Of the many things, the one I am most excited about is mobile blogging. Pity my wordpress blog is still not accessible from this device but I can use blogger and post here.
Subscribers beware! For the fury of mini blogposts is about to be unleashed on you!
There is nothing to do expect waiting for that inevitable moment when your blip would disappear from the radar. Yes, I have been thinking about it for quite sometime now.
Anyways, I am so bored and I am wondering why am I the only one to get bored like that. Let me write a totally boring post. What if I write about everything I see right now? Apart from my laptop screen, the headphones and that low battery sign flashing on the lower right corner of the screen.
I am looking at Polyester Prince, Filming, Into The Wild, The Matlock Paper, Bedside stories (flicked from Krasnapolsky) and a book that is covered with newspaper. Along with these, I have a piggy bank that is almost full. Need to buy another one. Two actually. One to collect all the change and the other to collect coins from other places I have been to. Then I have a bronze Ganesha Idol that KG got for me. I have a bong that I got for CYR, a Rubik’s 360, a Hexbug tht I got for KG. Got all these three things from my last trip. Then I have sgElectra’s keys, a CD spindle with I don’t know what all disks in it, a pen stand and few pens and pencils in it. A couple of boxes of pencil lead. And my BB.
Folklore has that when Adam got bored of Eve and all the apples in the Garden of Eden, he got so disillusioned with life that that he actually shunned all forms of pleasure. He became a nomad and set about on a journey, with no destination in mind. And while he was meandering around, he bumped into this his wonderful creature, which initially looked like yet another human being, but tuned out to be much more. He immediately felt at peace moment he saw her. He knew that she might not have all the answers, infact no answers at all, but she is someone with whom he could be himself again and let all worries take the back seat. He called this creature Agony Aunt.
So who exactly is an agony aunt? Someone who is around when you need her? Someone who you trust? Someone who won’t judge you for your actions or for your thoughts when you go and bare your soul? Someone who would not sell out gory details of your actions to paparazzi for paltry money? Someone who would not expect any damn thing from you? Someone who is all of this? And a wee bit more?
I am so grateful to this life that I have the bestest agony aunt ever. Funny thing is that no greeting card company has created The Agony Aunt’s day. Lemme take a lead and declare 15th Nov as Agony Aunt’s Day.
Happy Agony Aunt’s Day VK! Thank you for everything!
Thank you for your letter, which I must add, was very, moving, for want of the right word. My secretary, who has seen more world than Christopher A. Columbus, was in shivers when she delivered the letter to my desk. She held your letter the way first time mothers hold their newborns. With so much affection that you think the mere touch will hurt the baby. That you will leave permanent spots, ugly and dark ones, wherever you hold the baby from. Such was the shock on her face that I had to leave my putting practice for the charity golfing event next week and attend to her. And trust me, no man worth his salt wants to be interrupted while he is practicing putting. Who else would know if better than someone who uses the 9 iron!
Coming to the matter at hand, you obviously are talking about last week’s double homicide at Civil Lines. I must say that you have woven a very tight story around the evidence recorded at the crime scene. Even the 9 iron. Not even the real murderer would have known the things that you have shared with us. Like the 9 iron. The editor in my head wants to give credence to your letter and declare you the actual murderer. But then the skeptic in me is not allowing me to. And, over the years, I have learnt to go along with the skeptic whenever in doubt. On one hand, your letter could mean the story of the year and on the other, a shot for a Joe Nobody at his 15 seconds of fame.
Talking of Joe Nobodies, there are quite a few like you. You might be surprised to know that just my office has received about a dozen letters relating to the case, eerily similar to yours. May be because of exclusives we ran on the murders or may be because we were the only paper to have dug so much background information on the victim and his lonely life. In fact, the profession I am in, we are bombarded with communication from readers day in and day out. Most of it is the anonymous kinds. In the regular course of events, almost all of it finds its way to the trash can or the paper shredder almost immediately. If not for my secretary and her fear of golf clubs, especially the one that you claim that you put to use last week, your letter would either be resting in my dustbin, along with remains of the sandwich that I had for lunch or would be shredded into thin long paper strips and would have other pieces of unsolicited messages, office memos, even death threats for company.
However I must commend you on the beautiful prose that you have written. You obviously are a man with excellent literary talents. On a different day, I would have offered you an opportunity to intern and may be, just may be, one day, allow you to work here with me in my team and the newspaper that I spend my life building. As a fan of written word, I really want to share your letter with the world but since I respect the institution, the responsibility, the power of media, I will not. But then, I did send a copy to the police station. Trust me, howsoever burdened they might be with all the crime in the city, even they like reading fiction once in a while.
