A day in the life of LIFE

Sarojini Nagar – One of the most inseparable places of the city of Delhi,whether you are looking to pick up hair pins, key chains, designer outfits or a bottle of Himesh Reshmiya’s nasal spray – you get everything under one roof.

And the market had the honor of playing host to none other than yours truly, who could find nothing more interesting to do on a Sunday afternoon than accompanying mom who is vacationing in Delhi,to select various paraphernalia from dress materials to ear rings for Laloo’s latest kid, which could well go into making of the next Mission Impossible sequel.

Jokes apart, it took quite some time for us to reach the place owing to the new year traffic, much akin to the airtel network congestion that happens well before midnight.

As we entered the market, a mob of hawkers descended and it dawned on us to don the DON looks so as to evade the paparazzi. A relatively peaceful lane awaited us, with fragrance of “dhoop” emanating from the motley shops that filled up the street, (though they failed to keep the flies away) while cries of “Sau ka doh, Sau ka doh” reverberated in the background. Amidst all this, a bicycle rider whizzed past us, like the artiste in the Royal Russian Circus. As we approached a junction, 2.5 centimeters wider than the lane that we were just in, a splendor motorbike came to a screeching halt and nearly rammed into the “Moomphali wala” who had decided that shops on either side could use his services to fragment the shopping happy crowd, in order to facilitate prospective customer distribution.

Did I forget to mention that Dad was there too? But he was more like the non playing Davis Cup captain, who was there to certify whatever Mom had selected. Dad is also in the process of developing the quality standard for certification, but the guidelines are much simpler unlike ISO. The fail proof Golden Rule for survival, Dad tells me is : “Never tell a woman her choice is bad. Tell her that while the current selection is excellent, the one with the higher price tag goes well with the theme of the next occasion she is going to put the choice to test, be it a dress, ear rings, footwear or even the crockery on the table”

As mom entered the 22nd shop in series, (or was it the 25th ?), dad and I signed a secret pact to alternately accompany mom to shops in intervals of 5. As I waited on them, I managed to find myself a bench right in between two hawkers selling myriad accessories, and the bench seemed like a bus stop in the middle of a National Highway. I was surprised to see the variety in the crowds that thronged the place.

Just beside me was a MPTGH (Mein Poora thak gaya hoon) Bengali husband munching on some pop corn, just as his enthusiastic wife shouted from across the street, “ theek lagbe? 475 bolshish, ami 450 bolbo.”. (any linguistic mistakes, kindly excuse!). The husband replied with a facial expression that implied, “Do as you please”,and that was it!. He had incurred the wrath of the President of the Rashtriya Mahila Vikas Parishad.

I did not see the dude again!

A couple of Nagarjuna fans came by, as they were dressed in yellow shirts and red pants, and just as they mumbled to each other in Telugu, they did manage some Hyderabadi Hindi which got a chaste UP ite response from the vendor, half of which was inaudible owing to the Banarsi Pan that he chewed even as he said “Phipty Phive bhonly” with great difficulty. I had enough reasons to believe that the deal was lost due to lack of an interpreter though both parties had finalized a mutually acceptable price.

The Pan brought with it, an invisible spittoon, since everyone but me, was found spitting right in the middle of the road, which otherwise had just enough space to walk on. A husky “gentleman” occupied the seat adjacent to mine, who initiated a chat with the hawker in front, and they discussed about the “maal” that ranged from Chinese Pencil Batteries to fancy make up kits.

P.S. - Two things, I’ve learnt thus far in hindi slang – “ Anything fried in oil qualifies as Pakodi/da, and never address a girl as “behenji” however reverent you may feel about her” (VM, thanks for the tip)

Sorry for digressing, next came a cool dude who looked like an extra in a David Dhawan movie (referred to as Upma Kaapi in South Indian movies). But I actually liked the line on his T shirt which said, “I have an ATM right @ home: DAD”

The sea of humanity was there to be seen… Weird hairstyles, different nationalities, cacophony of voices, and equally enthusiastic shoppers!! I did a little bit of exploration to help myself to a “Saarvajanik Suvidha” which was extremely well maintained for a public restroom – Glazed walls, shiny unbroken mirrors, and even the local FM broadcast that had Kay Kay singing to me, the hit song, “Yeh duniya Oot Patanga….". But I wonder why the Dettol soap container had local liquid soap in it..

