When my maid gets me sweet dishes on festivals and takes leave for a day to visit her village 200kms away to vote; and when the census includes people like her in the list of illiterates, I guess the joke is really on us “literates” !!!

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The “present” is just an intermittent getaway from the constant dwelling in the “past”

In time we become our own doppelgangers…

I’m educated, I’m aware,
 I’m empowered, I’m Enlightened

I make a fuss about corruption, I bribe the TTE for a ticketless travel,
I’m Enlightened

I’m against fare increases in trains, I travel on autos with no standardized meters,
 I’m Enlightened

I condemn child labor, My favorite fast food joint is the one on the footpath with 2 kids serving,
 I’m Enlightened

I would go happily on a sunny day with placards in hand to protest, I would sit mute for the rest of the year..
 I’m Enlightened

I would vehemently oppose the rape of one innocent woman in a city, Whilst I continue to turn a blind eye to all the atrocities around me everyday..
 I’m Empowered, I’m Enlightened

In dark corners, in well lit streets

with known faces and with unknown ones,

Some glaringly clear and some very subtle to the conscience,

To your doubt stricken, guilt driven mind,

Life always, always………

Gives a second chance

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On a totally different note…Mad Head-spinning, Feeling Music through your feet and Towel-Day… Totally make for a near-perfect Friday 🙂

“Time is relative”, words spoken by the E=mc2 guy. And it really feels so when I look back to the past few months. The days and nights came and went by in an unassuming spiral and all sense of sunrise and sundown had been lost within the brick and mortar of B-school walls. That being said, there are always some trigger points or news which reinvigorate your zeal to pen down the blabber that incessantly roams the recesses of your mind.

In the past few days, there was too much happening around to ignore. Also, some of the jobless few who care to remind me that I do have a blog-page made me realize that I just HAD to write something down. So here goes nothing…

A series of bad news seemed to come in a bundle these past few days. If the Indian cricket team’s performance wasn’t bad enough, the retirement of Rahul Dravid added salt to injuries. It wasn’t unexpected, but I still felt that the Wall still had some good bit of defensive power in him. For the many years I’ve enjoyed watching the game with my siblings and friends, I haven’t had more respect for any other player save the God himself. Rahul along with Sachin, Sangakkara, Lara etc. seem to be few of a dying breed of players who’s strength of composure and gentleman-liness shows both on and off the field. One of the very reasons which makes you like to watch the game when they play.
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The state elections have started and the UPA seems to be biting the dust at all fronts. Punjab, UP and what not. The lone win managed is at a place whose politics finds no mention on national tabloids. With the Congress fielding “young” Rahul as its PM choice, the crown prince could not do much with his pad-yatras in and around the state of UP. Mentionable is the rise, to political fanfare, of the scion of Yadavs.
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Went to an innovation exhibition today.. Saw a girl having made above 8-10 innovations; she had met with two presidents of India; had given lectures on innovations in rural India at national level symposiums and won various awards for her talent.. All this accomplished before having completed her schooling.. Hats-off to YOU and I’m still suffering from inferiority complex…

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Here’s a song from the archives

It’s been a long time since I’ve visited this parallel universe of expressions.

 

Much has happened in the mean time. Exams, trips, meetings, talks, marriages (of friends), pics and games.

And in those games there have been wins and losses. And in them, mistakes and triumphs and learnings and unlearnings.

It has always been like this.. Twenty people frantically chasing a round object through the length and breadth of a field has always fascinated me. It started when I used to watch the game from my rooftop with my fellow kindergartners. 20 years later I still hold that childlike yearning for the field. But over the years, the reasons for the yearning have modified.

Initially, it was the pure unadulterated fun of being on the field; the freedom the rectangular patch of grass gave you; a reason to get out of your school uniform and dash out without caring for a bite. Then it also became a source of adrenaline rush; a place to make new friends; A place to scrape your knee and come out of the field beaming with pride..It was after all, a battle-scar.

