Go Figure

A part of me has always been a little peeved as to the fact that all my (attempts at) prose have always been in English. I have always marveled at people who write beautifully in Hindi making full use of the nuances of the language. So for all those times when I have wondered WHY I cant pen down something in Hindi:

Kabhi Kabhi (Sometimes)
Yaadein Aati Rahein (Memories kept coming back to me)
Fir bhi (Still)
Hum tum rahe (You and I remain)
Ajnabee (Strangers)

Two things come out very clearly out of the above. Firstly at least now we all know WHY :) and secondly I wont die wondering. Sorry for subjecting one and all to my first and last pathetic attempt at it.

Life is beautiful

Most of us have been brought up being told to respect the sanctity of life and that we don’t have any right to take away any individual’s right to live. However as a kid as I tried to grasp the complex issues of life, death and other issues in that ballpark I remember noticing many divisions created by man concerning this very simple rule for the sake of our convenience that have probably blurred as I have grown older. I used to wonder what gave man the right to consider the human life as the most important life form in the entire chain of species. I used to think if being at the top rung of development gave us a right to classify and rank life and say that the life of a person is more important than that of chicken, cow, deer or even an insect. How can we scream murder at the event of a death of a human being and still not bat an eye lid when announcing hunting seasons across the globe for pleasure, or squashing a bug or a mosquito in our living room or even while eating non-veg during various meals? How does the eating of plants after killing them place the vegetarians on a higher moral ground to read out lectures to the non vegetarians? How can a killing of bugs in houses by use of pesticides be differentiated from the mass genocides in various countries by a hate propaganda driven government? Should the killing of an ant squashed beneath some kid’s feet attract lesser attention that the death of some gangster shot dead by a stray bullet just because the former doesn’t stare us in the face? For that matter should the assassination of a world leader attract more of our attention span than say the death of a child after starving from hunger in a third world country?
Just some points to ponder over as I tried to get through my initial observation as to how we have placed the human life above all other life forms that have co existed with us for ages even though we all were probably treated to our share of lessons on how a life is a life no matter who it belongs to.

P.S. On a lighter note have any of you ever wondered that even though we are told that the soul never dies and its only the human body that dies, HOW the world population keeps on burgeoning by every passing minute?

Posers and Clickers

After the last post and an inexplicable global out pour of sympathy and pity (which is totally welcome btw) for me I have decided to stay away from writing any posts for a while which might be deemed as remotely relating to my personal life :).
For all those who think I am here to start a debate on digital cameras vs. the film cameras or the merits of a photo albums as against the digital picture library you couldn’t be more wrong as right now right here I will TELL you digital cameras are the best thing to have happened to the world of cameras since the invention of the ………camera. Also photo albums will always continue to hold an old school charm over the digital pictures. Now that I am very that we are on the same page with regard to the above issues I will come back to the 3 things that constitute the making of a photograph i.e. a poser, a clicker and a ….camera. What is that again…..we have discussed that before. Oh ok all the more better as I can go ahead and address some real issues with the rest of this post now. So returning to the real issues we all are familiar with the posers and clickers of our own treasured world of photographs. The posers are people you will invariably find part of every possible picture that you might possess provided that he was within a one mile radius of the pic being taken. It does not matter whether he/she is a 6 month old toddler or a 60 year old veteran, whether the picture is taken atop the Mt. Everest or under the depths of the pacific, whether they are dressed up in a tux or barely finding time to put on their birthday suits, they will always find time to make it to the picture and beam a 400watt dazzler rendering all you flashes redundant. These are people who have hypersensitive ears that prick up at the sound of a camera click and possess superhuman powers to put in just in time dives in front of flashing cameras that would even put Jonty Rhodes to shame. These people are often mistaken to be the birthday boy/girl at birthday parties, the most active and ever present member of vacations, what the hell they can even be often confused as the only ones celebrating New Year on those New Year parties. On the other hand of the spectrum are the clickers a breed who continued absence from all pics leaves them fielding questions on what they have doing all these years? They are the reclusive sort who would much rather prefer a behind the scene role wielding the camera. These people will hold a mysterious majority possession of all those dream cameras that you drool over after those commercials. They have all the possible concepts about lighting, camera angles and all other possible facets of photography figured out already. They will often to found in every tenth picture sporting an awkward face forming part of the foreground.
The lines between the posers and clickers are not very hard and fast and blur on a lot of occasions with not the best of results necessarily. A poser will avoid being a clicker at most times deliberately leaving behind his own camera home to avoid missing out on being part of pics. However occasions when a poser if forced to be a clicker via means of threat or emotional blackmail will result in a lot of deliberate out of focus and horrible set of pics to avoid any such future torture. In the case of a role reversal a clicker will show up in pics sporting a very very rusted and not so toothy smile and a general impression that he/she would have given his/her right hand off to be anywhere else other than the pic.
So in this world divided into posers and clickers which camp do you stand in?, unless of course if you are a camera ……….Sorry bad joke :)

Estranged

Here's a follow up post on acrostics.