Meanwhile mom had selected a pattern that had qualified into the top 100 of the year list and I was called in to approve the same. I gave my expert opinion that had as much value as Jennifer Lopez’s comments on Raag Kalyani.

The pattern on the dress passed the following four tests:

The lights on/off test
The “Does this color match the one I bought last year on April 21 for Munnu’s wedding” test
The Price Bargain Test
Dad’s Patience Test

This was just the beginning and we finally followed the same protocol to buy enough to call in Blue Line Packers for Door to Door Delivery.

Dad was energized to carry on for another hour with some kadak elaichi chai that blended perfectly with the descending layers of fog that threatened to reduce visibility, but the determined shoppers had their way, even with mother nature!

Back home, as Mom examines, re-examines and convinces herself that she got a good deal on all the stuff that we picked up, I am writing this blog, on New year’s eve, with some melodious singing in the neighborhood from talented people as gifted as Santo Ji in the movie Kal Ho Na Ho.. Wait a minute…no it cannot be this bad…That is my favourite song from “Kabul Express”, being "melodiously" crooned and the accompaniment in the background is a , HARMONIUM!!????@@##

Happy New Year everyone! Mujhe apney haal pe chchod do!
Cheers and drive back safe!! 2007 needs you :)

Pic: Depicting the colors in one of the shops.

Pic: A crowded street in Sarojini Market

Here I am, turning a new leaf in the book of life. Ah! So clichéd, isn’t it? I am not supposed to divulge the details of my age on by birthday, as in the opening line of the post, but then, as my boss claims, I am like Shahid Afridi, whose age never goes beyond 17.

All said and done, neither am I famous cricketer, nor do I have enough hair to model for Head and Shoulders. But, then again, I can at least speak English. Period.

Birthdays have been something I’ve always cherished from the days I said “A for Asafoetida, and B for Bandopadhyay” instead of Apple and bat, and Mom knew that I was a born genius. Post this Archimedean discovery, mom invited Chunnu, Munnu, Rita, Lavanya, Raj, Salim, Jobey, and their parents to my birthday party to showcase the latest talent in the colony. As in the Hindi movies, when the time came for me to perform, a proclamation of “Nach Basanti Nach” followed, but I was so zapped eating sugar candies that I forgot how to perform, and ever since, I haven’t had cakes as a punishment for what mom had to face.

Colour dress in school, distributing chocolates, celebrity status for a day (which meant getting away with the meanest of things ), the caps, the food, the musical chairs, the cartoon films, the mess around the place – wow, that was some merriment. Gathering gifts and waiting for guests to leave, so that the contents could be revealed, was the most awaited moment. The 24 hours meant so much that you would not want to lose a single second since the wait of 364 days was quite taxing and the countdown, equally exciting.

Back to the present.

The last two weeks, I’ve led life like a “fragile handle with care” package thrown into a goods wagon of Indian Railways originating from Kakinada enroute Billimora. I have been tossed, bruised, badgered at work and have resembled “Tom” walloped by Jerry. I skipped meals (atleast one per day) and almost fainted in office like the Heroine’s mother in the Hindi movies after uttering, “Beti, yeh tune kya kar diya, khandan ki izzat ko mitti mein mila diya”.VM saved the day with Glucon D. Thanks V.

But yesterday, Dhandha thoda manda tha, and I finally got time for myself. My parents arrived in saddi dilli courtesy: X mas vacation and I drove down to Delhi to spend time with moi aunt, so that the Big day could be welcomed with the associated ado. I wish to be modest, and my celebration included, home made food that I have longed to eat in the past two weeks, as a much desired substitute to bread and butter.

Today has been a blast of a day thus far, with calls from friends, nice messages, and some greeting cards. I am thankful to Life for the acquaintances, and It’s these nice and often crazy moments with friends that you cherish, for, "those who matter don’t mind, and those who mind, don’t matter!”
I’ve gifted myself a Bajaj Pulsar, with the digital meter and sleek tail lamps, and how I got it would be a story for a rainy mushy day. Till then I am trying to figure out whether the gear mechanism on the bike is all gears down or vice versa.

Adios, let’s go party tonight!!

