The Earlier Life

The new avatar

2008-03-01T04:42:00.000-08:00

Please visit http://www.life-in-eldorado.blogspot.com for the new avatar of the whole idea.

English Grammar Follies

2008-02-06T07:41:00.000-08:00

English Grammar - Ah! I studied it during my school days. It was not only about how to write framed sentences in English, but also about the proper usage of words, sentences, clauses etc. I crammed many of them at that time. Over a period of time though, those rules became irrelevant, as much of sentence-correctitude sense came from day-to-day usage of those words.

So, when I started studying grammar again now, I was simply startled by the fact every conceivably correct sentence written by us has a high chance of containing at least one grammatical mistake. While some of them are based on almost obsolete rules, some are the gifts of the casual way our conversation and writing have taken shape into over a period of time. Sadly the latter mistakes are more chronic and undetectable, unless told by someone.

I would just illustrate a few examples to drive home my point.

1> Usage of words signifying recurring action

Most commonplace mistake is of the usage of words, like repeat, recall, return etc. with adverb/conjuction- again, before etc. to stress upon the action. Ah.. there is no need to stress as they themselves mean a recurring action.

Incorrect:- Please repeat again

Correct :- Please repeat

2> Usage of 'anyways'

How many times have we seen people using anyways? Seems correct. Unfortunately it is not, and I too came to know this a few days back only. The correct form is anyway, and the hindsight does suggest that if it is 'any', it should be 'way', not 'ways'.

Incorrect:- Anyways you do this

Correct :- Anyway you do this

3> Usage of yours

'Yours' is a possessive case of 'you', and it never comes with an aprostrophe like your's. But have a purusal of the letters or applications written by a person, and you will find this mistake more often that not in the conclusive part of signature.

Incorrect:- Your's sincerely,

Correct:- Yours sincerely,

4> Usage of enjoy

Now this one is really tough, as this rule is known and most importantly, adhered to only by the puritans of the language. "We enjoyed yesterday" seems a very correct sentence, but the directive about usage of enjoy makes it incorrect. Enjoy should always have an object or a reflexive pronoun succeeding it.

Incorrect:- We enjoyed yesterday

Correct:- We enjoyed the party yesterday/ We enjoyed ourselves yesterday

These are only some of the illustrations of varying degree where the grammar rules are broken. There won't be any problem in the conveying of message with the incorrect usage, but the real joy of learning comes in writing correct English. Fortunately or unfortunately, there is no other way to learn these rules than to go through them individually. And that is what I too intend to do for the above piece of writing, as I know this will be littered with many grammatical mistakes, some even silly.

Bikini World !!!

2008-02-04T04:15:00.000-08:00

How is bikini pronounced? Bi..kee..nee with stress on the second and third syllables, making the word an elongated one on voice. Why am I asking this? Surprisingly, it has got something to do with cricket. During India-Aus test cricket commentary on Star Cricket channel, Ian Chappell brought out this word, which drew my attention not only for its obvious young-mind appeal, but also for the incongruity of its usage. May be it wasn't out of place, as they need to tell a few things sometimes to spice up the dull cricket.

A few days later, I read an article on Cricinfo where a celebrated journalist mentioned about the attractiveness of the bikini-clad damsels which was an additional, if not prime, factor towards watching the matches in Australia on Channel 9 during mid-eighties. How sweet....? And here I am in the same league, not with above cricket-related perversions, but with an equally sensual fascination towards those wonderful set of clothes, if ever that was not a misnomer.

By fortuity, I had got a chance to come to Cyprus. Before departure from India, my vivid mind had drawn so-many pictures of those variegated fabric scantily hiding the curvy bosom and derriere. I had searched enough to know the abundance of it in the land. Upon arrival, one of the most lasting images will remain of the exclamation erupted in unison by my fellow mates on seeing a bevy of girls in skimpy bikinis, from the bus. They foresaw a titillating experience on this wonderful island.

Heads swerved to the sea-side of the road while travelling on bus to the office. The first destination to visit was Aiya Napa as the folklore of revelling bootylicious misses kept buzzing in our heads beforehand. Beaches were attacked in pursuit of the unknown eye-soothing booty of beauty. It all passed off as a juvenile indiscretion of a soaking-yet-jejune mind.

