This is my Gift, This is my Curse

The Barber's Burden

2009-12-26T14:36:00.007+05:30

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

2009-12-25T21:50:00.004+05:30

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

2009-12-07T22:43:00.007+05:30

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

2009-06-05T15:43:00.004+05:30

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

2009-05-18T22:46:00.004+05:30

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.

Gym-boree

2009-05-15T00:25:00.006+05:30

A few months back I had caused a sort of flutter amongst my friends’ community through my post ‘Ballpark Figures’, which was a description of the different kinds of kids I saw while pursuing my pseudo-exercise routine everyday in the neighbourhood park. The excitement about the post wasn’t to do with the quality of writing or the keenness of observation exhibited in the post but almost entirely about reliability of the plot in the first place.

Somehow it is difficult to digest for any person who knows me well that I have also occasionally indulged in activities marginally inclined towards physical fitness. The interesting bit is that I don’t really blame them. A quarter of a century of excessive consumption (of not-so-healthy kind of food) and over-exploitation of a contraption called the bean bag is compelling enough evidence to confirm their doubts. But guys trust me, I wasn’t lying.

And now, here’s the latest....I’ve gone a step further....I go the gym now...Everyday...8.30 AM to 9.45 AM. Hell yeah!

Now that we’ve set the stage for some drama let me introduce the characters to you. In the following lines I intend to describe to you the amusing and interesting types of (fitness) freaks who I run into every morning. Needless to say, observing them is far more engaging than struggling with dumbbells and push-ups and embarrassing oneself in front of the local studs.

So, here we go...

Type 1: Mrs. Shalini Gupta (housewife)

Mrs. Shalini is the ideal sundar aur susheel grahini (the sundar bit is usually highly exaggerated) in her late-thirties who has just begun to explore possibilities of an outlet for herself outside the kitchen; a place which she has very masterfully run for over decade now (and in the process doubled her weight since the time she got married. This is her own confession, not my fancy). She has probably been introduced to the idea of a gym by Mrs.Sharma in her neighbourhood, who in turn got to know about gyms from her visiting NRI relatives (distant ones obviously) last summer.

Mrs.Gupta has spent significant time in making her sartorial choices, exclusively for the gym. Tight black slacks and a huge pink t-shirt (with big white polka dots) which reaches up to her knees is what you’d find her most commonly in. Unfortunately this selection of hep clothes accentuates her well-rounded personality much more than actually concealing it.

Mrs. Gupta obviously definitely doesn’t like her mini-Jayalalitha look but doesn’t realise that she needs to work a little harder to get rid of it; and simply smelling the air inside the gym won’t help. Alas, the temptation of exchanging notes on what’s happening in Balika Vadhu and what all she’s planning to arrange for her younger child’s upcoming birthday party with a like-minded colleague (gym kitty circle if you will) while sitting on an exercising-cycle is far stronger than the actual need to peddle the cycle for which she pays the gym guy. Even that, I presume is a very tiring activity as it is evident from the frequency with which she seems to wipe some imaginary sweat from her face using a small pink hand-towel fifteen times in as many minutes. Did I also mention the sips of water she takes from her own bottle every now and then which she religiously brings everyday from home? Obviously, the mineral water dispenser in the gym can’t be trusted as it doesn’t have the anti-swine flu upgrade patch.

(In case you are getting the idea that I am being a janani and eavesdropping on ladies’ conversation, then you’re wrong. The likes of Mrs.Gupta block any gym equipment which has a provision for seating for really long everyday and its unlikely that they’d budge unless you stood on her head and made a dirty face. In the process, you may inadvertently be exposed to the content of her conversation)

Type 2: Rajveer Yadav (pet name: Sonu)

Actual name changed. Pet name also changed, for security reasons of the author not so much the subject. As a matter of fact, I don’t even know what this guy’s real name is but I am sure the aliases given here are not so off the mark.

Sonu is the quintessential Delhi gym guy with his roots in an adjoining state beginning with H. He’s tall, has a perfectly chiselled body replete with six-pack abs, rides a yellow motorbike and stinks. Only if he didn’t walk into the gym wearing a black vest and a red cap which has probably never been washed in the last decade then the transmission of the stink can be slightly subdued, but who amongst the lesser mortals has the balls to give him any advice.

Your average Sonu is a serious body-building enthusiast and from childhood his tongue is trained to pronounce the ‘body’ in ‘body-building’ the way you and I would pronounce bow-dee. (So to reiterate, he has a great bowdee not body.) All bowdee builders in the gym seem to follow a particular jargon unique only to them. They've invested so much time in building their bodies (sorry, bowdees) that they feel like hitting (maaro-ing) everyone and everything, including their own exercises and muscles. So you'd commonly hear our bowdee builder ask the trainer - Aaj mein biceps aur chest maar leta hun? phir bees double-fly maar lunga? Theek hai na bhai?

Another peculiar habit our bowdee builder here has is that of feeling up his chest in front of the mirror every five minutes and having a little conversation with his own reflection for a while. I reckon this is when he’s imagining standing in front of the Fash-P team of DCE and walking down the ramp topless amidst a roaring Bawana crowd going hysterical over his hoat bowdee (err...hot body).

This act of narcissism is usually followed by another one. That is, lifting of that black vest we talked about from his left hand and counting his abs with the index finger of the right. As you may have seen, any gym has mirrors on all four walls, so when this is happening you are surrounded by at least 20 images of Sonu and no less than 120 ab muscles (20 X 6 pack each). Believe me, it is not a pleasant site!

To be continued...

Still to come – Hunney Singh and his gym buddies

Old Nimbu Paani in a New Bottle

2009-05-09T14:28:00.006+05:30

7'up did it, so why can't I?

For a while now I had been contemplating changing the look and feel of this blog. In addition to the summer drying up new ideas for posts, I had increasingly started feeling a little embarassed and a little irritated about the way my blog looked. Hence, the new look!

First and foremost, the previous version was designed so as to somehow maximise revenue from ad sense. It doesn't work. I mean it works, but it works at such a painfully slow pace that its not worth pursuing. Moreover, off late the main ad block on top was showing a 5cm x 5 cm image of L.K.Advani in that wierd about-to-go-to-potty pose, replicas of which are anyway spread across the city, and I was in no mood to aid the BJP in its campaign efforts. So I did away with it!

Now the three vertical ad bars that you notice on the right are purely kept for cosmetic purpose so as to fill in the space in the right column with something colourful. You really needn't be nice to me any longer by clicking on them. I can live without those extra pennies, thanks.

The bigger and the more important change is the background and colur scheme. I wonder what went through my mind when I first put it, about two years ago. For some weeks now, those green and yellow polka dots had been reminding me of a pattern off a baby's underwear....definitely not worth keeping any longer!

I have also made some changes to the about me section, but those are rather minor, too hard for even the most ardent follower of this blog (if one exists) to notice. I realised I needed to be slightly more politically correct as I join work and hence the needful has been done.

Besides, all this I don't think there anything different here. I am still the same, my sense of humour (or the lack of it) is still the same and the older posts on this blog are definitely still the same.

So if you were getting excited about finding an all new avatar of of this blog (the gift?), then sorry to disappoint (the curse :P).

UK not OK

2009-03-27T18:00:00.013+05:30

On a recent visit to my blog (mostly to procrastinate academics since exams are so close) I was amused by the latest ad flashing on it. Right on top - by the UK Border Agency.

This is the very agency which came into effect on 1st April last year all of a sudden and played havoc with a lot of student internship visas for MBA students just days or even hours before people were to board their flights to Heathrow. As was probably expected, I had landed up in the thick of all this drama that time and had even expressed my rants and rumblings on this very blog.

Now, exactly one year later, these guys are actually advertising on my blog, almost as if to take my case on an old joke.

DON'T click on that ad! I don't care about the adsense revenue I'll lose. :-P

Chuddy Buddies

2009-03-15T09:32:00.009+05:30

Last night I met 6 of my friends from the school gang. Some of them after more than 6 years. We laughed our hearts out, took each others' case (obviously some people gave more than they took), talked about recession, girls, teachers and our queer experiences of life in the last 6-7 years. It seemed like the conversation just flowed from where we left it last in 2001 and there was just no gap in between.

It was only once I returned home and lay down to sleep that two interesting realisations dawned upon me. First was the sheer diversity of the fields we had all branched out to. In the group now, there was one archeologist (who digs caves around the world like Indiana Jones), one architect (with fundas on life much like Howard Roark), a journalist with the Telegraph (and I am inclined to believe that the place his family hails from and the choice of the newspaper he works for are in perfect harmony not merely by chance), a guy who sells television broadcast equipment in cities like Nairobi, Dubai, Dhaka and Colombo, a nice soft-spoken guy in the sophisticated & clean business of real estate and property management and of course yours truly. Its amazing how the starting point for all of us was exactly the same (Class XII D - more commonly called 'Computer Science wale' in school) and how divergent our directions led us thereafter.

As I was pondering about this, I was thinking as interesting as it was to learn about what we were all doing professionally, how utterly inconsequential it was to the way we bonded. It would have probably not mattered had all of us been engineers, doctors, poets or even traffic policemen - we would have still managed to laugh on the same instances from school days, still found the same things amusing and still managed to create the ruckus that we did in the restaurant we went to.

When you've been with someone as he has transitioned from his knickers to pants, there's little he can do in life to impress you a lot, and vice verca.

And that is indeed something special!

Forbes Probes

2009-03-04T13:04:00.004+05:30

My morbid fascination with the recession continues. And perhaps, I am not the only one in this. Some of the world's top publications are coming up with "new & innovative" stories related to recession. From tracking the richest, biggest and the brightest in the world of business, Forbes has now come up with a "Layoff Tracker".

It's worth a look -

http://www.forbes.com/2008/11/17/layoff-tracker-unemployement-lead-cx_kk_1118tracker.html

Ballpark Figures

2009-02-06T23:27:00.013+05:30

After two decades of procastrination, one habit that I am finally trying to get into now is some physical excercise every evening (OK, wipe that smile off now, I only said I am 'trying'). So, in order to feel like I've done my health-conscious deed for the day, I make a little trip down my apartment near DU to this small neighbourhood 'colony park' where I practice my intense fitness regime.

More interesting than the two-count jumping jerks (it always sounded like "jumping jacks" on the loudspeaker when our physical education teacher used to make the whole school do this before morning assemblies during winters) and the toe-touching (which I barely manage with the edge of the nail of my middle finger intersecting the curve of my big toe just about tangentially) are the sights and sounds that I see in the park everyday.

There's a tree on which no less than five peococks live, all of whom descend on it together at 5:56 PM everyday (believe me, its quite a sight). There's a family of monkies which stretches out and relaxes at the end of the day near that tree (I mean the actual animal here). But what is most amusing to watch is the group of little kids who play and run around like crazy all evening in the park. Watching them play, fight, argue & shout while I pretend to be in the middle of some callisthenics has provided me fascinating insights into organisational dynamics, division of roles and power structures even in that group of kids, which is a great reflection of how we act as adults.

The bully (or the guy who does major dadagiri) is the easiest to spot. He even looks slightly bigger, usually wears black and talks the loudest. He always has a sidekick, (the loser) who has no sense of identity of his own and derives all his confidence from his status as the official armrest of the bully as the latter orders around the other kids. While this happens there are always these two girls who stand at the corner and share their disgust with each other about the bully's behaviour in English. They always seem to be more fluent in the language than at least the bully (whose dad probably runs a flourishing business in Karol Bagh, but has only done a B.A. pass course and hence has limited linguistic abilties in foreign languages).

Then there are a couple of kids in the group who are out there only because their parents want them to go out and play everyday. They personally hate physical activity, don't really have the confidence or the motivation to make themselves heard in the group and usually get out on a duck. They hence, spend most of their time fielding on the fence and occasionally bowling a "baby-over" or two or throwing an odd "try ball" as the 'captain' takes a water break. (My guess is most of them grow on to become engineers from NSIT.)

The other interesting thing about watching these kids is that after very long I am hearing words and phrases which had ceased to be a part of my everyday jargon long back. It's amazing how some words and heuristics have still remained the same as they were about twenty years ago and have possibly existed for many decades even before that, despite the kind of exposure to technology and media that these kids have.

Pukam-Pukai is still the preferred way to identify the seeker (or the den or 'denner' as we popularly call it in India). However, if someone joins the game late the seeker is spared of the agony of running around alone with the supeceding rule of nayi ghodi, nayi chaal which penalises the newcomer by making him the seeker straightaway still (come to think of it, its not a bad way to ensure compliance - everyone would try to be on time this way).

Games like Vish-Amrit, Oonch-Neech-ka-Papda (as a kid I used to think there were some racist undertones about this game) and Chhupan-Chhupai (in which the den always cheats by skipping numbers or counting only multiples of ten when he's supposed to count from 1-100) are still as popular as they always were. And the kid who owns the stumps when they play cricket is suddenly reminded that his mother had asked him to come back early that day and finish his homework the moment he gets out even now.

It's incredible how much has remained exactly the same about kids now and the time when we were all 2 feet tall like them..... And then when we grow up, I am not sure what we do wrong with ourselves that we find their routine activity fascinating enough to be able to blog about it.

Of MBA Grads and Social Networking Sites

2009-02-06T21:43:00.009+05:30

If Facebook revealed the stats of who uses their photo album feature the most, there is one group of people who will definitely make it to the top of that list - Indian B-School graduates, Batch of 2008.

Every single day my Facebook homepage tells me how who amongst this newly graduated army of yuppies spent his/her time (and money) the previous evening. So thanks to the ever-updating online albums, I have seen detailed photo essays of a hundred and fifty new year bashs, umpteen trips to Hardrock cafe in Bombay, a gazzillion house parties, evenings at fancy lounges & fifty different weekend trips to Goa.

Thank you very much, but it's getting very boring now. They ALL seem to do the same things, hang out at the same places and I think even look almost the same. All the girls have suddenly simultaneously acquired a 'taste' for dresses and short skirts. Most of them look horrendous in them, they just don't seem to be able to carry them off well; but its not their fault that they're wearing them, they need to exhaust the monthly limits on their platinum cards everytime - so they HAVE to go for the 'hep' stuff. And the guys - they all try to pull off that cool-banker-after-office-hours look - striped shirts and steel grey trousers with sleeves folded and uncombed hair after a long day's work of putting formulas in excel sheets and exchanging fifty unproductive mails on Outlook Express (accessed through their company-gifted Blackberries if you like).

I know its a great feeling to earn your first few salary cheques, but its incredibly funny to see the effort that these guys make to tell the world about it. Of course, they'll claim they're not intentionally trying to tell everyone that they've started earning....they're just 'cool guys' who like to 'hang out with friends' a lot (work hard, party harder?) and that newly acquired cybershot 'just happens' to be there in their pockets every single time!

So what's wrong in all this? And why am I sounding like a cranky old man complaining about someone else having fun? Don't get me wrong...I am not. Really. Neither am I against their exploits, nor do I find social networking sites annoying - both help me pass a lot of time online these days and I have to admit its tremendously entertaining at times. After all, for all you know they maybe the last bunch of such entertainers the world will see for a long time to come now after the 'entertainment' their predecessors have had in office all these years.

If you're passing out of a B-School this year when the global economy is in such fantastic shape, you know what I am talking about.

A Question of Conduct

2008-11-25T00:57:00.003+05:30

Watch this video of Ram Jethmalani bashing Sagarika Ghosh over her questions on his professional ethics on defending Manu Sharma -

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SpQNfLdAyg8

Tell me who do you think is (more) guilty of professional misconduct...the famed lawyer or the activist journalist?

I'd say tough call.

Global Electoral College

2008-10-02T23:56:00.003+05:30

It feels good to be blogging again.

Check out this cool poll the Economist is doing to predict who would win the US Presidential Election if the whole world was to vote. As of now Obama is winning hands down.

http://www.economist.com/vote2008/

National Holiday Thoughts

2008-10-02T16:58:00.002+05:30

It's fascinating to note that the US Senate has cleared the nuclear deal with India on Gandhi Jayanti.

Altough I am very much a supporter of the development it would have been interesting to hear Mahatma Gandhi's views on the issue today.

Pakodas on Wall Street

2008-09-30T23:19:00.006+05:30

Today during a discussion for our final projects our Strategy Professor was stressing on the importance of formulating accurate hyphotheses and analysing them correctly. He was talking about how people draw flawed causal relationships between mutually exclusive statements and end-up with outrageous results. The analogy he drew to explain this was rather interesting. Here's what he said -

"Suppose the null hypothesis states that 'peococks dance when it rains' and the alternate hypothesis states that 'pakodas are fried when it rains'. Listening to this the more naive amongst us would conclude that 'pakodas are fried everytime peococks dance'. "

The description obviously made several of us chuckle. He continued, "Why are you laughing. This is a serious point." Seizing the moment to drive home his point (while simultaneously taking a dig at the Wall Street collapse) he said "And it's precisely how financial markets work. Isn't it? This is what is derivates are all about."

Point taken Sir.

Truth "OR" Dare

2008-08-31T00:21:00.006+05:30

Last year first question in our Operations paper was - "Operations Management has no real life applications. Comment". My flatmate, who was incidentally a champion at the subject had emphatically started answeing the same by stating "Yes, I agree. Operations Management has no applications in real life".

We then spent the remainder of that year mentally preparing him to write the paper again as his impeccable foresight into the subject matter was certainly going to infuriate the Prof. and his answer sheet was likely to be fed to the dogs of Kamla Nagar. By some stroke of luck however, he passed the subject (I think nearly topped it too!).

Last weekend, interestingly enough after almost a year of this incident I actually find myself in agreeement with his views. The following was how my schedule looked like last Friday-Sat -

Anyone has the most feasible solution to this one?

PAGE 3. And 4. And 5. And 6. And 7….

2008-05-30T10:13:00.002+05:30

Bombay is the home of the Page 3 Culture as we know it. There’s a Page 3 Event or a Page 3 Celebrity or Page 3 Celebrity Wannabe just about everywhere.

Hence while we have one out of the seven-eight pages of HT City and Delhi Times dedicated to the party & celebrity circuit, here in Bombay one whole supplement dedicated to that everyday. And on most days this supplement is thicker than the main newspaper. I am also sure that the number of ‘journalists’ hired to cover the Page 3 Beat must be larger than that of all the others put together in the ‘editorial offices’ of these newspapers.

ALL pages look the IDENTICAL. They are full of dozens of pictures of parties and events with hundreds of (presumably intellectually challenged) people clad in (atrocious) fashionable clothing flying kisses to each other for no apparent reason. Every single day.

The newspaperwallahs could probably number all pages in their publication just 3 from the first to the last and I am damn sure it would go unnoticed.

Commuting in Bombay is so Easy!

2008-05-28T13:54:00.003+05:30

Ya Right.

Yesterday, I flagged 32 auto-rickshaws before one finally agreed to take me back from office.

P.S: I actually counted. Normally, I manage to get one in 12-15 attempts.

The Greatest OS in the World!

2008-05-26T09:07:00.004+05:30

This is a screenshot of the fabulous Windows Vista early Monday morning from my laptop.

Full marks for speed and accuracy.

(Click to see a larger view)

P.S: Vista Rocks! ;-)

60 killed, 100 injured in Jaipur blasts

2008-05-13T22:44:00.005+05:30

Post removed temporarily as it is eliciting a strong unnecessary reaction from people without a sense of humour.

LondON-OFF-ON-OFF-ON…

2008-04-12T23:12:00.001+05:30

The saga of my love-hate relationship with London this summer continues.
First, I was slated to go there for my internship, then there were some complications which made it uncertain. Then when those were cleared and I was about to board the flight the project was called off suddenly.

Then again I was to start off in Mumbai coming Monday when out-of-the-blue I was offered another project in London with Tetley just this morning.

And this time I may choose to not take it up and work on another assignment instead.

Lets see what her majesty has in store for me tomorrow.

