Life's like that II

Where are you this New Year's Eve?

2010-12-31T00:01:00.000-08:00

It was one of that usual lunch time banter. Since the day was 31st December, the conversation revolved around "So what are you doing tonight?"

The answers to that ubiquitous question one asks, either to make conversation or just out of curiosity, especially on this particular day were:

1. I'm having a house-party with close friends coming over.

2. I'm going to a close friend's house-party.

3. I'm at home... gonna catch up on some sleep.

4. I'll be attending the New Year's mass at Church.

5. I'm going to spend the evening with my parents and siblings at home.

My mind went back to a similar conversation a couple of years ago. My lunch mates -- similar in their lifestyle and backgrounds. But the answers were:

1. Oh I'm heading out of Mumbai for that Bollywood Party in Pune.

2. I'm going to JW Marriott for the New Year party.

3. I'm going to party-hop between a friend's house party, then on to a party at the Renaissance and from then on to a farm-party on the outskirts on Mumbai.

4. Oh I'm going to this farm-house party with a friend, and her friends (I still can't figure that one out)...

5. I'm going for a dinner at my cousin's place (That was me... feeling a little out of place with all the party animals around me)

So what's different this time around. Is the world suddenly turning into a home-body like me? Or is this a new trend?

I saw the futility of New Year parties after attending one (which was quite a few years ago). Here's what I concluded after going to that do:

1. Half the time you don't know the people and therefore conversation is almost always stilted.

2. The food, almost always, is BAD. It is cold, congealed and yes, there's hardly anything for the vegetarian.

3. You see strangers, high on the free booze, making a complete ass of themselves all around you. While that may be highly entertaining in the beginning, it gets a tad monotonous after sometime.

4. It's so crowded that you most often tend to get kissed by the wrong person when midnight strikes, and in many cases that's deliberate.

5. The prospects of ringing in the new year in your car as you try to outmaneuver your neighboring vehicle in the mother of all traffic jams is very real.

6. Unless it is 31st December 2010, the next day is a week-day which means going to work bleary eyed and beginning your New Year with endless cups of coffee / tea to just keep yourself awake.

My list could go on. But let me stop here, before I'm labelled the party pooper. Like me, this year, a lot more people have seen the light and are preferring to stay home. At least that's what I gather from my little survey.

But well, for those of you who are heading out, looks like there's going to be less traffic jams this year and your parties are going to be a little less claustrophobic. So you might as well drink up to that !!!!

Here's wishing everyone a very happy 2011.

Remembering Dadu

2010-10-16T00:59:00.000-07:00

We were expecting it for a long time. But when the news came, they still felt completely unexpected. Reaching Pune, I saw her -- her face serene as I always remembered it. I wanted to shake her, like I did when I was a kid and she would play dead just to get to me. But I knew this time there would be no waking up with a smile, while I pouted. There would be no movement. She was lost to me -- forever.
Strangely, my mind went back to those long nights in the hospital room about 6 years ago when I had written about how I wanted her to stay on for just a little bit more. How I wanted God to give that frail body, which held a great spirit just some more time, just a few more years. I guess He was looking over my shoulder when I wrote that note. For not only did she hold on, but recovered from an illness, even if it was for some years.
My mind wandered to the times we had together as I kept vigil through the night. To the shared pastry I hid and got for her in hospital to celebrate her Birthday. To the smile that lit up her countenance every time I would come home -- making it feel like a homecoming in the true sense. It wandered to my days as a child, an adolescent and an adult where she had been a constant presence in my life. To the times when she would sit with me to watch the Grammies -- just to see her favourites -- MJ and Tina Turner perform.
My mind went back to the times she would think I'm fast asleep and would touch my eyes, my face just to feel her precious granddaughter breathing next to her.
It went back to the times when she made a face when I placed a plate of pasta in front of her, only to fall in love with the dish once she tasted it.
I thought of the two of us making smart comments whenever Mum and Dad had an argument. I went back to the time we went for a drive in the car we'd just bought -- just the two of us.
Now looking at that body that had lost my dadu's, I felt it would be tough not to miss her. For Dadu had always told me that you can't miss a person who's always in your thoughts, your memories -- they live on there forever and ever.
And yet, I'll miss my dadu and I'll never get over missing that special homecoming smile reserved just for me.
May you rest in peace dadu. I'll love you today and forever.