But as happens with all the things in the cosmos, surfeit invariably brought an unwanted tedium to it. What was enticing became a normal view, and so normal that last year, I didn't visit the beaches more than once or twice to behold the bombinating life out there. Distance was surely a factor, but indifference added more to it.

Life does tend to come a full circle though. Now with ennui setting in my other day-to-day and office lives, the hitherto boring world of beaches beckons me more strongly now. Cometh summer, I have decided to be at my voyeuristic best to relive those moments. There aren't any livening moments than those. Only thing I wish this time is for them to never wither away.

Sledge of behaviour

2008-01-30T03:50:00.000-08:00

Owing to my abundant free time, I have been following the recent news of Harbhajan's acquittal from racial charges quite closely. Every time, I read an article or comments putting forward a different view, my take on the case changes. Who is right or wrong, has become more of 'Where do you belong to' case. Australia media are crying foul at the bullyragging tactics adopted by the BCCI, while Indians are gloating over the justice being meted after so-many years of subservience.All are entitled to hold their views, but this just goes to show how farcical things can develop into, if sanity is not adopted at the first place only.

Coming back to the incident, my question remains why should have this gone off-the-filed at all. Having been to a cricket stadium as a spectator, I know what kind of language is spoken around all the time. Even the most modest ones like Sachin and Rahul are not spared. I am not supporting the usage of racial words, but it would only aggrandize if you start reacting to it. What difference it would have made to Symonds, had he ignored it. He had been batting beautifully that series, and Harbhajan had been no match to his skills. Racism or for that matter, anything becomes harmful only when it starts denying you opportunities, hurting you physically or weakening you financially. Where has the old adage of 'Action Speaks Louder than Words' got lost.

On the other side too, sledging was never and never will be the equivalent of banter. Mouthing swearings is fine in groups of unreacting friends, colleagues or teams, but doing so on a field when you don't know the sensibilties of different players is an absolute no-no for me. When a spark can being a conflagration, you don't know. Moreover, the match is being watched by millions of people worldwide, and this is not what should become the centre of attraction for the viewers. However much I respect Steve Waugh, sledging remains his legacy to cricket in diluted words of 'mental disintegration'.

Things ought to move on now; legalities and technalities of it will be discussed on fora endlessly. The root cause, realting to human behaviour, too might get a mention or two. Different facets of it, like tolerance and respect, too would be brought out as by me earlier. But sadly, this is not what gets priority in the practical world. And as the time descends, things learnt, a misnomer in itself, will pass into the abyss to emerge later from other crevice in bigger form, for us to ruminate in even bigger terms.

My Retryst with India

2008-01-29T01:13:00.000-08:00

I had waited for this moment to write about my Indian journey for long. Even before the journey had actually commenced. So, my pre-conceived notions are bound to adorn or pollute my writing quite often in between.

Since I left India about 16 months back, my obsession with India has grown manifold, to the extent that I have started viewing every development about and around me to its Indian connection. It has got a lot to do with my long held dispirted idea about India vis-a-vis the rest of world. As a result, I visualise every thing about my country through the ideas held in similar conditions by any foreigner.

Thus, I was a phirangi impersonated beforehand on my first trip to India since coming abroad. I started on 22nd Dec,07 with lots of unknown anticipation. The flight journey was as usual harrowing and exhausting. I now realise train journeys are more enjoyable and less tiring. Anyway, I landed at IGI Airport, Delhi and braced myself up for the famous 'assault on the senses' feelings. Going through the formailities at the airport with the tagline of 'World Class Airport Soon Coming' all over was a no-hassle show really, but my actual encounter with Indian order, say chaos, happened on the roads with zillions of things coming all around with no traffic control either. And it did feel a lot bizarre. Ashamedly for me, as it was my same country where I had spent all my life barring the last one year. But to say honestly, many subsequent things too did look out of sorts, and sometimes scary too, as it happens with many long-time travellers.