LondON-OFF-ON-OFF-ON…

Bhagti Phirti Thii Duniya Jab Talab Karte The Hum...

2008-04-10T22:31:00.012+05:30

I had been pretty excited over the last few days about my upcoming summer assignment. I was allocated a fabulous M&A project in England with the Tata Group and was all set to fly this Saturday to London. I was looking forward to dive into the work quickly with all my visa, tickets, forex, trenchcoats and everything else in place. The excitment of the challenge and force of fresh aspirations had really kept me and everyone around me going over the last few days.

Then all of a sudden things turned around with one phone call last evening saying that some new permit rules have come into effect beginning 1st April 2008 and that the project will not materialise. There was no way to make it work now and I would have to settle for another assignment which didn't sound even half as exciting as this one. To be quite honest, my disappointment is hard to contain now. What seemed like a brilliant opportunity to compensate for some professional disappointments of the past slipped away in a second and I could do nothing about it.

I can't say that this is the first time I've felt this way; about being denied something I worked hard for and really wanted for myself, at the last minute. My professional pursuits more often than not have met with roadblocks like this, most of which I have little control over. But that's a separate story and not of relevance here.

The good thing about such events is that they are usually followed by a period of discussion, despair, anger and disappointment which is when someone comes up to you and shares a thought which tends to stay with you much beyond the disappointment. It could be an anecdote, a poem or anything else, but it usually gets internalised in a way that makes you understand life better and internally become a stronger human being; as someone who is more resilient to the ups and downs that life has to offer; as an individual who is more stable and calm in success and failure alike. It is this that compelled me to write this blog post.

This time it was a sher someone told me this morning, which so beautifully captures the truth about life. It isn't a rhetorical two-liner to cheer oneself up but it very succintly conveys a message that is essentially very deep, an explanation of life as it is, a meaning which even texts like the Bhagvad Gita try to convey. It goes like this -

Bhagti phirti thii duniya jab talab karte the hum

Jab se nafrat ki hai maine bekarar hone ko hai

The world evades you when you chase it, and falls at your feet when you refuse it.

Come back to this couplet when you are in an introspective, philosophical mood and you'd realise how much sense it makes.

Here's wishing everyone - Godspeed.

The End is Here. Say your Prayers!

2008-03-09T18:52:00.005+05:30

What you see above ladies and gentlemen is our death sentence written in ink. 8 exams in 9 days in what is supposed to be the toughest semester of the course. We need a day at least for our 'last minute' preparation and we don't seem to have it this time.

That's it, its all over.

May we all rest in peace.

P.S: Applications are open for the best spots in the graveyard to be created in the Hindu grounds. Hurry!

Sunday Sentiments

2008-02-17T15:46:00.001+05:30

Today is Sunday. What’s amazing is that today, it even feels like a Sunday. While the former does make an appearance every seven days or so, the latter is an idea evades me more often than not. And hence, to make the most of it I am back at my often ignored space on the World Wide Web.

As I sit with my feet up on a chair in the balcony of my apartment slowly, I slowly turn the pages of the Sunday Hindustan Times. An occasional vehicle passes on the road; the sound of its horn comes softened through the layer of trees in front, and sounds mildly pleasing to the ear. This quintessential Indian morning road sound is my only connection and relation with the existence of a world outside my balcony today.

For the last few months, I have had the pleasure of living on Mall Road in Delhi (not New Delhi, this is the original “Delhi”). It’s not like living on Mall Road is like owning a bungalow on Aurangzeb Road (moreover, I only share an apartment here with my batchmates), but still the ostensible relation of the “Mall Road” of any city with something significant, historical or otherwise does make me feel a little privileged.

Mall Road stands at the interface of a historical past and a vibrant future. While the first is substantiated with the presence of umpteen little monuments from the Raj era in and around Mall Road, the swanky metro station right under my apartment block is a cogent reminder of all that is fabulous about a modern city. It’s a rare luxury to be able to catch a rickshaw and a metro from virtually the same point anywhere in the world I think.

A large proportion of the people who live around here are academicians or retired government officers and contribute to a general air of sobriety and calm. It’s not hard to find Fabindia clad people thronging this place either which is a very heart-warming site for me, coming from the background that I come from. I’ve also come to know that Rahul Ram (from Indian Ocean Band) stays somewhere here though I am yet to pester him for free passes of his next concert.

Some of the other fabulous things about Mall Road are Chacha’s Chhole Bhature, Vaishno Chaat Bhandar and Bille di Hatti, places at an arm’s throw distance from here which for decades now have welcomed generations of indulgent Delhiites in sumptuous meals. In a while I am going to step downstairs and visit the little tea shop right outside the colony gate which makes the most fabulous coffee and bread pakoras in the world, which are best enjoyed in our balcony blessed with glorious winter sunshine and a gentle breeze.

Well maybe I am making too much of a deal out of this lovely Sunday afternoon and mulling over things which may sound rather insignificant to you, but the point is that it’s on little occasions like these that you realise that it takes very little to make one actually happy and peaceful with life. One begins to understand that there’s a lot more about life than what can be accommodated on a two-page CV. And finally, that it’s true when they say that some of the best things in life actually do come free.

Ironically enough, I will go to an MBA lecture tomorrow so that someday I earn enough to be able to afford all this.

I See I See It's a Cruel World

2008-01-18T23:13:00.000+05:30

I just discovered a place which has perhaps the highest per capita intellectual density in the world. And also the highest per capita insecurity, short-sightedness and the ability to double-cross and back-stab in the world. It's also the place where you can trust nobody, there are no friends and people's looks can be really really deceptive.

It's Freakin Manic Stupidity out here.

The Life & Times of Orkut

2007-12-25T19:39:00.000+05:30

There was a time when Orkut was the centre of our lives. The sole purpose of our online existence seemed to be Orkut.

Scrapping people. Seeing what others are scrapping to other people. Scrapping people to ask why they are not scrapping. Scrapping people who were scrapping just to say that its nice that they are scrapping. Scrapping people to wish them on their 1000th Scrap, scrapping to congratulate them on their 2000th scrap. Scrapping to say hi, scrapping to say bye and scrapping to say just about everything. There was a phase when scraps had replaced all other forms of electronic communication - email, chatting etc. all included. Not to mention the race for milestone scraps like 500, 1000, 2000, 3000 and so on…

Then there was the contraption called the profile picture. This was what defined every opinion we had of our physical appearance. Pictures after pictures were clicked specifically so that they could be put on Orkut. What really mattered was that you looked good on your orkut profile picture even if you looked no better than Shrek in real life. The profile pic was our one chance to show the world how 'cool' we were, and nobody gave up on the opportunity.

Besides an exhibition of one's physical beauty, the profile pic and profile name also had another useful err… use. Showing off. If you had recently been abroad or bought a new mobile phone or found a new girlfriend, you just had to show it on your profile. So those who went to New York would promptly put up their picture in front of Statue of Liberty on the profile, those who visited Paris would have "Moulin Rouge Conquered" as their status name and those who were giving CAT would have some lame status name like "Belling the CAT" or something just so that the world could know. This would be followed by a flurry of scraps asking the person concerned about his/her latest exploits and with great pleasure he would spend hours replying to each scrap individually. And this was at a time when you couldn't even reply directly through scrapbook, and had to go through the painful process of first going on the profile then clicking on the scrapbook, then typing the scrap and then clicking submit. Just imagine, how much time we had back then.

Then there was online flirting which kept people hooked on to Orkut. On one hand were the respectable women we knew who were forced to change their profile pics and put their passport size photos in their place because everyday they would be bombarded with a million "wanna be my frand" requests from the online equivalent of roadside Romeos. On the other hand, were people like us who exploited this very weakness amongst the best of men and created fake profiles and helped facilitate online ‘relationships’, having an incredible amount of fun in the process. It was amazing to see how easily people fell prey to this. Anyone from DCE remember Gittii and Neha_Tulip85?! Sorry guys, It was just some of us from the hostel.

There was a time when the Orkut phenomenon was so huge that entire governments got involved in it. Our own government banned a few communities because they became a breeding ground for terrorists (ok, that’s a bit far-fetched, but you get the drift). Orkut had a role to play in murders, scandals and what not. It made front page news regularly and was the undisputed king of ‘social networking sites’.

I also remember the craze for Orkut Fans amongst people. The more the fans, the more awesome a person you were supposed to be. So people used all sorts of means to increase their fan count. Some of the standard techniques were “you become my fan, I become yours”, “I will write you a nice testimonial, will you be my fan” and many others. There were also communities on Orkut tricks which helped people increase their fan count, scrap count, sexy rating, cool rating and what not. It didn’t matter if you were a geeky programmer or an online loafer, at some level you always made use of these techniques or at least wanted to use them to ensure your Orkut profile was the envy of your neighbour’s.

In nutshell, Orkut was a cool place to hang out at. Communities, friends, fans, enemies, scraps, testimonials and all that came with Orkut kept people engaged and hooked on the phenomena for a substantial time as its creators had their cash registers ringing happily. But now, the times have changed.

Orkut is no longer the craze it used to be. My personal scraps don’t increase by more 1 or 2 in the whole week. The situation is the same with most of my friends I am sure. Often even these scraps are group scraps sent by people saying stuff like “Hi, What’s up?” or “Happy New Year” and not intended to communicate with people personally. Standard methods to attract Orkut traffic like changing your profile picture which till about a year back would guarantee a flurry of scraps don’t seem to work their magic any longer. People have started checking their Orkut accounts only as often as they get their hair cut because they know Orkut isn’t the same as what it used to be. The old-world charm is simply missing.

Well, for all practical purposes Orkut is heading towards a gradual but certain death. It’s anybody’s guess how long it will be before it ceases to exist permanently.

Good or bad, exciting or lame…whatever it was but Orkut was a phase in our lives we can’t really look back and ignore. It provided us hours of fun, excitement, moments of joy and even hope and despair.

Here’s to the wonder that was Orkut….

May its sourcecode rest in peace!

Definitely NOT Gas

2007-12-02T20:10:00.000+05:30

If you've been following this blog, then by now you would be pretty annoyed with my obsession with the word gas and the umpteen references I have made to the idea in my various posts. Well, if that is the case, then don't worry, this post isn't about gas. It's about something which is far away from that.

By the end of this post you'd probably think that reading it was a waste of time since there isn't any particular reason I am posting this, but for the fact that for a rare occasion in my life, I actually feel a little intellectually stimulated. (No, however much we want to believe, those all night GC sessions in the hostel were not really intellectually stimulating, we just thought they were at that time!). There's a common notion that people who've reached way up in their lives just gas around, or basically talk global and hardly make too much practical sense. I too feel the same way most of the time. However, in the last week or so I have been gladly proven wrong.

The reason for this is one debate I attended at IIM, Ahmedabad last week and some speeches I heard today at FMS's own convention at the Sheraton. Some of the people I got a chance to listen to over the last few days include Swaminathan Aiyer (of Swaminomics fame in TOI), Montek Singh Ahluwalia (the second most famous blue 'pugg' in the country), Kiran Karnik (President, NASSCOM), Vijay Thadani (President, NIIT), Bakul Dholakia (Director, IIM-Ahmedabad) and Arun Maira (Chairman, Boston Consulting Group-India, whom I was fortunate to hear twice within a span of a week, once in Ahmedabad and then at FMS today).

That's a pretty heavyweight list if you come to think of it. The beauty of the thoughts expressed by these fine gentlemen lay in the simplicity of their great ideas. They didn't really require fancy power points or prepared scripts to drive home their points, rather what they wished to convey flowed quite effortlessly. And it would not be an understatement to say, that each word that came from them was measured and meaningful. It was definitely NOT 'gassious' as one would wrongly presume judging from the stature of these people and the formal sort of occasions at which they spoke.

A debate between Swaminathan Aiyer and Arun Maira moderated by Bakul Dholakia and a discussion between the latter and Montek Singh Ahluwalia is pretty much as good as you can get anywhere in the country, or perhaps even the world. This is perhaps what learning outside the classroom is truly about...hearing people who have the gravity of knowledge, the depth of experience and a fanstastic ability to communicate which is a result of the first two.

I maybe writing this post in a frenzy of over-excitement and actually may not end up acting on anything that I heard from these people and the tales of their speeches may just end up as stories which I narrate of 'my academic years' to my children and grandchildren, but what can't be challenged is the fact, that as I was hearing these people, I was compelled to think. And think about things which I would otherwise never would and that in itself is a hallmark of a great speech.

If vicariously feeling what I am trying to communicate through this post isn't quite very exciting, I can understand; but, here's a request - if you do get a chance to hear any of these people anytime in your life, please do make use of the opportunity. I am sure you'll agree with me then.

P.S: Here's a little quiz related to this post, as a tiny tribute to the wonderful people I had a chance to hear -

Interspersed through the post are the pictures of the various people I mentioned in the post. Just tell me who is who?

All That Gas

2007-11-28T20:09:00.000+05:30

'Gas' is probably the most frequently used concept in MBA. Well, if not everyone's MBA then atleast in mine. It's the word I am always associated with by people, whether correctly or incorrectly, that's debatable.

Well anyway, yesterday I was chatting online with a 'non-MBA-type' friend of mine after a long time and had a rather interesting little discussion with him on the idea of 'gas'. He had been following my blog for some time and had read repeated references to 'gas' in various posts, but hadn't quite figured out what the word really meant. At the end of the chat, I was relieved to know that 'gas' maybe called by different names at different places, but in spirit the idea permeates all spheres of academics and knows no limitations of countries, languages or cultures.

Here's the transcript of the conversation -

me: dua salam kar liya kar once in a while
Vivek: dont get me strted
me: accha chhod
10:00 PM Vivek: saale..u have been missin too
me: i know
i know
but i promise to be better now
Vivek: and i keep getting small details thru ur blog
me: I sem was killing man
Vivek: btw what the fuck is GAS??
me: cudnt have helped it
haw
u dont know
GAS is faffing
Vivek: i figure it in a s a b school lingo
faffing???
me: its also called "globe"
10:01 PM arre matlab saying seemilgly profound stuff which actually doesnt mean a shit
Vivek: right...bullshitting
me: or circumventing answering a direct ques by talking "global'
10:02 PM not really bullshitting
u r not lying
..when u gas
Vivek: bah...technicalities...i get the idea
me: u just take a much much more macro view
yeah
Vivek: like my thesis
me: could be

Notice the diligence with which I was trying to explain the concept to him, going into the technicalities of differentiating between gas/faff/bullshit etc. The beauty is that it was a completely natural conversation and the level of seriousness about a non-serious topic is rather funny.

Chandu ke Chacha ne, Chandu ki Chachi ko….

2007-11-18T19:40:00.000+05:30

Well…yes, my exams are over, which is why you are reading this post. And with exams also ends my first term at FMS, which is supposedly the most hectic part of the course. Amongst time for other things, that means I can get back to my blog more often. It has been lying pretty ignored since July this year.

For the last several months my life revolved around the campus and our shady little place near it which I shared with my friends. There was little time for anything else or anywhere else, but today looked like I was more than redeemed for that torture. I did something which I would rarely do in my life and hence returned happy and excited enough to make a blog entry on it soon after my return.

I’ve often discussed with family and friends why Delhi is the most fantastic city to live in (Sorry guys, East Delhi is still not included ;-)…Non-DCE East Delhiites or Non-DCE Pro-East Delhiites are humbly requested to not take offence, this is a 3 year old joke running from my college) , so I won’t get into that. Maybe sometime I will write a whole series on that, but for now let me just highlight one of the reasons for my believing so – Chandani Chowk, where I spent a few hours today.

Now, I know those of you who live around Chandani Chowk probably think I am juvenile, but for me the place proved to be fascinating to say the least. We were shopping for some electrical fittings in the market and the Ch-Ch ;-) ‘life’ was simply a pleasure to watch.

Thousands of people of all shapes, sizes, colours, heights and weights, walked there, each with a little purpose of his own. Traders effortlessly conducted business worth crores of rupees from the little rickety shops which their ancestors bought in the Mughal era. While many of the shop owners wore their traditional attire, it was interesting to see their children wear designer watches and speak polished English while still selling stuff like jalebi, paper-rolls, sarees and what not from little trading setups which have probably not changed or even evolved in centuries simply because they are so successful. How they mange do be so successful amidst that total chaos that exists there is nothing short of a miracle…I am sure it would leave the Porters and the Kotlers guessing as well.

As one walks a little in Ch-Ch it is heartening to note that a Temple, a Church and a Gurudwara exists within a radius of 100m and draws believers in hundreds even late in the evening. The aroma of Desi Ghee Imartis, Lassi and Chaat is intoxicates you as you walk around in the area, though it is occasionally interrupted with that of Ammonia from a nearby wall. Chandani Chowk looks small but it actually has enough place for the millions of rickshaws, buses, cops, dogs, men, women, children, lalajis and auntyjis which exist side-by-side there the way they have existed for centuries.

A description of this place can not be complete without an honourable mention of the Galli Paranthe Wali, where I was fortunate to have dinner. This tiny little street not more than 10ft. wide is thronged by little shops selling the biggest variety of ‘assorted breads’ in the world! We had dinner at one of these shops which had photos of Jawaharlal Nehru and many political leaders and film stars sitting on those very wooden benches and hogging on the most delicious paranthas in the world. The zest with which the waiters and owners feed you is enchanting enough for you to loose count of how many paranthas you are eating (but, it’s well worth the trouble in the stomach later in the night).

Chandani Chowk exists in a time zone of its own, perhaps even in an epoch of its own, which is completely oblivious of the world outside yet intricately connected with it. The world around it will change, as it has for several centuries, but it is unlikely that Chandani Chowk will ever lose its character and flavour.

Chandani Chowk is wonderful because it is colorful, lively, chaotic and has a soul of its own.

It is the 'Dilli' in the Delhi we know and I hope it stays that way always.

The Priya Experience

2007-10-14T23:13:00.000+05:30

For anybody who went to school or college in Delhi, Priya cinema would surely be an integral part of his/her memories. Priya is the original ‘cool’ place to hang out in the city and has been so for about 2 generations now. The entire ‘Priya Experience’ as we called it in college, is something that is unique to it since it’s probably the only place in Delhi where you can get everything at the same time – movie, food, shopping and great ‘sightseeing’! Maybe the ubiquitous malls which have sprung up in the city now give competition to Priya, but simply by virtue of its location in ‘South Delhi’, the complex continues to enjoy a comfortable edge over other places.

Or so I thought. I went to Priya this Sunday evening after a very long time. And to my surprise I was slightly taken aback at what I saw.

I don’t know what rate our population grows at, but that coming to Priya certainly had quadrupled in the 4-5 months that I hadn’t been to the place. My misery started off with an annoying 15 mins. time to find a parking space and then another 10 to get to the actual entrance of the complex opposite the Sulabh Shauchalaya, where I have spent a lot of my change over the years.

I entered the complex near McDonald’s as usual, but after walking through 2 metal detectors. The little police chauki which existed there had now turned into a permanent room and it played patriotic songs like ‘Yeh Desh Hai Veer Jawanon Ka…’ through a blaring loudspeaker at 6 in the evening. God knows why. The beats from the opposing Hash was giving this fiery brand of patriotism an unwanted remix. Needless to say, it was irritating and annoying to the ear.

One had to struggle one’s way through the crowd beyond the entrance. I felt like I was in some cheap Diwali Mela and not in the neighbourhood cinema complex I grew up going to. A policeman sitting on a 20 ft. high watchtower bang in front of the hall just added to the imagery. The kind of crowd which was around was also not something which Priya is known for. There were more studs and Roadside Romeos (the kind in tight jeans and mehandi hair) in the crowd than what suited the eye and they made the actual ‘sights’ of the place few and far in between.

It was pretty disappointing overall as an experience at Priya this time, but for two things about it which were still the same – the company of great friends and the taste of hot chocolate fudge from Nirula’s.

