cheered line that he quipped for the junkyadr wars..." maine raat mein dekha ki ladke ladkiya kuchh kar rahe hai.... maine poochha to pata chala ki wo log kabaad se kuchh srijan kar rahe hai.. maine poochha yaha koi apriya ghatna to nahi hogi?? jiska aashwasan aapke president ji ne diya.." the entire speech was funny and the college enjoyed it..
The reason behind mentionig this is not that it's merely an incident. I mentioned it because it was a relevent speech for a techfest. It didnt annoy the students like every professor's speech does but it stood apart and allowed itself to be enjoyed by the students

The Great Indian Novel

This book was read by me 2 months ago, during the semester breaks, but the book was tremendously vague and incomprehensible for me to write a review on it. But lately I came across another piece of writing by the same author, who was recently inked with allegations for using MEA website for promoting his books, and learnt the real implications of this book.
The author wrote this book inspired from a number of authors who have rewritten literary works by some brilliant and eminent authors of all times with a tremendously different perception. The famous example is Gone with the wind written by Margaret Mitchell which was rewritten by Alice Randall as Wind done Gone where the latter narrates the same story from the slave’s point of view.
The Great Indian Novel has been written with a similar intention that manifests The Mahabharata as the story of India, specifically contemporary. The characters of the great epic have been remoulded into our famous freedom fighters. The writer narrates the pre-independent incidents expressing them in the Mahabharata way. The unique factor is the striking resemblance with the freedom fighters, their traits and the incidents they were a part of. Or may be it’s just the writer who has successfully made us believe that way.
The book unfurls Mahabharata right from the beginning, i.e. from Ved vyas and unfolds through a series of incidents like the entry of Bheeshm Pitamah( Gandhi) and the terrible vow he takes, and finally nears the end with the Kurukshetra…
If you ever chance to read this book, then you will appreciate the humours that have been cracked from time to time. A detailed piece of art that goes transcends all conventional writing barriers.
Let alone the fidgety narration of incidents, this book is a pack of entertainment if you search for the joy in it.

Indo Pak dialogues- a fruitless road

When I have nothing to do, I prefer to talk. I suppose the Indo-Pak dialogues over solving the issue of terrorism rests on the same ground. Every single dialogue is a futile attempt towards curbing terrorism.
The Indian Govt is very well acquainted to the fact that why terrorism prevails in India, that includes issues graver than the Kashmir one. Still it behaves like an infant by continuously clamoring for Hafiz Saeed.Anti-India Terrorism does originate in Pakistan but the fodder it nurtures on is freely available in India. The motivation is floating in Indian air. One needs to just tap it which is not at all a tough job.
Time has come when government should act prudently and nip the peril from it's root, and stop playing charades.

I feel bad

This issue never made me feel incompetent, neither has it ever done my head in. But at times it has given me a reason to feel bad when I realise that I have never been able to 'enjoy' a head-phone....

hand got bruised, still happy I am

Today bruised my left hand with clogged gear shifter of Bajaj chetak.. hell lot of effort it needs for a shift, and has got a lot of play in it... still I don't feel bad about it, owing to the fact that it has been nudged out of the production lines... but not from our hearts... Hamara Bajaj
Note: play is a term used to define a peculiar condition of a machine element in which it has got undesirable motion in addition to it's usual motion, if at all any.
For eg.: a worn out bolt tends to sway orthogonally to it's axis when fitted .
:-D

I didnt like this movie

inglorious basterds is a falsely glorified movie, as I perceive it. The history has been pathetically manipulated and the subtlety is missing in the modus operandi of double agents.Finally I'll write what a movie review quotes:"A movie satisfying the desire of torture porn against Nazis....." But do watch it if you love fiction.... and unpredictable stories.

