A day in the life of LIFE

It’s Four forty A.M. by my watch on the second most significant day in the context of India’s existence – Republic Day! And what could be better than sitting at the airport of the National Capital, awaiting the rest of the nation to awaken to the celebrations that would begin in a couple of hours from now.

26th January, atleast for the last two years has meant me being at the IIT Madras for their annual cultural festival, SAARANG. But today, after just two hours of sleep, I await in the lobby of “Indian” (formerly Indian Airlines), even as patriotic songs reverberate on the mounted television screens around me. It’s kind of a co-incidence that I would be flying the official national carrier after almost ten years ( and no, neither am I a privileged club class member, nor do I hold an exclusive frequent flier pass), but yes, in the era of the Kingfisher and other premium airlines, INDIAN does face challenges in innovative branding.

The lady at the baggage check in counter seems to be in her late 40’s with a smile that best suits the one Inzamam-ul-Haq has when Shoaib Akhtar is walloped by Sehwag. She examines the ticket with the least of interest even as a co-worker interrupts her frequently seeking clarifications. It’s almost as if the lady has been in the system for so long that she knows all procedures by rote. Her identity card is so worn out that it resembles my grandmom’s ration card rather than an employee ID. Talk about long lasting durability.

Not very excited about her expected response, I still ask her, “ Kya aap mujhe ek window seat de sak te hai?” She looks up to me like “ Kid! You are not going on an amusement ride. And nothing’s visible other than the clouds, and for GOD's sake, it’s INDIAN, which may not even fly. So how does it matter?” All this, even as smartly attired personnel of other airlines whizzed around with the much desired enthusiasm.

The scene around me is pretty lazy. A middle aged “ Gentleman” has just taken off his shoes and has made himself comfortable on the seats, a couple of foreigners are curiously looking at the pigeons (the winged birds with a disturbed body clock thanks to the bright lights) flying over them in the lounge, and it’s almost day break but chilly winds are making their way through the wide doors that have just been thrown open to passengers of another airline that is due to fly shortly.

Yawns interrupt my otherwise peaceful existence and like a sleep deficient Vietnamese solider, my fingers have almost been mechanically programmed to type away at the laptop.

Time to catch some news folks. They’ve just loaded the complimentary newspaper stand and there’s already a beeline to grab the freebie. Lemme join the bandwagon too.

Can’t wait to be pampered by the “motherly” treatment of the air hostesses of the Indian flight like one of those Mother's Recepie advertisement . After all, Mother India is calling!

More on Mumbai , the city which never sleeps, once I reach there!

Okie. I know that! You don’t need to rub it in. My mom always considered me a slow learner, which explains why I begin my lunch when The Indian team begins their innings and continues till Sreeshant is done with his on-the-field break dance. This is also why I could never differentiate between a break dance and a disco dance apart from the fact that Michael Jackson and Mithun da were exponents of the same in that order.

I have been slow in putting up this blog on the much awaited “talk of Bollywood”! But after a bumpy and hectic week at work, am finally blogging about this “Hot” topic akin to the late arrival of the Hindi movie Police. Thankfully am also not so late in the cycle else I may have had to write about Manoj Kumar’s Mother India, so I guess it’s fine.

Now, back to the point. Open any management text book and you will find a dedicated chapter on mergers and acquisitions. ( My gyan on management is limited to my roomie who happens to be in Human Capital Management, otherwise referred to as “HR” in most organizations). There have always been M&As in Bollywood – the most famous being Rishi Kapoor and Neetu Singh, AK and TK (Akshay and Twinkle) , the legendary AB and JB ( go drown yourself if you could not get this expansion), Anil and Sridevi (Dewar- Bhabhi relationship :( ) and the latest being Ash and Little B. After having been scorned by KK ( K Kapoor) for being a flop actor, Little B has grown by leaps and bounds to fit into the shoes of Big B. But now, after the latest merger in the greater good of Bollywood, Little B to Aish karenge. *wink*

Media sensationalism is at an all time high and the entire Page 15 of the TOI was dedicated to this “happy” news in Bollywood. News snippets ranged from the Ash’s Lehenga, to the number of sarees purchased, the prices of the same, and most importantly the muhurat of the wedding. Ash’s father in law (guess who) was quoted saying “ The children have decided, and I am happy”. But, in one corner of the page, a small 4 cm x 4 cm frame also spoke of the alarming levels of pollution in the Ganges of Allahabad, with due focus on Environmental responsibility.

I switched on the T.V. only to find one news channel proclaim – “Breaking News”.

Studio: Swati, ab aap kahan pe hai?
Reporter: Sumit, hum yahan Khandala ke jungle mein hai.

Studio: Lekin aap ko Toronto mein ya Big B ke ghar ke paas rehna chahiye
Reporter: Haan Sumit, lekin hum is waqt us jagah pe hai jahan maana jaata hai ki Little B Ash sey pehli baar miley they.

Studio: This is breaking news! Again, hum aap ke liye laa rahe hein exclusive pictures khandala ke jungle sey. Swati, aur kuch khabar wahan sey?
Reporter: Chaliye baat kartey hai Sukhi Ram sey, jo yahan ke kheto mein kaam kartey hai. 80 baras ke Sukhi Ram, ek who lauta shaks hai jinhone Little B aurAsh ko ek saath dekha tha. Sukhi Ram aap ko is waqt kaisa lag raha hai?

