The Barber's Burden

All commercial establishments in this extremely cosmopolitan city have to have their names written in the local language. Sometimes the implementation of this dictum, can lead to extremely funny, yet unavoidable situations.The Nike Shop on the Colaba Causeway can surely attract a misdirected customer or two because of this. The vinyl lit-up board on top of the store has a picture of Maria Sharapova and it reads -

नाईकी दुकान

To Shantaram, with Love

I wrote this letter to Gregory David Roberts (author of Shantaram) after a chance encounter with him at Leopold’s in Colaba a few days back. For those of you who have read the book and know what life in Colaba is like, the contents of this little letter would probably find some resonance with you. For those who haven’t read it, I hope this encourages you to get your hands on the masterpiece.

Dear Gregory,

I am Azeez Narain and you may recall having met me amidst the scores of your fans at Leopold's this Friday. I felt like a little child excited at suddenly seeing a rockstar when I met you, and in the rush of it all I could hardly share with you my thoughts on your book and why it has actually come to mean so much to me.

I've grown up in Delhi and only recently moved to Mumbai in July this year as I joined work with the Tata Group. I like to call myself 'The Reluctant Mumbaikar' as even though I've lived here for some months now, I have not really come to terms with the ways of the city; its fast-paced life, its crowd & places, its sights & sounds. I've always found it hard to understand how people manage to give up the warmth of their families, the openness of their homes in other towns and villages and develop this indomitable spirit to just 'make it' in this city.

Coming from a family of academics, journalists & bureaucrats and having lived all my life in Delhi, a city whose dynamics are completely different from Mumbai; I have been grappling with these questions ever since I came here. Around the same time as I moved to Mumbai, someone happened to give me a copy of Shantaram which I got engrossed in reading, especially because I was living in Colaba.

Shantaram has helped me deconstruct this city, layer by layer and understand it. I am a little more sensitive now to the compulsions of a cab driver, a cop, a foreign tourist with no money, a slum dweller and a rich businessman and have to thank you for it. As I move in the streets of Colaba everyday, my eyes often reach out for the ordinary man and I begin to wonder what his story is, because after reading Shantaram I am convinced that he definitely has one to tell. It may not be a tale of great valour or heroism, but it is of definite significance to the individual and the world he has chosen to be a part of; and that is why it deserves to be heard and respected.

It would be an absolute honour and nothing short of a dream for me to continue corresponding with you; for my heroes are not those who transform the realities of our existence into a world of make-belief on the silver screen, but those who dive deep into it and delayer it for the world to see.

With sincere regards,

Yours,

Azeez Narain

The Reluctant Mumbaikar

A picture of central park in CP at dusk....

A shot of the warm winter sunshine in Lodi Garden...

The sight of NDTV anchors speaking against the backdrop of the Delhi skyline...

A photo of a healthy Sardarji wearing a nice red pullover while riding his Bajaj Chetak....

A video clip of the Delhi metro pulling into a swanky station...

A newspaper ad with a Karol Bagh address at the bottom...

If any of these or more such things make your heart stop and you suddenly involuntarily dive deep into a journey of nostalgia, you're probably a hardcore Delhiite. A Delhiite who's had to leave the warmth of the city and venture out in the big bad world in the hope of 'making it' someday, even if the definition of what that would be was not clear to you in life.....

Here I am, sitting in a shady hotel room behind VT in Mumbai and wondering how the hell did I land up in a city so different from mine.

I am wondering where have all the open roads and the beautiful gardens gone.I am wondering why on earth am I wearing shorts in December; this is not how winters are supposed to be.I am wondering why does everyone around me have to walk in the same direction at 9am and in the exact opposite one at 6pm. I am wondering how far from here is Priya cinema and how long will I have to drive before I can see the Qutab Minar.....

I am Azeez Narain. I've lived all my life in Delhi. Its perhaps very hard for me to love another city. I am just another face amongst the millions that are lost in this behemoth of a city. I am The Reluctant Mumbaikar.

Suffer Vacations

Have you recently been on a vacation?

Probably not, eh?

Because if you had, by now I would have definitely known about it. Known about it in far more detail than I would have ever wanted to. 

