Of People and places! – Part 1

It’s good to live in multiple cities. And I say this not so much because of getting the pleasure from trivial things in life like adopting diverse lifestyles, assimilating different cultures, trying different cuisines, learning different languages. No. There’s much more to it. I feel, moving to a new city instantly bestows you the right of authoritatively cursing and cribbing on a range of topics.

Now, for example, there is this super cool guy next door who usually comes home late with a roar of an even super cool bike and one sneak peek from the window makes you go weak on knees. After several weeks of attention seeking attempts through expensive parlour appointments and uncomfortable walks in skimpy skirts, you have not even managed to get a glance from him but rather the other day he almost crushed, with his cowboy-like shoes, your little stuffed toy which you had dropped to initiate the ‘baharon phool barsao’ scene or anything even remotely close to it.

Immediately, the local people can be termed as self centered, unwelcoming, closed-minded, myopic people. Then you can go on to narrate stories of how the neighbor in your ‘previous’ city had shared his pasta dinner with you when you were hungry and your gas cylinder went empty, cleverly hiding the fact of how, at that time though, you had labeled him as a ‘despo’ trying his luck on you young beautiful ladies.

I have, due to sheer chance of fate, been literally living out of bags (and some smelly cupboards) and have hopped cities back and forth for past six years. Therefore I do this, all the while, with untainted sincerity so much so that I sincerely feel I definitely deserve a small role in those tourism promotional ads.

Scene 1

I have lost my house key and am desperately searching for that ‘key’ guy. I finally find a small roadside shop but it’s deserted. So this is how events would roll in respective cities –

Mumbai -

I pace around for a few minutes. Scan surrounding areas but see no one who can fit the ‘key-guy’ profile. Seeing this, a Gujju (offcourse!) shopkeeper (of an adjacent grocery shop) comes out, asks me with concern as to what the problem is.

(All this conversation will be in Hindi in fear that people will think I am a regionalist if I engage in Marathi)

Me - “Do you know where he is“?

Shopkeeper – “Must have gone somewhere nearby. He will come soon. You can sit inside till that time”

Me – “Thank you”!

(Another 10 minutes pass. I am still standing outside)

Shopkeeper – Comes out, pulls out his cell, makes few calls, traces that ‘key-man’, informs him of a potential customer, takes my address, informs him, tells me to go home, I thank him, ‘key-man’ reaches my house in next 5 minutes, key made, door opened, and work done!

Learning – Sometimes simply standing over the problems could also solve them !!!

Pune –

After my Mumbai incident, I proactively approach a lady sitting idly in the adjacent-almost-zero-inventory shop.

Lady shopkeeper - Screams at the top of her voice in the purest form of Marathi I have ever heard (rather, not heard) so much that I strongly believe that conversation could easily be part of Delhi Belly’s Marathi version if ever it were to be dubbed.

Lady (I have filtered it out to preserve my dignity) – “Are you a fool. If I owned that shop, would I be sitting over here? And do you think I am some GPS device to track his current location. Also do you think I am idle to answer such idiotic questions”?

I wanted to point put that there were indeed no customers in her shop but I couldn’t muster enough courage to say so because soon she continued, “If you are in such a hurry why don’t you pick that stone and go break that lock. You ...” and then the dubbed version of Delhi Belly followed.

Learning – You cannot have a worthwhile shopping experience in a zero inventory shop.

Moral of the story – Mumbai Meri Jaan !!  (More assault coming soon ……… )

Yes, we know, that you condemn!

Dear Politicians,


A young man stood tall at a crowded bustop
He had cracked it and earned it, his dream job
He felt so proud, this day was great
Just waiting to go home and celebrate


From there at not a faraway place
Walked a pretty girl, full of grace
Swinging happily her wedding shopping
All she wanted now was a diamond ring


A wealthy man sat in a Porsche so fine
Happy about a deal that he had just signed
To leave his mark, to make his name
This he knew was his stairway to fame


Moments later, this street is now a deathbed
The rain water here has turned blood red
I stand here horrified as they die in vain
The big and the small, the once strong men


You will come here soon with your empathy mask
Do you even feel a pinch is what I ask?
And once all your showbiz is over and done
You will wipe their blood with your dirty linen


And say, yes we condemn!


And certainly sometime, not long from now
They will strike back again, someday, somehow
Tear us and kill us and bring us down
From plush gateways to shady downtowns


We aren’t resilient, just lost all hope
Hanging in despair to a broken rope
Not sure if we would live to see tomorrow
Relish our dreams or be buried in sorrow


We will face this all, one more time
Tears would flow for this hideous crime
But all you would say is that you really condemn
And move on as if nothing has changed


But yes, we now know, that you really, really condemn!


Sincerely,
A Survivor

ONE

Fair or dark, eyes blue or brown,

We can look so pretty all the while,

Laugh about and remove your frown,

It’s a question of just ONE smile.

Just ONE spark can do all the work,

Light up and set ablaze the campfire,

Millions of light to drive away the dark,

Just ONE sun can make a day brighter.

The remembrance in the ONE minute silence,

ONE tight hug in despair,

The comfort of ONE quilt to the homeless,

ONE day of fame and fanfare.