P.S: The HCF @ Nirula's now costs Rs.94 :-(

Ocotober Heat

2007-10-01T19:58:00.000+05:30

I read about this phenomenon long back in school in Geography.

It's the first time I am experiencing it though.

The Summers begin next week at FMS.

No Gas, Three Bullet Points

2007-08-29T11:59:00.000+05:30

One of the things that a MBA course conditions you for is to gas in life. All those presentations, facts, statistics and figures etc. just won’t sound appealing if you didn’t know how to gas around them. It is fairly accurate that ‘gas makes the world go round’. Really.

However, this learning of ‘gassing’ is best utilised only outside the boundaries of one’s B-School. If you use it inside the campus, it could have dangerous and embarrassing consequences. In the world outside, you can show off in front of the ‘lesser mortals’ by coming across as someone really smart and knowledgeable while knowing very well at the core of your heart that you aren’t talking anything substantial (Trivia: The size of the global consulting industry is around $150 billion and is growing at the CAGR of 15.2%). But, why is it not advisable to gas inside a B-School?

Well, the reason is simple. When you are inside the B-School, everyone is getting endowed with the same ‘skill-set’. So it doesn’t even take a second for the person in front to realise when you’ve run out of genuine content and when you’ve just started err…gassing. In FMS, people sound the ‘gas-alert’ on the speakers with the phrase ‘No Gas, Three Bullet Points’ (inspired from the bullet points in MS-PowerPoint) which is a direct indication (read: strong instruction) to the latter to stop talking arbitly and to speak concretely and concisely. In our class, this message has even got a sign language representation in which you stretch out 3 fingers horizontally and show them to the person giving the presentation to convey the message to him. The other implicit meaning of this gesture is the classical ‘read between the lines’, which in turn isn’t too far away from the other message in spirit.

Recently, during a group presentation in the HR class, a friend (Gaurav ‘Cut-Sleeves’ Puri) sitting in the audience showed me the ‘no gas, three bullet points’ gesture just as I was about to speak. I instantly burst out into laughter because I had only seen the presentation a few minutes earlier for the first time and was actually going to rely on gas to carry me through. While he got away by ducking his laughing face between the audience, I struggled through my part in the presentation in front of the whole class trying to conceal my laughter and trying to sound like I am not gassing at the same time.

Its also funny that this phenomenon of gassing is pretty well-understood by the faculty who are used to students coming up in front year after year and trying to get lucky with ‘global’ (another term meaning the same as gas). This weekend some of us from college were on an NDTV show whose telecast our Dean saw in the hostel with the students. At the end of the telecast, during his speech he mentioned that he was happy with the content of the show and the inputs given by the students, as it didn’t sound like it was all gas! The entire hall burst into laughter upon hearing the usage of the phrase from him for the ‘personal chord’ it struck in everyone’s heart.

Well, love it or hate it, you can’t really ignore gas. And I too should cut the global here and get back to doing something more 'constructive'. Ya right.

I will post soon...

2007-08-21T23:50:00.000+05:30

Every few days I feel bad about not posting anything new on my blog. Its not that life isn't giving me chances to concoct and exaggerate events and present them here, but I've just not been able to find some time peacefully to do it. However, that's not the only reason for not posting. Everytime I feel bad about not posting, I click on the blogs of all my 'partners in crime' and see that they too haven't kept up. And there goes comes my motivation to procastrinate a new post for just a few days more. And on top of that I have the I sem B-School student excuse ;-).

So, just watch this space for more....

MBA(Home Management)

2007-07-26T21:48:00.000+05:30

Its been a few weeks into my MBA and we are learning several tricks of 'management' in the classroom. However, one form of management that we are left to learn for ourselves, and that too by hard practical experience is 'Home Management'.

I am sharing a flat with three of my classmates near the campus. One of them is living away from home for the first time. The other used to live in the hostel, but is the kind who probably just used to crash in his room every night in his jeans and shoes without really caring about whats around. The third one has is a graduate from Canada whose concept of campuses and universities is a little 'international'. So basically, none of us are really equipped with the skills of running a whole house setup.

And trust me that its not easy, if you want to run it properly. There have been some tough lessons that we have picked up in the past few weeks. Some of them are -

1. The water in the bottles kept in the kitchen doesn't get refilled automatically unlike home. What's more, if you want to drink cold water, the bottles actually need to be filled and kept inside the fridge on a regular basis by none other than you. So if you've forgotten to do that in the morning before rushing for the first lecture, you have to drink unrefrigerated water even when all you need in life is a glass of chilled one even when you return home after the whole day.

2. Clothes you wear usually don't come with an autowash feature. Every few days they need to be washed, ironed and hung in the cupboard. You need to do it.

3. If you don't clean the utensils you eat in for 2 days, they start piling up in the sink. If you don't do it for another 2 days, they become abslutely dry. After another 2 days, they turn greyish and look ugly. And when you stretch it further, they get fungus on them.

4. In order to get water in the taps everyday there's a contraption called the motor which needs to be turned on regularly. If left on for long hours and not turned off, it burns.

5. 4 students can't afford an AC. The fan is the coolest thing in the world.

6. Electricity, water and internet are not free gifts by the government for you. Every few days you will get papers called bills which need to be paid. You have to spend money on it.

7. 'There are no free lunches in the world'. Nor are there free breakfasts or dinners, or even free snacks like namkeen and mithai.

8. There's something called dust and grime which exists all around us, but you don't see it all the time. Sometimes you see it but the laziness filter in front of your eyes prevents your brain from recognising it. However, you can still feel it under you feet if you haven't made use of the jhaadu for a while in your house.

9. If you open a plastic wrapper or toss a paperball and throw it anywhere on the floor, it is likely to stay there for long. It won't vanish until the time you notice it again and pick it up yourself.

So, the most important takeaway from all this is that whenever you settle down in life, make sure you are with someone who knows points 1-9 irrespective of the person's gender, and probably 50 other points which we will get to know in the coming two years. If you are stuck with someone as inequipped as you, one of you will definately need a degree in Home Management.

Marketing, Finance, Systems and HR will sound like a piece of cake in front of it.

Organic Meal. Oragnic Growth.

2007-07-22T13:55:00.000+05:30

The induction fortnight at FMS is one helluva hectic time with 20-22 hour days and a zillion deadlines to meet. Add to that the fact, that it begins right from the first day, so people don't even get a chance to really settle down in the campus, or even the city for those coming from outside. However, despite its pressures, it is really an enjoyable and enriching time for most of us. Its an experience worth having.

A part of this experience is the meals that we have. Most breaks given for meals are less than a double digit figure in duration, which includes the time you need to spend with the people in your next assignment group to discuss your 'strategy'.

This post is however, not about those 'regular' meals. Its about the special meal we had during the induction for which we got full 30 mins. of freedom, and how we made the most of it.

It had been over 12 days into the induction and needless to say nobody had managed to find the time to eat out. Nobody had found the time to step out of college for that matter except to get the daily 2-3 hours of sleep. So, this particular time when we were told we had 30 mins. for lunch, everyone's excitement levels knew no bounds. 30 mins. seemed like a lifetime for us to do what we liked. So about 15 of us, instantly ran out of the campus and got into rickshaws and headed towards the local market.

There are some things about an FMS MBA which no other institute can provide. Where else will you find 15 MBA students (from a premier B-School of the country ;-)), dressed in suit-tie etc. and laptops on their shoulders, rushing to a place like the streets of Malkaganj in a caravan of rickshaws in the heat of a Delhi summer afternoon?!

We reached this little shop somebody had recommended and feasted on Chhola Bhatura and Fruit-Juice pigging out like we hadn't eaten in days (which is partially true 8-)). The group included South-Indians on their first trip to Northern India having the dish for the first time, proud & flambouyant Haryanavis, Delhiites from East to South, Engineers, Eco Grads, people just out of college to those who had been in organisations for 3-4 years. For a while the backgrund, attire, accessories and the association with the institute and course, was completely forgotten and food was all that occupied everyone's mindspace.

Or maybe not.

Maybe it just was the process of the synergising the conventional associations of a 'B-School Life' with the life outside this particular campus; rickshaws, galis, street food etc. which is a quintessential part of the experience at FMS.

Shall we call this Organic growth, eh?!

It's been a while...

2007-07-21T11:48:00.000+05:30

It's been a while since I last posted on my blog.....

It's been a while since I went home

It's been a while since I had a satisfying meal

since I got a full night's sleep

since I didn't have to wake up to an alarm

since I checked my personal mail

since I chatted with my friends and heard about their latest exploits

since I opened my mailbox to not find any new assignments

since I wasn't up against a steep deadline

since I've wanted the days to be longer

since I havn't felt pressure

since I've realised I am not in the middle of a race

since I've had the time to just think

since I could find the time to just relax

since I've found the time to just 'be'

BUT

It's also been a while....since I havn't felt excited

since I havn't felt like there's a whole world out there which is waiting for me.

This is my new life.

My latest trip.

'Game' On!

Why we Blog?

2007-06-28T23:41:00.000+05:30

I’ve been a part of the blogging community for a while now, and as I am sitting and trying to do some work and obviously not feeling up to it as usual, today I feel like being distracted to the idea mentioned in the title of the post.

So why DO people blog?

Perhaps, one reason is that people like me blog, is that blogging is a great way to be distracted when you are trying to do work. Or better still, when you really really have to work. Blogging maybe an online manifestation of the involuntary bio-chemical metabolism which secretes the distraction hormone in your body precisely when you want it to stay dormant. You can just open your blog, type out anything that comes to your mind and post it…as your blog…as your official trail of thought, and exhibit it to the world. And what’s worse is that you can get away with it.

Nobody is really going to come and tell you what a waste of time it was to read your blog, because it maybe insensitive to the very notion of the expression of your heart. One’s feelings, emotions and desires can not be defined by the parameters of conventional reading & writing and hence anything you write, however insignificant, rotten or badly articulated it maybe, will be accepted in the blogging community with grace. Sometimes even praised, with a ‘Great Post Dude!’ comment on your blog.

They are lying, you know they are, but it still massages your ego. So you make another pathetic attempt at a blog post the next day. And then the day after that. And so on. And more and more space available on the internet gets filled up with err…nicely presented trash. This effectively captures more than 75% of the people who maintain the blog on the net, including yours truly. (I’ve got to be modest; I am a middle-class Indian after all). To divert your attention from the lousy content on these blogs, these guys fill up their blogs with pictures, flash animations, colourful ads, visitor counters and so on.

Then there is this completely different brand of bloggers who think they are the representatives of the national dailies and it is their national duty to provide perspective to the daily happenings around the world, for the less informed masses of the world; people like you and me. Reading their blogs is like listening to the late night edition of Jain TV News with the ugliest looking anchors having the most pathetic of grammar and pronunciation knowledge. Sometimes they even yawn in the middle of the bulletin, which is expressed by the trend of using “….” to connect discreet words passed off as sentences in a blog post. The “…” manages to trace the exact trail of thought, they will claim. Bullshit.

I spoke of another common breed of bloggers in my first-ever blog post; the kind who just write what they see. All of what they see. The blue sky, a little white cloud in the middle. Softly chirping birds in the background, and the smell of fresh green grass below me. That light-yellow flower with its dark-yellow pollens and the bumbling bee which encircles it.

It’s a torture to read these blog posts. They basically try to describe everything around them, when there is actually nothing substantial to describe. But, because they believe it’s cool to blog, they will still indulge and try to come across as sensitive people who see the world with a curious eye, smell all its smells, feel its air and hear all its sounds. And find pleasure in them. And they hope others will think the same way about a routine scene outside their windows. Worse still, think kindly of them when they put their vivid description of this banality out for the world to read.

There is of course the commercial and technical breed of bloggers. The guys who want to make money out of their blog mostly because they spent all their college time perfecting the art of playing Doom, Need for Speed or Age of the Empires and now don’t really have a job. So they give catchy to titles to their posts like “What to do if your computer crashes?”, “How to install Linux”, “The 10 step guide to being an HTML pro” etc. etc. They then post elementary stuff from cheaply available PC magazines and put it up on their blogs. Stupid, dork and technically-challenged computer users across the world put these very words in their Google searches all the time and invariably reach their blogs. Cleverly placed advertisements pasted all over the blog, sometimes even as the content of their posts make these poor users click on them in the hope of finding a solution to their technical Armageddon which is normally nothing more than a routine system crash or something similar. Whether or not a Bruce Willis comes and decides to save the world from the meteor by blowing himself up after this is not their concern. Google sends them paycheques anyway. Not bad, for spending the whole day with Coke, Pizza and an X-Box.

And finally, there are what one can call, the radical bloggers. These guys have subdued desires of shouting their mouths out in the parliaments and senates of their countries. But, they know they are far from getting there even in ten lives. So, they use the internet. And their blogs, to ‘stir the masses with issues of national interest’. They write didactic pieces on how messed up our economy is, what a moron a particular chief-minister is and why they can’t afford to use soap everyday after relieving themselves because the prices of onions are on the rise. What’s interesting is that they quickly manage to find more people like them online, who can’t raise their voices in front of their dominating wives and resort to a blog to show what ‘men’ they are. Their correspondence extends to several days in their comments windows where they chart out detailed plans to change the world.

Well, so that just covers up pretty much everyone who attempts to blog.

The little few who remain are probably the genuinely good bloggers. But, nobody knows about them.

And if I brought them up here anyway, you’ll say I spoilt the ending!

Rukavat ke liye Khed Hai

2007-06-27T10:24:00.000+05:30

Before you guys mention it in the comments, let me take this opportunity to myself apologise for the quality of my previous post. Its a pathetic, zabardasti type post I agree, (as is this one actually).

Sorry, about that. But, its just that I am a little saturated and frustrated with this annoying prejoining assignment which I am working on and I felt like just taking it out. Nobody I knew was online on Google-Talk and I couldn't shout it out in the middle of the night. So, late in the night, the blog seemed to be the only resort and Arthur Wellesely, the only available unfortunate scapegoat.

Bhavishya mein uchh kvaality ki post karne ka prayas hum nirantar jaari rakhenge. Dhanyavad.

The Fate of All Great Men

2007-06-26T23:15:00.000+05:30

Duke of Wellingdon (Arthur Wellesley) was a great man. He commanded the British armies in many campaigns and even rose to become the PM of Great Britain for two terms. There are several buildings, roads etc. across the world which are named after him. The Ram Manohar Lohia Hospital in Delhi was called Wellingdon Hospital until recently.

Like many other great men his tales too are immortalised. They find their mention in history books and paintings. They lend their names to roads, buildings and monuments and their legacy is kept alive by men who worship them. Men make statues to honour these great men and they stand at important crossings (like this one in Edinburgh, Scotland) as a reminder of their glorious histories. People feel inspired by the mere sight of these great men as they walk past them.

And the birds.....

The birds reach where nobody else does.

They find comfort in pooing on them.

And in pooing on them all day, without the fear of being interrupted.

Its the same fate, for each great man.

Kickass English Warnings

2007-06-24T21:44:00.000+05:30

One afternoon, I was walking around in the Westminster Abbey-Whitehall-Downing St. area in Central London admiring the buildings and monuments. This is the area like the Lutyen's Delhi with all the major government buildings, PM's residence, parliament etc. You've got to give credit to these people for the way they've preserved and maintained their buildings, but anyway, that's not what this post is all about.

In India, you come across several houses which have a board saying 'Kutte se Savdhan' on their gates warning people that a hungry, ferrocious, blood-thristy beast resides inside the house and he will devour you if you ring their bell. Some of them even put an image of a dog which looks more like a lion next to the notice. I am not really sure what's the point of doing this, I doubt if its a regulatory requirement, but those dogs anyway come and lick you all up and sometimes scare the shit out of you whether or not you happen to read that notice. Its not like if you read the warning, it equips you in anyway to better handle the onslaught that is waiting on the other side of the door. Its quite possible that the guards sometimes put such notices at night on the gates once their owner's go off to sleep after giving them a painful day to take out their frustration.

Well, anyway coming back to London....I came across this notice which was like no other I had ever seen. And it was on a prominant government office. Just take a look at the picture (click it to enlarge it) and try to read what's written on that little notice board next to the black door.

It reads: BEWARE, Horses may kick on Butt. Thank you.

Apologies for the poor picture quality but I didn't have the courage to cross the road and take a picture from that side of the road, but how arbit is this for a warning?

How the hell do they know that the horses will kick only on the butt? Or is it that they don't regard the the rest of the body with as much sanctity as the butt that they don't think its necessary to warn people about it? Horses could do far more damage if they tried 'kicking' elsewhere, but that doesn't seem to worry the English. And what is the man sitting on top of it doing if he allows his horse to kick someone's ass?! Isn't that suposed to be his job as a supercop on those racing wheels. He gets paid afterall, to ride the damn thing all day, in the hope of proving himself to be useful someday on this royal ride when thieves are speeding away in a car with the crown jewels.

P.S.: The tone of politeness in the warning coming with that little 'Thank You' in the end, doesn't take away the eccentricity, obscurity and the sheer stupidity of the notice, I'd think. Well tried, though if it was an attempt to do that. But, its not good enough. I think its still a little funny.

I am Still Alive....Oh Yeah!

2007-06-24T21:33:00.001+05:30

Well, yes. Thats about all that I wanted to convey through this post. That I am still alive. And also that I've brought it up that this is a great song by Pearl Jam.

I know I haven't posted in ages but cliched as it may sound, I have just not had the time. In the time between my last post and this, I spent two memorable weeks in England & Scotland about which I am dying to write, I have been slogging on this apparently farji ('fake' for our readers in England ;-)) assignment that I am supposed to be doing before joining my course and I have spent a few hours hunting and setting up what will be my house during the weekdays for the next few months near Delhi University. So, there's been little time left for much else. And I feel bad about it.

How can 'life' take time away from my 'life'?

London Diaries, 2nd Impression: The 1st Impression was just the 1st Impression. Its Blooody Good out here!

2007-06-06T11:58:00.000+05:30

Well, in the hope of shedding the first impression, I started my London tour by first diving straight into the city. Oxford St, Bond St, Regent St, Trafalgar Sq, Piccadilly Circus, Leicester Sq, Baker St. etc. etc....they are all there. There was a sense of childish excitement in me as I was around these places since I knew these places very well from my Monopoly playing days and it was thrilling to actually see them.

Central London is nice because its the part of the city with some real depth...old architecture which is very well preserved, theater, parliament, expensive shopping districts, colleges, museums, concert halls and some lovely places to eat. You just need to start walking in any direction from any point and you won't feel like stopping. There's a famous street at the end of every block or a familiar place after every few steps...so you can just go on endlessly admiring the sights & sounds. The tube system here which probably deserves a dedicated blog entry is so fantastic that it'll get you from anywhere to anywhere in the city without a problem irrespective of how far they maybe.

In that last two days, I also had my brush with the notorious London weather, which can take U-Turns several times during the day. Sometimes, the sun can come out as late as 7 in the evening after a cloudy day and sometimes it might shine brightly for a few hours before being abruptly interrupted by the rain. But it's all 'jolly good'!

There's lots that happening, lots that I am seeing and its probably unfair to try to some it up in a quick & rushed blog entry. Maybe, when I am back home, I'll do more justice to this.

London Diaries: First Impression - Are we there yet?

2007-06-04T10:25:00.000+05:30

Yes, that's the first impression of England. Are we there yet? I mean, are we actually there yet?

No, I don't mean that with a sense of excitement but more of curious surprise. My trip officially kicked off yesterday as the Virgin Atlantic flight landed at the famous London Heathrow, and as I emerged out of the aircraft this was the question on my mind - Are we actually in England?

As soon as I came out of the skytunnel, I was sorrounded by a sea of humanity. At least 90% of them South-Asian. The gaurds, toilet cleaners, immigration officers and all the other airport staff is all very very comfortably Indian. Gujarati and Sikh aunties running different errands at the airport, wearing trousers and shirts, but the bindi and earrings still very much in place don't really let you get the impression that you are away from your own country. The sounds & noises that you get to hear were also mostly in Hindi and Punjabi to add to this 'homecoming' feeling.