Finally, I would want to offer a piece of advice, before I go back to my practice. In my profession, anonymous letters are not really accorded as much respect. We ascribe anonymity to the writer’s inability to stand scrutiny and often doubt the intentions. Next time you exercise your right to freedom of speech and want to fulfill your unfinished childhood businesses or fantasies or whatever you call them, try using your real name. People tend to take you and your thought slightly more seriously.
I sincerely hope that you use your talents elsewhere and do something constructive! Please do let me know should you think I could be of some help. And please wish me luck for the tournament.
This is the closet anyone has been able to define who I am and what I stand for. I have the intent but I do not have what it takes to create magic. Hats off Hugh.
I'm sorry that I hurt you
It's something I must live with everyday
And all the pain I put you through
I wish that I could take it all away
And be the one who catches all your tears
Thats why I need you to hear
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is You
I mean it all btw!
My hands are sore, legs ache, back is stiff. My butt hurts so much that I cant even sit straight!
I am sure my butt is now shaped like the bike seat. Thanks god for mundane things like shower, mattresses, coke!
Ever since I can remember things, I have wanted to teach, share my gyaan. I have wanted to interact and learn from all the bright minds. And I want to spread the curiosity virus. And I have wanted to help people get out of the rat race.
I have taught in the past with IMS but I am not sure if I was adding value there. I was teaching public speaking skills to students at tier two cities around Delhi. But I did enjoy the teaching bit and feedback from students was encouraging.
Anyways, I have been applying to business schools since two weeks now and funnily, no one wants to hire me. Worse, they dont even acknowledge that I have written into them!. Except one - they replied and when they realized I was from the batch of 2006, they too backed out. The count stands at 7-0 right now. Lets see who gets lucky!
And until then, I am available for coaching/tutoring. Do let me know if you want me to ;P
SG22Sep: It may be. I dont have it, never had it. So dont know. And i think it might not be the only thing but it does take you close to happiness.
SG23Nov: How do you define happiness?
SG22Sep: Toughie. Happiness is when you look forward to things. You are excited. You are flying. When you are high. Without the dope!
SG23Nov: You know you are more fucked that I am
SG22Sep: I always did!
SG23Nov: A more apt reply wudve been 'how do you define fucked'
SG22Sep: Nah, i have stopped questioning things. I have now started trusting my judgement and answers
SG23Nov: Well to be honest I'm not too sure whether that's a good move or a bad move ... Only time will time I guess ... Anyways .. Goodnight bitch
SG22Sep: Who cares. Its one fucking life. If i dont trip here AND now, i am just twaddling n inching closer t oblivion. Lemme have my shot at greatness. Chal you tc too
I want to live at my home and yet I want to be alone
I want roads to be empty and still be able to make people jealous
I want to get settled and yet I don’t want to commit
I want more money than I can ever spend and yet more time to do things
I want followers and yet I want to be left alone
I want to live on a mountain and yet not far from the beach
I want to have more wants and cant really think of more
I am confused and yet I am so clear
For beginners, you start hating water. You need to take a shower before you get in the pool. You are surrounded by water when you are, well, in the water. You need to take a shower after you are out of water. And then when you reach home, you need to take yet another shower before leave for work. And if you are my kinds, who has had showers in the evening all his life, post work, then that’s yet another shower before you end the day. So there is water, water and still more water. I must be consuming enough water, on showers, to solve Yamuna’s maladies.
Then there are all the other swimmers. Most of them were struggling till about two days back and today they seem to be doing great. You, on the other hand, are still tottering and trying to stay afloat. You can’t hold your breadth for seven seconds under water and everyone else spend so much time under water that would put Houdini to shame. And not to mention all the generous exposure of cracks (butt cracks), cleavages, crotches, curves and curls (the 5 Cs). Not that these things make you uncomfortable, but they do make you jealous.
And then there is the agonizing length of the pool. You think you are a rockstar and you learn things fast and you tell yourself that you would swim the length by the fifth day. But when you actually get in water, the length seems small and yet unconquerable. You try hard, harder and hardest and yet you don’t get past the first ten feet.
I guess these three things top the list for me. Apart from these, I have other things to talk about as well. But then, they are stories that I shall share later.
Guess that’s it for now.
P.S.: I have not yet learnt the art of ending stories. Need to work on it.
P.P.S.: Sennheiser headphones. iTunes. Brilliance of Amit Trivedi on Sham from Aisha. Fingers flying on Acer keypad. Millions of thoughts running amok.
I am starting two new ones. (?), to talk about serious things. Business, money, poker, life, India, travel etc. And Armchair Activist, to talk about all frivolous things.
And this one, War of Words stays. Private. This is where I shall talk about things that make me sad, happy, excited etc. Basically personal stuff. Things that I dont want the world to know. Things that I want to only share with few friends.