My enthusiasn for meeting my family was never diminished though, and it was really great to be back home at Patna. My first week passed in total slack mood, with the home and office works now thrown on the ledge. I was again a coddled child with attention and sumptuous food served to me by my mother and other relatives. My favourite pastime or rather say, indulgence was India-Australia cricket match watched in the wee hours of the chilly morning from the cosy warmth of the quilt. Few moments in my life could match that, and fortunately I was able to relive those, albeit for a few days only. Sadly India lost that match in Melbourne.

I was very happy at the end of the week that I had not fallen sick to any kind, as most of my friends had some really bad times with their health on coming back. Alas, my relaxation was soon to be over, as I caught serious cold due to my allergy to dust coupled with the freezing cold weather. It was really horrible as I had to celebrate the New Year in that sneezing mood only. I visited Vindhyachal on 1st of Jan. for a darshan of the Devi, which as a family we have been doing for years. Though the darshan was good, it was hampered by my irritating indisposed condition.

Returning home, I took a good rest and was ready for my Indian journey the next day with my father. Thankfully my health too had improved. The first leg of the journey was at Kolkata. I had not seen this metro before despite living so close to it. Its first impression was that of an as-told-before bustling city with people jostling for space. I visited the Kali temple first. The idol of goddess Kali was grand enough to have made a lasting impression on me. It felt really great to visit another place of religious mysticism, though made slightly off-putting by the haggling pandas. Victoria Memorial, Planetarium, Indian Museum and the milling streets of Chowrangee, Esplanade etc. were the next stop-overs for the day. It felt amazing to see Kolkata thrown back to the old days of man-pulled rickshaws and swerving trams. I didn't see the newly developed posh parts of Kolkata, so the experience despite its archaic charm wasn't a very pleasant one to my given-to-snugness mind.

Next day we flew to Bangalore to my elder brother's home. I liked Bangalore with the happening aura attached to it. Rightly called the Silicon Valley, if you ignore the dismal roads and traffic, it has IT building, malls, towers etc. sprawling gradually every day. I visited Iskcon and Kemp Fort temples too. It was a pleasantly good experience to watch such clean and modern temples with the surroundings developed as a stress reliever too. Though most of my Bangalore sojourn went in meeting relatives and friends, which in itself was emotive and refreshing, I found Bangalore a very happening city. But not much good happened on the cricket front, with India inexplicably falling in the dying moments of the controversial Sydney test. It did sour things a bit but now with mind extricated out of cricket, I could enjoy my further trip better.

We travelled overnight by train to Pune, the place where I had my first corporate life. I always had an affinity for this city even before visting it, and the enchantment grew bigger arriving here. Staying at my bua's place, I had some personal work, so remained totally engrossed in that. But I was able to meet my friends here with whom I shared an amazing evening and dinnner with talks ranging from heady college days to intoxicating girls to the now mundane office life. Those recreating days I have never or can never experience outside India. There was no sight-seeing here though, but I had already been to the most-visited spots during my earlier stay.

We left for Mumbai then after getting over the work in Pune. I had been to this glamourous city only once before. However much other cities might develop, Mumbai will remain the grand old Empire City of India. How much life it supports is just incredible to think. You don't need to look further than the tirelessly plying local trains carrying hordes of people every day. I too had a share of enjoyment, I can call enjoyment now, riding them. The fact that my glasses fell on the tracks, safely thankfully, while alighting from the coach only tells how life would be like travelling every day. Ah ! by now I had again started loving Indian chaos, nay order; its daily life of struggle and simultaneous hope. I could again breathe plentiful rich dirt and traffic smoke without feeling uncomfortable or falling sick. See the vagaries.......but my journey was going to come to an end soon.

We boarded the train from Mumbai to Patna on 14 th of Jan. to complete an awesome tour of fortnight. I slept the whole next day in total luxury to shed off my weariness of the journey. I really love the trains for the comforting space and time, if you need, they can provide. Having arrived again at Patna doing a ring-road service, I was into my last week of Indian stay and started preparing for the return. Also now I myself wanted to be a gratified child with cuisines and care coming from all sides to me. To cap it all, India played a great test match against Australia in Perth to come back strongly in the series after the fiasco in Sydney. It was undoubtedly one of the most awe-inspiring victories of my entire viewing career.