Minor Minor burning bright, MANIT students with all your might

Have you heard of ironies??? I am sure you must have. Minors is specifically what we can call a perfect irony. They have named it minor. But it has hardly anything to do with its name. It's as much enormous as diminutive it sounds to be.
They torture you, slit your throat, amputate your limbs...
Okk I am exaggerating...
But two minors a day!!! Which kind of right in Indian constitution permits them to do so? Still they call it a minor!! The only possible justification that I find is that they have Majors in the end, which are bigger than these counterparts. But then they should name these as Minor-attack and Major-attack respectively. However, sometimes... rather most of the times, the minors are far more torturous than majors, owing to the very little time they give us for preparation. Nobody is going to ask them, so why am I bickering? All I can do is thank them for one-subject-a-day for this minors. But I am sure that they will return me my 'gratitude' in the next minor, which will be probably two in a day, or may be even three in a day!!!

No more balkanization please

Telangana protests have begun once again. Govt should see to it that demands for new states should be nipped in their buds, by passing a rule freezing all the states from further fission. The demand for a new state should only be put forth when there is a serious adminstrative and bureaucratic failure in the state, to which a division of state is the only solution left. Such claims should be backed by reports submitted by constitutional committees. Further any violent protest for the sake of New state should be declared a national offence, since it further challenges the integrity of the country.

Why do I abuse........

Today I could have been in real trouble had I not narrowly escaped shouting swear words in front of one of my friend's parents.
I had just finished with the engine assembly workshop, which was specifically meant for sophomores and had taken along JD with me. I was returning home after looking out for some stuffs at Vishal Mega mart, which unfortunately I coudn't find. I decided to refill some fuel before leaving with JD, who had gone for susu. I looked around for JD and found him across the road. I shouted ,'JD!!!'. He didn't hear. I shouted again. Still no response. I was about to shout,' m@##@$# susu karne gaya hai ya gaadiya gin raha hai ', when suddenly I saw her parents. Whoaa... Goodness I didn't start my Shlokas. I greeted them with trembling hands, out of the fear that what would have happened if I had begun with my cat call. But I was happy that I didn't.
Maybe I should put a leash on my swear words... They come out in some of the most awkward situations across my life. The last time it happened was in front of some professor when I shouted 'behen!#!@#!' for Mahitosh and it reached the professor's ears earlier than it did to Mahitosh's. He turned back but I disappeared in the crowd... Thankfully, once again, I was also 'some' student for him so neither of us knew the other.
Another hillarious incident took place with 'Shefali'... My mech brothers know who she is... She liked me a lot... And it's apparant from the fact that there hasn't been a single electrical Lab when she didn't yell at me; despite all my pre-emptive measures to make sure she doesn't... Finally I started enjoying it and she gave me good marks in Lab. So it happened like this, she had just finished scolding me for switching off the supply to our experimental set up. Weird act by me of course, but I had just got an electric shock at home the previous day, so I was a little jittery with electrical appliances. Let's return back to the story. I was really pissed off with her behaviour since I was in I-yr and hadn't been through this before. I started grumbling, ' K#@$@ kahi ki. kya samajhti hai khud ko...' only to be interrupted by Mahitosh,' Saale baaju mein khadi hai... marwayega kya'. Phew.. she didn't listen us
Lets hope that things always turn up like this and never land me in trouble, till I shirk this habit of abusive disgruntlement