The airport then itself is as good or bad as Delhi. Its a whole lot bigger I agree, but that's not my problem. I saw the terminal that I got out of only, and the lights, sky tunnels, corridors, escalators weren't really 'world-class'. Infact, at many places they were downright bad. And to top it all, I didn't find a trolley there near the conveyer belt. I usually don't find one in Delhi either. So I ended up chugging along with my luggage in my hand and although this was slightly painful, it actually gave me a sense of masochistic pleasure. Oh yes, did I tell you about the hour long queue I was standing in for immigration. Know of another familiar country it happens in?!

And then we drove out of the airport. Most cars on the roads are now similar to those in India. Many of them are actually exactly the same. The colour of the road and the texture of the grass on the side of the road is once again very much like in India. It isn't that perfectly cut and shaped grass that one sees in picture postcards. Needless to say, the radio station was playing Bhangra and Bollywood hits only and there were Asians in more than almost every other car on the road. And yes, there was also gandagi around, it wasn't all spic and span like you expect 'Europe' to be.

Wooh! So, having spent all this money to come all this way...I am wondering if there's anything 'British' really left here. What's for sure is that atleast in the city, the 'air' isn't anything special these guys can be arrogant about. So they can cut their stiff upper lips and snooty noses and face the reality. Asians are very much running the show out here (Ah, racism...now back at them, with more contempt...feels good!)

Anyway, so I start off with the sightseeing etc. today, and the British have a reputation they will need to fight hard to defend! This is the country synonymous with the word 'Vilayat' and I myself wouldn't really like my trip here to be only like homecoming!

Over to the red buses and black cabs...

Valediction, not a breach, but an expansion...

2007-05-30T20:42:00.001+05:30

This is the mail I sent to my friends in office today, with the same subject as the title of this post.

I leave Fidelity on Friday...

Hi Everyone,

Without pourru-ing around, I just wanted to let everyone know that Friday would be my last functional day in office. I am going on vacation that weekend and will come back on 25th June to sign out, but since I don't think I'd get a chance to say "bye" properly then...I thought I'll do it just now.

At the expense of sounding clichéd and politically correct, I'd say the last year has been brilliant to say the least. Many of us came to our first jobs pissed off with our failures to get into B-Schools, but despite that the treatment here has been pleasantly surprising. I am not saying that this is the 'dream come true' kind of place ;-), but still there's a lot to take away from here for sure; most of all some great friendships, which I hope will last a lifetime. Not to mention, the forced Punjabi-fication lessons as well ;-).

Quite honestly, the best thing about the whole Fidelity experience has been the whole deal with the star batch. As much as I hate the title, I can't replace it with another suitable synonym to address everyone here. But seriously...the experience of training, outings, bitching about PLs, laughing, breakfast clubs, eating, taking each others' cases, heated and not-so-heated bantering, eating more, cafeteria, free coffee etc. and sharing all this with all of you has been memorable.

I know I can be boring, annoying, cool, not at all cool, non-sensical, weird, rude, funny, not funny and verbose (like I am getting right now) at different times with different people. I don't know what you would have felt at these times, but I am the kind of guy who usually wears his heart on his sleeve so pardon me if I have offended anyone unintentionally. You can curse me if I haven't yet offended someone you would have wanted me to offend ;-). But more seriously, what I am trying to insinuate here is that I come in peace and I mean no harm.

And now, I leave in peace.

As I move on to make my own road in life like everyone else does, I do hope at some time our roads will intersect again. Maybe I will run into you at some corporate quiz, or the playboy mansion, or maybe I will find you in your bungalows on French Riviera or more likely at some restaurant or an airport. Wherever and whenever it will be, I am sure it'll be great to catch up once again.

Well, till that happens, I am still available (no, not woh wala available!) through some modes of communication which don't leave so much to destiny and serendipitous occurrences, namely orkut, gmail and telephone. Just for your records, here's the info you might like to keep -

Name: Azeez Narain
Phone: 9868455145 (Will be in Delhi for another 2 yrs at least, so this should work; and yeah...Trump rocks!)
Email: azeeznarain@gmail.com
Blog: http://azeeznarain.blogspot.com
Orkut: Use their search facility and fill in the name above to get desired results

Take care, stay healthy, be happy and enjoy what life has to offer.
Here's wishing everyone for a wonderful life ahead...Godspeed!

With warm regards
Az

Glossary for people not in Fidelity: Pourru - Punjabi word for 'someone who can speak on any topic for any duration, with or without making sense'. I was given this honourable title by my friends from Punjab in office. According to them, the adjective is often used for people from Amritsar for this uncanny habit they have.

Gas-tronimics@Work

2007-05-23T14:57:00.000+05:30

We get excellent food in office. Free of cost. Catered by Taj. Well yes, the last 2 lines are just to show off, but that’s not the entire point of this post. Everyday at lunch time I go up the cafeteria and look up the menu with a little sense of child-like curiosity; curiosity not just for what’s on the menu but what ‘name’ is given to what’s on the menu. Very often, exotic names are given to mundane things and it makes for a really funny read.

Recently, we were served 'Vegetables in Yellow Jungle Bean Curry', which was basically kadhi- pakora. Another time, it was 'Hot Red Bean Curry' which was a fancy name for rajmah. But today, they beat everything and just compelled me to write about them. Today on the menu we had 'Marinated Tomato Wedges'.

Sounds exotic? It isn’t.

It was just, I repeat just, sliced Tomatoes. Kata hua tamatar!

So much so, for the exotic dishes. Even when they come from Taj.

P.S: For the wise guys, these aren’t the only things on the menu everyday. This is part of an otherwise lavish spread which I quite enjoy everyday. The food is rather good, but what they call the food is even better. That’s the point.

And that's why there is a hyphen in the title of the post. Infact, if you notice the whole title is a pun in itself. Neat, eh ;-) ?!

Tintin Ahoy!

2007-05-22T09:17:00.000+05:30

Billions of Blue Blistering Barnickles....

Today is Herge's 100th birthday. I do not need to tell you that Herge created arguably the most remarkable comic character ever, Tintin. I want to 'give' Tintin this status because there is probably no other comic which is as "complete" as Tintin. There is mystery, adventure, humour, drama, action, romance and everything else that you can ever want from a comic.

To top all this, what fascinates me most about the whole series is Herge's outstanding attention to detail and facts. Every scenery, dress, car, language, building and the plot is so authentic; based on actual events, people and places that if you pay attention to them you'd realise what a genius Herge was. I strongly recommend reading Tintin if you havn't read it in the last 4-5 years, because everytime you read it, you'll notice more fascinating details and "fundas" in each comic. Just to cite an example, the description of a nuclear powered rocket which is in 'Destination Moon' is mind-blowing without sounding academic, and the plot of 'The Blue Lotus' set in the time of the Japanese occupation of China captures the mood of that time exactly how we read it in our History textbooks, once again without sounding anything but interesting.

In the recent past, outside of the comics Tintin has come in the form of some great merchandise, plays, short-unofficial movies and most interestingly in the form of spoof Tintin adventure comics, such as Tintin in Thailand which shows Tintin as an immoral young reporter out on a lustful vacation to Bangkok. There is news of Spielberg and Pater Jackson joining hands to come up with a 3D Trilogy on Tintin. That should be exciting.

Incidentally, 2 of my close friends have also had Tintins in their own family. One of them has a nephew who's nicknamed Tintin and the other had a dog once by the same name. 8-)

All in all, this post is basically just my little tribute to Herge and Tintin on the former's 100th Birthday. Touche! I'll end it with a little question...Herge was the pen-name of a gentleman called Georges Remi. Many of you would know that. My question is, how did Remi arrive at Herge for his pen-name?

Friendly Neighbourhood Spy-derman

2007-05-19T20:22:00.000+05:30

If you ever wanted to go out with your boyfriend/girlfriend for an outing, then one of the many malls in the city might sound like a decent option. You could pick one up in any corner of the city, far away from your home and spend some time there. Add to that the selection of an obscure shop like a home construction superstore for roaming about and you are pretty much assured of a few hours of blissful anonymity with your partner.

That's probably what this girl and guy thought who were roaming in the HomeTown store in Sec. 18, Noida this evening. Walking hand in hand and sometimes in slightly more lovey-dovey and koochie-kooey positions, they surely were having a nice time.

Until of course, they ran into us. We (my parents & I) happen to live a few houses away from the girl's place in Vasant Kunj and were on a rarest of rare trips to Noida to go to this store for some home renovation ideas. The instant look of horror on the girl's face was evident. All this planning and effort of going 30 kms away from home, in a home construction store out of all the places would seem like a total waste to her, I can imagine. And rest assured, she would have gone home hoping the news doesn't travel to her house and also with increased blood pressure at least if no other shock syndromes.

I tried to look away from her, so as to give the impression that I didn't see them, and not spoil the girl's outing or make the couple feel uncomfortable, but I don't think she looked too convinced. Not a word was spoken, there wasn't eye contact for more than half a second, and nor would any of this be conveyed to her home, so the girl should probably not have a reason to worry. But, I am inclined to believe that it still would.

There's nobody really to be blamed for it. Its like one of those one in a million odds coming through. Really unfortunate if you placed your money on the rest of the 9,99,999 options. And at the same time there's no denying that it is a little funny. And also that its decent juice for a blogpost under the 'The Game of Life' section on my blog. ;-)

Langar Da Invitation

2007-05-15T11:12:00.000+05:30

I recently treated some of my office colleagues to lunch at Big Chill ostensibly to mark the fact that I was moving on. It was a joint treat actually and this is the invitation we sent for it. It obvious that it was composed by yours truly which is why I am posting it here. The title of the post was the subject line of the email sent.

There are plenty of guys who are from Punjab in the invitees, so there is some attention given to their lexical preferences.

Greetings Everyone,

The greatest learning from any organization is the exposure it gives you in the form of interaction, teamwork and synergizing with your peers and work towards a common goal.
If you didn’t get it, we are just showing off that the three of us got through an MBA admission (phew!). And the common goal is front of us in the short-term is not to burn a whole in our pockets (err...sorry, just effectively utilizing our resources…bloody MBA gas)…so we are synergizing our wallets!

We (i.e. Misha, Andy and Az) invite you for lunch on Saturday at The Big Chill Café, Khan Market, New Delhi at 12 PM sharp. The bill is on us (Duh!) and you can eat all you like. No holds barred. Yes, you read that right.

You can abuse me (Az) for asking you to come all the way to central Delhi, but yeh mera wada hai ki agar aapko khana pasand nahin aaya, toh main apni moonchh mundva loonga!

So here’s a summary in case you want to cut the crap –

Venue: Big Chill, Khan Market
Time: Saturday, 12th May, 12 PM
Purpose: Free Food

Looking forward to seeing you…

Andy, Misha, Az

Vishesh Tippaniyaan –

P.S: We, just have a little request to make. The place isn’t huge and there are plenty of us. They don’t do bookings. They don’t let us hold tables. The only way we can enjoy is if all of us get inside at the same time! And that can happen only if we hit there before regular lunch hour. It’s a Saturday afternoon and it will really begin to get crowded there soon after 12-12.30 PM. Trust me, I’ve been going there for ages. And waiting in 42 degrees outside doesn’t really sound appealing. Once we get inside and get tables then you can eat up to dinner time, no issues. But please please get there by 12. Max 12.15 PM.

P.P.S: Use google maps for directions, they do a better job then any Delhi-wala. And ask for the oopar wala Big Chill when you get there. There are 2 there (one on ground level and one on first floor, separated by about 30 shops), the other one being even tinier.

P.P.P.S: Gaah Paa Denge! (This when translated most crudely means "We'll Rock Yaar" in Punjabi)

And, then in continuation, this is the 'thanks for coming' mail -

Hi,

This is to express my heartfelt gratitude to each one of you for your participation in the power lunch this weekend. I think the synergy of the group was incredible and we gelled together as a cohesive unit which made the event extremely exciting and fulfilling for each one of us as individuals and as parts of the STAR graduate fraternity as a whole.

Thanks for coming in and celebrating.

Az

OK, I know this isn't a great post, but I am little bored right now and not feeling particularly creative. Sorry, for wasting your precious time.

Ek Bar(t) Dekho, Hazar Bar(t) Dekho...

2007-05-10T12:48:00.001+05:30

This is one of the many examples of us feeling proud of what is quintessentially Indian after what is quintessentially American features it. Forget, the irony for now, this is just a delight to watch!

And just a bit of trivia associated with this which I noticed myself! Got the same feeling as college when during our numerous quizzing hours, we spotted a 'cut-piece question' all of a sudden.

See, the starting of the video. The first few seconds (till the time he completes the first line the first time) are a take on a particular Bollywood song. The cartoon characters bear too much resemblance to the real song for it to be a coincidence. Which Song?

The Simple Pleasures of Life: New & Improved

2007-04-29T21:20:00.000+05:30

We've often heard about enjoying the simple pleasures of life - the chirping of birds, the smell of coffee, watching the first rainfall etc. etc., but I believe that in addition to these, the 21st Century has offered some new sights, sounds and emotions which deserve their recognition as the new small pleasures of life.

I was trying to think of such little things which make us happy within the purview of our daily routines, as we live them as 20 somethings in the 21st Century. Here's a list of some of them. My apologies to the smell of mud in the rain and other such instances in case they feel threatened by some of these. So here we go -

1. Logging into Orkut and finding your fan count has increased by one
2. Hitting MG Road (or the road to office) in the morning and seeing there’s no traffic for a change
3. Turning on the radio and hearing ‘Nothing else Matters’
4. Skipping the Taj lunch in office for a change for the paranthas from the vendor on the road outside
5. The sound of the engines and the feeling in the stomach as soon as the plane starts its run before take off
6. Spotting your bag as soon as it comes out on the conveyer belt at the airport amidst hundreds of other bags (especially in the middle of the mayhem which exists in our airports)
7. Sitting at a restaurant table and finding you are facing a really cute girl by chance
8. The smell and taste of cheese on the cheese baguette at Wenger’s
9. Going to a crowded market or the railway station, driving slowly to look for a parking spot and suddenly finding a car reversing out of a position right in front of you
10. Booking a train ticket on irctc.com in the middle of the night and finding it being delivered at your doorstep at 10 AM the very next morning
11. The soup and the soup sticks in the Mumbai Rajdhani
12. The non-stop catering service in the Shatabdi Express
13. Suddenly discovering a fantastic book you always wanted to read right in your own house, not knowing it was lying there all along
14. Turning on history/discovery/nat geo and finding its playing a show on something you were always very curious about
15. Getting your first laptop
16. Fancy meals in fancy restaurants when the office is paying for them
17. Spending hours together sitting on the bean bag
18. Power cut on a hot a summer afternoon. And then power coming back suddenly in 2 min just as you are reducing the load on the inverter

I am sure there are many more like these. Maybe you could send them in to me and I'll write a part 2 of this post giving credit to the contributors.

Kali Billi and my Rasta

2007-04-24T12:26:00.000+05:30

As I walked out of my house this morning, I was thinking that I should write something on the blog, but I wasn’t quite sure what. Just then, very suddenly, a black cat crossed my path…and there, I had my inspiration for the blog.

This was a textbook Kali Billi Rasta Kat Gayi incident. The cat appeared out of nowhere, it came about very suddenly, it was pitch black and it crossed my path perfectly in a straight line just moments after I stepped out of my house to begin a fresh day.

So what did I do then?

There were 3 very different thoughts which struck me just then in the following order –

1. Wow! This is what they talk about. Such perfectly executed performance by the Kali Billi
2. So, should I stop?
3. What the hell, I don’t believe in superstitions. I am going to continue walking.
4. Hey! Let’s get adventurous. Let me see if my day actually gets screwed because of that stupid feline creature.
5. Ah! As much as I’d want to act on thought no. 4, maybe I should try this thing another day. My merit review begins today in office; it won’t be nice if that gets screwed. Let’s just take a slight diversion and go about the day for now.

And so the legend of the Kali Billi lives on…..I am yet to know if it’s for real.

A Cooler is Cooler

2007-04-17T11:49:00.000+05:30

Every year when the heat starts getting oppressive, there’s a day when I (and I am sure many like me) spend some time fixing and ‘revitalizing’ our desert cooler which stands neglected for the many months that have gone by.

It’s a standard one or two hours process – checking the khuss, oiling the motor, seeing the water is circulating properly and basically just cleaning the whole system. Neither is it a huge engineering task nor a one which requires immense labour but every time I do it, I feel a little sense of achievement for the ‘effort’ I put in. And the first draft of cool air which comes in as soon as you turn it on the first time is instant bliss. Not to mention, it also carries a lot of dust with it, but that gets overlooked (or just swallowed happily ;-)) by the sheer pleasure that the gushing cool air gives to you for the first time in the season.

There’s something very quintessentially Indian about the cooler. Infact, I prefer them over ACs until the humid summer starts. The sound that they make, the little spray of water they throw and the atmosphere they setup in the room with the cool air and how that air feels on your skin is simply fantastic. It’s also something you won’t get to enjoy outside the ‘third world’. Or even with those fancy white coolers available these days in neat plastic bodies. They are just not the same.

I love the summer afternoons when there’s nothing to do… the thick curtains are drawn and golden sunlight just about illuminates the room with a soft glow…when the cooler is running on full blow and the lights are off…and you are just lying on your bean bag…nearly inert, drinking a glass of nimbu pani…or maybe having helpings after helpings of mother dairy ice cream from the brick in your refrigerator….Its then that you think to yourself ‘what a simple man I am, content with the small pleasures of life!’

Then suddenly, there is a power cut and your world turns upside down!

NOTE: This whole imagery is so Indian, that I couldn’t get a suitable image for it even after Googling for stuff like “desert cooler”, “Indian summer afternoon”, “room in summer afternoon, India” etc. for a good 2-3 min. If you find any, then do send them across. The above picture of the window was contributed by Gandalf after reading this post, the one of the cooler by Shruti. Thanks both of you!

The Nam(i)s(t)ake

2007-04-11T16:09:00.001+05:30

I saw The Namesake yesterday. It’s a nice & powerful film, but I am not reviewing it here. For that you could grab the weekend newspaper. I am just posting to show off an observation I made in the film…an overlook by the director. And I caught it…Hoo haa haa!

For those of you who have seen it…Remember the station scene which flashes in front of Ashok Ganguli’s eyes repeatedly with his tin trunk being carried by the coolie in front of him? It’s supposed to be from 1970s. But they pass under a board of the InusInd Bank each time the scene is shown. The bank is ten years old at the most, there’s no way it could have existed then.

I sort of got this sadistic and super-achiever kind of pleasure momentarily as soon as I realised it during the movie. I know I am little cruel, but its fun to know you spotted something which the entire crew of the film overlooked. And I wanted to post this before you heard from anywhere else ;-).

Visa-Shisa Application Vapplication

2007-04-07T16:11:00.000+05:30

Today I was sitting with my brother and we were filling up his online US visa application. All through, the mood was serious as we were checking and rechecking what we had filled to make sure we didn't make any mistakes in the online form before pressing the scary 'Continue' button each time.

However, the effort though was well worth it since the last declaration in the form had outrageously funny questions. I am posting them unedited. I know now that they don't call the Americans crazy for no reason. Read on -

Have you ever been arrested or convicted for any offense or crime, even though subject of a pardon, amnesty or other similar legal action? Have you ever unlawfully distributed or sold a controlled substance(drug), or been a prostitute or procurer for prostitutes? (Well, you guys don't give visas to pimps is it? By the way my going rate tonight is 100 bucks. Interested?)