Emptiness threatens to turn all encompassing
Subservient as a means to the end
There's no love lost
Ripples of a love that has been lost
And to think someone said it's all fair
Now one should look to the future they say
Ghosts of the past haunt me every second
Endlessly I would rather die trying
Definitely preferable than being eaten up alive

Toy Story 3

After surprisingly having made a lot of sense with my last post its time I pip the other end of the scale with some unmitigated kitsch.

One day the three of us decided to fly off the shelf
With great pride I present the adventures of I, me and myself
First on my way there was this duh called George Bush
He couldn’t even speak properly I screamed Shhhhhhh
Next on my way I saw this kid known as Harry Potter
He was worried though something abt all the competition from LOTR
Anyways I moved along till I saw this Aishwarya Rai
Must say I was dazed till I saw her pet monkey Vivek Oberoi
Heartbroken I reached some caves belonging to an Osama Bin Laden
Gosh he looked mean, I kicked is ass as he kept crying for pardon
This was all there was of my first adventure
However I shall be back if this journey finds favor
Your comments are the sponsors keep em flowing
So my journey around the world can keep on going

S W A D E S

I love that every second person on the street is a walking map quest
I love that the traffic cop round the corner let me off two days in a row for not wearing the helmet after checking the empty contents of my wallet
I love it when my mom cribs about my neighbors not returning her utensils
I love it when mommy makes sure she sends over the every bowl of new dish she tries out to my neighbors
I love it when my mom tells my maid she’s gonna cut her money for the days she doesn’t show up for work
I love it when she makes she adds a Diwali bonus on top of the complete maid's salary at the end of the month
I love that my neighbor’s kid spends more time in my house than his own
I love that everyone on my floor in my apartments is like one big family
I love it that everyone waves back to school kids waving from their school buses
I love it when every second car I ask a lift from stops over readily (even more when the driver is a pretty female)
I love that I can always run next door to ask for curd or salt or sugar with a small bowl in my hand
I love it that I’ve never missed a day of school the days I missed the bus and my dad was on tour thanks to my neighbors
I love that the owner of the house whose window panes we broke the previous day is playing cricket with us the next day
I love it that I have no idea how many friends of mine are Hindus, Muslims, Christians or Sikhs
I love it when I see crowds in the stadium give a rival team a standing ovation during their victory lap after a cricket match
I love it that the poor water vendor makes sure he gives out a free glass of water to the street side beggar
I love when the neighborhood ruffian makes sure he gives extra breathing room for the old lady standing by him in a crowded bus
I love it when a critical accident victim doesn’t always have to depend on the blood bank for a bottle of blood to live
I love it when I see this pony tailed guy with 6 piercings bends down to touch his elderly’s feet at the airport
I love it when the neighborhood toughie stand in a corner and feed stray dogs biscuits when no one’s watching
I love that I don’t need stupid excuses like thanksgiving and Christmas to get together and meet up with my family
I love it that even at 2 in the night standing alone in the middle of a lonely alley I feel at HOME

This post is inspired by all the above and a million other reasons which make India the best country in the world and Delhi the best place to be in the world, Pointy's latest post, all the emotions that come to the surface whenever I listen to 'Ye Jo Des Hai Tera' and the sickness that needs to be classified as the most communicable and fastest spreading one - homesickness.

Life's Mastercard

Boarding the 10 am route no. 623 everyday: Rs.8
A bunch of flowers along with a box of chocolates: Rs.75
Bribing the girl's hostel guard for 3 years: Rs. 1,500
Small marriage reception consisting of friends: Rs.3,700
Honeymoon in the backwaters of the Venice of the east: Rs.42,000
Four months of court hearings for alimony settlement: Rs.5,00,000
Waking up everyday hoping to find her on her side of the bed: Priceless

Wats cooking !