Listening to Grasshoppers

There can be no other book that can devasate your reverence for India, that you have within yourself, as much as this book can. In fact Arundhati Roy has stood apart for her communist ideologies, blended with the grudge, however justified, that she holds against the industrialists for forcefully acquiring the lands from the weak. This book is a scinitillating compilation and analysis of the events that reveal our country as a saffron chuvinist, the law and order as a bestial body and the politicians, whose image was ameliorating, as parasite. It consists of essays that were written in the wake of incidents like 13-dec, assaassination of hrant dink, godhra massacre, nandigram issue and 26/11.
The book makes shocking revelations, backed by proofs of webpage links from international press, that changes the way we think of the 13th dec parliament attacks. A lucid evidence that's given is that how can Afzal make a clear confession when his family lives in the kashmir valley where they are an easy kill for the people he is speaking against. As a matter of fact it is possible, provided the torure he was subjected to, like giving electric shocks to the genitals, thrusting iron rods into anus, wearing shirt for weeks which must b used to cleac toilet and forcefully made to drink urine. A fact which many people don't know is that afzal was a suspect much earlier than the attack and was in close touch with the STF. Then how is it possible that nobody kept an eye on his activities.
It also condemns the Indian media for the irresponsibility the show while airing a news. Despite the Godhra event, things havent changed much. The credit for Afzal being viewed as a public enemy is indisputedly claimed by the media. Further the death sentence issued to Afzal becomes a little cloudy when we read the supreme court decision that quotes ' The hanging would satisfy the collective public conscience'. It's quite disappointing to learn that the death sentence awarded to Afzal is not consolidated by any of the evidence, rather they make it more confusing.
Other issues that the book raises includes the hegemony of saffron politics, the credit of which is claimed by more than 'one' party, under which thousands of minorities have been killed in two seperate state organised massacres. There are explicit description of the bestiality bestowed upon those people, the brutal killing of former MP Ehsaan Jaffri, the heart-shattering interviews of victims and other ruthless events.
The most important issue that the book discusses is about the Supreme court. Specifially the Chief Sabarwaal case. But folks, there is a law that refrains people from condemning the apex court, so it'd be better if you read the book and spare me the trouble.
here is a link to one of the essays http://www.countercurrents.org/roy260108.htm

last few minutes

The clock has struck... marking the eleventh hour that crept in when I was sleeping. Or perhaps I wasn't. I knew this day would come but I hardly prepared for it. Time is swaying away like the pages of an open book fed to the wind. I can feel the stress in myself and sense it in my comrades as well. No wonder I try to abstain social networkin as much as I can, but seldom i do log in to express myself. The call of the hour is commitment, which I can't see in myself, but I have to deliver the untold promise. Two and a half years swept away like smoke and I ain't sure where i will be 10 years from now. When people ask me why am I preparing for management when I am into technical discipline, I prefer to keep quiet. Not because I don't have the answer, but I prefer to act rather than to speak. Parallely I am looking out for campus placement as a Plan B (or is it?). I will take the CAT and appear in the Placement window by the fall of this year and I got to get in one of them. Wish me good luck

Out of this incorrigible s****house

This is not just a pic in front of a Public loo.... This is a symbolic interpretition of our lives when we'd be done with this education system. I am not pessimistic about our system, it's just that it has been manipulated to an inconvenient form. Be it IIT's,NIT's or XYZ-IT's, or even the med-colleges,for that matter ... we all belong to this and stare bleakly at the prevailing situations.
So here we are (symbollically) out of this SHIT!!!
P.S.:Ayush is missing in this pic, since he is the one who is taking it

My B'day treat...

At last my teenage is over and I am 20. Most of the people look at this as just a normal event but as everyone knows I have got a different perception for this thing as well.
First of all I won't be a teenager hence no teenage problems.
I have completed 2 years since I am eligible to go to an Adult movie in any theatre.
I am trailing behind the lawful age of marriage by just one year.
I am only 5 years short of the age for contesting elections.
I am one year short of becoming eligible to avail for most of the loans like car, housing etc. This will contribute to annoying calls from banks asking for buying loan from them, which sounds more like a do or die threat than a mere telemarketing call.
Apart from all these I am nearing to the end of my college life, this one is a bit gloomy, and falling short of time to prepare for CAT. Have I even started yet?? I don't think so... Do I really want to? BAH!! I don't think so...
So keeping aside all these pestering issues, I took time to celebrate my birthday with my D-10 gang and couple of other college friends. I am really unhappy that Saproo's name slipped out of my mind while calling up people, but I promise he will be there in any other party I chance to throw. I didn't have the guts to tell this to him today.
The party was at Rajhans and everybody was supposed to reach there at 8 o'clock sharp. I knew no one would but Apoorv and Yash made it on time. I reached there as well and everyone moved in pretty soon, not that much soon but it's okay as compared to what they did in Ayush's party. After a couple of photo sessions, we moved inside, had the dinner and came outside, and all the way through we didn't behave with any etiquette at all. A friend, who lost his alcoholic virginity a few days ago, was constantly asking for beer which was hindered by durri's condition that he will prefer macallan whisky........................ what? okk I am lying he is a teetotaler. Any way we didn't spare him even that night from our leg-pulling session, to which he kept on retorting, 'pehle padhai, uske baad kuchh sochunga'( Study is my priority and after that i'll think of ____). Finally we rutted to D-10 headquarters where we spent an hour or so, discussing non-sensical issues and retreated to our homes.