Cynical... all over again

2010-04-01T01:51:00.000-07:00

Despite all those good intentions, I haven't been blogging for almost a year. Bad girl that I may have been, I realize that the commitment fundas I had written about in my previous blog stand true even today. For the record -- gymming stopped within three months, I piled on the kilos again and well I'm back to being just me.
Without really dwelling over the past months, let me now fast forward to the present -- and to what's bothering me enough to write a blog on it.
One of my first blogs was on how many senior journalists are so cynical. Well, that is possibly what someone half my age would call me today if they were to hear me speaking on the industry.
So rather than becoming one of the cynics, I thought it best to find a form of journalism that let's me stay close to my love for writing meaningful stuff and yet not get drawn into the whole deadline-for-story-so-I'll-quote-the-first-guy-who-picks-up-the-phone syndrome.
Nine years is a long time in journalism and I've seen the industry changing.
You could call me a product of the middle-school of journalism.
Let me explain: You have old-school journalism where ideals, rights and pen is mightier than the sword hold sway. Then there's the new school, where everything is driven by marketing, by ad revenues, clients, social media, advertising and oh by-the-way-journalism, that becomes a mere tool to achieve those ends.
And then, there's the middle school: While people belonging to this type of thinking do understand and appreciate the role of marketing and ad revenues in the whole scheme of things that's journalism, they have still not forgotten some of the old-school rules.
People like me, and I know of many who left this field because of the sheer disgust at what the industry is becoming, still feel that something like editorial sanctity exists.
But then, we are cynics...

Commitment

2009-06-11T04:01:00.000-07:00

You need to be committed or addicted to blogging if you are to write a blog regularly. I have successfully stayed away from addictions of any kind be it smoking, alcohol, work... you get the gist? And am happy to remain that way as long as I live.
Commitment? Now that's a different ball game altogether. I have come to realise that I'm a commitment phobic and was surprised when I made the first big commitment of my life by taking the plunge after 3 years of dating a man who was patient enough to let me be when I was scared of committing (I think that's what tipped the scale in his favour...)
I've hardly ever remained committed to anything... I have changed gyms and workouts because I could never stay committed to one, have changed hairstyles every six months for most of my life because I couldn't make up my mind whether long hair or short hair looked better, I have tried all the diets in the book without really completing any one of them and these are just some tiny examples.
So the question keeps coming back to niggle me. Will I be committed enough to write a book, the idea for which is just buzzing around in my mind? Will I be proactive enough to commit myself to writing at least a page everyday?
To tell you the truth, I have my doubts. But then I had doubts about gymming regularly and that's changing... They say people change and I would really like to change, if not for anything else, just to tell the world a story that is just waiting to be told...