So, it all ended happily, sadly suddenly, with me again leaving Patna for Delhi to catch the flight abroad. In Gurgaon, I again had, for the last time of vacation, a delightful evening spent with my old chummies in a dhaba sipping on a chai and eating those delectable parathas amidst a youthful aura of chilly winter. Ask any Indian youth what does that mean! Meanwhile Gurgaon seemed like a US-like ultra-modern opulent city with dazzling night life. It was the show of how India is going to shape up in near future. My trip had come a full circle there.

I boarded the flight to Cyprus via Bahrain the next morning on 22nd Jan,08, rewinding the days spent by . How it started from a shock to endearment to infatuation. Having read many travelogues before the trip, I knew this is what happens to most of the persons visiting India. And I seriously wanted to digress from that with goodness right from the start. But it happened in the end only, making me more knowledgeable about India though. I can't seriously claim to understand her yet, but the sheer Indianness will never leave my pores, and it will come out every often I start pretending, thinking, talking or writing (like I did many times here to be honest to how I felt) un-Indian. Alas ! I also belong to those erudite section of people who can delight, ponder or rue over India with beautiful thoughts, but only from a distance. An Indian, feeling and boasting the glory, but hiding away from the real India. I am not strong yet but my ideas are, and hopefully one day I too will be like that, understanding and bettering India in my own way living home or abroad.

The Importance of Being SRK

2007-12-20T04:33:00.000-08:00

With a cliche'd topic like this, I am here to shower fulsome praise on SRK, the king of Bollywood. Never imagined, I would do that, because if ever there was a surviving critic, read scold, on this earth, it was yours truly. So, how this sudden change of heart where I have grown an avid fan of his, no matter if it does or does not matter to others.

If CDI and OSO had their part in it, then it is absolutely true. But my catharsis happened due to my changed opinion about him, his movies and Bollywood in general, in the last few months. I always believed Bollywood is a poor example of cinema making, with mushy, cheesy, overdone (add epithets as many you can) thrown in plenty, and the blame largely rested on the shoulders of the big-guns in the vanguard. For many, it is still true and I can't argue with them, as the reasons supporting it are many and undeniable. But what if it is its strength? And luckily, I found out it indeed is. What I found schmaltzy was endearing to others, both in India and abroad. The very vivacity of Indian colour, clothes and culture had got lost on me, mainly due to its suffuse on me all my lifetime. The charm of Indian cinema is back though, and with even bigger concomitant dream.

Where does this leave Shahrukh in the entire chiaroscuro? Undoubtedly he remains the prime colour of it all, and for many, he is synonymous with Bollywood. The charisma, confidence and disarming influence of screen presence has won him over zillions of fans worldwide. It never happened that I didn't enjoy an SRK film, but it didn't fulfill me. It didn't fulfill me, because I wasn't ready to be. The moment I changed my exalted attitude, I could laugh on corny dialogues, romanticize with his heroine and weep with him at the cruelty of the world. It was awesome.

So, for his detractors, let's savour what he has given to us, and not what he could have. For sure, we need the other type of intellectual cinema too, but leave Shahrukh for what he does best. Yarning dreams...........

Reading blogs......

2007-11-01T19:46:00.000-07:00

Today it has to be one of my most observant pieces of article, because of what I felt, nay realised after reading a few blogs.

I had a rather quiet start in the office today, so could afford going through some of my bookmarked blogs. I started off with Rajat's blog and buoy, the look had completely changed. He started it off just to kill time, I suppose but over a period of few weeks, he has put in some really nice thoughts. All put in simple, understandable and identifiable tone. Things related to our daily life but all the while, thought-provoking and mind-enriching. Sarang's blog was the next one and as usual in his inimitable style, tried to create a paradox by criticising and writing blog at the same time. Another interesting take on the need of blogging.I went through others' too and it
started growing upon me that all had different insights and more so, revealed their persona for me.

I could easily visualise the writer with the incident described, and it accentuated my sense of understanding. I was reading and then the simulacrum of the writer invariably surfaced. Then I decided to do the opposite by putting the writer first and then looking at the things through his eyes. Oh, really it was more exciting. I could easily understand what he wanted to say. It was quite engrossing, the hitherto uninteresting topics turned occupying. In the process,I learnt,or at least had the primer on the art of reading blogs. Hope this reading continues........