IPL ain't no monkey business

This blogpost should have been a little earlier when the matter was burning hot. But even today the matter now and then jumps out of the coffins. I am talking about the incident of Pak players not being chosen in any IPL team which, Pak should understand,way beyond any political game. It's a matter of marketing and advertising. As it's quite well known that IPL players are endorsed for many purposes of which IPL matches seem to play a trivial role, as in the case of Kolkata Knightrider, who bagged the biggest share of money, last season, even after not performing well in the matches. They have to promote products, make sure that people are crazy for the merchandise, embark on promotional tours and the list goes on.This is simply not a matter of diplomatic game played to show them down or show grudge against them. It is rather a matter of 'what people want to buy and what you sell them'. For the last 2 years Indian juntaah doesn't seem to be having a good taste for Pak people, reasons need no introduction. We all know this emotion will last till the apocalypse but the intensity of such proportions is ephemeral. In other words, call it an off-season for Pak players. Now why would a good businessman think of investing in sweater-market during peak summers???
Pak bureaucrats should stop being petulant and wait for the 'winters' to arrive...

Crush Crash

Jan 31 '10,
7:00 am

I had promised my readers, whom I have failed in keeping my word of writing this diary regularly, that I shall one day write about my first ever crush. So it was essential for me to draft this post as early as possible to avoid this from losing in priority to other tasks and hence getting left incomplete.
I rewind back to Oct 21, 2007 the day I first saw her. It was Dussehra, the time that the Bongs find to be most disheartening. Three days of fun and gaiety finally moving into trance with the idols embracing muddy waters with nothing but the wooden frame afloat and aqueous ripples emanating and fading towards the bank like the moments of joy that we cherish in those three days . But unlike early dussehras, this time I wasn't going to be left disheartened, but shattered instead. Thanks to the girl that made me realise that everything I like is not within my reach always. It's however a matter of surprise and puzzle for me that she has been joining us for last many years, yet remained unnoticed by me. May be because I started staring at girls, shamelesly, only after I came to college, ya... this is mact-syndrome, precisely of M type, the most dreadful of it's kind.(M stands for mechanical)
Let's get back to the scene of crime, where Cupid shot me point blank. Destiny had planned the murder in cold blood.
I remember, so clearly as if it were yesterday, she was in a white attire, standing next to her mom. The sun had crept far enough to leave any traces of light in the sky. And smells of agaves(rajnigandha) tickling my olfactory senses added to the beauty of this serendipity. The halogen lights were shining bright, flashing at the idols that were ready to embark for the annual adieu. I was sitting aimlessly, but waiting for my friends, when suddenly my eyes caught the most subtle and serenely beautiful opus of God. I pegged my eyes on her for don't know how long but till I realised my stupidity. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat but was choked. I couldn't move an inch of my body, as if smitten by paralysis. I could feel the thump of my heart which was hammering on my chest. She was looking out for her father, perhaps, she tilted her countenance to every direction she could and caught my eyes. she didn't notice at the first encounter, but after a few more she sensed, which I realised through her discomfort in standing, the eerieness in my behaviour. I got a little jittery and quickly trudged away to a quieter place. The vicinity was not so romantic as it sounds to be, if at all it does. But this is how things appear to be, when you meet your crush for the first time. I bet whenever I saw her, that evening and eves to come, I was no better than a deer caught in a headlight. I talked to her in a stifled tongue, tried to make myself as comfortable as i could but in vain.She made me feel trivial everytime I stood in front of her.
The very next year I gathered courage and talked to her. I was still shivering at the time of year when people have their sweaters stuffed deep inside their cupboards. Anyway I asked her for her phone number, she gave it to me without any hesitation. But unfortunately I rarely called her up, how idiotic it sounds, yes I am a loser in this regard... As one of my friend argues, that if i look deep into my memories then I'll find many more girls that I can call my crush. So I did, but found none.
The reason why I am writing about this on 31st of Jan is because an year ago, on this very date, I talked to her for the last time. The last time I sat next to her. After this, I never saw her again. I don't know where she went, neither do I want to. I don't know if I should regret for not stepping forth or should I thank destiny for doing this to me. For now I seem to be more composed and thoughtful, not to forget the word 'human' while talking to stranger girls, as another friend pointed out. Now I can hope my friend( the same I just mentioned of)will not refer to this girl as pathetic . :-D