Save the earth

2008-06-23T02:29:00.000-07:00

I got this on my email today and feel compelled to share it with you. The speech that's transcripted below was given many years ago but still holds true today. Do read it.
This beautiful speech was given by a 12 year old girl to save Mother Earth. The following is the transcript of the speech that Severn Suzuki gave to the Plenary Session at the 1992 Earth Summit in Rio Centro, Brazil. Severn was twelve years old then.
Hello, I'm Severn Suzuki speaking for E.C.O. - The Environmental Children's Organisation. We are a group of twelve and thirteen-year-olds from Canada trying to make a difference:Vanessa Suttie, Morgan Geisler, Michelle Quigg and me. We raised all the money ourselves to come six thousand miles to tell you adults you must change your ways. Coming here today, I have no hidden agenda. I am fighting for my future.Losing my future is not like losing an election or a few points on the stock market. I am here to speak for all generations to come.I am here to speak on behalf of the starving children around the world whose cries go unheard.I am here to speak for the countless animals dying across this planet because they have nowhere left to go. We cannot afford to be not heard.I am afraid to go out in the sun now because of the holes in the ozone. I am afraid to breathe the air because I don't know what chemicals are in it.I used to go fishing in Vancouver with my dad until just a few years ago we found the fish full of cancers. And now we hear about animals and plants going exinct every day -- vanishing forever.In my life, I have dreamt of seeing the great herds of wild animals, jungles and rainforests full of birds and butterfilies, but now I wonder if they will even exist for my children to see.Did you have to worry about these little things when you were my age?All this is happening before our eyes and yet we act as if we have all the time we want and all the solutions. I'm only a child and I don't have all the solutions, but I want you to realise, neither do you!You don't know how to fix the holes in our ozone layer. You don't know how to bring salmon back up a dead stream. You don't know how to bring back an animal now extinct. And you can't bring back forests that once grew where there is now desert.If you don't know how to fix it, please stop breaking it! Here, you may be delegates of your governments, business people, organisers, reporters or poiticians - but really you are mothers and fathers, brothers and sister, aunts and uncles - and all of you are somebody's child.I'm only a child yet I know we are all part of a family, five billion strong, in fact, 30 million species strong and we all share the same air, water and soil -- borders and governments will never change that. I'm only a child yet I know we are all in this together and should act as one single world towards one single goal.In my anger, I am not blind, and in my fear, I am not afraid to tell the world how I feel.In my country, we make so much waste, we buy and throw away, buy and throw away, and yet northern countries will not share with the needy. Even when we have more than enough, we are afraid to lose some of our wealth, afraid to share.In Canada, we live the privileged life, with plenty of food, water and shelter -- we have watches, bicycles, computers and television sets.Two days ago here in Brazil, we were shocked when we spent some time with some children living on the streets. And this is what one child told us: "I wish I was rich and if I were, I would give all the street children food, clothes, medicine, shelter and love and affection."If a child on the street who has nothing, is willing to share, why are we who have everyting still so greedy?I can't stop thinking that these children are my age, that it makes a tremendous difference where you are born, that I could be one of those children living in the Favellas of Rio; I could be a child starving in Somalia; a victim of war in the Middle East or a beggar in India.I'm only a child yet I know if all the money spent on war was spent on ending poverty and finding environmental answers, what a wonderful place this earth would be!At school, even in kindergarten, you teach us to behave in the world. You teach us:not to fight with others, to work things out, to respect others, to clean up our mess, not to hurt other creatures to share - not be greedy.Then why do you go out and do the things you tell us not to do? Do not forget why you're attending these conferences, who you're doing this for -- we are your own children. You are deciding what kind of world we will grow up in. Parents should be able to comfort their children by saying "everyting's going to be alright" , "we're doing the best we can" and "it's not the end of the world".But I don't think you can say that to us anymore. Are we even on your list of priorities? My father always says "You are what you do, not what you say."Well, what you do makes me cry at night. You grown ups say you love us. I challenge you, please make your actions reflect your words. Thank you for listening
(Severn Cullis-Suzuki has been active in environmental and social justice work ever since kindergarten. She was twelve years old when she gave this speech, and she received a standing ovation. Now 23, Cullis-Suzuki spearheads The SkyFish Project and continues to speak to schools and corporations, and at many conferences and international meetings. She lives in Vancouver, British Columbia.)

Little Woman

2008-06-19T05:21:00.000-07:00

She looked derelict, like many of the homeless children who abound on the local trains of Mumbai. With two flattened stones in her hand, she was on the lookout, in an almost empty first class compartment, for a willing ear to listen to one of her out-of-date, out-of-tune hindi film songs. Many women, may be for the lack of change or empathy, pretended to sleep or got busy with their mobile phones. In a few seconds, she gave up and took advantage of the luxury of being able to sit on one of the cushioned seats of the first-class compartment. No one said anything to her as she waited for the next station where she could get down and run to the more crowded, and lucrative, second-class compartment. Suddenly the ladies in the compartment got a pleasant surprise. Our little woman dressed in rags, with shabby hair and equally shabby buck teeth began reciting a nursery rhyme. The women, including the ones who had pretended to sleep were all ears as she recited baa baa blacksheep, jack and jill and twinkle twinkle little star -- all in one breath.
They were sure impressed by the sudden outburst and she did get some "chillar" and some biscuits for the recitation, but before anyone could ask her where she learnt that from, her station was in sight and like many of her ilk, the little girl got up and hung around near the door, only to be admonished by the lady standing next to her, who told her that she would fall off a moving train. Turning to her, the little lady gave an angelic smile and said: "Thank you for your words auntie, but we children are used to this life and we know how far we can lean out before we fall."
The auntie gaped at this sudden onslaught of the English language from a girl who sang tuneless Hindi songs with the help of two battered stones for a living. And just as quietly as she'd come, she was gone.
We will never know where she learnt her impeccable English, or for that matter the manners, like saying thank -you and sorry, that the much more privileged children have kind of forgotten. But, what we do know is that someone, somewhere out there is making a difference to a little girl's life, who otherwise may not stand a chance in this world. And at the end of the day, that's what matters.
(This is a true incident that happened on the train a few days ago and I was one of the ladies in that compartment who had the good fortune of watching this little lady in action.)