Have you ever been refused admission to the U.S., or been the subject of a deportation hearing or sought to obtain or assist others to obtain a visa, entry into the U.S., or any other U.S. immigration benefit by fraud or willful misrepresentation or other unlawful means? Have you attended a U.S. public elementary school on student (F) status or a public secondary school after November 30, 1996 without reimbursing the school? (Yes, I owe MIT a billion dollars!)

Do you seek to enter the United States to engage in export control violations, subversive or terrorist activities, or any other unlawful purpose? Are you a member or representative of a terrorist organization as currently designated by the U.S. Secretary of State? Have you ever participated in persecutions directed by the Nazi government of Germany; or have you ever participated in genocide? (Yeah baby yeah! I am Bin Laden, I want to blow up the White House, Could I have a visa please?)

Have you ever violated the terms of a U.S. visa, or been unlawfully present in, or deported from, the United States? (Hell yeah! What fun it was, I just want to do it once more..pls pls give me a chance!)

Have you ever withheld custody of a U.S. citizen child outside the United States from a person granted legal custody by a U.S. court, voted in the United States in violation of any law or regulation, or renounced U.S. citizenship for the purpose of avoiding taxation? (Yes, I did some years back. Even got convicted for tax evasion. But, I left my watch in the prison while running from it, can I please go get it back?)

Have you ever been afflicted with a communicable disease of public health significance or a dangerous physical or mental disorder, or ever been a drug abuser or addict? (Yes, I have X-Ray vision, communicable loose motions and I think your country is doing a great job in saving the world every day!)

I Believe in Miracles….

2007-04-05T21:06:00.000+05:30

Paulo Coelho writes in The Alchemist that if you want something badly enough the whole universe conspires to help you get it. I never believed this was true and could only find agreement with the first half of the statement.

Until today evening.

After almost a week in office, at about 5 PM today, I was feeling pretty exhausted, tired, sleepy and hungry. I was staring at the clock on the bottom right corner of the screen desperately waiting for it to be 5.30 and wanting to go home. In my state of half-alertness & half-sleepiness, I was also fantasizing about…err…eating a pizza right there. I say fantasizing because I was so sleepy that this imagery in my mind was quite literally like a dream. There’s virtually no way it could come true at that time of the day and that too on my workstation.

But just then....the unthinkable miracle happened.

An angel appeared in front of my eyes with a box of pizza. She offered it to me with a smile and said, “Pizza khana hai?” It took me a few seconds to realize that this wasn’t a fairy or an angel in a dream but actually the girl (henceforth referred as ‘The Pizza Angel’) who sits in the adjacent bay standing with a box filled with three large slices of vegetarian pizza hut pizza. I jumped on the offer, collected two of my friends immediately, heated the pizza in the microwave and relished every bite of what seemed (and tasted) like ecstasy at that time (no, not the drug, I mean it philosophically wiseasses!).

The neighbouring bay people had apparently had a team party a little earlier and couldn’t finish all the food they ordered. They didn’t want to dispose off the leftover slices and instead decided to give it to the needy. And who could need them more at that time than me? They couldn’t have found a more worthy person for this noble deed of theirs’. God bless them.

Thank you pizza angel for making my day…Thanks for showing me that miracles can actually happen…and pizzas can appear out of thin air when you really want them bad.

Shakalaka Boom Boom

2007-03-30T20:07:00.000+05:30

The last few days have been pretty hectic at work. For a few days now, by the end of the day I have been pretty drained, so I have just come back home, slept and gone to work the next day again. The fact that I have a fever & cold hasn't made my life any easier.

Today, again a similar schedule was on the cards, except that when I came home I found myself alone in the house. So, there was nobody to really crib about the day to or to find sympathy in. I imagine people who have pet dogs would come home and kick them straight as soon as they return home on such days.

I soon realised there was no point in trying to even act like I am sick or hungry or tired or someone who needs attention since I wasn't going to get any. So, I switched on the TV after ages and did something accidentally that I almost never do. I started watching the upcoming Bollywood movies' trailers and pop albums' show and believe it or not, in just about fifteen minutes I was already feeling better.

I think its the sheer mindlessness of the stuff they show which can help you relax very quickly. Larger than life sets, characters, colours, sounds etc. probably switch you off so abruptly from reality that you almost forget the 'misery' you are in, at least for as long as you are watching them. Garish clothes, dance steps which don't make sense even to me, happy Sardarjis jumping up and down, violently gyrating women, scantily clad item girls, bright lights, characters which are nowhere close to the kind of people you meet everyday all contribute to the process. For the duration that I watched the show, there wasn't even one movie whose trailer made me want to go see it, but I still thoroughly enjoyed myself (I am not very up to date in this area, but it looked like no 'good' movie is coming up. What say?).

Perhaps, the kind of movies we as educated metropolitan citizens are usually used to 'liking' are the kind which are somewhat closer to reality, dealing with someone's issues, pain, suffering or tragedy; but they don't comprise the quintessential Bollywood genre of cinema.

And I am glad that they don't. Because, something that I realised in these fifteen minutes was that if all movies were to follow that mode of 'serious' or 'quality' cinema then Bollywood wouldn't have the appeal that it has in this country. India is a country where the average man fights daily for his survival, is entangled in some trouble or the other with courts, police, taxes, neighbours, office etc.; so at the end of a hard day's work when he spends thirty-forty bucks on a movie he essentially needs to just switch off from all that. And to that extent, I think the Govindas, David Dhawans, Kareena Kapoors, Himesh Reshammiyas and Gulshan Kumars (who continue to 'present' movies and albums even 15 years after their death) do a commendable job. They take his mind off the daily rigmarole for a little while and make him laugh, cry, cheer, sing and dance with them and not make him think or ponder seriously over anything. And that, is a good thing. Because, that's definitely not why he comes there.

Had I watched the show for longer it would have probably started to get irritating because my brain would have taken over in a while over the idea of what I should find entertaining; but that still doesn't dilute the point I am trying to make here. Or even that, I simply can't stand any of the names I mentioned in the post above, 'beyond' a certain time span I now realise and humbly confess.

Useless Trivia: The title of this post is the name of a new movie whose trailer I saw this evening. It features Upen Patel, the guy who can't speak Hindi and Celina Jaitley, one of the biggest bimbos in Bollywood ever. Music is of course by the legendary Himesh Reshammiya.

Indian Cricket's Greatest Gift & Greatest Curse

2007-03-19T23:06:00.000+05:30

Between the last cricket world cup's final and today I don't think I have watched any cricket match for more than 10 minutes at a stretch. Today I just happened to see the Indian innings of the India-Bermuda match because I had nothing else to do, and I must confess it was rather enjoyable.

It was also very predictable. After what they did against Bangladesh, or rather what Bangladesh did to them, it was obvious that India would come back very strongly. Dhoni's under-construction house was vandalised, effigies were burnt and the usual tamasha followed India's loss against Bangladesh, which I assume must have been rather motivating for the players. The death (lets call it murder) of Bob Woolmer must have also made for that extra pepping up that the players needed to do well.

I have always believed that Indian cricket's greatest gift and greatest curse, or lets call it its greatest strength and greatest weakness is its amazing unpredictability. So, while on one day the set of eleven players can go loose against Minnows, on another day the same eleven people can go beat the shit out of Australia.

Which is why, the Indian cricket fan can never give up on the team. Which is why despite my apparent and outwardly disdain for the country's over-sentimental relationship with cricket, somewhere deep down I also wish that India wins the world cup.

My World this Week and the WrestleMania of Group Discussions

2007-03-15T11:58:00.000+05:30

Considering the frequency with which I post usually, this post definitely comes late. My apologies for that, but it really was impossible to have posted before this. The last few days have been very busy and eventful. First, the (slightly nervous) build up to my FMS interview, then the (disappointing) IIFT result, the (satisfying) FMS result and then the events following the result. It’s obvious that I can find a little humour in all this only because they have fortunately turned out in a positive way, or else this post would have been just a depressing testimonial.

Anyway, I don’t exactly know what I want to write about right now. It’s ironic that when there’s a lot happening its difficult to crystallize the ideas and come up with a concrete piece of writing….whereas on an ordinary day I can write a whole page on just Chhola Bhatura. It is rather strange, but I guess I’ll just go with the flow for now. And I must make the most of this day with my boss not in office today ;-).

Not being able to crystallize the ideas when there’s a lot happening…that’s exactly what happens in (MBA) Group Discussions too, an experience I had last week. Every group has eight to ten people…some of the most desperate on the planet at that point of time. Out of these there’s always one guy who’s a classic ghissu…the guy who mugs up so many facts and figures that they can’t stay in his head and they start falling off here and there like shit from an overfilled sewage line. This guy thinks he’s got all the content because he has some stupid repository of numbers which he keeps throwing every few seconds in the GD. 99% of the times they are totally out of context.

Then there’s this guy who Siddhu (who has the most annoying style of laughing in the world) would describe as “as clueless as a child in a topless bar” (though in today’s world that phrase is probably archaic, but nevertheless). There are people scowling, shouting, jumping, barking and bleating all around him continuously and he’s just watching the drama. A few times, you do notice this guy nervously looking at his watch, mustering up some courage and shifting up to the edge of the seat to tell everyone that he’s there too. Occasionally, you might even hear a few “Buts”, “Ummms” or “I Agrees” from him, but then that’s about it.

The next characteristic person you are likely to find in a GD is what I call the “deranged diplomat”. He’s the guy who has taken the silly lessons on GD etiquette from coaching institutes most seriously and firmly believes that one exhibits his “management aptitude” by moderating the discussion. He’s like the UN diplomat trying to mediate between US and Iraq who doesn’t realise that some people just enjoy the thrill of bombs & bloodshed, even when they know it’s mutually destructive. So there are lots of “Let the lady speak”, “Let my friend make a point”, “Let’s listen to each other” that you would hear him say. Infact, that’s all he might contribute with in the discussion (its “management aptitude” after all!). But, obviously NOBODY gives a shit to what he’s saying. The war goes on anyway.

All the above kinds of people are OK to deal with. But the worst are those who are simply dumb. No, I don’t mean they are stupid, I mean that their sense of hearing is perhaps biologically detached from them for the duration of the interview. They just DO NOT CARE about whether someone else is speaking or not. They shout, scream and speak without listening to ANYTHING. So, even WHILE someone is talking about how it’s important to bring up agriculture in this country, they would be mentioning about the different parts of a nuclear reactor simultaneously. It’s ludicrous. And I always think why these guys don’t realise what they are doing. These people completely spoil the discussion for themselves and worse, for everyone else and what the panelists are able to hear is “loud noise” at best. These are the people you want to kick really hard the second the GD ends, maybe even shoot!

So, now the obvious question…where do I put myself into all these groups of people. I am human too and I didn’t learn how to conduct GDs from Philip Kotler. So, I guess I keep switching between all these “roles”, also feeling helpless simultaneously about the racket I am a part of.

Maybe sometime later I’ll write about the interviews too…you could say they are “interesting” if you happen to clear them or else of course you could obviously always complain. That too may make for interesting reading.

Until then, “I think we could summarize by saying…”

How We Protect Your Money

2007-03-05T14:44:00.000+05:30

My organisation takes a lot of pride in its expertise in sound research, bottoms-up approach to investing etc. etc. We keep a close watch on the markets all the time.

So what if we are in the middle of a T-Shirt making competition in office…

Click to Enlarge Image

This is actually a candid shot of three guys in the cafeteria in the middle of the T-Shirt making competition watching CNBC (accidentally) I think!

Power Lunches are Hard to Digest

2007-03-02T17:17:00.000+05:30

Earlier this week some of us (the newbies in the company) were asked to organise some sort of Holi celebrations in office. We did that and apparently the show was a huge hit with everyone. “Pleased” with our efforts, one of the directors decided to take us out for lunch yesterday; a power lunch. Here’s the story…

The first thing that most of us do in office early morning is open Outlook Express. Usually, the first set of mails in the morning is pretty boring….a daily newsletter telling about my company’s awesome initiatives in towns I have never heard of in the US, some ‘oh-my-god-we need-to-protect-data’ mails from the security department, the beautiful ‘Thought for the Day’ which I open and delete in the same go and other such stuff; but yesterday I was pleasantly surprised to see a lunch invitation from one of our directors.

The reasons for the sudden excitement were manifold….a personal invitation from the director (to me and to just seven-eight other people), the idea of a lunch outing (and the wow-i-get-to-be-out-of-office-legitimately feeling that comes with it) and of course the charm of going to a place I would not really volunteer to go to if I was paying the bill. Although we had been to a ‘power lunch’ before (once!) but at that time the people we were with were not really as huge as this time, so this was definitely a much bigger occasion. The other two guys who were also on the invitees list were also feeling the ‘oh-I-am-booked-for-lunch-with-the-Director’ sort of exciting feeling I am sure, because I saw them smiling for no reason while staring at their monitors for the entire morning. None of us, of course admitted to each other that we were going through this and tried to pretend like this was regular news.

Anyway, so after a rather distracted 3-4 hours we got together and got into the elevator to proceed for the lunch. It was then that I realised that the most exciting part about this whole lunch outing was already over. There’s this eerie silence when you share the 5ft. by 5ft. elevator space with people who are several years and several millions in cash ahead of you. And the feeling is the same when you are in the car with them. And honestly…it’s not at all comfortable to be in that state.

Although, obviously this was no big deal for the ‘big-shots’…They are used to people feeling tiny and poor around them all the time. So, they try their best to make it easy for you…they laugh, engage in casual conversation and crack jokes. Yes, jokes. Jokes which are usually not even remotely funny but you need to laugh at them because “they” think its funny. And even when you do want to laugh genuinely it’s a very queer kind of laughter which comes across on your face – the smile, the laughter, the decibel level are all under constant supervision by your own senses. While you are laughing, you are thinking about whether you are laughing in a nice “corporate” way, are you showing your teeth too much and the fact that you if you don’t like how your laughter is sounding to you, you still can’t do anything to change it since you have already started laughing that way. The sensible thing then is to just complete that laugh in a consistent manner and get over with it.

Anyway, so somehow after managing the longest ten minute drive from office to the restaurant (Trivia: It’s a place called Palms in Gurgaon) interspersed with weird conversation and weird remarks, we all got settled on the table in the restaurant. And then began the next dilemma…

The menu card was full of exotic stuff, many of which you didn’t want to order simply because the waiter would know their pronunciation better than you would. It’s also hard to not look at the prices while reading the menu at that time. And we all started wondering whether the most expensive item on the menu card is also the nicest. In some time, there were things we all (all being just us, the newbies) were sure we wanted to order but we had to engage in the general analysis and the discussion on table about the variety of things on offer and how difficult it is to make up your mind about one. I too made lame remarks to go with the conversation like “I am wondering how their Mezzes and Falafels taste, the ones I had in Geoffrey’s were quite nice” and “I am wondering if they use authentic arabaita sauce here, its been long since I had a decent dish of pasta”, even after having fully made up my mind on exactly what I was ordering. So, amongst all this the orders were placed and the conversation switched to the “energy college grads get into an organisation”…Lots of gas all around by everyone at this point. (I am talking about words here; the food was still not served!)

Soon, the awesome starters arrived and when they passed by me I knew I wanted everything on the platter but had to pretend to think and choose what I wanted and ask the waiter to serve me “small portions” and things I wanted to just “try”. The platter reached one end of the table and there were three awesomely delicious hare-kebabs left which nobody wanted. I wanted to get up and gobble them up but I had to just relive the taste in my head since it would have been “out of decorum” to ask three senior people to pass on a plate to me which was just asking to be licked.

Sharing is the other very natural thing that we are all so used to in college. It’s a less known concept at such meals. At the same time, it’s perfectly normal now to just have half of your sinful chocolate dessert and leave the rest because too much chocolate is not good for you. Everyone ordered different things and many of them could not finish it; even the newbies and I was dying to help them with it but resisted the temptation (Urggghhh!). That felt the same as it did when I just had to go to the loo in fifth grade ten minutes before the exam time ended and the teacher wouldn’t let me go till the full time got over (And for the wise asses…No, I didn’t wet my shorts that time; I just felt uneasy...which is what I am pointing to here!).

Another “problem” at the table was that I couldn’t make a vegetarians’ cartel and do group ordering to be able eat three dishes at the same time; something, I am so used to doing. So, I had to be content with just my own dish which was no doubt excellent (more trivia: I ordered pasta). Of course, I didn’t even consider sharing the food with the millionaires…..I didn’t want to highlight the case for poverty and hunger in the third world countries in front of them.

There were also three separate instances of people dropping their cutlery, I wasn't one of them luckily, though going by the atmosphere that time, it really could have been anyone of us!

The shift from campus to corporate isn’t easy. Especially, if you are the kind who gets turned on by the sight of food.

If anyone from my organisation is reading this then he/she is urged to please take this as non-seriously as possible. Should you choose to not do that, I’ll know why the company car didn’t come in the morning to pick me up.

Those Sinful Gasbags...

2007-02-25T20:08:00.000+05:30

This is the next post in line with the blogs on food I have started writing. In case you haven't read the post below the one below this, I'd request you to go through that first.

There's something majestic about bhaturas. Their size and shape make them quite a delightful sight. I admit there's a little excitement in me even now everytime, just as I am about to poke them.

A lot of people are very fussy about bhaturas, because of the gallons of oil that goes into preparing them. So am I actually, but its not because of the oil part but my fuss is about the place from where I have them. I would hate to be disappointed in a plate of chana-bhatura so I don't eat them everywhere, except the places I really like them from.

The first such place is Evergreen in Green Park Market. The place is actually a vegetarian's delight. Most preparations there are outstanding, especially the chaat and the chhola-bhaturas. Maybe another time I'll review the place on this blog, but for now let me just restrict it to the bhaturas.

Everygreen has very very large bhaturas. And their chana is obviously also excellent. This is maybe the only place where I enjoy the darker shade of chanas since they add the masala to the chanas but don't make them too hot (the mirchi wala hot). That sort of goes well with me, since I am not big on chillies. The aam-ka-achar he gives along with the chana-bhatura is fantastc as well. I am not sure if its a commercially available variety or his own preparation, but whatever it is, its lovely.

The second great place to eat bhaturas is at Shankar Market. Vicky showed me this quaint little shop and since then we've skipped Berco's and other fancy places in CP to have a bite there. This guy's speciality is paneer-wale bhature. They are not huge, they are those diamond shaped kinds with a very thick layer of the maida. And I must admit they are quite fabulous. I once noticed their 'chief-chef' having a little quarter while he was taking those chanas out of his kadhai; I wonder if that is the special ingredient in his chanas. A glass of lassi or juice from the next door sardarji and you are set for at least another 5-6 hours. Its one of the most outstanding street food experiences in Delhi...And the fact that you need to stand in the middle of commotion and wash your hands from a tap 1 foot above the ground after you are done probably all just adds to the experience. And I am not being sarcastic here at all. Honestly.

And the finally's there's the legendary Kwality's at the Outer Circle, CP. This guy has been making 'kwality' chola-bhaturas since pre-independance days. I am myself a third generation visitor to the place. My grandfather always used to go there whenever he was in town and took my father there the first time in the 1970s I think. My father did the same favour to me a few years back. The amazing thing about Kwality's is the perfection in his Bhatura's. Each one is very very carefully prepared with little oil. Their surface and texture is so smooth that its almost like a wet tissue paper. And they are very very light brown in colourm which is a unique colour for a bhatura. The waiters bring them one by one, drying them with cloth very tenderly. This bhatura experience is definitely very different from all others. And its worth the money they charge for it.

Try the bhaturas at these places and tell me if they are worth their reputation.

I am prety sure they aren't just full of 'gas'.

Enjoy!

Sunday Breakfast Idea 1: Chholas, Mathris and a Butter Toast

2007-02-25T20:06:00.000+05:30

To put this post in context, I request you to go through the one just before this first if you haven't read that as yet

This is a simple idea for a weekend morning, it won't be as nice of you are having it just before running for work or class...Conventionally, chholas are served with bhaturas or puris. Here's a slight variation suggested to that which can be easily prepared at home and is slightly more healthy than the conventional diet. Oh yes, even if you forget the health....its a lot tastier.