29 Jan '10,
I have been constantly expressing dissent over the meaningless security provided to VIPs, that is nothing but charade, a false assurance of their safety. In reality, the security that a 'common VIP' is provided with can do no better than save them from primordial weapons like spears and daggers. The security is alarmingly vulnerable to snipers and assaulters, or even a handgun for that matter. This is not at all hiddden from the authorities, then how do they justify choking of traffic on the name of security. In plain English, I ,as a common man, if willing to assassinate a VIP, can easily be stopped with much lesser security arrangements. While If I am a contract killer or an assassination expert, then these security arrangents will hardly fetter me.
Today I chanced to come across the caravan of an excruciatingly diminutive VIP. I inferred this from the fact that the traffic wasn't held for him. Unknown of this fact,I drove past the trailing vehicle of the caravan. After a while I realised that someone was shouting at me, however politely(I call it so, on grounds that no abuses were included). I looked to my side and found out that a mahindra, stuffed with cops was loosing temper since I was overtaking them. I paid no heed to them and kept diving at usual speed. After a while they drove ahead of me. I chose not to overtake them anymore to avoid getting into trouble, but what amuses me is that the VIP, whosoever, was actually feeling safe. And perhaps they are supposed to. Since it's only a common man who holds grudge against them.

Happy times are evanescent.. But they etch deep within

Seems like my frontal lobe has suffered extreme exhaustion and now needs rest. I am not expressing discomfort if that's what you are interpreting. I just came from Shilpi di's marriage and 3 days of ephemeral frolic has ended. And it kept my frontal lobe busy like never before. Frontal lobe is associated with emotions and humour, and these 3 days seemed like nozzles of my emotions. I didn't refrain any emotion from expressing itself, they were free to do whatever they wanted. Thankfully they were obedient enough to not manifest themselves at the wrong time.
Perhaps this is the first marriage ceremony where I wasn't acting like a hammer-headed introvert, pretending as if I have issues with everyone. I was impressively gregarious. ( I mean I impressed myself by acting like this)If time hadn't been an issue then I could have taught the entire MACT lexicon to Ritesh and Anunay who were extremely amused after learning the word 'Pelam'. I also came to know during these 3 days that only a handful of people in Bhopal are experts of HTC mobiles . So think thrice before buying one. I wish I could freeze the time to live the moment, but it swayed away. Life is back to being what it was, and I just recalled that I haven't finished the book that I am supposed to return tomorrow. And yes!! Happy Republic Day....!!!!

Education: A slow process of genocide

Not a single day has passed since last week when I haven't heard of news of students committing suicide. It's quite weird for sure, that all of them are hanging themselves when so many painless methods are available. I am not being sarcastic, instead I want to point out to the reason that everybody is discussing already- 3 idiots, the movie.