Happy sad...

2008-06-16T06:28:00.000-07:00

The title for this blog (which I am writing after a gap of about 9 months) may be inspired from the movie Cheeni Kum, but there was nothing more apt to describe my visit to Pune this weekend. I was happy, I was sad and both the diametrically different emotions had diametrically different reasons for me to feel so. But first, for those who are probably reading this blog for the first time, here's some background.
Two cities have shaped my life so far. One is Mumbai -- the city I was born in, where I spent my formative years, where I went to school and where I came face-to-face with my future when I came back about three years ago.
The other is Pune -- a city that I hated when I first moved there from Mumbai, a city that I hate to leave now that I am in Mumbai, a place where I made my friends for life and where I spent those tumultous teenage years, I got my first job in Pune, wrote my first article for a Pune-based newspaper and joined the first gym (in a string of gyms) in this city.
So why did I feel Happy sad when I went back to Pune this weekend? Lets begin with the happy thoughts:
1. I saw progress -- true to god progress -- in this once laidback city. You could feel the pulse of a city that's more than ready to come into its own thanks to the young blood that flooding to this erstwhile pensioner's paradise. While the potholes still rule, you have flyovers coming up around Pune that are a boon to the harried commuter.
2. Shops, which at one time strictly remained closed between 1 and 4 pm have now woken up to the new-age threat that malls and large retail stores pose. They have changed may be a centuries-old ritual and remain open. Oh by the way! Even if they are closing and a customer walks in, he's attended to unlike the old times when closing time was 8 pm sharp and if you happened to come in at 8.01, too bad, you had to leave only to be on time the next day.
3. The monsoons in Pune are still magical and can get me to spend hours just watching the rain come down in a gentle drizzle throughout the day. If its a weekday, a drive to the outskirts or a trek to one of the many forts around Pune still leave me rejuvenated.
4. Onto more personal things, The first one of my friend circle to have taken the plunge has also now experienced the joys of motherhood and it was a beautiful experience to hold the latest addition to my family in my arms even as we spoke about the fun we had in college.
5. My room overlooking an extremely well-kept lawn still gives me that surreal feeling of being in heaven when I wake up everyday.

Now what made me sad?
1. The scars of progress have begun to show on the green Pune that I knew as trees are replaced with a concrete jungle with buildings and hoardings that sell 'luxurious flats' replacing those tree-lined roads.
2. Traffic, which was always very bad in Pune has taken a turn for the worse with two-wheelers and cars screaming for some space on the narrow roads that still aren't ready to handle that kind of traffic.
3. What used to be a great driving experience has turned into a nightmare thanks to the traffic jams.
4. My friends, like me, have all gone away to different places so going back to Pune makes me feel a little lonely as I travel through the streets, or go to the restaurants that we frequented.
5. The area I stay in has so far avoided replacing its green canopy with monstrous buildings, but I saw the first sign of things to come and since then, I've been praying that I can still wake up to magical mornings in my room.
And it is with these Happy Sad thoughts that I get back to writing on the blog again. So stay tuned.

Are we true patriots?

2007-09-09T08:29:00.000-07:00

I'm sure the men and women who fought for India's independence were unaware about the respect (or the lack of it) that the next generation would show to 'their' revered motherland. I say 'their' because I just witnessed something that proved we've learnt to take freedom and respect for granted. I guess my statement needs some background first.
As a child I remember singing the national anthem, being taught that whenever it was played I had to leave whatever I was doing and stand at attention so much so, that whenever the anthem was played on TV, my father insisted on everyone standing to attention as long as the anthem was played out.
This habit, ingrained in me, still remains. So naturally, when I heard the first strums of Jana Gana Mana over the TV set in office, I instinctively stood up... only to find that less than a handful of my colleagues had done the same.
True we were close to the deadline (that is held sacred in every newspaper organisation) Truer still that many may not have even heard it considering the volume was very low. But what about those who were sitting a mere meter away from the set?
It hurt. When I hear horror stories of the partition, of lathi charges and of young men and women (of our age) leaving their livelihood, their youth, their life... all so that the generations after them could live in a democracy, I feel we really didn't deserve it... because if we did, there would be a lot more respect for the freedom we enjoy than what I saw today...

