Until the next NIGHT!

I vividly remember the last night parade of thoughts during my slumber, resulting in the residual of a grin on my sleepy face, the whole process. When the slumber broke, I came to senses, met the real world and an another new morning which usually is bereft of any joy, especially when I have to rush for work; but today, my grin didn’t scurry away like a rat scurries away after seeing a cat, except Jerry. Jerry can kick Tom’s ass any day. Period!

My grinning didn’t flinch!

A light headed morning wake-ups are only a result of a good night’s sleep or no hangover; and waking up grinning, mind you, a full ear to ear, is a lot more than a cherry on top of a cake. Oh wait, before you open your judging fangs let me clear that neither I’m in love nor I’m stupid; even my mother had me tested! Then why such an anomaly? What was the dream about? Why it out lived reality?

Well, to be honest, in my dreams I didn’t go to Hogwarts, neither did I find Drogon, Rhaegal, Viserion nor Toothless, didn’t stroll with Bagheera and Baloo, and definitely not flew over the palaces of Agrabah. Honestly, I can go on with these things I didn’t do for whom I could give away anything to do or be with, so cutting straight to the chase – I saw my siblings and a few close friends playing odd-house-after-drunk games.

I bet, by now, I must have let down the curiosity of most of you, cursing, ‘He sounded promising and thrilling this time and ended up being a damp squib. What is such a big deal about playing games with your siblings? We play that all the time, don’t we?’

First of all, WE DON’T! Not all the time. And if you are still wondering what is the big deal in playing, then I pity you my friend. You’re nothing but lost. Secondly, I think it is a big deal because we have lost contact with you-know-who, ah not Voldemort, your siblings and friends. You dumb fuck! Thirdly, I believe I dreamt that because I happened to indulge myself into such an experience. On my birthday night!

My room, post a cake cutting ceremony and all the elders off to bed, was filled with sibling, cousins and a few friends. We opened all the bottles – Whiskey for the boys, Vodka for the girls, beer after Vodka-Whiskey and Breezer and soft drinks for the faint hearted, children and a pregnant lady. Oh! My Bhabhi is pregnant and due in June. Along with bottles, we had also sneaked in a few starters for biting, ice, playing cards, board games, pen-pencils and books. It only meant a BIG NIGHT ahead!

 Recent turn of events have made us all fall short of time to catch up with one another, as almost everyone is placed and working really hard to build a stable career. Those days are gone where we wouldn’t care about waking up early and planning our day as per a schedule. Thus, giving us all a small window to match our timings and work on the feasibility just to have a good time together. Like most families, we do meet on occasions such as birthdays or public holidays which promise the 3Ds: Dance. Daru. Dhamaal.

Coming back to the night, we all were exhausted dancing with our tummies and livers imploring for you-know-what! We struggled to mark a place for ourselves, first-come-first-basis, in my compact bedroom, where we could seat leaning on something and still maintaining the circle with all the paraphernalia for the night in the center on the bed. We started playing cards to make some money while we were sober, then eventually accentuated our wits with more brainy games as our minds got sloppy. We played, splitting in two teams, a Low-Volume-Antakshri, Dumb-Charades, Cards again, Quiz with pen-pencil as well as buzzer rounds, and with the decisive game for the night before going full-fledged on drinking again – One minute.

The parts to remember were the cheating done in these games – be it poker or be it a pen-paper game. A few of us we copied answers or prompted wrong answers to the other team or distracting from catching the charades. The most fun game was the decisive one – One Minute. In this game, every player will get to select a topic on which every other member, including the proposing player, has to write the highest number of elements relating to the topic, within one minute. E.g. If someone selects cars, then everyone must write as many names as possible within a minute.

