Random Ramblings

Love him or hate him. You just can’t ignore him. That has been the case of our music director turned singer turned pop-star turned actor Himesh Reshammiya. So, when his debut movie Aap ka Surroor (based upon one of his music albums with same name) released, it was bound to be in the news. Last Friday a group of nearly 15-20 people, including me went to catch this magnum opus . The promos offered an ample scope for masala in the movie, and that was the main reason for going to see it, rather than catching some good cinema! We all decided to wear caps to PVR, but only a handful followed the dress code. My cap coupled with unshaven looks made me appear like a true Himesh fan, and I felt proud of it, especially when I was about to watch a probably classic! The entry of the hero with a song As-salaam-walaikum generated a tremendous applause. He sang each and every song in the movie, apart from chanting Gayatri mantra and Dard e Dil from Karz . Nearly every dialogue he said generated t

After a failed attempt at jogging, I roamed about aimlessly when an idea struck me to have a ride in a cycle, couple of which is lying in the “recreational area”. I was longing since long to ride a cycle sans motor. There was no particular reason for this feeling; it was that just I wanted to have a ride. The 2-3 km ride was a tiring experience, especially for one who is having this after a long time; but I was gleeing all along. As an infant, I loved going about in a tricycle. Then I became too big for it and got a cycle. After several attempts and many falls, I mastered the art. I used to flaunt it in front of my friends, who flaunted theirs. As I entered teens, the bicycle seemed smaller; so I got a bigger cycle. As years progressed, I learnt to ride a 2 wheeler. Now I started to find the bicycle too childish for my tastes. I tried to reason out why I should get a 2-wheeler to go to a particular place. Sometimes I succeeded to get it, and sometimes I didn’t and had to go around in

A wierd kind of feeling has been making me feel wierd since few hours. I wish to sleep, I long for it after a tiring day, yet I decide against it for some time. I longed for wi-fi connectivity in my laptop, but am not feeling like using it. I felt like spending hours in air conditioned library and computer centre of institute, but am spending time in hot and humid weather. I feel like having a nice stroll, yet my will powerfails me after pain in my legs after a round of partly unsuccessful atempt at jogging. I wish to finish up some long pending tasks, but feel like leaving it up to 'tomorrow'. I long for solitude to spend time with myself, yet the silence seems too be so deafening. I long to converse to some friends, but then for no reason I feel like not troubling them with my blabbering. I wish to write something endlessly, but words words fail me.

It was the peak hour in Bangalore. I just needed to cross the road and drop a cheque at an ATM. I expected to be back in 2 minutes. But it wasn’t going to be an easy journey. It was the 100 feet ring road in Koramangala at 8 PM on a weekday. People were returning after another mundane day at their office. There were bikes, cars, buses and more and more of the 3. The traffic signal (which is not usually followed) was a bit far away. So why was I supposed to spend those extra few minutes. So I just went with the shortcut. There were four stages. Two lanes while going and two while coming. So I began my journey. Stage 1: The vehicles were coming at full speed. I waited for more than two minutes, but wasn't able to make a first move. Then I decided " bahut ho gaya ... ab to cross kar ke hi rahunga ". So, there I went. But I was soon on back foot as I was nearly knocked down by a speeding car. He blurted some abuses at me which I couldn't hear due to clamoring of vehicles

One of my friends let us call him AK got admission into an IIM. Being a sarkari institute there are some conditions to be fulfilled. One of them is physical and mental fitness certificate (or sanity certificate!) from a civil surgeon or its equivalent. This entails rounds to one of the many sarkari hospitals, as the ones from private practitioner are not allowed. So began my not so long, yet a long journey through few government hospitals of the city for a work that was supposed to last few minutes. First was the Jaideva Institute of Cardiology. But there they declined stating that that is an autonomous institute. We left thinking that “Hadh hai … autonomous hua to kya hua … hai to sarkaari … and these stupid requirements of the Institute”. But we got the address of next location and continued our quest. Next location was Sanjay Gandhi hospital for accident. The doctor had gone for breakfast and we were told to wait for few minutes. We kept on bugging the receptionist/ nur

These days almost every TV channel has its own talent hunt show, inspired by Indian Idol, showcasing judgement and other talent of of who is who of the music industry. Some of them even managed to have warring personalities like Annu Malik and Alisha Chinoy to share the same dais. The talent is often amazing, yet at times it seems so melodramatic, so contrived. Each disappointment comes with a Pandora box of emotions, and then some inspiring and some harsh words by the judges. Who knows how much truth is there in it. For example a recent 'speech' by Himesh, “Mujhe tere ghar roti chahiye!” Maybe it was a promotion of his acting talent before Aap ka suroor releases. And then there are participants making a case for themselves, so that people vote in their favor. Yet, few survive this ruthless competition. And then comes a flurry of emotions, probably with an attempt to influence the decision. But it seems, this has become more of a norm then exception. More often than no

Recently I read a quote in TOI: " What is difference between Indian democracy and American? Ans. In American demoracy it is OK to kiss in public, in Indian it is OK to pee in public but not to kiss in public " Moral police, what do you say? Probably you would love people to be forever in the dark and not make any choice out of their will, but rather they would love to see them towing to their line of thought, or rather lack of it, pollute the culture of free will and people taking responsibility for their actions (if it exists !), and ransack the place where they read this thing, if at all they do.

Why is it that we often dream about those things which we know we won’t be able to get, and even if we get it, the price may be too heavy? And yet dream on till it becomes too painful to live without that dream. And become a prisoner of your own dreams; the dreams that were supposed to set you rolling, dreams that ought to give direction.

The vegetable vendor yelled. It had been an hour since she ventured out in a somewhat posh locality to sell vegetables. This has been her routine since around a decade. She made a small profit in a day and on some good days the profit touched Rs 100 mark. But in most of the days it was much less than it. She managed few hundred rupees, usually breaching the Rs 1000 mark a month. That was barely enough to make her family earn a decent living. She had been living with her 3 children, which she had before leaving her abusive, alcoholic husband. Like many others she dreamed that her children will have good education. She was an illiterate but she understood the importance of education for good living. This was one of the reasons she did not allow any of her children to work, though occasionally they helped her. Today seemed a bad day. Not even a single buyer since an hour. Finally one lady showed up. She was a 30 something, stout, seemingly snobbish lady with loads of make up. She cam

“ Churchgate", I said. He dumped my luggage into the boot space and went to the driver’s seat. He was a man probably in his late 50s, seemed like a person who hardy opened his mouth, so unlike many drivers who start blabbering the moment you step in the taxi. A tall man, with some hairs white, though they were mostly covered by a cap, rather a hat. His face wasn’t visible, especially in the dim light little after sunset. But fifteen minutes in the journey which would take probably an hour, his baritone voice started talking. He was quite amazed by the level of ignorance I had about Mumbai. I told him that I belong to a small town near Allahabad. He also belonged to Allahabad. And then came numerous discussions from government policies to sports to Indian economics. He revealed that he left his hometown in his 20s and is has been a long since then. He had a daughter who was married and a son who would be getting married shortly. However, I didn’t go deep into his personal life