Celebrity endorsements

2007-08-27T01:25:00.000-07:00

So Sallu's in and Sanju's out. And when he did get out, our Baba gave one of his jaadu ki jhappi to a few guards he'd gotten to know in Yerwada Jail, who in turn got into deep trouble for being friendly with the star convict.
Sallu Bhai goes to jail in Jodhpur and his family goes to meet him. While other visitors are not permitted beyond a certain time limit, Katrina, Arbaaz and gang are allowed to go meet him at the 'jailor's discretion'. As a newspaper almost sympathetically quoted: "they had to wait for two hours before they got the permission."
I read these things and some questions keep cropping up. Would the relative of the convict in Sallu's next door cell have got the same privileges? Would the travails of an ordinary citizen booked under the arms act have got such a lot of news space? Would he or she have been able to garner so much public sympathy? I guess the answer to all these is a 'NO'
Being a celebrity sure has its ups and downs. I wonder how it feels when a private moment with family turns out to be a media circus (Sanju's homecoming) or what you ate in jail becomes news of national importance (Salman had gur for breakfast and all newspapers and news channels faithfully reported it).
Your haircut and stubble while serving a sentence become new fashion and the uniform you probably wore in jail is then auctioned off at record prices.
Well it sure pays to be a celebrity and a bad one at that...

From Spaces: Another favourite

2007-08-23T04:37:00.000-07:00

Had written this one just after the deluge...

My Mumbaikar

The ‘spirit of Mumbai’ has been the centre of many discussions over hot cups of coffee in places as remote as Chikmagloor where not even a drop of the fury would’ve touched the people. They speak about the hardships that “so and so” who was ‘there’ went through etc etc and came back home in due time… like a triumphant warrior, who’s just won a war.

They may not be far off the mark. But, what they fail to understand is that this warrior has been fighting small battles everyday – on crowded trains, overfull buses, traffic jams, humid weather – and these battles have toughened the Mumbaikar to fight a war that will leave one more scar on a soul that is already criss-crossed with the wounds of the years gone by. Whether it was the Ayodhya riots, which made their presence felt in Mumbai, the bomb blasts, the dark underbelly that the city has been living with all these years or the present day fury that was unleashed by nature itself.

Sure enough, it was a reminder that while one may be able to battle it out with circumstances created by man – a rainstorm like this one (the highest recorded rainfall in a day in history) will leave scars that are deeper, scars that will take some more time to heal, scars that the Mumbaikar is not about to forget in a hurry.

But, still having been a Mumbaikar during my formative years – having seen the city at its worst (1992-93) and having a certain soft corner for its indomitable ‘spirit’ even now I tend to get a bit defensive about the city that's shaped my personality when one speaks of the dirty and filthy Mumbai without having actually stayed there, when they speak of how Mumbai, touted to be the next Shanghai doesn’t have enough infrastructure in place, how Mumbai is ‘going to the dogs’ and the likes of such statements. Call me a foolish sentimentalist or an incurable cynic – I’m confident that the city will be up on its feet in sometime – going on as if yesterday was just another day – tomorrow’s yet to come – living for that day – fighting out life’s little battles for that day that has made the Mumbaikar someone who is capable of overcoming tragedies to come up trumps. So while others may salute the ‘spirit of Mumbai’ – I praise the Mumbaikar without who, this spirit would be as soulless as a dead body. To quote a dialogue from a recent movie (translated of course) "A person may not be special - it's the challenges he overcomes that make him special."

From Spaces: dated August 24, 2005

2007-08-23T04:34:00.000-07:00

Cynics

I’d gone to this select press meet today. While the information shared by the person (I won’t name him here) was more of a reaction to something the competitor had said sometime back, I think the ladies with me were quite cruel in dissecting the whole interview.

It all started with what a recluse he was, why wasn’t the company – which is incidentally one of the forerunners in their sector more media savvy etc… While I agree with them in most part, what really came as an eye-opener of sorts was the importance a company’s media relations has gained today and how cynical journos gets once they gain seniority – the been there done that attitude, which actually shows in their copies. Either I’m too young to comprehend their cynicism or they’re too old (read experienced) to write without bias.