Spread the word :)
- Bang someone's car and pay 5000 for the repair. Even when the other person hadnt asked for it.
- Order a gaming console for a friend. Assuming that its 8000. And you actually end up paying 15000.
I hate him from bottom of my heart. I hate him for everything he is. I dislike him for all the useless things he says. I really do.
Having said all that, if I have a best friend, its him. If I can count on someone, its him. If I would ever do something for, its him. When I was in Mumbai, Gawri and RamPyari were the only two outlets I had. I couldnt wait for the weekend to begin so that I may fuckoff to Vikhroli and take refuge in Rampyari's lap. Three of us made numerous trips to all parts of Maharastra and we loved to escape.
Thanks for being there :) Have a wonderful life ahead.
P.S.: He blogs here. Please ignore his photography skills ;P
I realized that I was writing for the world. I was hoping for appreciation and rave reviews post every blog post. I was trying to please an audience that I was hoping to get with my blog. I started expecting fanmail. I was refreshing my mailbox every minute. I was on the lookout for a literary agent already. I was losing myself.
Apart from that I was wasting a lot of time on cooking up stories/posts that would get me more hits and more readers. I was becoming a publicity whore. I would deliberately post things that people would search for. I wanted to be on the top page of digg and delicious. I wanted to be famous. And while I was doing all this, I was losing focus of the bigger picture. That I am supposed to be myself when I am writing. That I should be talking to friends rather than strangers. That I should be writing for the pleasure of writing rather than for fame.
With my blog in restricted mode, I know that every post counts. I know that I am talking to a select few. I am talking to friends. I know I will be talking about things that are important to me.
Hope the experiment works well. Hope I stick on. Hope I keep writing.
P.S.: Having said all this, I do want to meet new people. I do want to engage in debates and discussions with people that are better than I. I do want to be famous. Am sure, Inshallah, some day I shall cook up some other blog for that ;P
I know I will miss all the fayadas of a pseudo-popular blog (read fayadas as book writing invitations, corporate launch invitations, all the ego boosts, chance encounters with strangers and at times with cute women etc).
Coming onto other things, last few months have been crazy to say the least. I am expected to travel to Gurgaon everyday. Gurgaon is fine but it take me two hour each side and that leaves me with no time to think about Cyntax. I hate every bit of this but I have no clue what to do. On one side I have my family and they wnat me to work. On other I have my dreams that I want to chase. I have been chasing them but then I lose direction and focus mid way and I end up with things that I dont want.
I just realized that I have used the word I at least a million times in last para. Tells me something about myself?
Onto other things, I am reading The Fountainhead allover again. More I read it, more I realize how screwed I am in my mind. At times I relate to Roark. At times I think hes dumb. At times I hate him. I times I want to be him.
Anyways coming back to real life, let me end this one here with a promise to keep updating the blog.
Till next time, (abcdt)ata.
Please request/demand/coerce/threaten/bribe for your invite here.
So last Sunday, I actually did it. I jumped from Macau Tower. At 233 meters, operated by AJ Hackett, this is the highest commercial Bungee Jump location in the world.
The experience is hard to describe. The jump gets over before it begins. The first few miniseconds are full of confusion. You think you have done something wrong. Since its something that you have never experienced before, your brain cant comprehend it. The next few microseconds is when you feel liberated. Its like orgasm. It lasts for split second but then those split seconds are worth a lifetime. The next few microseonds when you are nearing the ground, you start realizing what you have just done and you actually start screaming. And then the pull back happens. And you start singing songs. In my case, it was "this is love"!!. And then they lower you to the ground. And you feel that sense of achievement. That adrenaline rush that you always wanted. That exhilaration that you always craved for. Its all there. You are so proud of yourself to have jumped off the edge.
And as they, why live on the edge, when you can jump off it!! And btw next on list are jumps in Nepal and Switzerland.
Videos are available on demand. If you want to see me tottering towards the edge of the tower, that last bit of confusion and fear on my face before the jump, the actual fall, the reach for the ground below, the pull back and the release and all the pre-jump masala, please let me know and I shall share.
And for everyone else who have been thinking about it, you should do it. Its totally worth it.
Thanks for being there. Always.
Strange it may sound but yes, I do have an agony aunt. Everytime I am low and I dont know what to do, I goto her place, talk my heart out without any inhibitions, chit chat about random things and come back fresh. Its like coming back from a teerth yatra (aka pilgrimage).
She listens to me without prejudice, she seems to understand everything without me having to say em explicitly and has answers for every damn thing in the world (MS tells me that I have answers for everything. If MS had met V, she would have known that SG has just about a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of V's coming-up-with-ingenious-answers-at-drop-of-the-hat skills).