Over the years the game has become much more. It gives you a breather..from the hustle of the everyday life; from the masks you wear. The touch of grass..the smell of mud..every other match humbles you. The intensity of rivalry with your opponent strengthens the bonds within your team..your friends.

Once in the game, your senior, your professor, the boyfriend of your latest crush…all lose their individual identities and become part of a combined system set with one common goal. The game erases differences.

For every player of the ball, there is nothing more precious than the time spent muddying his clothes and nothing more heartening than that bit of drizzle that wets the body but reignites the passion for the game.

One of my most freshly painted memories is of a game of football; my first fistfight is on the field; my first pic in a B-school is not in a Business suit but in a pair of shorts and gloves and a jersey with a number (1).

My first love??? Yes, the game HAS been much more than that.

 

My second love??? Let that be a story for another jobless, winter night…..

Almost all the places we go, be it work, college or club meetings, there is always the “introduce yourself” protocol being followed. And in such sessions, more often than not, I’ve heard the sentence “I come from …….. but originally I belong to ……..”. No exceptions, I say it too. Nonetheless, I do wonder about the “originally I belong” part.
People travel; and they do it a lot. Not only for leisure, but also for jobs and education. Everywhere they go, they are exposed to a new culture, a new people, a new lifestyle, a new world. And each of those places leaves its mark in some way or the other. For some, it may be a shallow one; for others it’s not. I belong to the latter category.


My ancestry lies somewhere on the official line which might, in the near future, divide Andhra and Telangana; my childhood, somewhere in the ex-stronghold of communism in India. And after that I’ve relocated a fair number of times. All the places have had a considerable influence.
The lush green paddy fields of Bengal entice me the most. Durga Puja/Dussehra is the festival of my choice. I still think that a woman looks most beautiful in a traditional Andhra-style saree. Thanks to my extended stay in the north, my list of favorite food now includes Daal-baati-churma, gatte ki sabzi and paav-bhaji apart from the usual rosogolla and sambhar-rice.
I don’t know how to write in my mother-tongue and Saratchandra chatterjee is my favorite author. Mrityunjay by Shivaji Sawant is my favorite book. I inadvertently switch to talking in Hindi as my preferred mode of communication.

At this point of time, if someone were to ask me “originally I belong” to which place; whether I am a bangali, telugu, marwari…… I don’t have an answer. And maybe there are others who feel the same. The nomadic life of the urban-Indian imbibes in him/her so much of so many, that the original DNA of birth and identity metamorphoses into something else.

So, what is your TRUE language??
Two ways to find out..
According to one of Birbal’s stories: The language in which you cry out when you are hurt (Mine changes every now and then).
According to a dialog from the movie “Traitor” : The language in which you Dream (Surprisingly I never seem to remember the language; just a hazy string of events)

I hope you find your answer..If this is your question that is…….

Everyday is a new learning…or so many say.

Its funny how you realize somethings right when an incident is happening and how somethings come just at you at a totally different place, a different time, and when you’re not thinking of anything related at all.

In the rush of things, sometimes I’ve forgotten to call people..friends. A day becomes two and then a week. Then suddenly you see a green dot blinking beside a familiar name on facebook or some uploaded photo comes on the screen; you realize, u were supposed to say HI. Just like that.

You make the call.. As expected you get the full wrath of the person on the other side. But then the conversation continues and by the time you hang up you have relived many of those days you wished would come back. The talk which had started with a note of unsure pleasentries ends with the most comfortable slangs.

Then, when you’re at dinner, it strikes you.. The underlying happiness the voice at the other end had. The reciprocation of nostalgia carried over the wireless signals, from there to here. The familiar warmth of voice and thought that you thought had become long alien to you.

I’ve found it in all the “delayed calls” I’ve made. Maybe its universal..or so many say.

The silent rustle of the leaves
The limp of the heartbeat

The dim lights on the sidewalk
stop fighting out the shadows

The restless few idling away
wading through the sea of life

As the hourglass rests on its back
all that moves stands affixed

With misty eyes he gazes
in his heart the tempest

What reverence you command
O silent moonlit sky…