Cars, body-parts, Pokémon’s, flowers, rivers, capitals, etc. were a few of the topics. We selected worst of worst topic we believed that we could write way more than the opposition to get the edge. The best part was the adrenaline rush in each and every one either writing or copying and the fun of chase in such an inebriated stage made it special. Even a corrupt government would fall short of cheating when compared to the cheating taking place. The even funnier part is when the correction is being done, needless to say that everyone has turned into a doctor by now. A doctor’s handwriting is still legible, but how is one supposed to know that B, A, N…. and a little of scribbling ahead in Hebrew or probably Greek are the remaining letters of the fruit called banana.  D, E and a wavy line meant Delhi! God save such chaos and competition and the rightful demand for that one full mark even after a typo which ultimately made the checker to give in.

The best part comes when a team wins, with a few deceits, with a team of righteous and an obvious-winning-padhaku-players. The deceivers will tease the hell out of those players making, all in all, everyone laugh. Finally, with the dawn turning brighter, all would retire into their respective assigned beds. These being the normal rituals of the 3Ds of our night-stay, which all of us made sure not to miss. Ending up with father waking up everyone as early as possible in the morning, without a hint of the happenings of the night.

Currently, May is going on, that night, THE NIGHT was in March, still I dreamt it; it made my morning; still that dream lit me up. Definitely, not ‘LITT ME’ up! Such are the memories, one of the best, I know, I’m going to cherish till the end. After all, doesn’t happiness lie in the small things we do with our loved ones? We had many such nights in the past with, now, the frequency of such nights hitting a plateau on a PLC graph, I await such nights like an ardent fan awaits the next episode of  the Game of Thrones.

Until the next NIGHT!

Make in India

Not everyday one comes across an event like this. The grandeur of it is dumbfounding. Follow your instincts and keep checking cells after cells or halls after halls, or if you're the serious types follow the schedule list, but the eternity of the hope of future-development's manifestations either put in by the originals or the prototypes would only keep amusing your mind and tiring your body; especially legs.

And again, who would complain when there's a cafeteria which quenches thirst with chilled beer. Yes! You read it right. BEER! Coffee is also there along with some snack stuff, but who would care to know about it. Correct? 

Yes! It's a different type of a gig. Where the orchestrated Jcbs, earth moving machinery dance to the rhythms of flute in sync. These Jcbs bucking just like the wild horses or an adrenaline junkie doing a wheelie. Standing on there hind-whatever it is. Simply awesome! Oh wait! BEML showed their mining beast as well; around three storeys height or maybe more. Tyres only of 20 odd feet. Oof!

If not for all these and many more interesting things, there were such promising speeches and seminars conducted by dignitaries of the state and the country to enlighten, allure, engage the common man and the international corporate world along with our corporate geniuses for a better scope of business development in this country. 

Again, it's not everyday that you come across  the Chief-minister, the Defense minister, the Education minister, the Municipal commissioner and many more such as these.

Let's Make in India! 

Some interesting photos from day1: 

A PEEKABOO WITH MOUNTAINS

“We’re taking a Vacation!” These very words fill the air in the room with excitement and anticipation. One forgets one’s real-world and gets into dream-world; wondering the potential fun, new experiences, the differences, breaking the monotony and so on to come.

Ever since the survival for everyday has gotten us all enslaved to monotony, we all crave for vacations–they’re like income, either in installments or lump sum; we love them.

Vacations, these days, include taking a small or big trip out of station with all our kith and kin, either visiting the tourist destination or exploring the various geographies across the globe in search of peace, love, happiness or all!

My last encounter was with the mighty Himalayan ranges, where I came across the might and light of these ranges. It went from being brown to green to snow white and growing from being small to big, to huge and finally to ridiculously humongous!

One often, whilst looking out of a window of a moving car, ends up playing PEEKABOO with these mountains which tend to hide behind either the trees or one another.  

I going deeper and higher in these ranges was directly proportional to the falling of temperature way below zero degrees and to the increase in number of layers of sweaters I got myself in.

As we travel and advance towards the early traces of snow or the snow advances towards us and that the FIRST glimpse of the snow that can be actually touched and felt and not just admired for lying on the top of the peaks is beyond words. The chills of mixed emotion that set into motion with the chilly breeze kissing your face and a ball of snow in palms for your pal to take will definitely make one forget one's own wedding.