I'd written this two years back and still stand by it...

History repeats itself

2007-08-23T02:39:00.001-07:00

I hadn't thought of starting a blog on a day like today... It's sunny and wet, alternately and it seems like the rain gods can't seem to make up their mind on whether they should stay on or then head out.
Well getting onto more mundane things like what happens when you lose your voice for over a week and then get it back only to find that it comes out in rasps that sound more like a boar hound with a bad cold than anything else.
That's exactly what yours truly has been going through this past week. From the day my doc said that my larynx resembled a potato to today, when I could finally get someone to understand what I was trying to say, life has been black and white... literally... for I had to resort to keeping a pen and paper close to my bedside or had to keep my mobile on the write message mode to get my point across.
It was painful, but it was fun. Painful because a jabberywok like me couldn't talk... Fun, because of all the fussing around for me. So long then. I begin my new site with this blog. Keep the tabs on for some more chattering from me. Adios amigos... till we meet again

From the old site: My favourite blog

2007-08-23T02:37:00.000-07:00

Car aur Hum Tum...

If there's one place where you would positively squirm at being a lady driver, it would be at the mechanic's. Yours truly, has just got out of this horrible experience, unscathed, mind you and believe me, it's not a very nice situation to be in... It's not the grease and stale petrol smell that gets to you, it's the attitude.
My story starts on a Tuesday morning. My car clutch had been giving a problem for sometime now and a friend pointed out, "I think you should get that checked. It's not sounding very good."
Armed with this advice, I made a beeline to my friendly (?) neighbourhood mechanic, who is around 8 kms from my place. I had bought my car from there... so naturally was more comfortable there. Well! I sure wasn't ready for the surprise in store for me.
We reached there and the mechanic, wearing an expression of impending doom, took a look at the car (read... took it a couple of metres in front and then in reverse) before proclaiming... "Clutch plate change karna padega!"
I was just about to resign myself to parting with a fat sum of money when he said it, in what was meant to be a snide aside to my friend... "Ladies driver ka main problem hai yeh!"
Lady luck had definitely gone for a walk for him -- because I overheard the remark.
Pulling myself up to full height (which isn't much anyway) and keeping as much of dignity in my voice as I could, I just got into the car, swerved it out of the garage and went off.

True that I had been putting it off till the last moment, also true that I hadn’t expected the damage to be so bad, but blaming it on lady drivers in general? I wasn’t going to give in to him that easily… Finally I did go to another mechanic, who though was as incredulous did show some respect to lady drivers and I guess the respect only increased when I went there armed with all the spare parts that needed replacement.

I still can’t fathom this mental block that people have against lady drivers. Believe me, I have known some very bad male drivers, who just happen to get overshadowed by the reputation that lady drivers carry. It’s just not fair. I don’t say we’re perfect, but come on, I think it’s time the good ones among our lot start getting some respect for our driving skills and more importantly for our love for that complex machine called the automobile.

From the old site: Hello Mumbai

2007-08-23T02:35:00.002-07:00

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Changing times...

Sometimes when you have waited for something a long time and you've just given up on the waiting, it happens at a time when you are least expecting it. Change has always been a part and parcel of my life. Born and brought up in Mumbai, then suddenly being uprooted from the city I was so used to and coming to Pune with my family.
Like they say, if you have ever been a Mumbaikar, a lil bit of the city lives on in you even after you've left it a long time.
For me, life's given a second opportunity to go back to the city I love, the city, which inspite of its madness and mayhem has always inspired me... And as I go back to Mumbai, I look forward to changing times.
Mumbai was always a shelter for me, what with family and relatives scattered all over the city. But this time, its going to be different as I take my first uncertain step, alone, into Mumbai.
Like I told a friend, this is my date with destiny, I'll hold her hand and let her guide me to where she wants. But I also know that I'll pull at her gently, if I know that she's taking me in the wrong direction, to change course. And that's what I call shaping your own destiny.
Yes I am going back to my roots and with the apprehensions and fear, there is a lot of anticipation and excitement that will stay throughout my second stint in Mumbai.