Sukhi Ram: Humko kaunu pata naahin. Hum apney hal chalarahey they, ee sab kuch ho gaya. Humka maaf kardo sarkaar!

Reporter: Sukhi Ram daro mat! Puri duniya aap ko is waqt dekh sakti hai. Kya aap ney Abhishek aur Aishwarya ko saath dekha tha ya nahin?
Sukhi Ram: Humka chchod do sarkar. Hum sarpanch ji ko keh diya hoon, paanch saal purani baton ko kyon phir se daura rahe hain?
Reporter: This is breaking news. Is ka matlab, yeh sab kuch 5 saal se chal raha hai. Sumit I cannot believe this! Hindustan ko yeh jaan ne ka haq tha is ke baren mein lekin Sarpanch ne mana kiya tha Sukhi Ram ko. Hum isko yahin pe nahin choddenge.

Studio: Is waqt humarey saath hai Jyotshi Shri Batuk Maharaj, jo batayenge ki yeh baat duniya se ab tak gupt kyon rahi?
Maharaj: Shani ki drishti vakr hone sey shayaad yeh bat dab gayi ho parantu yeh var aur kanya ke liye bahut achchi baat hai

Sukhi Ram (breaking down): Theek hai Memsaab! Hum apna galti maan letey hoon. 5 saal pehley Kishan Ram key bhaise – Abhishek aur Aishwarya ko mein chala raha tha. Ek din bin bataye bhaise chal padi. Is mein humra kaunu galti nahin hai mem sahib!
Reporter: Sumit, itni badi baat police se chupayi gayi, is ke liye hum media key taraf se Sukhi Ram ke khilaf muqudma karayenge! Kishan Ram ko insaaf milke rahega!

Studio: Darshakon se request hai ki woh kahin na jaaye, kuch hi pal mein haazir honge, ek special programme ke saath - Kissa Kishan Ram ke Bhaiso ka – Aakhir kahan gaye Abhishek aur Aishwarya?

Welcome to the land where Nithari has become a tourist attraction,
It happens only in India!!

When was the last time you actually listened to the Sapta Swara? (Sa Re Ga Ma Pa Da Ni) Must have been ages, right?

Growing up for me, has been associated with learning Classical Carnatic Music for 5 years, and like Calvin Arnold’s Wonder years, my voice broke just before my classical vocal examination and hence did not take up the same.

Be it the varnas, geetas, or the kirtanas ( For those of you who thought they were names of my girlfriends, go shoot yourself! They are components of great music), the perfection in the rhythm and the beauty in the music is a class apart vis-à-vis the gen X music which goes Oot Patanga and Dhink Chak Dhink Chak.

As an indication of the current times, people forget that MG Road is an abbreviation for Mahatma Gandhi, R.T. for Rabindranath Tagore, and T. Nagar in Chennai, for Thiyagaraja Nagar.

Getting back to the topic of Classical music, today is the anniversary of the Great Shri Thiyagaraja, who, enriched this art of music with his compositions that have enthralled the patrons of all time. So much was his contribution to music, that he is in fact considered as the Father of Classical Carnatic music.

The Thiayagaraja Aaradhana - an event, which is organized for 6 days on the banks of the river Kaveri in the city of Thanjavoor of Tamil Nadu, every year, draws practicing and accomplished musicians, and even relishing listeners, by the thousands from all over the world, and is a treat for all those who cherish the plurality of indigenous Indian music.

Renowned musicians like Kunnakudi Vaidyanathan (Violin maestro) and Kadri Gopalakrishna (exponent of saxophone) grace the occasion where all the Pancha Ratna Kirtanas composed by Shri Thiyagaraja are recited with a symphony of percussion instruments.

Doordarshan is probably one of the last channels that you would switch on, in this era of bouquet channels and soap operas, but this morning, Doordarshan did the wonderful task of broadcasting the one hour program live from the venue.

The involvement of individuals is immense. Their flair for music, the gesticulations of the taala, the swaying of the vocal chords to conform to the raagaa, the dignified and purified look on the participating men folk clad in veshti and dhoti, and the silk sareed ladies bestowing the grace associated with the Indian women, all this coupled with music descending from the heavens, formed a perfect combination of a concert that is equal to, if not greater than the Mozzarts and the Beethovens of the world, live in action, even while some westerners present at the occasion, captured these rich images to take back to their native lands.

But, yes, to identify with all this, being a connoisseur of music is a pre-requisite. And the problem with Indian music is that it is not branded and marketed well enough to suit the liking of the younger generation, apart from a few high profile singers with a couple of big banner advertising. A R Rehman and Illiyaraja, who are the Birbal and Tenali Raman of the south indian music industry, equally talented and skilled in their art, have to a certain extent tried to bridge the gap and have drawn the masses to Indian fusion music.

But nonetheless, the rich culture of this abundantly blessed nation still needs preservation, so as to transfer it to the generations that follow.

So, next time you purchase a 1500 couple entry ticket to a Boyzone or a Metallica live in concert, do spare a few thoughts for these immensely gifted musicians back home who enthrall you for “free” at community centers on various occasions. After all, we donot need everything to be certified and authorized by the west, even though it is our own, before we adopt the same!

In the words of the great musician, Sri Thiayagaraja, “ Entharo Mahanubhavulu, antharikku vandanammu” ( To all the noble people of this land, please accept my salutations)….

India’s calling.. Where are you?


Pic: The great Shri Thiyagaraja




Some internet based images of the Thiyagaraja Aaradhana.

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 :)