And if fate has it, one would be fortunate enough to dance under a snowfall letting those soft, smooth, sliver of ice glide through or stay. The first glimpse is no less than the first love; following the same excitement for both and making a permanent room in your mind palace.

The most enthralling and delightful experience of all is to see the advancing snow. It is always bliss when seeking for snow, travelling in a car, going up-hill to finally see it around you, spattered, on the branches and leaves of the trees, on the sides of the road, on the roofs of houses, shops; gradually, with the gaining altitude the concentration of the snow increases from appearing as white-speckles to growing into a full white meadow. The green and the brown patches being filled with white, soft snow reversing the whole mechanism with now just a few green or brown speckles on a sheet of white.

Apart from this transition of brown-green-white and warm-cold, it’s a feeling of victory and achievement. As it is not every day that one can break one’s mundane work and kiss the ecstasy of vacationing.

It’s a tête-à-tête with nature that will last forever. 

The Gen- Z

“Nuclear family” is the new way of living; at least in the always-forward-on-copying-blindly-from-the-west India. It, indeed, is a rare occasion when a whole family gathers and spends the evening peacefully without grappling. It is a rare, isn’t it?

On the trailing end of Diwali comes the auspicious day of Bhai-Duj; a day, much like Raksha Bandhan,  where a brother swears for the protection of his sister/s and sister/s ripping him off of his bank account.

Ours being a big family, we had a get-together, with all agreeing on a decided venue; performed all the ceremonies and then followed our year old tradition: Partying!

The simplicity of the day being the children, YES! The Gen-Z, of our family, ranging from 3 years old to 13 years old.  All my nieces!  

When, post the ceremony, we all, mostly the siblings, gathered around the table, obviously, for the alcohol’s and good old days’ sake. An altogether different party had started inside one of the bedrooms: The Party of the Gen-Z!

My nieces, all from the different parts of Mumbai, seldom meeting each other, gelled-in like they were the best of friends – Chuddi-buddies; a few recently being able to walk, talk and chill without continuous support/crying for their parents; leaving their parents some respite.

When the party on our side opened the bottles for the first round, the voices of the Team Gen-Z rose, after an exchange of general greetings and gifts.

We taking down the first round; they chattering about the vacation. We with no enthusiasm, waiting for the alcohol to kick some enthusiasm within us; they were already at the pinnacle of the enthusiasm. And voices, of course!

Second round, got us talking; they already into different sets of team and with a ready plan, only waiting to execute. We got to card games – money based gambling. They resorted to power-based card games: Doraemon trading cards, Pokemon…

The rounds went on and so did the clamoring inside the bedrooms. Their games kept changing and so did the level of eclectic noises keep changing. They played from Horror games, to adventurous games, to accessorizing dolls or setting up a kitchen set to chasing each other madly … The last game they ended on was everyone’s childhood special – Hide & Seek.

 Where we were onto alcohol, to make us ‘siblings’ chit-chat, and like each other, at least for one evening, those young and fresh minded, with less or no fights got into accepting each other the way they were and in a way showing us to how to make friends or how to live a life.

No egos, No pride.

Well, in the end, a family that drinks together dances together.

A last round for the evening was yet to be played before the dinner was served. Both the groups got together and danced on the Bollywood’s dancing-numbers. It was nothing but delightful to see everyone heaving, jiggling, jumping with so much energy and seeing those children dance is a sight for which anyone would give away a 1000days without a second thought. Thus, ending the whole ceremony on a happy note.

Happy Diwali!

Let’s Sneak-Out

“Yay! Finally the exams are over… come down guys.” This was the common dialogue running through the lobbies and the passages of our societies when we were in class 6^th, 7^th, 8^th, 9^th, or 10^th. “Tonight we won’t sleep. Hell, YEAH!"

Let's Sneak Out, Play!

Normally, back then, in the late ‘90s and early 2000, we were maniacs; like what a crab is to water and holes, we were to Cricket or playing. On a slightest window, we all had sneaked out from our parental monitoring just to be with our friends and hit a few balls. We were no different.