P.S. – This blog is based on a special request by P.A. from Pune. Here you go , Poo :)

I always wanted to write this particular clichéd statement as the opening line in one of my pieces. And today I’ve got the opportunity to do so. “The time is 2:05 a.m. and I am writing this blog in the chill of the wintry night!” Ah, that feels nice. Almost as if a heavy burden is off my back. As I sit back, illuminated by the light of the incandescent reading lamp across my bed in the guest house, the warmth of the Lux Cotts wool thermal adds a quarter of a degree to my body temperature and protects me from being transformed into a frozen Neanderthal mammoth of the previous millennium.

Yes, the minimum temperature that was recorded yesterday was 6.5 degrees Celsius and that is a degree above normal, I am told. Wow! Wonder how close we are to the Arctic Circle. And imagine a wedding party that is running late into the night, funding Himesh Reshmiya’s nasal implant expenses by playing his constipated songs at this wee hour, asking people for donations. Don’t worry Himesh ji, Just as Delhi washed their clothes with Surf Excel to collect Rs.5 Lakhs for a noble cause, your music shall be promoted in a similar manner.

My first week end in Noida has been good fun. With work pressures during the week soaring like the BSE sensex, I was left with little choice, but to work late nights, of course with intermittent supplements of Maggi tomato Soup. I entered the wee hours of Saturday morning, trying to pull out something like the magician’s rabbit, so that my client would be convinced about my skills in using Microsoft Power point. Post that, my boss took me along to his residence (and I am grateful to him for that) and made me devour hot and good home food that turned my deep blue frozen skin into pale pink. As a guest I also got to have a hefty breakfast the next morning and almost felt like staying over for lunch like the shameless Govinda in one of his ‘C’ grade flicks. But as luck would have it, I was expecting a call from my Packers and had to scamper back to my ‘future’ residence to receive the goods.

I have shed all inhibitions and never miss an opportunity to gorge home made food, which explains my immediate acceptance of an invitation by a colleague for dinner at his place. It was a re-union of sorts, with the boss gang and a couple of ex-colleagues meeting up on a breezy Saturday night.

Sunday was lazy and it was nice to watch Shah Rukh’s versatility and Ekta Kapoor’s triviality on channels like Sony Max and Star Plus which,way back in Chennai were portrayed as taboo channels and hence safely quarantined in the set top box, thanks to the Sun network monopoly.

The evening went in savoring some hot jalebis and pakodas that set the perfect stage to launch into a movie @ Imax in Spice Mall, and what could be better than, “My name’s Bond! Brooke Bond!” sorry James Bond. Well that’s the reason I guess Brooke Shields did not wed James Bond. Quite a decent flick but I would have preferred Pierce Brosnan in the lead role. The movie review would form the topic of another post.

Life’s suddenly got into fast forward 9x mode with so many things happening in such less time, and all I can do is “Bhaagam Bhaag”.
Whoever said “If everything is under your control, you ain’t going fast enough” was dead right about it! More to come on “Discovery of Delhi”….

It’s been 3 days into Delhi/Noida Life, and so far so good. The last week was enjoyable, yet taxing , with myself traveling around the South of the Sub continent, as the next opportunity to do so would not be expected in the near future.

A quick trip to Hyderabad to meet up with a cousin, to another journey into the beauty of the Agumbe Ghats enroute to the famed Jog Water falls, peppered with ‘return to base camp’ sojourns at home, eleventh hour shopping for my Delhi stint, created quite a packed schedule of a whistle stop tour.

In fact, as I prepared for the packers to move my stuff from Bangalore, my house resembled a gypsy camp, and looking at my voluminous luggage, Mom was almost certain I had a secret family whom I was shifting without her knowledge to my new destination. What’s more, she commented in full filmi ishtyle, “Beta, yeh sab saaman tumhare pas kahan se aaye? Bata do ki tum waise kaam nahin kar rahe ho joh tumhe karna nahin chahiye?”

Jokes apart, my exit from Bangalore resembled the scene from the flick “Hyderabad Blues”, with my mom making the choicest of dishes, giving the soundest of advices and pressing a couple of hundred rupee notes in my palm to be handed over to Lakshmamma, our maid, as a good will gesture, which made me realize that basic instincts hardly change.

The flight to Delhi was nice. My maiden flight since February last, this was my first departure from Bangalore airport in 21 years. Things have changed, and air travel has become affordable these days. But strangely mindsets still need time to adapt. I overheard an inquisitive visitor asking an airport staffer, “Bhaisaab, Platform ticket kahan milega?”