I would have known exactly which place you went on which day though your Facebook Status Messages. I would have seen ALL the 237 pictures that you would have uploaded on the Facebook Albums by now, including those of  the (highly unimpressive) ‘spectacular’ scenery, a (random) ‘awesome’ car and an (obscure) ‘legendary’ restaurant that you went to which nobody outside that little town knows about. Even you didn’t. It’s only when you landed up there that you were informed by other enthusiasts (and travel-marketing agents) around you how legendary the place is. Most likely even Wikipedia doesn’t have a reliable stub to support its legendary claim.

That’s not it. Thanks to Facebook Mobile, I would have actually followed you on your trip including knowing important details such as in how much time your flight is taking off, how effective the air-conditioning is in your hotel (and hence whether you are currently freezing or comfortably settled) and how many times you burped after having that exotic dish.

It doesn’t end there. Because of the Comments facility on Facebook, by now I would have also made a data bank of all the people who have been to the exact same place that you uploaded your pictures from. So what if they went fifteen years back as toddlers, it’s important that they don’t miss out on informing the world now that they too have been there, done that.  Of course they’ll try to make it sound like the (lame) conversation below the photo is directed to you only and would vehemently deny any charges of showing off; but it doesn’t work. 

The trouble is that Facebook is a like a house with glass walls; you just can’t have sex in it even in your bedroom. And in case you do, I am not the one to derive pleasure from voyeurism.

Thanks anyway for a great world tour guys! I had an awesome time.

Prologue

The author was all set to go for a nice family vacation to the Himalayas last week with all the tickets and bookings in place. Hours before boarding the plane, a polite SMS from the carrier informed him that all flight services to his destination had been cancelled indefinitely. And there went his grand summer vacation for a toss.

This blog is an outcome of his unscheduled extended stay at home in the sweltering heat with little to keep himself entertained. The multiplex owners, film producers and the electricity utility companies are amongst those who should also take the blame. 

Jiski Trump uski Triumph/Jeet

In case any of you have ever made an attempt to call me, you would be well-aware that I have a Trump mobile connection. 

 Yes, there is no doubt it sucks. The signal vanishes every now and then, the calls get dropped quite often and the little conversation that does take place is so garbled that it feels like you are shouting at someone underwater.

 So, why did I get the rotten connection in the first place?

That is easy to answer - There was a time when Trump rocked. It was the cheapest connection by far and the SMS service was free. So, as first and second year students in DCE (yes, at that time there were multiple users of Trump, not just me. Those buggers deserted me later), we used to source all our humour for the day by sending ADU to 8888. Not that the jokes we received were extremely funny or extremely adult, but somehow the idea of exploiting a free service this way was rather exciting.

The network that time wasn’t that bad either. In fact, it was far better than some of the Hutch and Airtel guys who used to not visit those hostels in DCE facing the Haryana direction as each trip cost them a bomb. Their phones would involuntarily put them on roaming whenever they went that side and charge them Rs.50 for roaming. The SMSs too reached within 5 mins of sending it to anyone in those days, even on other networks. 

However, that was then. Now, there is no denying that from those days Trump has only become worse, but somehow I have still held on to the connection (much to the annoyance of anybody who has me in his phonebook).

Frequent problems with the service have meant that I have had to speak to their customer care guys almost once every week. All calls on their 1503 customer care helpline have sounded exactly the same all through five years – First, some bad music comes (Sorry, before that you get through to the helpline only in some ten attempts, then the bad music comes). Then, a computerised voice says press 0 for operator assistance and then a rude, bored, tired individual will introduce himself and ‘welcome’ you to Trump customer care, inform you his ‘position number’ and ask you ‘how he may help you’.  I have mechanically registered complaints so many times in the last five years without the hope of anything being resolved, but simply to do my karma as a distressed customer.

I have often been asked why I have put up with this for so long.

Until today I didn’t really have a good enough answer to this except that as with everything sarkari, Trump also rewards loyalty; and I cherish that. They give me free talktime every now and then, have made calls on a few numbers completely free and charge me almost nothing for a cool GPRS surfing experience. This by the way is not an exaggeration. But, is it good enough? Can’t the zoozoos offer the same the thing?

Not really. 

I called up 1503 today to register a complaint for an exceptionally bad network failure even my Trump standards. The call got through in a single attempt and the sleazy-sounding music followed. The computerised voice asked me to press zero for operator assistance ‘at any time during the call’. I immediately did. A sweet sounding lady promptly picked up the phone on the other end and said –

Welcome to Trump customer care. I am in position number sixty-nine. How may I help you?

I blushed and hung up the phone.