The shimmering light of ONE North Star,

On a dark night for a lost boat,

The last ONE man standing in the war,

The election won by just ONE vote.

Long lost friends whom we miss so much,

Seem so far when they are so near,

There are many ways to get back in touch,

It’s a distance of just ONE desire…

Happy Birthday to me !!

I got up today before the sun rose high

I felt that I was on the wrong side of twenty five

My mom hugged me as I rubbed my eyes

She said "I wish you a life kingsize

And I hope that you always keep your dazzling smile

and you spread it across as you walk your miles"

My dad patted me, and wished "Happy Birthday

I wish you all the happiness today and everyday

And ever in this journey should you stumble and fall

I know u will come out unscathed and always stand tall"

My grandmom said that "I hope for you now

that you are always surrounded by people you love

and may you build ties that last for life

tons of hellos without any goodbyes"

My grandpa smiled when i took his blessings -

"I am the oldest and today I tell you this

That though I wish for you all the wisdom

May you in life stay forever young"

My Brother jumped and pulled my cheeks

He got me a cake and wonderful sweets

He said that I was the sweetest sister

and our fun and pranks would last forever

My freinds wished me one by one,

on phone, by message and some in person

I felt so special you made my day

I so wanted it the same way

And as shall pass days months and years,

May be some setbacks, some times of cheer,

I hope all your blessing do come true,

I want this all but not without you !!

Apni toh Pathshaala .. masti ki Pathshaala...

Yes so ‘Pathshaala’ has failed miserably at the box office. It has a descent sound track with Lucky Ali making a powerful comeback with ‘Bekarar’ fitted at the most inappropriate place -when the audience is just waiting to run out of the movie halls. It was almost like that Indian Idol series 1 audition, where participants ran over each other as the gates opened to test their vocal chords, only this time they ran out screaming after watching hours of mindless clatter. For the geeks, like ‘Java’ which spawns many threads for parallel and faster processing; the movie burst out with compounded stories. But looks like the non-techie zero-storyline director forgot to put a thread.stop() leaving many of those threads dangling forever.

But yes, the movie does transcend you on and off to those wonder years, the time of heavier bags but lighter minds, lots of friends and no egos, where teachers probably taught from heart more than book, where going home without a peeled knee or a scratched elbow was a waste of day and many such caressing moments.

The bivouac of school life may have ended but memories linger on forever. OK so the rhyme scheme may have gone for a toss but what the hell.. Cheers to those fun filled days!!

The morning sun rays which used to wake me up,

For the bag to be packed right and to neatly dress up,

To toss and sway the water bottle on the way,

As the school gates opened to a brighter day.

Where we sang the morning prayers in perfect sync

The tune of which still echoes sometime,

The colors we splashed and the stains of the ink

That life was so much in a perfect rhyme.

The spat of the wooden ruler that instilled a fear

There stood our teachers firm but kind,

On a cold day today, I still feel their warmth and care

As I move forward with their faith behind.

The wooden bench on which we carved our names,

Recess fights, dance and song, the mud and the sand,

Peel an elbow, the passion for the games,

Marching in the sun to the school band.

The stories in class we carefully listened

Leapt over fences in the morning sun,

Mischief and fun, got caught and punished

Standing outside the class was a different fun.

With back to the wind we started to grow,

But before we knew, it was time to go,

A fresh course to discover and new paths to be found,

We made place for the new and took memories abound.

But sometimes I wish I could simply rewind

Wake up someday to that old regime…

Live Strong ..

I have learnt how faith can shape my destiny

That it could fritter away under sheer negativity

That success tastes sweeter after a bitter failure

The power of valor needed to beat that fear

That though I looked away too long from a door left ajar

But a start with a small step has helped me come real far

That I got strength sometimes from the unknown

Even when my best ally thrust me alone

That I can wipe my tears if I make someone laugh

And believe that these tough times too shall pass

That there is sparkling steel below every sheen of rust

And marvelous sand dunes form after a storm of dust

That I am never too small to dream high

And aspire to reach to the stars up in the sky

Autobiography of Sachin’s Bat

As they say and I quote, when Sachin plays, men and women, the big and the small in the house finally agree on one – to watch him bat.

This is my tribute to an extra ordinary innings !! Sachin, I bow to thee!!

As we walk down to the crease I hear,

Thousands whistle with vigor and cheer,

For he knows he has promises to keep,

To fly high the flag and live up the dreams.

I can feel the tension as we gear for the challenge,

To get the ball rolling and to set it ablaze,

We need to rock it past the grasslands,

We can do it for sure cause I am in the right hands.

But sometimes I misjudge, I miss a space,

I sway it across but in wrongs ways,

And sometimes I fall short, as hard as I may try,

To reach the crease, as I see the bells fly.

But many times we smack it far,

His talent, his vision, my grip, my power.

I love it when the crowd roars and cheers,

And the man behind the stumps groans with fear.

I sense the liveliness double in the stands,

And drums and trumpets lash out of the bands,

Banners of praise, fun and dance,

To shout and scream they get a chance,

But best of all is when he holds me high,

Looks above and points me to the sky,

And though his friends and foes know there is God above,

They would rather bow down to Sachin for now.