Adolescent got us friends for life; those imbecile groups of boys and girls incessantly vying and thousands of unsaid protocols to be followed, which we worshiped reverently. Coming up with codes which only the group would understand and even worse was the tagging of a name. A name tagged once, was tagged for eternity. Nonetheless, the adolescent was playful with every excuse for getting down, to be madly in love in an one sided love affair, attending schools and tuitions post school; bunking classes to go take a match, or to watch a movie, or to end a skirmish, or the most dreadful one, to take a girl out.  A thrill for the chase made life jubilant.

Now, the tables have turned, times have changed, whenever an exam ends, we hit to the nearest bar and get our drunk-brains out. Ranting about the miserable life, the upturns, the lost love, the broken-hearts, the cheats, pretending to be happy, dancing until we crash in beds and not waking-up before midday.  

A miracle took place, when we, just after the exams, unanimously agreed onto going out to play. Cricket!  

Cricket!? It won’t be wrong or far-stretched to say that none of us had played for a really long time. In the daily survival for the mundane, we had lost the definition of fun, enjoyment, excitement. Playing for an hour meant endless fun followed by two days’ of body ache. Body Ache?

Challenge accepted!

Location was set: a friend’s society with our pitch – a concrete based. Superb Bounce!

Without much dilly-dallying, after our exams, we headed for the location. We began and lasted for nearly 150 minutes with everyone going out of breath. Panting!

We are not the best players, none of us, but we definitely are a fun to watch and play with. We ran at our pace; panted more than the covered miles; the jiggling protruding bellies and asses; the fight over water much to one’s delight. No meaningless drunk nights and dancing in the clubs could give you that what a fatso friend (Vinit Shah) of yours, running like a Rhino, between the wickets just to be on a safer side.   

For a brighter side, how much fun would it be to first get drunk, all of us, and then make that fatso run?

Evil, I’m!  

Sing it, Nation!

What is it like standing in dark, with hundreds of people, shoulder to shoulder, crooning a melody?

I came vis-à-vis the melody, crooned in the dark with scores of people standing upright, the last time I went to watch a movie – The Martian –  in the PVR cinemas just across my home, with my family. I wasn’t unfamiliar with the regulars of a cinema that runs before a feature presentation begins; in fact it was mundane! This time though, the set of actions that I ran through were unprecedented.

I, on a Sunday evening, was among the few lucky ones to have had our seats reserved – God bless internet booking! To the likes of every family, the father and the son were ready before time and the mother and the daughter were dilly dallying over what to wear. We were late!

Now, thanks to PVR cinemas for providing a buffer of fifteen minutes; full of movie trailers and undesired commercials.

 Sing it, Nation!

We got into the auditorium when some commercials were going on. I helped myself assume my seat next to a lady who had got the whole row occupied with a dozen or more children, whom I couldn’t fathom, again, because of the dark.

It is mandatory to play Jana-Gana-Mana, India’s National Anthem, before any movie begins. No sooner had I got myself comfortable than the big screen flashed – Kindly stand-up for the National Anthem. I stood up!

Now there runs an unsaid protocol wherein one needs to stand-up in order to pay respect when a National Anthem is played, be it of any country. If one doesn’t stand-up or is lazing around, then the moral policing eyes of the people, who are standing, whether in real respect or not, will give a look of disgust that would pierce deeper than a dagger and compel you to stand-up; often this moral policing is done by the people who doesn’t get a head or tail of patriotism or its values.

I often valued these principles at mediocrity, but was always pro-active at such occasions, however brief they maybe. I stood up! My parents and sister, would either hum or croon the anthem with me grinning at them. I didn’t! I didn’t because I couldn’t as I believed I would kill the harmony and also a part of mine was hesitant.

The National Anthem began, as melodiously as it could get, with some old and lazy people still managing to get on their feet. A big tricolored flag flashed heaving on the screen. I looked towards my right, my folks had already began humming and me showing them my teeth in the dark in a very awkward standing position. It was nothing new. I was surprised when I heard the croons coming from my left. The noble lady with all the children was crooning it with all having their right hand on their respective chests. They all were so enthusiastic and so true to themselves. Their singing had purity and was rose-water bathed. It was serene!