While watching the movie as many times as one can, nobody noticed one thing. It's Joy Lobo's ghost. The entire movie sympathises Joy and his suicide serves as a purpose, scantily however, to sketch the tailing portions of the story. In other words his act of cowardice complements the sole theme of the movie viz. condemning the education system. This is perhaps what is compelling the students these days, who were already at the brink of a breakdown, to take themselves to the next level which they consider as emancipation. Who is going to frame them for this act. But unfortunately they have shown nothing wrong. Students died even before the movie was there, but after it the cases surged.
The govt has tried every possible measure to improve the mental health of people but it appears that the students have been least affected. All of us clamour for a neo education system that rewards individual talent instead of conventional wisdom, while we are very well acquainted to the fact that it's a long and tedious journey. So are we embarked on it? The answer seems like a yes. But by the time we reach the destination we'd have lost comrades counting to numbers of enormous proportions. It's a Genocide, a disease that has to be controlled first, before seeking out for the cure.

Who is the culprit.. is it 'We'??

While last year witnessed so many incursions into the Indian territory by our petite yellow skinned neighbors... Am I being racist?? Okk then I'll call them Chinkeez... what?? Pankaj Singhania is feeling offended!!! (sorry bhai I didn't mean that) Then 'chinese' will do the part... So while chinese incursions were the hot curry of every table of discussion, people focussed on comparing the two nations on different aspects. Not surprisingly though, which should have been exactly an year before when India finished 50th with 3 medals in the medal tally of Beijing Olympics, 49 places behind China and 97 medals less. However We Indians are famous for our ability to gulp our foibles... well...not getting medals is too trivial for us to ponder on... So We celebrated the success of Abhinav Bindra all the way till We realised that he has been publicised enough and We can't take it anymore. Bindra broke the 84 year long goldless tradition of India in the Olympics for any individual event. I don't find a justification in celebrating his victory on a scale that it was done, for he had highlighted 84 years of our ineptitude as a Nation. Along with his gold came series of credit seeking claims by state govts, Archery federation and other 'God-knows-what-they-are-for' institutions. Sadly though, We all came to know the real story behind his success. To Justify our inability to climb the medal tally We have our own justifications. However the excuses that We give are no better than Dog-ate-my-homework, rather Dog-eats-my-homework will be a perfect fit. We argue that Africans have got a perfectly moulded body with fathom-long legs that perfectly compliment in sports which involve longer strides, while Chinese are petite and supple prototypes of human beings that are unbeatable in Gymnastics. Don't We sound a bit racial in this? Gymnastics is just one single chapter of the Chinese epic of Olympic medals. To contrast this point someone might present the fact of authoritarian government of China as a premise, where children are into state backed training schools and so that they always finish in the upper portion of medal count. This won't shadow our pathetic attitude towards Indian sports. We, as citizens, are not solely responsible for this apathy(you can take a sigh of relief). We share the blame with our fellow elite countrymen. Hardly any Sport body is being runned without a political interference. How can a parliamentarian know what are the requirements of a struggling sports-person? How can a politician know how to harvest raw talents?
How can a Retd. police officer know the agony of Hockey players who is far better acquainted to the pleasures of pinching a woman's bottom? Hockey Players are not millitants, so it'd be better if 'We' stop treating them like one and understand the situation.And talking of Cricket for that matter!!! stop criticising the game for it's popularity. No doubt it's a gift from the colonial times, perhaps that's why We should maintain it. As far as blaming the game for subsiding other sports is concerned, even US and almost entire Europe have got baseball and soccer where the money spent on these games is much bigger than We do so on Cricket, yet they prove their mettle in other sports... Wait!!!! Are we back on blaming education system??? LOLZZZZ !! Now this is one horrible vicious spiral. Everything zeros down to one culprit. Or is it really the culprit??
Actually there is no such thing as a vicious spiral. There are only cycles. You always have someone else to blame for your mistakes.

Winners of Marathon...