The sense of achievement

2007-09-27T22:42:00.000-07:00

Thankfully I am writing this after a few days India became the Twenty20 Champions, for it will put my views in perspective. I like any other cricket enthusiast was/is over the moon after India's success at the cricket's world stage. But seeing the associated vain display put on after that, my euphoria is withering, and thakfully for good measure. It gives me time to reflect on the right side of it, before the opinion is actually forced on me after the subsequent bad results, God forbid, if any.

India won the world championship, because there was a purpose in their quest, with the related attibutes of fearlessness and athlecitism adding strength to it. They played in a zone where the prospect of gain was more than the fear of loss. Hindsight is always good to have to lavish praise, but the result was destined for success, the moment they took the field in this fashion. That's why it gets more surprising for me, that we haven't shown a similar approach in our celebrations in the aftermath.

Celebration is a must after any achievement, but we do it to make or rather say, refresh our ideas for future. We just don't do it to savour the past; it is also about dreaming of the future. Did we achieve this with our pompous felicitation of the victory? Not in any way. We never put this in context and so, never deemed it right to attach proportion to it. I am not against giving monetary incentives to the winners, but by giving this ludicrous about of money, you are saying as if they hadn't gone for winning anyway. Whether this will effect on the players a boost or an anesthetic, only time will tell. Time in the past has told though that more often than not, mediocrity has followed excellence for the very loss of this direction.

Apropos the media interaction, nobody in the press conference asked the media to refrain from adding adjectives to the team's performance, but it will come back to haunt them when they will lose. Sreesanth was incessant with his reactions on the last catch and his bowling in the semi-final. But what answers he will have when he drops a sitter in another final or Matt Hayden takes him apart in the coming one-dayers? Also nobody talked about the things learnt and what positive steps he is going to take to repeat the success. Worse was the behaviour of BCCI and the politicians ever ready to garner the attention, when they thronged the first rows without ever giving their insight/action into the future.

I do give an impression of a cynic here, but I am trying to learn from the past. I have suffered from this false sense of achievement with cricket enough that I dread of bordering on the excitement. It will help the players and the officials also if they remember, amidst all this frippery, that it is the purpose only which carried them here and it will hold true in future also.

Respect for time

2007-09-04T07:32:00.000-07:00

Quite often there are small things in life that make a big impact. OK, tell me, how often did you think that you should be on time at each and every occasion? Probably every time in the beginning. But while doing so, you realised that you didn't belong there. The focus of the occasion always became those who came late, may be genuinely or may be carrying their feigned stardom. You were made to look stupid or even wrong by adhering to the time. So,you jettisoned that in order to be an equal cynosure.

In the process, it became a norm. Also nothing untoward happened to that occasion, as it carried off as usual with some forced haste. But what happened to the future occasions which couldn't bear this laxity? A total mess up and a damned reputation for all and sundry involved.

That is how I felt today when the cab driver waiting to go to the embassy told me all Indians come late by at least 15-20 minutes. To get myself out of his dragnet of accusation, I asserted that I was on time. He replied instantly that I was the only one. May be he told a lie to hold his words but that doesn't matter as long as his perception remains the same. I take it as an affront for all the punctual ones, but I can't deny his observation also about the Indians.

Before we start judging his views as a myopic thinking, just ponder, aren't we the genesis of all this? At the first place, we believe in dignifying ourselves by being late and then sadly mocking othes for being the opposite. Need I say we should mend our ways. The age-old adage that time and tide wait for nothing still holds true. Time needs respect, nay demands respect. I am really disapponited, hurt and even angry by what happened today. But quite often there are small things in life that can make a big impact.

Who needs the history rewritten?

2007-08-25T07:43:00.000-07:00

The moment I feel good , my mind starts looking for excellence in everything. More often that not, the purveyor of such a joy is a piece of art, be it a movie or a book. The most recent paroxysm of emotions was while watching Chak De India.