Coming back to her, she is super intelligent, very strict taskmaster, amazing mother (shes got two sons - I tried talking her into adopting me as well, but she dint budge) and wonderful listener. The world needs more of her kinds.
I know her for about an year now. I know her from an online forum that both of us are fond of. In fact she gave me my first project when I started Cyntax in July last year (btw we still haven't finished the project and she has been chasing me incessantly for it and I have now mastered the art of avoiding her phone calls about it).
Wish her a great year ahead.
Kayi baar doobe, Kayi baar Ubhare,Can relate to every word!!
Kayi baar takrakar sahil par aaye,
Talaashey talab mein jo lazzat milli hai,
Dua kar raha hu kee manzil na aaye – From my Grandfather’s Diary.
In last few months, everytime you saw me happy, it was her. Everytime you saw me excited, she had done something special. Everytime I was found hunting for curios, gifts and tees, they were all for her. Everytime I disappeared without a convincing alibi, I was with her.
She brought me strength, love and luck. She took care of me. She was my guiding angel. She taught me what I ought to do. She stood by me. She watched out for me. She made me do things that I never thought were possible. She made my laugh and yes, she did make my cry. She was the reason. She made me push my limits and she was always there when I needed her.
Reminds me of these lines ...
Tu jo nahin to aise piya humDownload it here. Totally legit. From CokeStudio.
jaise soona aangana
nain tihari raah niharein
nainan ko tarsaao na
Wish I could get her back...
Like most of other people I talk about here, MS is a fictional character. Any resemblance to anyone dead or alive is purely coincidental and unintentional. Please consult a certified financial consultant before taking any investment decisions. Ok, this last one was not required.
This is with reference to your e-mail dated March 11, 2010.
We understand from your mail that you wish to unsubscribe SPAM.
We inform you that the SPAM mail is sent to all Citibank employees by the Ready Cash Department.
...Welcome to customer care :D
I know Miranda Warning (I have the right to remain silent. Anything I say, can or will be held against me in the court of law) holds truer for the Internet more than the real world. I know whatever I write today can be twisted enough in the future by some lawyer to seek higher alimony, or to make me plead guilty of a crime that I wouldn't commit. And I know I would be innocent. After all, as Red says, "everyone in shawshank is innocent".
Anyways coming to Criba Shankar Pandey ki dairy, today he is going to talk about things that ail him. Lekin before that, ye Criba Shankar Pandey hai kaun? Arey its my alter ego (the way Raju has Gajodhar and Karthik has Karthik). In short, its someone who I blame for all the fuck-ups in life. And it has served me well so far. And come to think of it, now that everyone including my maid, beggars and politicians have twitter accounts, how about a twitter account for Criba Shankar Pandey? @sgcsp :D
So what ails Mr. Pandey? Few things that he is really touchy about. He wants to believe that he is a good writer. And his first paid writing gig is a complete mess. Someone paid him good money to write content for a website. Our Mr. Pandey put in real effort. Effort as in e to the f to the f to the o to the r to the t. And now, the client says it was a "very mediocre" job. Nothing pisses a man off more than a frivolous comment on the only talent he has got. Sigh the bloody difficult demanding unsupportive rude world.
Then he cant seem to make any headway with his love life. The last girl that he liked hates him for the bottom of her heart. But our Pandeyji remain hopeful. Hope, is a funny thing. Andy says "Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies". And Red says "Let me tell you something my friend. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane". Our Mr. Pandey, being a simpleton he is, cant decide which one to choose. And like all other fictional heroes, he doesn't have the luxury of the coin that has heads on both faces. Where to they make those coins anyways?
Next on is lack of greenbucks in his life. Once upon a time some random guy told him that he would never be rich. And he laughed on that random guy's face and asked him to wait and watch. And its been about 11 years since this face-off. And the random guy seems to be winning. And in all likelihood the random guy would go to his grave, grinning. Where is the money dude? How to people become millionaires and billionaires? And that too at such tender ages? Wait. Tender is politically incorrect. I meant young.
BTW as I am writing this for Mr. CSP, the world is celebrating the International Women's day. And the other half is busy watching the Oscars. I dont know which is more useless. I mean we have to award all the effort that goes behind making movies and we have to appease to all the feminists. What I dont understand is that how do all the women in the world settle with just one day? Take them to dilli haat and they cant decide what to buy and here they are, their entire existence summed up in one day. And they are actually happy with it.