From the old site: Leisure

2007-08-23T02:35:00.001-07:00

Friday, March 03, 2006

It's amazing. The human nature. Yes its amazing how we adapt to new surroundings. The survival instincts that got us this far - through the stone ages, through the Jurassic age and to the new age has changed and adapted itself with new times - but its still there. Within all of us.

The survivor's instinct taught me a thing or two I'll never forget:

a. Nothing's permanent. Things change and they will. If you can't change them, then adapt with them.
b. We're all walking towards that supreme truth called death And since we know where we're heading, why not stop a moment and enjoy the path called Life?

Philosophical as it may sound, there's a ring of truth to this, especially in this fast paced life where we're so used to getting bogged down by humdrum affairs that we don't really have the time to sit and ponder.

Like the William H Davies poetry - "What is this life if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare, no time to stand beneath the boughs and stare as long as sheep or cows."

I have had leisurely moments though. On my way to work and back. Travelling in the bus or train, watching the city speed by with various shops, people, young and old, rich and poor, professionals and homemakers, all jostling with each other, lost in their own little world that's just theirs. Today, we're surviving... We'll survive tomorrow too. But are we living? Dunno!

And for all those who're interested, here's the full text of the Davies Poem:

Leisure

What is this life if full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich the smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is if, full of care
We have no time to stand and stare.

From the old site: Short circuit

2007-08-23T02:33:00.000-07:00

Sunday, March 12, 2006

A few days back, Mumbai transformed itself into a hill station. No really. It rained that day - - and not the sheets of rain that one would associate with Mumbai, but one of those gentle drizzle kinds that made you instantly think about Pune.

It was also a welcome respite from the sweltering heat that makes Mumbaiites sweat it out. And for once, on that day, you wouldn't find a mumbaikar counting the watts consumed like calories simply because it was cool enough to work without an ac and in high rises even without a fan.

Incase you are wondering, what this watt thing is all about, MERC (Maharashtra Electricity Regulatory Commission) has just passed an order where it has directed energy providers like Reliance Energy and BEST that supply power to most of Mumbai to ask consumers to cut down power consumption by 20% or face the consequences with regular power cuts.

While Mumbaikars fret and fume over this directive, I'm sure friendly neighbourhood Punekars, who have now become almost immune to power cuts thanks to the regular load shedding, could throw some light (pun intended) on saving electricity.

From the old site: Mother and Child

2007-08-23T02:31:00.000-07:00

uesday, May 23, 2006

She sat there- on the dirty floor of the local train. Her little baby sleeping on her lap, just like any infant-undisturbed and oblivious of the rattle of the train or the voices around. Like is the case on most days, I prefer standing in the gangway to get some air in an otherwise claustrophobic ladies compartment. Today, I happened to be standing next to this very woman. Just like her baby, she was oblivious to her surroundings as she caressed the little one in her arms, combed the baby's hair as she slept and looked for any marks on the baby.
Two stations later, I saw her taking out a torn, tattered shawl. "Must be to cover the baby," I thought. But to my amazement, she made a small ball of it to put it on her head_ but not before she adjusted the ghoonghat of her saree on her head. That's when I noticed it. A heavy parcel plopped right next to her.
Her expression was set as she prepared to get down at the next station with the sleeping child and the parcel, which she dragged to the door. She was on the edge. Baby parcel and all and as she bent to get the 'potli' closer, my hand instinctively reached out so that she wouldn't fall. She looked at me and smiled and that's when I realised how young she was - not more than 24 years. The smile was also one that meant to say - "No worries, I've done this before," and sure enough, she got down at the crowded station, baby, potli and all without much fuss.
She was gone. But her expression, her smile stayed on. She was gone. But not before she got me thinking on the strength that women possess. She probably had a stackful of vessels to sell in the area or possibly some heavy plastic items - but her body language, her poise gave the story of a woman who knew what she was doing and was content - not because she had everything in life, but because she was holding everything she had in her arms - her sleeping child.

I'm back

2007-08-23T02:01:00.000-07:00

Hi all,
It sure has been over a year and I really did miss blogging and putting down my thoughts. Well here I am again on a new blog and like I said, will first update some of my older blogs by linking the old site to mine and copying some of my favourite ones from my MSN spaces site.
Hope to get a lot of comments, brickbats and bouquets from you all for my posts.
Happy reading