First, you need well-prepared chholas. For this combination to work, its important that the chholas aren't the "pindi" kind, which are larger and slightly harder. Prepare the slightly gooey chholas (safed-chana), maybe an extra whistle in the pressure cooker would do the trick. Also, make sure they are not really dry. Don't add too much masala or make it too spicy, the colour should be light brown not dark brown, or even brown-black. If that's the case then you've probably added too much masala.

Now, over to mathris. I am sure we all have our own variations of making them at home. The only suggestion I have is that make them with suji and only a little maida. This makes them softer, something in between a kachauri and a puri in hardness. If you are getting them freshly made at the time of eating then its ok, otherwise its a good idea to heat them a little just before eating (20 sec in the microwave should be enough). Since we are subsituting them for puris here, we need to make sure the good things about the puris can be brought to mathris too...the hotness and softness. Oh yes, make the mathris small, so that they can be consumed in one large bite or two medium ones at most.

Butter Toasts are the next thing we need. For Indian food, its hard to find a better taste maker than Amul butter. Use it to your liking on this and sprinke alu-bhujia on the toast. It'll be actually nice if you can get whole-wheat bread which should be available from the bakery next door. Otherwise, even the harvest gold brown bread is fine. I was always fond of eating butter toasts with the chholas even in the hostel and it wasn't just because the bhaturas had kilos of oil in them but also becaese the butter toast just tastes a lot better.

Thats about it. Your chholas with mathris and toast make a nice, filling and tasty breakfast.
The toast can be eaten seperately while the mathris can go in the chholas to pick up the chholas like you pick your aloos with puris. While serving chholas add saunth (imli-ki-chutney) and a dash of freshly prepared pudine-ki-chutney for taste. A nice jhagdar cup of coffee will make for a nice accompaniment.

I suggest you don't have this meal very early in the morning and not late enough so that its brunch time. Its ideal for a 10-10.30 AM time actually. And its obviously important to go slow with the meal, mathri by mathri to enjoy it to the fullest.

Ah yes...a nice little nap or beauty sleep after the meal would make it a perfect Sunday morning.

The Pig who could Write and other tales from Senegal

2007-02-25T10:08:00.000+05:30

Foreword

Vir Sanghvi writes every week about food I may never be able to afford, or maybe afford it at a time when I won't relish it as much as I would now. Maybe, that's why he calls it "Rude Food". Food you can't approach.

In my opinion, the idea of great food and fine dining are two different concepts. The more is the focus on good ambience, tuxedos and evening gowns, fine music, spoons & forks and a conscious way of behaving yourself on the table, the less will be the focus on your actual business there - which is enjoying the food. Of course, its okay to have all that jazz as long as you don't compromise on the central idea but in most cases I don't think that happens. Food does become secondary then, and that is sacrilege.

I've always harped about being a foodie. Now, I want to write a little about it too. I intend to write about regular food, and how even that can add a lot of pleasure to our regular day. Lets just call it polite food for convenience. Simple innovation, combinations and creativity can make your regular meals lip-smacking. I am sure all of us try to do that every now and then...like the maggi with paranthas in the night mess, or ice-cream with gulab-jamuns in the shaadis. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. I'll try to write about some of the things which work for me. Maybe, they will for you too.

But, first a little prologue.....

The Pig who could Write and other Tales from Senegal

There's one thing good about being a pig. They epitomise hedonism. Food, sex and sleep....that's ALL they do. Especially, eat. No wonder, they've lent their names to phrases like "pigging out" , "eat like a pig" etc. I think accoring to the Chinese calendar, I too was born in the year of the wild boar, a close cousin of the conventional pig. Perhaps, that's the reason I share my passion of eating with them.

Then there are burps. Burps are your body's way of saying, "Thank you very much. I really enjoyed the meal mate". If you eat a heavy meal and don't burp, it probably means its not 'gone down well' with the body. The moment you burp, there's a little smile of self-satisfaction which comes across your face, despite the public embarassment that may follow.

So why am I talking about all this.....because I want to justify the arbit title of this post. The capital of Senegal is a place called Dakar. And that was exactly what I was talking about in the above paragraph.

So with this seemigly disconnected and totally random introduction to Pigs and Dakar, I think I am all set to get down to the agenda, which is writing about the food. I had a good Sunday breakfast just now, I'll start with that.

Just watch this plate for more.....

Lucky to be Alive!

2007-02-22T22:02:00.000+05:30

Do these pictures look familiar? They suddenly caught my eye as I was trying to look for one for my next photo blog. And honestly my first reaction was that of total shock!

It beats me now how we survived four years in the hostel with no major problem after seeing these pictures of the mess; quite literally one. Ironically, the one time that I remember puking was actually after eating at Pizza Hut!

Is this reaction from me a negative side-effect of the few months of corporate life...or is everyone else also getting a little shocked?

Post your comments.

A Conspiracy called Inflation

2007-02-18T11:12:00.000+05:30

The most significant news making the headlines for some weeks now is the rising inflation. At the time of writing this blog, it was supposed to be at 6.73%. I was watching a CNBC show on which some farmers in Punjab were voicing their demands to the finmin for the budget. Something a poor farmer said there, though in a different context made me think if this whole fuss about inflation is even real in the first place. Here's how...

Retail industry is the next big thing in India. Big Bazar, Subhiksha, Bharti-Walmart, Reliance fresh etc. are all coming in and trying to redefine the idea of our friendly neighbourhood pansari. Now, we know that they are able to offer those low prices because of the sheer volumes they trade in....Bulk buying and hence those phenomenal margins.

BUT, I get the ugly feeling that these guys maybe doing more than just bulk buying. They maybe bulk-hoarding. They may be purchasing commodities and stacking them in their warehouses and creating an artificial shortage in the supply to the open market. Yes, that means creating a high demand which actually need not be there, causing our prices to go northwards. Later on, they can come up with their "lowest prices ever" full spread ads in the Sunday papers and set their cash registers ringing loudly. We would have no option but to buy stuff from them.

Neat strategy. What say?

Of course, this maybe an exaggerated possiblity. Maybe, these guys aren't big enough (yet) to affect inflation in the whole country and what I am suggesting is only a wild idea. But, if you can get the people who make the policies to sleep with you in bed then maybe the general public would never really get to know how big you really can be ;-). The end sufferer as always is the common man.

Just like there is Welfare Economics, I definately think there's a case for Conspiracy Economics in our country.

My take on Valentine's Day......

2007-02-16T10:41:00.000+05:30

AAAAAARGHH!!!!

The Dying Social Fabric of Bawana

2007-02-15T22:16:00.000+05:30

I recently visited the campus to collect the summary of the four years of our existence in college...the final marksheets and the provisional certificate. OK, maybe calling it THE summary would be giving far more importance than what actually makes up our summary of college life, but nevertheless, it was the summary of the reason we all were supposed to be in college. Or so we were made to understand by our well-wishers.

Anyway, the poignant observation which compelled me to write this is blog is that during the sojourn I was deeply saddened to see the dying social fabric of Bawana.

In our time, Bawana was a great land. It was the confluence of many cultures, from east to the south. It was a land where free thinking and the spirit of cogito ergo sum reigned supreme.....where nights on end were spent by the intellegensia on argumentation about the bigger questions in life than those asked in the examinations even when they were staring them in the face... where energy was spent on the analysis of organic cinema and its impact on society....

Bawana was a land where men and women met up for intellectual gatherings called quizzes.....and where the science of fine gastronomy was at its peak....We existed in an epoch of wizards, musicians, wall-artists, star-warriors, formula racers, jesters and men who rolled. It was a golden age.

Sadly, none it seems to exist now. And the pride of the land seems long forgotten.

The car parked next to me in the parking was full of dishonorable men playing loud music from the far-off areas with five rivers. The canteens lacked that familiar air of intellectualism. Stone washed denim jackets, leather, henna coloured over-grown hair and tight fitting clothes defined the fashion of the day. Men and women who considered Valentine's day their most pious day could be found in abundance.

The society in general was found embracing the spirit of yaindism in wild oblivion.

And I was deeply hurt, shocked and depressed.

Where is the Bawana we grew up in?
Where is the land which made gentlemen out of us boys?
Where is the Bawana we know of?

Is it dead? Is it lost? Is it forgotten?
Tell me I am mistaken.

P.S: From the initial reacitons to this post I am compelled to clarify that this is not supposed to be an exercise in tragedy. Its more of an attempt at my hopeless humour. If you didn't spot it, please please re-read it. I can't believe I have to mention this.

The Truth Behind Status Messages

2007-02-10T16:17:00.000+05:30

People's status messages can mean so much to some people. For the one who writes them, they are his perfect summary of life at that instant or what they make out of their state of mind or being. Even if they may outwardly sound funny or trivial they might mean so much to some people.

Or absolutely nothing to some others. So much so, that you begin to wonder if they are actually just a prank.

I recently got victimised by one.

Bobby's status message five minutes back read 'A revelation' and it was followed by a link on youtube. I clicked on it and what began to load appeared something like a documentary/off beat kind of video. There wasn't any sound or dialogue thus far and the first guy who appeared on the screen looked a bit like Bobby. I thought maybe THAT was the revelation for him. But, then soon after the guy started singing.

It was a funky sounding rock music kind of song. (Sorry, that's the best way I can describe it).
In Malayalam.

Quite a revelation. Thanks Bobby, I absolutely loved it. And I am glad you are still connected to your roots. And help me connect to yours too.

Aargh!

CAUTION: Beware of status messages! The 'Sambhar Mafia' is on the prowl. My own status message might be a part of the game too. By the way, is that how you got here?

P.S: I am assuming its Malayalam since I don't think my Keraliite friend would be so smitted by some other language. Here's the link by the way, if you are interested -

http://youtube.com/watch?v=7uOoC7NTxck

The Electrocution: Calvin bites the Dust

2007-02-10T15:57:00.000+05:30

Take a look at the picture above. There is one person who doesn't belong in the group. Spot the odd man out. He is happily getting himself photographed here without realising that he was probably slightly out of place. He is soon spotted. And the mob is unleashed -

Even his 'relatives' don't spare him. They infact hold him tight as he gets it blow by blow -

This is the man on the dance floor minutes after the ordeal. Shaken, but not stirred -

That's not a fancy dance move. This is what you call (a manifestation of) a pain in the ass. Cheers Vicky!

P.S: Vix, My apologies for picking on you this time. I just randomly opened my photos ka folder and saw this photo. I had seen my inspiration for the this blog rather suddenly ;-) . Sorry, I am horrible.

Fun at Work and Work at Fun

2007-02-09T17:04:00.000+05:30

Organisations may have subtle ways of indicating to you whether you are useful to them or not. Last week however, mine left me rather confused despite what might actually sound as 'professional success' for me ;-). I earned two awards within a span of the last 10 days here. And I am not bragging...read on.

First, last week I got an award for doing 'good' work here with a nice fancy ego-massaging citation appreciating my commitment and bla bla. Then, next week I got another one...but this time the award was called "Fun at Work Award" awarded by the President of the company himself...The text on the ceritficate reads - "Certificate of Appreciation Awarded to Azeez Narain for initiating activities which help associates to socialise and have fun"!!

What am I to make out of this? I am wondering if its more than just an appreciation for the weekly quizzes I do here in office (mailing quizzes, not live ones). Was there a message in it I didn't get...does it mean "Azeez Narain, you've been having way too much fun here. This is an office. Here..take your certificate and better start working now. College is OVER. Get that into your head!"

Fun at Work or Work at Fun?

I'll know in my appraisal next time.

Did the Locks Open or Close?

2007-02-04T00:43:00.000+05:30

Click to Enlarge Image

"Open the Locks" was what was written on our plea to get back our rooms after we got expelled from the hostel for being caught in the act of carrying the mess chairs in the park to enjoy the breeze. Oddly enough, you can get away with the most serious of offences and get caught for the most obscure ones like this one. Amongst, all that went in the name of the wild "fourth year" phenomenon this was all that caught the authorities' eyes and got us expelled for a night from the hostel.

I think by the morning, we had started to enjoy even that. There are pictures of the rooms being sealed and videos of us packing up for good and none of us hardly seem to be perturbed. We took it proudly as another edition in the "checklist".

The above letter is the paperwork that we did to win back our rooms, a process which took up almost one whole day. With much deliberation, interrogation and sucking up, the locks on our rooms did get opened.

Soon after, college ended and that put a permanent lock on kind of days which would never came back ever in our lives.

Luka Chhupi

2007-01-31T23:47:00.000+05:30

This is what is called the Luka Chhupi pose given by Bombay and Ayush at the Rock Garden in Chandigarh. Of course, the photo fails to capture the violent gyrations which are a part of the sequence. The dance move was obviously an invention of 3 East Delhites on the Rishikesh Trip as a tribute to A.R.Rahman's melody.

The only East Delhite who wasn't a part of this was also given a tribute by them..Remember Kishan Kumar's "Oh mere Papa the great"!

They even made it to a live baraat with this move in Model Town. Stunning.

Race for the Biggest Wannabe Runners-Up!

2007-01-31T23:27:00.000+05:30

OK, These guys didn't make it for the photo on Mr.& Ms.Fresher form wala blog(The Race for the Biggest Wannabees). But they tried hard. In the end, I had to give it to myself. I look more of an attention seeker in that picture than them. Is someone still complaining about horrendous snaps? ;-)

Name's Gupta.Vaibhav Gupta. He loves fast cars, expensive boose and crisp trousers. He walks upto you smartly, runs his fingers through his hair and says to you in his characteristic style "Yaar, meri VAAT lagi padi hai. Course khatam hii nahin ho raha!"

I am Mumbhai...

Eureka at Midnight!

2007-01-31T23:08:00.000+05:30

I had retired for the day about fifteen minutes back.

Ironically, its when I have retired for the day that my mind becomes most active and an incoherent but rapid trail of thought sets off in my head every night. Off late, its even made me loose sleep on several occasions, but today it happened for a good cause ;-).

Feeling a little happy with the good things I got to hear from people about their first impressions of this blog, I began thinking how and what I would do to keep it alive....both for myself and for others. And suddenly, I had my Eureka moment!

So I got up from the bed and that sinful razai and I am posting this at almost midnight. Well, its 11:22 PM right now, but you could grant me that much literary license (or is it called poetic license, but this isn't poetry!).

I am going to have a photo blog alongwith the normal blog. No, not arbit photos of sceneries and my interpretation of them but photos of events in my life..present and a lot of past, events which I have shared with a lot of you.

Its not just going to be a single photo as a post, it'll include my wise-ass remarks too which I would think are funny or emotional at times. I know most people would agree with that. Agree with the 'I would think' part, not necessarily that they actually find it 'funny or emotional' themselves. But, never mind. Lets see how it goes...

Green White Green White Green White and The Birth of My Blog

2007-01-30T11:55:00.000+05:30

I am sitting in the visitors' area of the Fortis Hospital in Vasant Kunj and chatting to Vicky about life, CAT, dogs and everything else. There's a gentle breeze blowing and it brings with it the smell of fresh turpentine being used by a worker behind us somewhere. The umbrella above us looks beautiful in its vibrant colours...

green white green white green white green white....

What a divine coincidence it is that the colour of Vicky's sweater is also Green. So is the grass right behind us. Life is beautiful.

STOP. FULL STOP.

This is EXACTLY why I have always been averse to writing blogs. Because this is what they all turn into after a while. Describing tables, chairs, colour of the neighbour's car and what deep connection it has with his wife's personality, finding the hidden meaning behind the way people burp and what not. And what's more...writing about this insanely trivial and mundane stuff proclaims you as a sensitive person in the world of blogging, who sees and feels the little things in life.

I just can't seem to agree. Sorry.

But then WHY did I give in to the 'temptation' of starting my own blog...My reasons to be on the Blog trail are...Sonny & Vicky and a couple of others have been pumping me to do this for some time now and I have some free time these days. The final push of course came when on Sunday I was informed about the revenue potential of having adsense on this page. Cash registers started ringing in front of my eyes (though I soon realised that the ones that ring the loudest are the ones with least cash inside them), but I thought what the hell (or Chhote ke baap ka kya jaata hai in our college jargon), let me give this a shot too! How bad it can be.

So here it is...my first ever blog.

Initially, I decided to post the stuff that I have been writing over the years here to give this space a headstart. Another reason for that is also that even though a lot of you would have read most of this old stuff, I do not have recorded feedback for them which I would like to have. So please do spare some time for that too as and when you can.

I really don't know how active I will be with the Blogs but I will try to be as long as I think I am not falling into the Blog trap which I mentioned in the beginning.

In the end, let me just hope I do manage to put in stuff which makes some interesting reading and makes you come back here for more every now and then. I also sincerely hope that more than the blogs you find the ads appealing and you click on them very frequntly.

Goodbye and Godspeed

Reminder: I once again urge you to give sincere feedback for anything and everything new, old and very old on this blog.

Vivek “Vicky” Kapoor

2007-01-30T09:43:00.000+05:30

In every group of friends, there is this person called the ‘nice guy’ who never really goes wrong, never over-reacts, is level-headed, is dependable, soft-spoken, can play the shrink very well and is nice to everyone. Vicky takes that title in our gang. Some notable additions to those general nice guy traits with reference to Vicky are outstanding programming abilities, knowledge of the exact routes in and around CP (something which most of us are pretty bad at) and also the brains of a genius.

Vicky is the kind of guy girls can take to their parents. He is the kind of person who both the good and bad guys admire. The good guys for obvious reasons and the bad ones because they think people like Vicky are some sort of super humans. I am saying the last thing particularly with reference to academics, because I have seen many of his classmates look up to Vicky for last minute survival coaching just a few hours before the exams. It’s funny, how they listen to him when he is explaining stuff to them like a some sort of a magician in front of an enchanted crowd. And Vicky and Sonny have had to do that several times before every exam each time cursing god for creating such morons who come up to them seeking some sort of miracles which would help them pass their exams one more time. The bad guys also like him because they know if they are on good terms with someone like him, he can come to their rescue whenever they land up in shit (something they are deep within anyway), and come ‘samhaalo the baat’!

Vicky was the ‘party animal’ of the group. Anytime you saw him, you would always find him dressed in crisp clothes, polished shoes and deodorant sprayed all over him even if it was just to go and eat fruits from amma! I don’t know why he bothered himself with taking so much pain to stay dressed up all the time, but he did it nevertheless. Another thing about Vicky was, his way with women. Some guys woo women with their looks, some with their charms, some with money (and probably bikes, jazzy mobile phones and tight jeans since I am talking of people in Bawana) but Vicky just managed to do that without making an effort. Credible sources have informed us all repeatedly that he enjoyed a huge fan-following in the girls’ hostel, something he never tried to find out much about himself for reasons best known to him.

Vicky probably came the closest in our gang to actually converting our fantasies about women into reality but humbly denied the opportunity choosing to think from the head rather than the place from where men usually think when it comes to women. The reference here is obviously Shakti Kapoor, a girl who was willing to literally do anything for him during one of the Engifests, by offering to “go to a room which is cozier”. We even kept a room ready for the action in our hostel which later became a store house for jhaadus etc. For this supreme act of self-penance and sacrifice Vicky was made the lifetime president of S.H.A.G Club (Single, Happy and Gay…Happy?!...Ya right, it was more like a pseudonym for a bunch of losers!), the club which all the single men formed in the hostel after repeated failed attempts to get a girlfriend!

I got along with Vicky on a personal note when it came to food. In all our outings, treats etc. irrespective of the occasion, venue etc. the decision of ordering was generally left to the two of us, something we gladly performed. While my knowledge of food and beverages was and probably will always be restricted to ghaas-phoos as people liked to call vegetarian fare, Vicky was also the top consultant for people in matters of choosing cigarettes, cigars and fine alcohol. The two of us also shared a passion for the street food and have sneaked out from the crowd to grab a bite more than once (Shankar Mkt., Chhola Bhaturas 8-)).