Next on agenda is his idiotic habit of trying to do too many things at the same time. He clearly believes in sailing in multple boats. Its like playing twister, with each colored dot in a different boat. And since all the boats are independent and have different rowing mechanisms, he invariably falls. And the worse bit is that he refuses to learn from his mistakes. Reminds me of Sisyphus. Damn .. the damned rock is rolling down the hill again. Lemme go fetch it. I will be back guys.
And before I end it randomly, here a couple of links (from the same guy) - two of my favorite themes - Simpsons and Super Mario (bonus - flute + beatboxing and piano. More posted here).
Hasratein hain. Khwahishein hain. Sapne hain.
Talash hai manzil ki.
Nikal pada hoon ghar sey. Bhataknay ko.
Sapnon kay pass. Apnon sey door.
Kuch hai to sirf ye door tak jaati lambi sadak.
Chal raha hoon.
Kabhi savariyon par. Kabhi apne kadamo par.
Kabhi kama kar. Kbhi udhaar par.
Raste main chand meel kay pathar mile.
Kuch acche lage. Kuch par main ruka.
Kuch pay log ruke they. kuch par logon nay roka.
Kuch nay kuch kisse sunaye. Maine kuch kahaniya.
Kuch der baatein hui. Kuch der chala silsil.
Kuch der baad fir kuch sapna aaya.
Fir chal diya.
Kuch der kuch log saath chale. Kuch der akela chala.
Kuch kahaniya yaad rahi. Kuch kisse bhool gaya.
Akela nikla tha. Kuch der kuch saathi mile.
Kuch kuch der saath chale. Kuch beech main kahin aur chal pade.
Bas rah gayi ye sadak.
Woh anjaai manzil.
Aur khoob saare sapne.
People define jogging as the art of slow running, on a track, in the community park where members of the opposite gender are in abundance, done supposedly to stay fit, in reality, to ogle at all the eye candy around, hoping to strike a conversation and ending the jog with your latest "friend" at the juice shop. I have seen umpteen conversations starting with words as obtuse as, "hey your shoelaces are open" and as daring as "nice shorts".
Jogging is also the sport that was made famous by Forrest (of the Forrest Gump fame). Everyone remembers that "Run Forrest Run" incident. I am not as blessed or as talented as Forrest is but I do share some similarities. The love for Vanilla ice-cream. He was forced to. I do it by myself. Anyways, I dont know what I was thinking when I got into this argument about fitness with Neo. And since he is quick on his feet, he challenged me if I could lose 4 inches by his wedding. I, being myself, had to accept it without any thought.
So, one fine day, I was blissfully hogging onto french fries and sipping onto a diet coke at a McDonalds when I suddenly realized I couldn't breathe. I am 27. Been the sporty kinds. Have actually won medals in races and all that. I somehow fatafat stuffed all the remaining fries in my mouth and gulped the rest of the coke in one quick motion. And then I called for help. The call was more of a tribal dance and war-cries. And unlike the movies, no heroines were in sight. Not even the cleaner came forward. I somehow managed to stay alive. I eventually had to sit at a coffee shop and wash down all the food with a vanilla ice cream before I could start breathing normally again. And that was the day when I decided that I need to get fit. And win the bet. Wait, after I finish that ice-cream.
I started exploring options. I collected pamphlets, phone numbers and reviews for dance schools, swimming pools, tennis/badminton courts, gyms, yoga instructors, even Shilpa Shetty's DVDs, cricket clubs and organic juice shops. And then I started the process of elimination.
Dance classes - too far and too expensive. And average age of a participant was 13. Imagine being called an uncle at 27. Last time I danced, I was in college and I was thrown out in exactly seven minutes of warm-up sessions.
Swimming pools refuse to accept me as a member. I dont know why.
All tennis and badminton courts are shut because they are preparing for commonwealth games to happen. I mean why are they shut? Cant they come up with better excuses?
Local gyms are interesting but its difficult to be semi-naked around fat aunties who are more interested in checking out themselves in mirror than working out. When they are not checking out themselves, they are comparing their vital stats with other fat aunties and are looking for affirmation. And worse is that they insist that they are the only ones who have the rightful ownership of the treadmill, stepper and the bicycle. Dare you touch em.
Yoga is another interesting story. I dont mean to offend anyone but the instructor was getting too "touchy" for my comfort. I know who I am and my preferences are straight. As a rod.
The DVDs are interesting but I couldn't bring myself to spend that kind of money on watching a no good page 3" celebrity" do awkward poses in red tights. And imagine the horror of my parents if they see me seeing that DVD. Jayadaad sey bedakhal kar dete mere gharwale.
Of all the options, am left with Yoga or Jogging. Yoga is fun and all that but it requires you to get up at 4:30 (in the morning) and reach the place by 5. Do it for an hour with people who are on an average double my age. Am thinking, wont it be fun to get yoga guys and dance guys in one room and experience the generation gap live?