Slowly and steadily, the rows ahead and behind ours picked it up and gradually went up to almost each and every one picking up the rhyme to either humming or crooning it. I was mesmerized by such unprecedented happenings in the auditorium brought by those bunch of children and a lady, supposedly their teacher.

The 52 seconds rhyme had its effect on everyone. I, though picked it up late, maybe last, but got along and hummed it if not sing the remains of the anthem. Nostalgia groped me; took me to the days of school, long missed, where we all would, every morning, sing some prayers and our national anthem with so much of pride and so much of love, incredulously; which only got layered under the saw-dust of mundane activities of growing-up.

Later, in the intermission, I figured out that those children were differently abled. I kowtowed in reverence!

p.s. The National Anthem with the differently abled school children and the one with the Army officials at the Siachen Glacier are the best as per me.

Dancing Dilemma!

'Now what? Science, Commerce  or Arts? What are your further plans? What is that you seek? Do you even know how fast is the world growing? and scores of other questions, which were sine qua non. were bombarded upon us during our time. I, forever, was on the receiving end of this foray of ever probing, poignant and perplexing questions. I'm sure even you must have also gone through the same if you're the same type as I am- 'Career choices, I don't get head or tail of it.'

I, 15, had only finished my class 10th; that too with decent scores. I was more of an impetuous decision maker, I still am; so never cared what will come after this and that. Besides, what would a 15 year old one know about seeking goals in life. For once, why would he even care two hoots about it, as he is still engrossed in adolescence and its ceaseless curiosities?

Dance with the Dilemmas

Everyone kept going about the same thing like they got a bee in their bonnet! Even you must have been hit by the same torrent of bullets of questions just like me. I was gunned down by the gun of questions, often used  by the terrorist-R (relatives).

I was pretty calmed about myself and had, at least, sorted out it in my mind to opt for science which I eventually did, One down thousand more to go! The decision to take up science was out of a whim. Earlier, I thought of taking up Arts and graduating in Arts, since commerce had no chance as I hated that very word, to pursue for UPSC exams.The game of whim is such, that I chose Science over Arts with a thought of, which was a big folly, if I'm to crack UPSC exams, I might as well crack it in style and with pride by opting Science!

On the first paper of my 12th final exams, I turned into an adult in the eyes of the constitution of India. The Dilemma then was not of choosing a stream but of taking CET or not. A CET could make you an Engineer or a Doctor; no CET will leave you with plain B.Sc. The eternal fad in India, that parents envisaged for their children, either to be an Engineer or a Doctor. I went one step further, with dilemma playing at zenith, breaking the conventions. I chose B.A.!

Most of you must have, despite taking a stream, changed your paths, because either you couldn't fathom a thing or some other stream tricked you into taking it up. At least, then, you may have settled in the new stream. As, fortune or bad fortune had it, I again shifted from B.A to B.Sc., after completing one year out of the three year course. I was not contented! I needed more! As my dilemma played its tunes whim danced more.

Back then, before shifting to B.Sc,, a trend had surged in. A trend of becoming a Pilot. Many jumped in with the glamour and the early earnings it fetched. I, too, with complete ground training and no practical flying lessons, was the one!

Post that, I hated everything as I couldn't be a pilot. I loathed B.Sc., which was recently taken up. Recession not only shut many companies in the US but also shut my scope of being a Pilot, about which I'm happy, today!

Quickly, I was abosrbed into the plain science graduation course and got over my so called depression. I did my graduation in Statistics.

For once, things started making sense and a clarity was achieved until one of the Terrorist-Rs broke about taking up MBA as a back-up before going for UPSC. Like an innocent cow I opted for CAT.

We all know what CAT does to an average student. I was the one to face the same brunt of CAT's which every other student faced who aspired an IIM- A/B/C and didn't get through. To keep the fight up, as my spirit was still unaffected, I moved for UPSC and within a year's time realized that a back-up is must.