To start with, it was another movie with the background of sports, where the protagonist seeks to redeem, or truly say, vindicate himself amongst a medley of emoting incidents. There were now-ubiquitous patriotic rhetorics thrown in plenty. There were pretty lasses too with an ample dose of glamour and laughter added. In short, it was a paisa vasool entertainment. But was it excellent?

Hmmm, to say you forth-rightly, it was. The most because it achieved that zone of cinema-making which only great works attain, i.e entertainment coupled with substance. I always believe the single-minded focus, sans any doubt and dither, in the message coming out of 70mm screen, invariably outweighs the temptation of a lucrative falderol in the long run. The movie stayed true to my this theory as it focussed solely on the struggle of an ostracized sportsman to come out good for his country, despite the unjustified and reprehensible treatment meted to him. It wanted to showcase his patriotism, his beliefs , his pain and his ideals. Not anything else.

Not even Shahrukh Khan. Instead here was a much mellowed Kabir Khan. It won't be complete if I don't give a separate paragraph to this role and actor, because I never saw SRK in that. And that's why, he was better, probably amongst the best in his ensemble of works. I am a critic of SRK, no doubt, for the same reason he gives in the movie to the senior players. Being in the vanguard of the film industry, it is also his onus to make it better. I would be fool, if I say he hasn't, for the popularity he has given to it is huge; but he too would be dishonest if he considers that he has done enough meritorious movies becoming of his personality. I hope he is not. For I yearn more of these Chak Des creating history, than his trying to chase history and in turn, becoming one.

Myriad opinions of India

2007-07-14T14:26:00.000-07:00

I write it through the eyes of a young boy who used to look searchingly at the morning newspapers to read something heart-warming about India, amidst all those non-sensical political reamings, and depressing but true woeful depictions. I wondered at that point of time, will I ever be able to read about India's economic, and thus related social and political development? It remained more a wishful child's dream but suddenly, I don't know how, out of blue, news of India's emancipation started pouring in. India as a long-perceived lumbering leviathan started to run. And it grew on everyone including me that finally India may be more than just a utopia.
India has moved on since then, and even in most reasonable terms, by leaps and bounds. It has started appearing on the world's radar with everyone knowing, at least, where the signals are coming from. I too, like a gratified child turned adult, remain enchanted with every new positivity added to it. I really pinch myself then, "This isn't real !"

But then on the same note, I read the horrid tales of exploitation, corruption and injustice, reminiscent of those quondam ghastly days. I try to run, telling myself that we have come over this , but sadly, in the end, I have to admit that this is what is real. My whole exaltation dies down and again those clouds of doubt re-emerge.
This has practically been the tale of all my related euphoria ever since the seed of Indian liberation has sprout. Mediocrity has followed excellence, turpitude has garbed the achievements and things have moved on with never-to-leave shadowy degeneracy clung to it. A sense of deja-vu remains attached to every conceivable facet of Indian system, be it polity, economy, sports or business. Yes, a sense of deja-vu hidden under the realised dream of that chuffed boy. Ironically, a quivering realised dream, which he also knows.

Forgiveness

2007-05-01T13:12:00.000-07:00

Forgiveness found its way to me
Through dark clouds of my pain
As well as anger, but now I see
I will never be the same

A warming gift of letting go
My choice to cease to hate
It came upon me for me to know
To forgive is never too late.

Why did it take so many years
If it was waiting all the time?
It matters not for now it's clear
The choice was always mine.

The brightest of forgiving love
Has captured me now forever
A treasured wonder from above
To hate will now be never.

PS- I picked it from somewhere. I liked it so much that I am posting it here. So all credit to that unknown author.

Sex and the lies within

2007-04-29T13:45:00.000-07:00

What is with this little word that spins the big world around, you ask someone, and he will greet you with a grin and then ponder over it affectedly to associate it to it being the most pleasing thing present. Is it just that, or much more? Surely it can't be that simple, otherwise many other things in life would have supplanted that.

For me, it is the manifestation of love, that greatest thing that God has ever made. And if love is so pure for all , why is this tainted for many. Since childhood, we are taught pedantically every moral and righteousness in this world, and we sadly mark it out on top as a blacklisted zone. We tend to distance it, for fear of getting it close, and that is where we get defeated. The real adaptation of it is by learning its 'dos and donts' and not marking it as a don't. And idiot, who can mark it as a don't when this is the most real thing present. The truth of it shouldn't be hidden with the lies within it. I certainly don't defend it, as subjugation to it prematurely is bad, but what is not bad in excess and prematurity?