So I finally du out my running shoes and started jogging. Its been a week since I have started jogging. I havent noticed an iota of difference to my fitness/health/girth/stamina but I remain hopeful. Please keep me in your prayers. After all I have to win the bloody bet. Just over a month to go.
Written while munching onto an McAloo Tikki Burger at a McDonlads. And no, Ronald is not paying me for this post. It would be nice if he did.
Starting with Google Reader. With a heavy heart, I am unsubscribing feeds from advertising agencies. When I was in advertising business, it made sense to listen to shameless self promotion on agency blogs. Then I removed all those blogs that showcased latest from the ad world. Next came all the brilliant design blogs. And then all the commentary on things like design, illustration, copy, planning, subliminal messages et al.
What remains is Value Investing, Poker, VC, Entrepreneurship and newspapers from around the world. So sorry social media fans, newspapers are still important. Nothing beats a thorough analysis and thoughtful reporting. More on this in another rant!
My shared items are here.
I can only do so much if I want to do those things well. I realized this while working on the profile. I like being jack of all trades and I intend to continue doing that. Lets see what else do I subscribe to now!
Post title inspired from that song that catapulted that group to the top of famedom.
Been tied up for last few days. So much so that I dint have time for myself. Please don’t ask what I was doing. So when Radhika invited me to her birthday picnic (yes, a picnic, with a picnic basket, sandwiches, a bed spread to sit on et al), I accepted immediately. Her idea was to meet at India Gate, spend some time there and head to some place for lunch. Sounded interesting. And since it was a Sunday, I decided I shall goto Darya Ganj before the picnic, buy few books, click some pictures and then meet the gang for the picnic.
And since I dint have an camera, borrowed Kunal's Nikon D40.
I took the Metro and a bus to reach Red Fort. I wanted to go inside and revisit the museum. I dont even remember when was the last time I went inside. May be some other Sunday. I walked from Red Fort till Ramlila Ground. Google maps tell me that it was about 3 KMs but it seemed longer. Took me well over couple of hours to do the entire routine - walk, stop, bargain, buy, click, walk, stop, walk.
View Larger Map
I passed through the Sunday market opposite Red Fort. Apart from regular paraphernalia, shoes - Nike, Converse even Vans were being sold for 300 bucks apiece. I mean imagine a Vans pair in India for 300. I wanted to click pictures, talk to the hawkers about it but the crowd was maddening. I was not moving, I was being literally pushed in the direction of the crowd. With prices so cheap and so genuine fakes, who would not want to buy those shoes?
Reached Asaf Ali Road somehow and then starting clicking. More than clicking pictures, I was interested in books. Thing with Darya Ganj is that you dont know what is on sale. And you dont know if you are going to get what you are looking for. You have to be in the exploratory mode. You need to sift through mountains and rows of books. You need to be patient and you should be willing to come back disappointed. This time I was lucky. I ended up buying some 9 books for all of 350 bucks. Most of them are cheap fictions. The kinds that you read in one sitting and get over with. The ones that help you keep boredom away. And the funny bit is that I bought most of the books for their interesting covers and titles.
Am thinking if someone could create a small barcode scan device, make an inventory of all the books on the Darya Ganj market, put them on a website, make it searchable, you would be solving such a huge problem. Of course this needs to be fleshed out. But this is an opportunity begging for attention.
There is something about printed word. I have no clue how Kindles and iPads are going to replace books. Need some technology that integrates the feel of a book and benefits of Kindle/iPad.
Anyways once I was done with the books, nagging, talking, buying I moved to India Gate. I took an auto. Met with friends. Had good food. Did the picnic bit (finding a clean enough spot, discovering whats inside the picnic basket, had that mandatory sandwich, played some football and freezebee etc.), clicked tons of pictures (here) and drove home. Damn I love driving. Wish I could become a driver ;P
Need to talk about India Gate before I wrap this. India Gate was erected in honour of the soldiers who died in the First World War. Its very very grand. Everytime I go there, I am proud. At times, its depressing. That on one hand there are people who have done so much for the country. And on the other, there is me.
Anyways, the strange thing is that the lawns were filthy. Wonder why/how. The cops, security men around it dint allow anyone to touch the monument and yet they were fine with all those hawkers and sellers and people to leave all the trash in the lawns. Even the grass was cut uneven and the waters were stinking. Guys this is India Gate. Delhi's most famous landmark. Someone needs to talk to the agency that manages India Gate. Too preachy?
All in all one of the rare days when I dint think much. Indulged in random acts and thoroughly enjoyed. Wish there were more such days. Gave me another idea. Weekend Wanderings. Next post!