I had a south east Asian as my co-passenger, who read some weird book the script of which resembled the one used in the Harappan civilization. He seemed sick and tired and I did not want to bother him with my conversations, as I had the pretty air hostesses at my beck and call who compensated well enough for my disinterested co-passenger.

Just as I landed at the Indira Gandhi International airport, I changed my attire from a coastal beach guy to an Eskimo from Antarctica, and have never come out of it for the last three days. As I got into the cab, I told the driver, “Noida pola ma?” (Can we go to Noida?) A 150 minute flight did not remind me to revise and update my regional lingo from Tamil/Kannada to Hindi.

The temperatures have been tolerable out here. However, a turtle neck sweater, a leather jacket, a monkey cap, muffler, woolen gloves and socks, follow me like Karna’s golden Kavach in the Mahabharata. Finding south Indian food has become as common as India winning an Olympic gold medal.

A Mallu colleague(LI) took me to one Laxmi Café in Sector 27 where we gobbled up rasam, sambhar and rice in true “Saddi Dilli” style, though I had to treat him for finding the place. The bill made me believe I was eating at Saravana Bhavan in New Jersey, and also brought up the attractive proposition of quitting my IT job and opening a “Madrasi in Dilli” café. Food was decent, unlike the Masala Dosa that I had sampled in Badrinath a few years ago which tasted like anything but the Dosa.

The interesting observation about Noida has been that there are lot of well built nomadic bulls which keep wandering on the roads. Wonder why opportunistic India has still not cashed in on the opportunity to employ them. Roads are wider with traffic equally unruly, rest seems normal. In case someone tells you S/He is chilling out, it means s/he’s actually chilled out thanks to the freezing cold. There are no medium budget hotels easily accessible. Either it’s the road side dhaba or the above average premium eat-outs that are available leaving very few options to choose from. Any tips in this direction are welcome.The beauty quotient (both natural and human *wink*) of Delhi/NCR is considered one of the best in the nation and I am all set to explore the same. So till I get back on those details, “O bhaiyya ! do kadak chai banana, malai maar ke!”

I m finally back! For those of you who managed to notice my disappearance into oblivion, and mistook me for Anant Gupta, the rich kid who was kidnapped from Noida recently, thank you for bestowing me with celebrity status.

Yes, after Prince(no not the black and white computer game that we played 10 years ago @ NIIT centers. It is the boy rescued from the well who is now modeling for Kamadhenu water pumps), Anant is getting Bollywood offers for Prakash Jha’s latest film “Anarth ka Anth Anant ke sangh”.

A lot of developments have happened in the current week, apart from the kidnap and release of Anant. My sojourn in Chennai is coming to an end. Though I would not be flying off to distant lands or the greener pastures of the clichéd Amrica, like in most Subhash Ghai flicks, Mom is still holding the tip of her saree’s pallu, brushing aside my sweat and saying, “ Sambhal ke rehna beta, Duniya bohot buri hai”.

I am making my way to the Rajdhani of India, Saddi Dilli. The transition to the Hindi Heartland after 2.5 years in Tamizh strong hold would play a big role in sensitizing me to the much talked about cross cultural divide in the Indian Sub continent.

Chennai has been good to me, in more ways than one. After all, this is the city where I started my “career” in the hallowed portals of the IT industry where I took pride in spending my self-earned rupee, though not returning Dad’s ATM card in the first month, till I got my own.

My Tamizh has improved a lot, what once sounded Latin, now sounds like Malayalam, so I consider that as an improvement. But of course, my brush with corporate honchos is courtey: Chennai. And the food courts and eating joints’ yellow pages is going to be published by me soon.The most important thing though is that it has given me the confidence to survive in any hostile surrounding.

I was just listing out the changes likely to be encountered by me thorough this shift.

A change from dosa and vada to aloo prantha, from A.R. Rehman to Daler Mehendi, from Vanakkam Aiyya to Jai Hind Sirjee, is going to get some time to internalized, and the last thing I would want to say to the Auto wallah in Delhi is Noida Varingla?

But this is going to be ‘some’ experience to say the least. Ab Dilli dur nahin..

Logging out from Chennai..More on Delhi and my crazy travels in the next post!