An amazing trait of Vicky’s personality is the calming effect he has on people. Most people generally tried to behave themselves in front of him. He’s the kind of guy you could always go to when you needed an ear to listen to. You were bound to come out of the conversation more cooled down and less convinced about your whole world coming to an end. If nothing else, he can help you delay that end for some time at least!

Vicky never did anything outrageous. So much so, that as I am writing this, I can’t think of one single incident where Vicky was the only star performer, biggest looser, scapegoat or the supreme hero. However, what is significant is that I can also not imagine any of the crazy, not-so-crazy, a little crazy and absolutely-not-crazy things we have done in college without him (YMCA dance, jhaado wars to name a few). He is and will always be an integral and indispensable part of the gang, even when we spread out in god knows how many directions. (One unfulfilled wish that I think I will always have w.r.t him is to study my MBA with him, but that’s not of any consequence now)

With his genius brains, Friday dressing, charming personality and sensitive heart I am sure Vicky will always do very well for himself in all spheres of life and win hearts. I am quite certain he will remain the amongst the nicest people I will ever come across in my life, a friend I will always feel proud of and a human being I will always feel lucky to have gotten a chance to know closely. I hope you continue to remain the way you are forever. God Bless.

With Best Wishes

Azeez

Written in March 2006

Shruti Dhingra!!!!!!!!

2007-01-30T09:23:00.000+05:30

“Here’s wishing you the very best for your life ahead-Azeez”

The above is the kind of language Shruti sends her greetings in on SMS…almost like mechanical outputs with no extra words, written only to convey the relevant message, very generic so that the same message can be sent to all the people and delivered precisely at 9AM on the relevant day. So I thought why not start this testimonial by giving Shruti a taste of her own medicine!

The above characteristic also summarizes Shruti to some extent. She is like a computer which will never perform an ‘illegal operation’ and performs whatever task is at hand with perfection, without the scope of any error. ‘Perfectionist’ is perhaps also the first word in Shruti’s dictionary and she gives the world no reason why it shouldn’t be. Whether its her academics, her dance or even trivial stuff like setting up her room (did I say ‘trivial’?!), every thing in her life has to be carefully planned to the minutest detail and executed with equal care. I am sure she uses set squares to check if stuff is kept at right angles on her table and she’s probably already planned what clothes her kids will be wearing on their 1^st birthday, what will be the colour of the walls in her house which she’ll buy after retirement, where she will go on vacation in 2017 and how much masala she will put in the Biryani that she makes when her colleagues come home for Christmas dinner in 2035. Needless to say, her planning and pursuit for perfection also translates into excellent results and achievements in all spheres and she is definitely proud of her methods.

The above paragraph would probably make Shruti sound like a scary and insane woman, which she’s absolutely not. There’s a totally different side of her which is much nicer, funnier and interesting and is responsible for making her one of us mortals. In fact, it’s hard to believe that the same person can have such a varying range of character traits as she does.

Shruti is the absolute queen of gossip of DCE with an insatiable appetite for the same. So much so, that whenever I will hear the word ‘gossip’ in the future I think hers’ will be the first name that will strike me. Any conversation with her, however serious, always comes around to her asking me if I know any gossip; and for her ‘any gossip’ literally means any gossip…she’s ready to listen to anything whether or not she is connected with it even remotely. It’s a different story that over the last few years she herself maybe responsible for generating a lot of gossip herself with a flurry of men falling for her like a pack of cards.

Shruti is also the biggest Bollywood freak that I know of. I don’t ask her whether she’s seen a film or not but ‘how many times’ she’s seen it. If there’s a film she’s seen just 2-3 times (in a theatre) then trust me its really really bad (the kind that get a single star in the reviews). So if you are a normal guy like me, only go and see a film if Shruti has seen it at least a dozen times, or else its really not worth it. What’s more…You’ve really had it if you tell her the name of a film you’ve not seen, because the second she gets to know this, she’ll volunteer with the story and make you hear it in all detail from the beginning to the part where the credits appear. She will just not understand that one can actually deliberately choose to not see a film voluntarily and your motive of avoiding a film because it had words like Saugandh, Sindoor, Prem, Bewafa etc. in its title is gone for a sixer.

Going for a sixer reminds me that she’s equally passionate about cricket. I used to have great fun in purposely criticizing the Indian team in front of her because it irritated her to the max…she just couldn’t take it. And if I ever had to choose a punishment for her then I’d send her on a date with Ajit Agarkar, that’s probably the only thing she totally abhorred (Baron’s GRE word list, Pg 3, second word from top in the left column) when it came to cricket (I bet she’s also thinking right now whether I was correct about the Baron’s part and trying to recall the correct entry at the mentioned place in the book!).

IEEE has been a significant part of my college life and it was also majorly responsible for making Shruti and me better friends after a period of not-so -much-being-in-touch (or maybe that period just appears that way now). The last year in IEEE unfortunately brought us more reasons to frown than to smile, especially because of two ‘outstanding’ individuals and one outstanding Branch Counselor (whose short term memory created frequent problems for us out of nothing…with all due respect to him though). Shruti and I were often left to clean up the mess created by others and I know only we could have done it. I don’t think people in IEEE would ever get to know how many times we managed to save others’ asses, though I am not quite sure why we did it for some people in particular.

IEEE also gave us countless hours of conversation (Read: Bitching) time about some people and things which totally deserved to be bitched about. I think both of us thoroughly enjoyed this because there were times when we were so frustrated and bugged with the things happening around us that bitching provided us with a great outlet to let out our steam. I am guilty of dragging Shruti in to several of my troubles in IEEE and I am doubly grateful that she willingly obliged on all occasions. IEEE has been a big lesson in handling people and ‘issues’ (remember this one?! ;-)) at workplace and having someone like Shruti on your side made life a lot easier. I think we made a great team there.

Shruti, from here on, I am sure you are going to move from one milestone to another. I sincerely hope all your five-year, ten-year, fifty-year and hundred-year plans work out and you keep getting what you want in life or else you won’t let the world around you rest in peace!

My family’s association with JNU or the part of Delhi I live in won’t end so soon and every time I’ll drive past this area even years down the line, I’ll have a pleasant reminder of you and the wonderful time we all had together in college. Perhaps, I’ll even stop by to check if some pretty girl is still standing there with her little bag and a laptop, waiting for a ride to college. I don’t think I’ll ever find her there again but will be content to know that she’s moved on and embarked upon journeys which mean a lot more…

With best wishes for success and happiness always

Yours truly

Azeez

Written in March 2006

Shambhavi Jha

2007-01-30T09:21:00.000+05:30

Any testimonial for Shambhavi, should ideally begin with some really peppy or dhingchak Bollywood number, for if there is a single word which can describe her fully, its ‘filmy’…very filmy. I wasn’t sure which one would be most apt for her, so I chose to skip it.

Whenever I am going to remember Shambhavi, amongst the first things that I am going to recall about her are her amazingly bubbly personality, her zest for life and her language and mannerism inspired more from Hindi cinema and Ekta Kapoor’s brand of television than anything else ever could be. And I don’t mean this in a negative way at all, for without this tadka and masala that she brought, all our conversations and gatherings in college would have been rather dull and boring.

If Shambhavi was around, you could never miss her. For either you could hear her singing zara-zara (although, if she had heard us sing it on the Nainital Trip, she would have probably never sung it again) or she would be busy trying to take your case or even cracking the kind of jokes which often even embarrassed me, a sharif-seedha-saadha guy (at least in front of the girls)! The best thing for guys about being with her was that we never had to check our behaviour or language in front of her (and I am not talking about Ayush here) because she made no effort to unnecessarily put on and behave like a sundar, susheel ladki like most of the other women on the planet. Shambhavi was always straight in your face, frank and bindaas…which is awesome. (I am saying that despite the fact that it was this very trait of hers’, which she exploited to the fullest while taking my case and put me in slightly embarrassing situations on more occasions than one!)

One of the weirdest and definitely most embarrassing things that I have ever done in college is judge the Blind Date competition in our final Engifest (Don’t ask me how I landed up in that shit!). Embarrassing though it was, it was very amusing and most certainly funny and the reason why it became so much fun eventually was because my co-judge for the event was Shambhavi. As much as I kept feeling out of place during the event, Shambhavi kept getting excited about the entire event and making me feel comfortable as if I was judging the Miss Universe Comptt. or something. In the end I think we did do a decent job and the questions we asked about burps and farts did do the trick!

I am going to carry countless happy memories of having had a great time with Shambhavi at movie outings (remember Armaan?!), birthday treats and of course spending evenings at type-V after my ‘rigorous fitness routine’ (showing off those ‘sexy legs’ as someone called them and I hope that person wasn’t joking ;-)), precisely for 2 semesters…the first and last only!). Her countless attempts at making us hear her singing, her filmy quotes and her pathetic (and usually pervert!) jokes will also always remain memorable.

Shambhavi is one person you will never have a dull moment with. I am sure she’s going to spread happiness and smiles everywhere she goes. She’ll make everyone around her live life to the fullest, for she herself doesn’t know another way to live it.

I hope she continues to be as effervescent and happy forever and life which lies ahead of her is like a song which she can sing to perfection. (With a lovely voice like she has, I don’t think that would be too hard!)

God bless and take care

With happiness, cheers and laughter

Azeez

P.S: Do keep in mind the alternate career path I suggested to you…script writing for Balaji Telefilms…you’ll be a star there I am sure

Written in March 2006

Saurabh “Gandalf” Choudhary

2007-01-30T09:17:00.000+05:30

As I am writing these testimonials (or dedications or whatever is an appropriate word for these), I am trying to make them sound as personal as they could be, so that the people about whom they are written can really relate to them. So, for Gandalf, to make sure that I write the best that I can about him, I stayed awake till 3AM before starting to write this. I have also just finished watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy back to back and have put on some really heavy metal music (loud noise in my dictionary) in the background to add to the effect. Some ghosts and aliens are also on their way to join me and give me their inputs for they know more about Gandalf’s life than humans do. And ya…I just had Desi-Ghee ke paranthe for dinner!

The first word that comes to my mind when I think of Gandalf is a “freak”! Amongst all the people I have ever known all my life, Gandalf is most definitely the most different and unique. I can probably understand the habits and eccentricities of all my friends, but this guy…he just beats us all.

By now, everyone knows that Gandalf has had the most ‘happening’ life ever on earth. His adventures, exploits and stories of things he’s seen from his own eyes are well-known. From men on scooters getting their head cut from kites to little kids appearing on his balcony out of thin air and from fires in his cousin’s office which leave everything charred except a perfectly working TV Tuner card to puking on his own cousin on his marriage; there’s an entire collection of incidents which are outrageously amusing to say the least. These can make up for the modern-day versions of dadi-nani ki kahaniyan for kids growing up in the 21^st century. I bet none of us have experienced anything even close to what this guy has managed to (and hence its only logical that if there is ever an alien landing in Delhi, it will have to be in Sec. 8, R.K.Puram).

And its not just things that have happened to him, its also some of Gandalf’s habits which are peculiar. Having a totally nocturnal life, not staying in the hostel for days together, running away from everything that has ghee in it and having a perpetually running nose are some of the things we have all just failed to comprehend and they continue to amuse us all the time. In fact, I remember once during the end sems, there was an entire GC session dedicated to him, when we had convincingly concluded with evidence that Gandalf is an alien living in amongst us living in human form (He might be the inspiration for MIB series too)!

Alien he may be, but I still like the guy a lot (“My Favourite Martian” ;-)) and I’ll always have loads of happy memories about him forever. He’s been a part and parcel of all the crazy stuff we’ve always done in the last few years and Gandalf will always be a shimmering star in the galaxy of life-long memories that I carry from college…memories that I am going to cherish forever.

Panache…the baby which we had all chosen to adopt and nurtured for over two years had Gandalf as its technical ‘baap’. In the days that built-up to the event, he gave me enough heart attacks, nervous-breakdowns and shocks (remember, the hundreds of phone calls and SMSs you never responded to?! And the deadlines which you never met!), but was at the same time the only guy who could pull me out of them. The only thing that made Panache click was the faith that we all had put in each other and the faith which none of us would have ever dared to break. I eventually realized that I had to let him be for him to do the magic for never for a second I could doubt his passion for Panache and in the end, we all know the magic that he created! Sorry man, for all the unnecessary nagging and pushing 8-) !

Gandalf’s skills with image morphing and video editing are more scary than impressive! You never know when he chooses you for his multimedia onslaught and turns you into a gorilla or a space commando or even a porn star (where’s Bobby?! ;-))! So many of us have had to face this digital threat that he poses all the time to our otherwise secure lives. I am sure Sameer Mehta is still looking for an opportunity to kill him.

Gandalf is a star in his own right. He’s the only guy with an entire forum dedicated to him on dcetech, the only guy who can make music the way he does, the only guy who can read the kind of stuff he reads and do the kind of things he does with himself. But behind all this jazz in his life and behind all the eccentricities that surround him, there’s a very simple guy called Saurabh, a guy with a heart of gold. A guy who values friendships, a guy who you can sit and talk to at peace, a guy who’s music can touch your heart, a guy who is warm and caring and a guy who you’d always want to have as a friend.

Gandalf “Saurabh” Choudhary, thank you for being the person that you are over the last few years that I have known you…whether freak or eccentric or whether from this planet or another, I really don’t care. The memories from ‘The Days of our Life’ as people call this time just can not be complete without thinking about you.

I hope your life is always as exciting and colourful as the Holi Bash at your place and continues to go KIDDDAAAAAAAAAH all the time…and every time anyone asks you WAAAAAAAZZZZUPPP you only have reasons to smile and be happy about!

With hugs, cheers, good wishes, love and lots of ghee and hankies

Your very own

Azeez

Written in March 2006

Nitish “T@!!@” Saraf

2007-01-30T09:14:00.000+05:30

In most cases the first impression that I form of any person continues to be my permanent impression of him. But till date, there has been just one exception to that rule, that being Nitish Saraf. From being a guy who I couldn’t stand at one point, he’s become someone whose dedication and commitment to life and people around him I can only admire. Over the last few years, nobody has matured as much as a human being as this person, and that, is the most fabulous thing about him.

A sine wave is perhaps the best representation of how my relationship with Nitish has been over the last few years. There have been ups and downs all the time but I think every time we made up to each other after a fight we became stronger friends. (Never mind the fact that I continue to No.2 on his hit list, the top honours going to target 766).

I am very sure that Nitish will be etched in our college memories permanently. There are countless instances of times when we really had a blast at his expense. He was the true punching bag of not just our group but at one point the whole college. His pet name, despite its grossness was more famous than any other pet name in the history of the college. I am pretty sure then even when we meet years and years later, it would be his pet name not his real name which would come out of our mouths instantly and his embarrassed wife and kids would just have to sit and listen; maybe they’ll start using it too!

Going by the number of times we celebrated his birthday every year (we did it every time anyone had a birthday), Nitish should be about 60 years old now. He would be the free package whenever anyone got beaten up in college for whatever reason. Earlier, he used to resist it but then later this practice had become so normal that he was prepared to get the pitai every single time anyone else was getting his ass kicked. He knew it just had to happen. Moreover, whenever a prank had to be played, T (Sorry, I will be using this name from here on…I was very uncomfortable writing his ‘actual’ name all this while) would be a natural victim, sometimes even if he planned it!

So, if T wasn’t there we would have probably not have had as much fun in college as we actually did. Thanks a lot T for the countless hours of entertainment we had at your expense! However, jokes apart…what is remarkable about the guy is his ability to take all this in good humor and in the right spirit. Any other guy might have gone mad, perhaps killed some of us or committed suicide with the amount of trouble we gave him, but T kept a smiling face all through. Of course there were some isolated instances when he exploded, but that is understandable. He had the right to do that. Even the best of us couldn’t take jokes on ourselves sometimes, and that’s when T’s example was exemplary.

Another thing I would remember about him always is his driving. He could give all the passengers goose bumps with the way he drove…almost like a video game. He would treat his Maruti 800 like a freaking F1 car. People would just sit quietly in his car when he drove, saying their (last) prayers. He would step on the gas really hard to make sure he would stay ahead of the other cars and would over-speed all the time but pretend that he was just being normal and staying within the limit. Even after paying hundreds of rupees in fine, he didn’t change. But then I guess, driving is T’s outlet…a time when he feels closest to god…so he didn’t’ mind. And of course there is no doubt that he had excellent control over the wheel and if you had to ask someone to drive for your life, it would have to be him.

Some of the most memorable moments of my college life have been in organizing Panache. We all slogged really hard to make it the success that it was, twice over. And whenever I think of Panache, I am compelled to think of T, for it would indeed have been impossible to do anything without him. He was probably the only guy who had as much passion to make Panache big as I had and that is what showed when he worked. Another word of gratitude for that T from my side.

If the first few years of college were spent in finding new ways to trouble him, the last few were spent in admiration of his efforts and achievements. His training, projects, papers etc. were things we all sat up and took notice of (Also his adventures in the red light areas of Amsterdam, twice in the same year!). He is probably the only real engineer amongst us. His marks may not show that but we know that he is technically the best amongst us to change a light bulb (that is the crux of electrical engineering for the whole world, isn’t’ it, that’s why I am saying it) ;-)!

T is a fighter. And by fighting I don’t mean fighting (ladai-jhagda) but sticking it out and persisting with what one wants to do (‘fight marne’ wala fight). Whether it was doing quizzes, internships, project, organizing something else or even pursuing the girl he liked, T’s ‘never say die’ ability always showed. He tried really hard and actually spared no effort in trying to make things work. I know he may think that a lot of his diligent efforts have gone waste, but I am very confident that sooner or later it would all pay off. I know it will…Kyunki fighter humesha jeetata hai!

(Sorry about the corny last line, but I think it just fit perfectly!)

Over the years he has developed in to a fantastic individual…calm, understanding, intelligent, mature, ______, _________, ___________. I am running out of adjectives here and hence the blanks. But the people he comes across in his life ahead can probably take the task up and complete the blanks. And I am sure they’ll only have superlatives in their mind when they do it.

Wishing you tones of peace, success and happiness always

Yours

Azeez

Written in March 2006

Ashutosh “Bombay” Tandon

2007-01-30T09:04:00.000+05:30

All’s well, that ends well…He who laughs last, laughs the longest…

Whenever I think of Bombay, there is an entire range of cliché’s which strike my mind, all of which hold perfectly true for him. Ashutosh Tandon is one guy who has really seen life change dramatically like nobody else in college. For almost a year company after company just could not find anything right in him and he faced more upsets than anybody else in our gang, one after another. But then, all of a sudden, he showed the world what he was capable of. He got a great job and an MBA admission to kill for. He proved to everyone who doubted him earlier that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. Infact, he proved that had been bloody right all along. The final semester of college was the arrival of Bombay and everyone sat up and took notice.

Bombay has always been the kind of person who likes to guide his life rather than letting life guide him the way it wants him to. He at least makes a sincere effort to do it. In many ways he is similar to Howard Roark from The Fountainhead. Roark is a man who is never convinced with the ways of the world and why people do things just for the sake of ‘surviving’ or making a place for themselves in this world by making compromises. Roark is a man who chooses suffering, loss and pain over success and comfort simply because he sticks to his ideals and principles and chooses to give himself and his ego the importance that they deserve. He comes across as an idealist idiot throughout the novel, but the important thing is that he ultimately wins in the end. He achieves everything mere mortals only dreamed to achieve…That too, on his terms and without making any compromises. Bombay is somewhere on those lines as well.