I am in a bad mood. This is going to be yet another long rant. I am likely to crib like I have never cribbed before. I am likely to be unreasonable and sarcastic. I am likely to make a few chauvinist statements that might make most of you hate me till I am dead. I am going to make sweeping statements. I might stereotype people and their behaviors. I might even make racist comments. You might want to distance yourself from me. I might allegations against certain friends and acquaintances that will make them run for cover. My parents might want to disown me if they read this. Thank god they are not on social networks yet. I might fling accusations at people who fall under one of more of these categories: power-hungry, self-proclaimed-celebs, wannabe-socialites, and attention-seeking-whores. And at the end of all this, I might even deny that I ever made any of the comments I made.
Funny bit is that I like what I write. I like the process of writing. I like staring at the screen, and the way characters appear on the screen while my fingers are doing their tribal dance on the keyboard. I like the vertical line (is there a name for it? cursor?) that blinks when I am thinking what to write next. Its mesmerizing. Its magical. At times, I dont even think. The words and the narrative just seems to flow.They just pop up and somehow my fingers know where to tap and make them appear on the screen.
Haan, to funny bit is that I like what I write. I am not sure how many people like what I write. I am not even sure if I make sense. I am just betting on the law of averages and hoping that the infinite monkey theorem is true. In fact, this looks like a good title. Infinite Monkeys at Play. And imagine a disclaimer that states that this piece of text is produced by infinite monkeys in my backyard. I take no moral responsibility of whatever they have churned out.
So, yet again, coming back to the point, my writing. What about it? I forgot...
After Madhushala, Jo Beet Gayi So Baat Gayi , Koshish (Karne Wale Hi Haar Nahin Hoti), I am now hooked onto Agneepth.
Here goes ...
वृक्ष हो भले खड़े,copied from Sreeyesh's blog
हो घने, हो बड़े,
एक पत्र-छाह भी,
मांग मत, मांग मत, मांग मत,
अग्निपथ, अग्निपथ, अग्निपथ।
तू न थकेगा कभी,
तू न थमेगा कभी,
तू न मुड़ेगा कभी,
कर शपथ, कर शपथ, कर शपथ!
अग्निपथ, अग्निपथ, अग्निपथ।
यह महान दृश्य है,
चल रहा मनुष्य है,
अश्रु, श्वेत, रक्त से,
लथपथ, लथपथ, लथपथ,
अग्निपथ, अग्निपथ, अग्निपथ।
And here is a comprehensive list of work by Harivansh Rai Bahchchan.
Best part about writing a blog is that you can go back and read what you thought at a point in time. In fact I am surprised how consistent I have been been with my thoughts. I am confused, frivolous, random, impractical as I was in 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, and 2009.
Hope to continue writing. Hope you continue reading :)
Yet slower than it takes you to read it,
Brighter than the most convincing reason I ever came up with for doing what I did,
Yet dafter than me who actually thought that you would buy that reason,
Taller than the claims of heroics I made after one of those weekend binges,
Yet smaller than my ego when you asked me to say sorry for the gaffe,
Harsher than the decree you passed upon me for being what I am,
Yet milder than the heartburn when I knew the inevitable was about to happen,
You and I are so close,
Yet so far.
No, I dint click this pic. Image credits: Stuck in Customs on Flickr
Just came back from Agra. This was my second (or maybe third) trip to Agra. And no, I did not see Taj Mahal or Fatehpur Sikri. However, I did did crib about bad traffic, fog, corrupt cops etc. And like all other visitors to Agra, I bought Panchhi Petha (for a friend) and stopped at a highway for lunch.
If I could have my way, I would make traveling my profession and become a highway-food-inspector cum real-life-landscape-photographer cum driver-of-those-trucks-without-bodies. There is something about sitting out there in open, on make-shift furniture, being served with assorted utensils and yet charged as if you were Dhirubhai Ambani himself. The food, by the way, is strictly average and service, mediocre at best. The surroundings are hardly clean and you are not sure of the ingredients that they put in. And yet you are drawn to highway dhabas as if the key to your salvation lies within.
Everytime you pass a building, staccato houses, farms, people working in distance, you wonder what their lives would be like. If they were as interesting (or mundane) as yours is? If they realized that there is life beyond their fields and little colonies? If they are content and happy with what they have and do? And since they live on a highway, what do they think of people and generations that passed through the highway? After all, all the emperors, kings, entrepreneurs, travelers, sages, adventurers, would have taken these very roads to expand their empires, see the unknown, conquer unseen lands, spread their religion, learn from new things, seek adventure. Do they realize that they are living (and going to die, in most cases) next to the roads?