11:06 AM,
9 Jan '09,
Bhopal,
Finally Chhotu, Gampi and I won the Golden Jubilee Marathon, however from the tailing end. Ya thank you thank you!! for the praise... we actually deserve it... It has never been so overwhelming as we felt today... prize distribution had ended half an hour ago, and we were getting messages on our mobiles like " kaha reh gaye.. sab jaa rahe hai!!!"," abe saare prize distribute ho gaye...". At least we were not like Magga, who disappered after registration, that even we don't know where. But we saw him at the finishing line eating halwa, chips and other stuffs, that was actually meant for the runners.
Finally we returned home, not with head hung in shame, but held high... saale magge... hamne race to complete ki... :-P
Apart from all these nonsense, what nobody noticed was that this marathon could have turned into a stampede claiming important lives of our college. The marathon beagan with our Director standing at pole position(if there was any) and the students standing behind them. A photographer was clicking pics and everybody was posing for it. I don't know if I couldn't hear or what, but the race started like a blink of an eye, i.e. without any prior information. And everybody ran as if their lives were at stake. This could have possibly resulted to Director and couple of faculties ending in the ambulance standing by. But fortunately it didn't happen.

Operation Blue star: K.S. Brar, A story misconstrued

Lies, Myths, Half-truths and mis-interpretitions. How disasterous these words can prove to be, is no better explained as the 1984 cataclysm does. An year commemorated as an year of demise in Indian History.25 years have passed since the apocalypse, in which India nearly fell prey to anarchy and terrorism, took place. A new generation, to which I belong and is least affected by the ghastly incidents has emerged. Even if some of us belong to those families that confronted the riles, we are not as much in pain as our elders were at that time. Our Country witnessed a tough time and paid a heavy price for it. History can not be repaired, nor do we have any tool to verify it's veracity. Is it a truth or a charade, can never be known. All we can do is look for the factual and unbiased narrations of those incidents, if exists any. I chanced to read one such book on the 1984 "Golden Temple-mayhem", compiled by Lt Gen K.S. Brar(Retd). At the time of the operation he was a Lt Col and commanding officer of the operation.The author has meticulously explained every incident that occured in the wake of the incident- the ineptitude of Govt in nipping the threat in bud, the bureaucratic and judicial failures, the predicaments of Govt while taking the costly decision and the catch-22 situations the Indian Army was in and later was docked in after the operation was over.It will be very interesting to mention (from the book) that Bhindranwale was oiled by Zail Singh with patronage. Furthermore, the akalis found their own self in a free state Khalistan. So they never spoke against the antagonist of this whole drama, besides his fears paralysing them as well. Bhindranwale, along with Shabeg Singh, A retd. armyman and war hero of 1971, conjured up a plan of fortifying the Golden Temple to use it to clamour for autonomy. This was already being fueled by Master Tara Singh's campaign of recognition of Sikhs as a seperate community and seperate state of Punjabi Suba. Situation worsened in due course of time when Bhindranwale and his followers were intransigent in their demands and kept washing off any threat that sprouted. The cold blooded killing of Hind Samachar Editor Lala Jagat Narain, and DIG A.S. Atwal near the temple premises followed by the ineptitude of Govt. to arrest the perpetrators further added to their courage and the circumstances were totally out of control by then. In the meanwhile the Golden Temple was being turned into a bastion. Ridiculously however, the news that spread all over the country condemns the Indian Army for encroaching the dignity of Golden Temple, overlooking the acts of disgrace commited dauntlessly by the millitants. It was,however, the fault of strong and uncontrolled sentiments of people with the fuel of the miscommunication propagated by Media that the millitants were looked as martyrs while the Army was perceived as culprit.
In my whole life I have never chanced to read such a live and vivid description of an Army operation to the most precise detail. Brar, impartially confesses the mistakes commited by Govt. and Army while weeding out the terrorists. The writer personally believes that freezing the free press was the biggest mistake by the Govt since this gave rise to incoherent speculations which in turn raved up the sentiments. The entire operation of flushing out millitants has been explained from planning to execution, the dramatic situations that sprouted meanwhile, and the accurate description of emotions of people. This is one book of historical significance that will five you goosebumps for sure.The writer, in preface of the book, hopes this book to be useful for understanding the historical event of biblical proportions, and after reading this book I am sure that it will.