Dilemma danced again, yet another time. I was unsure, as to back my self up with what? Finally, resorting to MBA-CET, a younger sister of CAT, I got into a reputed B-school in Mumbai.

First year, second semester made us choose again for a domain. I, much like others opted for Marketing, as it only deemed fit.

I'm currently in second year, vis-a-vis a host of choices to choose to make a career into it. Picking up, within Marketing various sectors such as FMCG, Digital Marketing, Media...

Now, given the experience I have had with the dancing dilemma, I'm sure life is full of choices and we're full of dilemmas, that too the dancing ones. We all have made wrong choices. Don't lose your hope. Sometimes, being shameless helps; it helped me take taunts of thousands, including a few professors who should have been encouraging instead of discouraging. Be shamesless but never insensitive. Empathize! It is never too late to start! Let your dilemmas dance. Take a whim! Go crazy! Stay flexible! Make memories, make mistakes. Learn! Because, Someday somewhere you will hit something so strong yet so soothing that you will settle down for it or with it.

'TRAINS'FORMATION!

Enveloped in the throng of 'I need to be in time' types, I felt a sudden push from behind making me step forward on the half foot raised platform, even before the brakes hissed and the chugging sound stopped. As I rose up onto this raised platform I couldn't fathom any faces or see the happenings in this new, dark world with daylight entering across its breadth. All I could hear was chaotic rumblings from eclectic sources and languages- some within my ken and some beyond my ken! I, with myriad heads, was set into motion, finally now, not gasping for air and feeling like a sliver patty of meat sandwiched with force coming from all the ends, struggling to keep on feet with all my college paraphernalia. Letting loose, hating the odor, going back and forth with the push, sniffing the pungent hair oils, getting a few strands of hair in nose, once or twice; even worse, was getting close to the sump of sweat of a taller man's armpits; I got drenched in sweat- of my own and of others as well! A thirty minute of second class ride of a local train in peak hours got me all these.

The throng of ''I need to be in time'' types

It's August and there is deficit in rainfall, giving rise to the soaring temperatures and humidity drenching one in one's own sweat. These dry spells are not really dry, at least not in terms of perspiration; at least something is trickling down! It was not my first local ride or first "second class" local ride, it was my first after being enslaved to the extra comfortable life of commuting in a car. I didn't have a car for one week, so had to resort to trains. People, in right senses, even in  first class, dread to take a train in peak hours. Second class is out of question, syllabus or maybe universe!

I don't despise second class or deign people commuting in second class. All I hate is the way one enters it and the way one gets out of it. Y'all will know if you commute through local trains of Mumbai. Even first class, for that matter, in the peak hours. When you get out, the perfectly washed, dried and ironed shirt looks like rewashed, crumpled and half or less tucked-in and those black shoes of yours, for which you polished and brushed it for minutes to be able to see your own reflection, show you the white reality of life- being stomped, discolored and the shapelessness of it, much like your physique!

Whatever be the hardships, it is the fastest means to get to one's destination for me and thousands like me.

The second day arose, still my car wasn't with me and I had no options but the local trains. This time again, I was enveloped in the throng of same types and the experience was pretty much like the same. I grew more immune to it and loathed it a little lesser. Only after  two-three more trips it dawned to me that I actually had started liking it and could see the new lessons taught to me.

Even in that chaotic noises and back aching pushes I was smiling, making way for people, understanding the flow of throng. I grew more mature in the local trains within a few sessions than what i grew in a closed classrooms for all these years, with endless theory bombardment.

I learnt the daily struggle, that every local commuter goes through, from worrying about catching timed local trains, then getting a seat, if not a window-seat, then at least a seat to re-showering again, this time in sweat; getting disheveled, surviving unbearable push and force, the momentum of getting on and off-board.
I learnt the spirit of every individual, whether loathing it or loving it, going through it!
I revived the steel-made SPIRIT that every MUMBAIKAR has!
I learnt and loved it the LOCAL TRAIN"S WAY!
I 'TRAINS'FORMED!