Every time I am out on the highways, that lead to places of historic importance, I wonder how would life be back then. Would they have those trifle things to worry about that we have? Would they chase money? happiness? hobbies? What would they be doing to kill time? What kind of opportunities were available to them? How did they manage to build such huge buildings without modern tools and machines? What motivated them? Why is that they lived for long without healthcare? They didnt even have Internet (and Google). There are a million questions and no answers are forthcoming.
Anyways, it took us about 5 hours to cover just 200 odd KMs. It was a scratch-free ride for a change (my Santro would be happy :D) . And since I was trapped inside a vehicle for these hours (with few sutta and pee breaks), there were tons of things to think about and realize. For starters, I realized Samsung Corby sucks. Please do NOT buy it even if it is offered for free. BTW, anyone wants to buy mine? Willing to sell it for anything more than INR 5500. I paid 6500. I have the original bill and the phone is not even ten days old. Second, I discovered Pavarotti. I loved the music, the incomprehensible words and the power in his voice. I could draw vivid images of murders in saloons, bank robberies, an old godfather sitting on the top floor in a tall building and steering his vast business empire with a gusto of a young man indulging in sex. I never thought I was the opera listening kinds. But then I was never the red shoe kinds. Its ok to change. Its ok to experiment. Reinvent. The journey like every other journey was full of boring moments and exciting moments. There were times when monotony of being in a car got better of us and we dint speak at all. And then there were those few moments where I
'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life
Trying to make ends meet, you're a slave to the money then you die
Every moment we live, every action is for money. Every opportunity to travel is like a break from the routine. Look forward to more such breaks. Planning to drive to Haridwar during this Kumbh. This time, I may want to take @sgElectra for a spin.
Was reviewing this and I figured I suck when it comes to ending the blogposts. Need to do something about it!
Movie: Ishqiya (wiki, IMDB)
Music: Vishal Bhardwaj
Aisi ulji nazar unse hatt ti nahi
Daant se reshmi dor katt ti nahi
Umar kab ki baras ke safaid ho gayi
Kaari badari jawani ki chatt ti nahi
Walla ye dhadkan bhadne lagi hai
Chehre ki rangat udne lagi hai
Darr lagta hai tanha sone mein ji
Dil to bachcha hai ji
Dil to bachcha hai ji
Thoda kaccha hai ji
Haan dil to baccha hai ji
Aisi ulji nazar unse hatt ti nahi
Daant se reshmi dor katt ti nahi
Umar kab ki baras ke safaid ho gayi
Kaari badari jawani ki chatt ti nahi
Ra ra ra ..
Kisko pata tha pehlu mein rakha
Dil aisa baaji bhi hoga
Hum to hamesha samajhte the koi
Hum jaisa haaji hi hoga
Hai zor karein, kitna shor karein
Bewaja baatein pe ainwe gaur karein
Dilsa koi kameena nahi
Koi to rokey, koi to tokey
Iss umar mein ab khaogey dhokhe
Darr lagta hai ishq karne mein ji
Dil to bachcha hai ji
Dil to bachcha hai ji
Thoda kaccha hai ji
Haan dil to baccha hai ji
Aisi udhaasi baithi hai dil pe
Hassne se ghabra rahe hain
Saari jawani katra ke kaati
Piri mein takra gaye hain
Dil dhadakta hai to aise lagta hai woh
Aa raha hai yahin dekhta hi na woh
Prem ki maarein kataar re
Taubah ye lamhe katt te nahi kyun
Aankhein se meri hatt te nahi kyun
Darr lagta hai mujhse kehne mein ji
Dil toh bachcha hai ji
Dil toh bachcha hai ji
Thoda kaccha hai ji
Haan dil toh baccha hai ji
The music reminds me of the glorious times of Hindi music when instruments were simple and artists were masters of their craft. Must hear for any Hindi music fan.
I dint type the lyrics. I copied em from here.
What do we talk about today?
Nah not interesting. Should we talk about sugar prices? Or about Amar Singh? Or about Indian hockey team? Who still fail to get to the front page of any national daily? Or about Amitabh Bachchan who manages to become a lead story even if he catches cold?
Or should we talk about all the gyaan that I have accumulated? All those funny ways people abuse emails? Or all the self doubt that has shrouded me in last few days?
Nopes. Not interesting. Damn this post is so not happening.
I know I had said that I would never put ads on this blog. But then, as they say, never say never, Akshay (@akshaysurve) told me about his awesome startup - Ads4Good (@ads4good, FB). And it was so compelling, I had to put a banner.
Please click on the ads on the right.
And please spread the goodness. Its totally worth it. It takes one minute to sign up, another minute to complete the profile and few clicks to embed.
This page has all the details. And no, I am not being paid for this. Though Akshay and I do help each other from time to time on things.