I wanted to give a special introduction to this write-up on Bombay but I think I did a little more than what I intended to do. After reading it, someone who doesn’t know Bombay would have started believing that this guy is not from earth, he was born in the stars or something. So, let me change the mood a little and describe other facets of Bombay and his life…

Not going back on any of the nice things I wrote about him, for all of us in college he was still very much one of us only…apna saada aasoo, a 2K2/EE guy, honorable member of the ‘elite’ south Delhi gang (or shall we say south Bombay!), my regular college drive mate, backbencher, a guy who started studying the night before the exams like any of us, a guy who wouldn’t shave for ages together and whose bed sheets have never changed in four years in college. Add to that his special knack of loosing things he carried with him at the most absurd of places.

There have been umpteen instances when Bombay has left his keys, mobile phone, jacket, bag, basket ball etc at the weirdest of places. He must have spent most of his mobile balance and a large chunk of his hostel time in recovering these things; making calls and visiting all the rooms he had visited again that day before loosing what he had lost.

Bombay is the grey-eyed wonder of the group. He spoke a lot through his silence. There was never any doubt in any of our minds if we had to pick who is the most “sahi banda” amongst us. He would have won the competition hands-down. He is one guy who has a spotless reputation, totally impeccable. One was certain that he would never have malice in his mind for anyone. We knew that if he was doing something, he wouldn’t be doing any wrong. And I am sure we all took pride in the fact that we had such a genuine human being amongst us.

Ashutosh…the journey of your life has just begun. It was indeed an honour (and I am using this word just for you and I mean it) to be in your company over the last few years and I would always be proud of the fact that I have a friend like you. For there are several friends one makes in college but there are few which command as much respect and admiration in my eyes as you do (and don’t ask me why now).

Go on, blossom…do well in whatever you do, find beautiful women, get a great job, see the world, conquer hearts and have a lovely life ahead of you. Just let those elusive eyes do the magic for you. I am sure the world will be yours and all its mortals will have the same song to sing for you…

“Zara Hat ke, Zara Bach Ke, Yeh hai Bombay Meri Jaan”

Lots of luck and good wishes

Azeez

Written in March 2006

Vivek “Bobbby” Venugopal

2007-01-28T22:41:00.000+05:30

If you ever a notice a slowly moving, fat, black thing which looks slightly like a walking bottle of Rum from a distance then don’t be mistaken…its Shri Vivek Venugopal a.k.a. Bobby.

(Actually, Bobby is spelt with a triple ‘b’ to give that extra punch when pronouncing his name, but to prevent the word processor’s spell check from going nuts, I will use the conventional spelling here)

Bobby is one guy who’s passed through several nick names, perhaps more than any one else I know in college and what’s funny is that each of them has had a proper reason for being kept. Mr.CV (M.R.C.V: Mota, Rondhu, Chipku, Venu), simply Venu, Gopal, Veenu (which is what Tiger called him), Dolly Bhai (inspired from Ek Hasina Thi), Maaloo (a name he just couldn’t stand on the rafting trip) and I think a few others. But the fateful one which really stuck was Bobby, kept when he made the mistake of not visiting the barber for a few months!

Bobby and I are arguably the oldest friends of each other in college, beating a few others by a matter of a few hours or even minutes. We spent a lot of time together especially in the first semester. I remember, there was this particular day when whatever Bobby said came out wrong and he really provided us with several hours of entertainment that day, rather unintentionally. It was on this day that his theories on the concept of a ‘return ticket’ and why there is a pocket on the strap of his Windows XP bag came into light and continued to make us laugh for a long time. I think they will continue to make me laugh even in the future whenever I think of them. His horrible experiences of reading ‘The Fountainhead’ in class and his repeated attempts at making me read his poetry (which was rather good, especially the lamppost one, but boring on many occasions…sorry man, I am being honest here!) are also some of the memorable things I can recall from our group-D days.

Bobby and I had a lot to share coming from the same alma mater. Our little SPV club had become rather big a few semesters into college and had great bonding too (we are all straight by the way). Bobby was also the only other guy who didn’t dance during the jam sessions and we gave each other good company on several occasions before I got corrupted in my way (when I stopped resisting the lovely ladies who dragged me on the dance floor) and he in his own (Ref: Old Monk ;-)!)

One of the funniest memories of Bobby that all of us will carry (as much as Bobby would want to forget it) is when he got really wasted during the final Engifest. He single handedly and without much conscious effort provided several of us, hours and hours of well-documented entertainment. The never ending high-fives, the pakdan-pakdai and the straight from the heart dialogues (“Yaar aaj achcha nahin hua, main naach nahin paaya”) were funny to say the least. What was funnier was his opening statement the next day…”Maine sharab peeni chhod di hai!”. Even if it was true, it was hilarious in the context.

Bobby has a wider range of taste in music and entertainment than anybody else you would ever come across in your life. He is responsible for opening my ears and eyes to so many kinds of music, movies and entertainment avenues (he’s the undisputable champion of a particular kind of cinema…the kind with no names, remember?). From the Trilok Gurtus to GNR and from Seinfeld to Vivid Entertainment, Bobby has seen that, heard that…and that is one helluva range to master!

On a more serious note, Bobby is a very deep and sensitive guy. He doesn’t talk much (we always wonder “Bobby nu ki kua?”), shout much, run around much (well, that might be a physical impossibility, but anyway) or get excited like the rest of us. He always seems to be in deep thought, taking in each moment of his life with care and caution. But there is a lot that he can convey through his silence too. Some of his writing is an indication of his depth of character. He is sensitive and is a great listener when you have to let your steam out about anything or anyone. You just have to give him a cigarette and make him sit precariously on the balcony wall of your hostel room and he’ll listen to anything you have to say.

Bobby’s characteristic black shirts and his way of sitting (like Ajith, the loin) with a cigarette (remember, the bet I had with you about smoking in first sem) in his mouth are images which will strike me instantly whenever his name will come up even decades down the line. What will strike me next is what a great guy he is and what an amazing time I had with him in college (and also what an awesome ‘gadda’ he had). The memories of the best years of my life can never be complete without a special ingredient called Bobby in them.

Bobby you are a lovely guy and I hope you know that…Do well, rise and shine and be happy wherever you are, whatever you do.

And ya…thanks a lot for everything in the last four years…I am going to remember it forever!

Love and Good Wishes

Azeez

Written in March 2006

Ayush “Baby” Srivastava

2007-01-28T22:23:00.000+05:30

Chhota Buchha Jaan Ke Hum Ko Na Samjhana Re… (Tipitipi-Tapdum)

Nanha Munha Raahi Hoon, Desh ka Sipahi Hoon…

I have been trying to write pieces such as this for all my friends for a few days now, but for writing about nobody in the gang have I felt the way I am feeling now…that is a little skeptical. Skeptical because Ayush’s reactions to everything in the world are so ‘straight in the face’ that sometimes one feels a like being punched straight on the nose. Earlier, it used to bother me a lot…but not anymore, because, I do realize that whatever he does, however he reacts is almost always without any pretence, it is honest and frank. And that can only be a good thing.

This behaviour also extends to his language. No matter who is in front of him, even women, expletives and taunts flow so freely from his mouth that they aren’t even noticed distinctly. And even if they are, nobody minds them because people realize that its his natural way of talking and he is not putting on a certain kind of behaviour to behave in any way different from he would behave in front of other people. So, for Ayush…WYSIWYG…straight from the heart…and that is something very few people do.

There are rare instances when Ayush has tried to overcome his natural instincts and try to act in a more ‘sensitive’ way…but on all such occasions he has failed miserably. A depressed person will instantly burst into laughter the moment he finds even Ayush really trying hard to sympathise with him. Some notable examples have been instances when people have been trying to express how wrong their love lives have gone or how they think about not being able to crack CAT or get a job etc. when one little remark from Ayush has been able to change the mood of the entire gathering instantly. I’ve also heard that on a particular movie outing which I missed, he has single handedly managed to convert a sensitive film like Black into a laugh riot. That is something only he can manage with his sharp remarks.

Ayush’s one-liners are legendary. You never know when they are coming…and if they come up against you then you know you’ve had it. Ask T, he’s faced the brunt of them more often than anyone else. But all this should not make you think that Ayush is a heartless and insensitive guy, he’s not…Don’t worry Ayush…despite your best efforts to conceal it…we definitely and firmly believe that you have a heart (“Mere paas bhi dil hai aur mera dil bahut bada hai”) and I am sure its going to take you places.

On a slightly different note, I think Ayush’s skull might be larger than most other people. Not only does it accommodate a lot of brains (“Bahut Dimag hai Ayush mein”) but I think it also accommodates an entire refrigerator. Nothing else, if anything, can explain how he manages to keep his cool in the worst of times. Come what may, if there’s any person who will never loose his cool, it is Ayush. I don’t know if this is a gift from God, but whatever it is I am sure its going to be his most valuable asset throughout his life.

And did I mention a lot of brains…quite literally he does…what a normal mind processes in one hour, he does in one minute…which is remarkable to say the least. It also has its harmful effects on people around him who’ve suffered from near cardiac arrests seeing Ayush perform feats such as sleeping for ten hours before the Thermo exam when they themselves are left with half the syllabus to finish.

From his skull to skills…he would probably best be remembered for his computer proficiency. Theoretically, he is probably the best trouble shooter for everyone’s computer related problems. But, when it came to his own computer…he was probably its worst enemy. From motherboard to mouse, there is not a single part of his computer which has not been replaced or damaged. And don’t even talk about formatting…he formats his machine as often as brushing his teeth. I think he could even say that as an answer to “What do you do in your free time or what are your hobbies?” type of questions in interviews.

Ayush’s hostel room is another site to see always. When you open the door, you are bound to step on anything ranging from a computer peripheral to toothpaste, from his mosquito net to underwear…everything in his room has a probability of one of being found anywhere in his room. His legendary Kodak camera with a battery life of one photo per charge cycle and his van which runs of more on god’s blessings than fuel are some of the other things which will always be remembered whenever I think of him in the future.

One mission which Ayush relentlessly pursued throughout our college life was the hunt for the perfect “Hot Chick”. Sadly enough, Ayush’s search for the elusive “Hot Chick” has remained incomplete thus far. But going by the luck he’s had (and yes his brains, dedication and hard work, towards achieving his dreams ;-)), I am sure whenever the search ends, its going to end in a special way and its going to go great for him unless he once again makes the mistake of taking the girl out for Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines!

I am going to miss the numerous car rides every week, the burgers at “McDees”, the daily fights he had with Chhote, the wise cracks, the hostel fun, the ganging up against East Delhi and T, the numerous movies and episodes of Joey we enjoyed, the hunt for chicks (and in particular a certain Ms. Malvika Oli, 2K2/EE/766.5!) and everything else that we have been a part of over these years together.

You are the last person who needs to be told this…but I hope you enjoy every moment of your life from here on!

With Best Wishes

Azeez

Written in March 2006

DCE Memories: Automatic Writing

2007-01-28T22:05:00.000+05:30

The following is what is called 'Automatic Writing'; unorganised, random words which come to one's mind when you think of a theme. There is a series of pieces I wrote called 'Nostalgia Writings' in the final semester when the thought of moving on from college and hostel was rather overbearing. Here's an automatic writing piece on the same theme....

The VVS LAN

That leaking geyser

Shakti Kapoor’s Room

Dinner time at the mess

The whistling across the corridors

My pathetic attempts at whistling ending up in just releasing saliva and air

Gandalf’s sleep

Vicky, Bobby, Sonny

Hi5 fever

Reliance ka internet

Ayush’s formatting

Bombay’s lost keys and mobile phone

Attempts to talk on the phone with all the guys beating my door

The after dinner walks

Vicky’s party animal dressing

The alien landing in Sonny’s room in summer afternoons

Jhadoo-Wars

YMCA dance

Apsara, Chit-Chat, Pizza hut and Som-ji-Som

Chaurasia Paan

Copying assignments

The expo hall quizzes

Quiz outings and treats

The walks to T5

Birthay Bumps

Night mess

Porn

Sonny’s stories

Bobby’s rants

Meri fatti hui halat after seeing how much syllabus Ayush has covered

The placements

The build-up to CAT

Metro rides

Thermo lab at Kashmere Gate

Mishra and LND

Troubling Anuradha in the EC lab

Hot Chix

Vaibhav’s drinking and driving

Cakes from home

The AC in the new library

Book bank

Anuradha’s food on Mondays

The weekly car rides

Missed calls

Free SMS on Trump and ADU on 8888

The feeling when the result came out

Kotha

Music on Creative 2.1

Arbit all night GC sessions

DPs

Panache

The dream that it was

The bonding

The euphoria and ecstasy when it ended

Chhola-Bhaturas for Rs.14 in CP when everyone else is spending 200 bucks

East Delhi and South Delhi

Bloody Day Scholars

Gandalf’s adventures

David Gray, Superstar, Nothing else matters

T ki lena

Chhota and his ‘day-schi power’

Masti Dahi in T5

Engifest

Troika

Bobby’s concept of a return ticket and his XP bag

Tiger’s yelling

Cheese Bougets at Wenger’s

Workshop apron

Jagga

Pabbu

The checking in Ayush’s room in the middle of the night on the top floor

ED sheets

The holi bash

Grad party, hostel nite, farewell

Solanki ka katna

Bitching about Kharbanda and Siddharth

Hooting at Engifest

SP and Naali’s daredevil acts

The Nainital trip

Rafting

Jim Carrey’s ‘What is Love’ Video

Frustrated Sir-jee

TT in BMH

NSIT ko gaaliyaan

Polymounts

Admin Block ki bheed

Baba

University Challenge

Shambhavi’s apparently innocent sounding perverted remarks

Shruti’s perpetual state of exclamation

Anuradha and why alcohol must be consumed

Ayush’s van and his digicam

Crushes

Night-outs

COE & EE ke dost

Kleptomania of Yoodi

Andy ke papa

IIM ke sapne, sirf sapne

Mock CATs

H2H sessions about relationships

Complaining about how easy COE and EC people had it in college in comparison to EE

Game Bajana

“Adventure”

Teri…

Samsung v/s Nokia mobile phones

Going for breakfast together

Singing American Pie

Friends

Photos

First year, second year, third year and final year

Delhi College of Engineering

Written in April 2006

School Days: A Lost Paradise

2007-01-28T21:50:00.000+05:30

Its not been too long since I left school, infact, its not even been six months. Strangely, it appears that several years have gone by. It appears its been ages since I was last a school-going boy.

What is it that was so special about school? What is it that always makes me want to go back there? An institution, which had become a part and parcel of my life for fourteen long years, is suddenly out of it, at least in the physical sense of the word.

When I was a school-going boy, I always loved holidays. Any ways, any methods or anything that could create a holiday was appreciated. Selfishly enough, death anniversaries, festivals, functions, riots and even curfews anywhere in the world were always welcome for they came with an absolute certainty of bringing with them a valuable day off from school. Its rather ironical that now, when I have a permanent holiday from school, I always want to go back there.

There was much more to school than just academics and the usual co-curricular stuff. I think it was the entire experience of togetherness amongst friends, juniors, seniors, teachers and everyone else, which was most special. Togetherness with peers, togetherness in the field, togetherness in the lab were the things whose importance we, as schoolmates realise only now. We realise it now, when each of us has gone our own way, taken our own little paths in this big bad world outside. In a few years from now, someone amongst us will be an engineer, someone a doctor, someone an artist, someone a lawyer; all of us, offshoots of the same tree which nurtured us, protected us and made us strong enough to face the world outside.

There are certain things which we will always miss. Things which may seem extremely trivial, but things which we will never be able to do again in our lives. Their beauty lies in their simplicity and the innocence with which they were done.

Classes in school began at 8:30 A.M and 9 o’clock was the unofficial lunchtime. A person whose mother had laboured for an hour, early in the morning to make delicious paranthas would probably not even be lucky enough to taste an atom of his mother’s love. Before even he could switch his mind from one subject to another, a dozen friends would have already devoured his poor paranthas. As a token of courtesy however, he was always asked to thank his mother for the wonderful lunch with an additional request to multiply the quantity the

next morning. The poor chap had to be content with dosas and vadas bought from the canteen for which too there were friends, eager to help him finish his meal.

Then there were the games periods. While the girls were happy playing basketball and volleyball, the boys mostly sweated out with football. With most of the football talent of the school gone to the humanities and commerce streams, it was left to us, the ‘nerdy’ science students to play the game, without making the founder of the game embarrassed somewhere up in the heaven. And I do not think we were very successful in doing so. It was bound to happen this way, because before every kick was taken factors such as velocity, viscosity, angle of projection and air turbulence were carefully considered. The laws of projectile motion were applied and only then, a kick taken. Very often there were calculation mistakes and hence the ball went north when aimed east, south when aimed west. Whatever be the circus that we created on the field, it was the spirit of the game which won each time (despite the physical battles, heated arguments and fights which were not so uncommon every time a match was played!).

There were also the usual classes to balance out the academic side of school life. Long, grueling lectures of Maths, Physics and Chemistry took our minds on journeys from the world of Newtons and Einsteins to the far reaches of the universe. Often when the teachers were trying to enrich us with the knowledge of differential calculus and similar topics, our minds wandered outside, outside the boundaries of the classroom; into the fields, the canteens and the open skies. Many brave men even managed to escape this all by engaging in an activity called ‘bunking’, leaving others in the class only to curse their own fates. All of us were however not really that bad after all. We did get down to serious hardwork when it was needed. We had to, really, with the IITs and Roorkees for which we chose to appear, in addition to countless school tests and exams.

‘Science is the art of experimentation’, it is said, and we certainly did plenty of that. HCl when NaOH was needed, Sodium when Potassium was needed, even acid when water was needed, we did it all in the name of science. It was also because many of us had the hidden desire of becoming Nobel laureates, and we hoped that someday by accident or by what the teacher would call foolish experimentation, we might actually land up with something different. Moreover, if that happened, we would be recognised as scientists and will not have to do this trivial ‘school stuff’ ever again in our lives, but all this was still a dream. Burnt labcoats, torn copies and broken apparatus was a common site and the only reality everywhere. Work was just a part of this entire ‘learning’ experience, which I thought we did rather well. By the time we finished our jobs, our labcoats’ condition could be described best only by our ‘dhobis’, who had the painful job of washing them. It would not be an exaggeration to say that at the end of the day they were probably not even good enough to qualify as ‘jharans’.

There were also numerous inter-school and on-campus activities to participate in. We represented our school in several quizzes, events and competitions and won laurels for the institute. People loved to miss school and go for these events but at the same time, were keen to return before school ended. This was to simply to show the trophies that we brought back to our class and celebrate together, our moment of glory.

The bus-rides everyday were another feature of school life. The morning journey was mostly spent in serious discussions about the hopeless performance of our cricket team, or about Osama Bin Laden or sometimes even academics. The afternoon journey back home was a time to narrate the day’s happenings to friends, crack and laugh madly on stupid jokes. Picnics, outings and trips were other stunning highlights of school life.

By the time December came we started to realise that all this fun and the beautiful journey of which we were a part of is not going to last very long. We realised that in a short time there will be no more of the lunches we stole, clumsy football we played, chats we had, the fun with friends and even no more exams. Well, that sounded strange because never before we could imagine that there could even be a world without exams, which always seemed so long and never-ending. Very soon the boards came and soon after the entrance exams. Life kept us all busy during summer with numerous entrance exams and the long admission procedures. Before even we realised, we were all in colleges, spread across the country and even outside it. In lesser time we ever thought we were all out in different directions, each one to carve out a niche for himself in the challenging world outside.

Fourteen years back we came to the school as young saplings. The school played the role of a perfect gardener who cared for us, protected us, and nurtured us, giving us everything essential for our growth. When the gardener felt that the sapling had matured enough to brave the heat, cold, rain and thunder outside on its own; he left us. He left us to grow on our own and become big and strong trees, the ones that were beautiful and above all which bore fruits. Fruits of hardwork and sweet success. For this invaluable contribution, wherever we go from here now and whatever we do in life, our school will always bear a very special place in our hearts. A place which is respectable, admirable and definitely irreplaceable.

Written for 'Apurva Chitra' in December 2001