I remember back in 3rd or 4th grade having made fun of this guy in my class when he went ‘My mom is a good cooker’. I must have hurt him real bad or something because I am sure he cursed me such that the words ‘My mom is a good cook’ (as he stood corrected thereafter) have come to haunt every passing day of my life for the past two and a half years. As I left the comforts of my home I discovered that I didn’t really cover myself in glory when it came down to cooking. I mean leave aside the fact that my mom really kick ass any day anytime anywhere when it comes down to cooking and that I even hung around the kitchen a lot more than my brother (ah ok I will admit it was for grabbing the first hot paranthas off the pan or to lick away the cake mix off the beater or something), the plain fact was that I just couldn’t cook to save my life at that time. I mean back in India I used to look at those cooking shows disdainfully as to how people could make a living just cooking up stuff on TV and then getting to eat it too. I mean what was all that, it was a literal TV telecast of the saying baking your cake and eating it too and well while you are at it please collect your paycheck on your way out too. Also I could never understand why they always would never give out the correct amount of salt to be put in the stuff they prepared on TV always going 'salt as per taste' (or swad anusar as I recall). I mean what was with that, there’s always a right amount of salt that needs to be put in any dish and that is exactly why you have the salt mixed in all dishes served to you at restaurant and nobody gives out salt pouches along with served dishes. Anyways I realized pretty soon that this attitude had not stood me in good stead as I set down to prepare my first meal after coming to States.
So I decided to take it easy with my first outing and went in for a real easy dish on the Indian cuisine – the khichri (for the uninitiated it is a simple steamed mixture of rice and pulses). So while you might think that I should have managed to pull it off without a hitch and set myself on the road to becoming the best cooks ever I just have one special tip. You never ever make khichri with something that physically resembles salt but is quite the opposite chemically and in taste. Well it wasn’t as bad as you are picturing it in your mind, I somehow managed to salvage the dish. Anyways after my baptism by fire I have practiced hard over the past 2 off years at this art (the trick is to always have a taster in place who is not really 'you' :) ) and I have gotten better at it. Unfortunately I realize most of my fellow men are not quite so blessed with that kind of time or manpower to bump away as testers, or even blessed with skills to pick up the tricks of the trade so fast. So I just thought it would be fitting if I ended this post with tricks leant on my journey on how they can recover their food in case they have thrown in an extra ton of salt in it. I know this may sound like a piece of cake too all you females out there but do you realize that there are millions of guys in this world cooking for themselves who go hungry for over 100 reasons (out of which none match the reasons for which ppl in Somalia go hungry and that in itself speaks a lot). Well so back to my master class you can always go for the tried and tested adding another ton of water and telling your room mates that you were extra considerate in preparing curry for them. Another additive that can be used in these scenarios is curd, it is absolutely undetectable in the end result and works like a charm. The third and my favorite technique is to add another ton of chili powder. Any person eating this dish in its eventuality goes numb in the tongue after the first bite itself and even in case he survives the first bite he always drinks tons of water, end result being a relatively appreciative room mate who feel pretty full (so what if it’s just on water).
Bon appetite ppl (pray I can get to the safe comforts of my Mommy’s cooking sometime soon) :(

Confessions

I cherish the moments when we stand with each other
I cherish the moments when we stand up for each other
I cherish the moments when we stand by each other
In fact you know what
I even cherish the moments when we can’t stand each other

World's first blog story (6)

You can read the complete rules of the blog story tag at Rohan's blog, where every tagged blogger adds his or her own twists to the tale, and the story progresses in this manner. Here's my bit in bold.

He had always known that silence spoke volumes, unfortunately it was in a language he failed to decipher on most occasions. A long pause. He stared for what seemed liked ages. It made little sense. May be it wasn't meant to be. He shrugged and looked at his friend. The pregnant silence was ruptured by his friends intermittent sobbing. Today was Diwali, it was supposed to be the "Festival of Lights", but things were different tonight. "Lights out", yelled the Jailor. The lights went out and the virgin night was silent and dark again. But, then was he reminded of his lover whose murder brought him here. All of a sudden, the summer heat in the cell, felt dreadfully cold, when, every moment of his past life flashed in front of his eyes as he stared at the writings on the wall. It was scribbled all over, by previous inmates of the cell. Murderers, as they called them. But maybe there were not murderers, he thought, just like him. Maybe they were just misunderstood. After all, he had to kill her, so he could be sure, that she would never feel pain again.
He had loved her from the moment he gazed into those blue green eyes, he had loved her when those very eyes had looked at him beseechingly for the last time and he had loved her for every passing second in between. But all this was lost on the anti euthanasia lobby who had vehemently screamed murder as his case had hit the headlines.

Didn't realise the tag would find its way back home soon. The story is being actively tracked at this blog for all those who care to know. I also tag Sagnik to take on this story further.