Let it come out in open and I believe the fear associated with it will wither. The best way to fight our negativities is to fight them upfront. And if every moral guardian in this world let go their parochialness, the failings in this world will reduce. There will be less violence, less warped minds and less diabolical designs, for everyone will be immersed in it. There will be people looking at each other with love and not with myopic look of caste, creed or colour. It won't be an orgy but a celebration of festivities within us. Won't that be wonderful?

Brown Magic

2007-04-15T11:58:00.000-07:00

If magic is what an author needs to weave, then Dan Brown is certainly master at it. My words of praise for him would look like an oft-repeated ovation, but here I write with all my gratitute to him for the boundless joy he has given to me till now while reading his novels.

I am a literature aficionado, per se. But there have hardly been times when I have liked an author's works so much . Though my personal favourite remains Frederick Forsyth, Dan Brown's novels have much more appeal to them, for their easily identifiable themes.The first novel I read of Dan's was Da Vinci Code, and what an experience it was! I read it continously throughout the night, getting immersed in its backdrop. I hadn't had nor have such sort of excitement till now. The puritans might scoff at the scholastic simplicity of the work, but it doesn't lessen its captivating power. The research put in it was great and it showed in the facts enlisted by him in the novel.

Angels and Demons too was great, though it moved more on a cinematic path in the end. The other two novels, The Deception Point and Digital Fortress received much less attention but they too could compare with the very best. While it was just fascinating to read about NASA and its drama in the former, it was equally riveting to pass through the maze created by the Computers and Cryptographical Algorithms in the latter. I wait with bated breath his next work, The Solomon Key, which too would hopefully be a great rollercoaster ride.

Summing it up with the feelings of a normal reader, it is not in the literary grandeur that the greatness of a novel lies. It is in the impact that it creates on the reader. I still feel those twitches inside me while remembering those moments in his novels. Sheer moments of joy and I put a toast to this masterful storyteller for giving me those.

Watching Vivah........

2007-03-24T17:30:00.001-07:00

I am a bit undecided on how and what to write about Vivah, the movie that I watched just now. I want to write, or rather scream so many things, but I am still under its sway, so might be words won't just suffice.As the initial words would have made it clear, I am simply blown over by this movie right now, and it takes some doing when you kinda scribble these stuff at 3 o' clock in the night. OK, enough of my excitement!
Coming back to the movie, Vivah, for me, isn't just a narration about a marriage ceremony or a story of two young people tying their nuptial ties amidst a chiaroscuro of incidents going around.It is far more developed with every shot dripping those inexplicable only-to-be-felt sensations. It isn't real , to be very honest, as you will hardly find a similar that-good backdrop in the contemporary world. But its reality lies here only that we actually want our life to be that real and pure as shown in the movie. It is essentially a celebration of goodness, that thing which we sorely lack in our society now.
To sing its hosannas just on the fact that it is very traditional in nature and doesn't have any cosmopolitan allure will be doing a grave injustice to its sincerity. It is good because it is true to what it wants to say. In this world, people don't become good because of anything other than their heart. And if it is pure, there can hardly be a situation which can faze anyone. The lead characters here, Shahid and Amrita , had the same pure love which battled any other impediment. You have to look through their eyes the whole scenario to feel their twinges, be it the goosebumps of Shahid when first seeing his would-be bride or the eagerness of Amrita while waiting for her hero. The whole backdrop of marriage scenes are truly redolent of the actual scenes in our family. I, living so away from home, can still share the chirps going around while sleeping on mattresses on the floor or relishing the jalebis at a local corner shop.
Those are the days we wish never go. So if a movie comes, which bring a refreshingly homely feel-good twinge to our hearts, it is just lovely. It was so low on hype scale, that it had almost missed my notice. But I place it right after LRM and RDB in year 2006. I know many might squirm at this much lavish praise showered on it, but who cares when after so many days, you feel synonymity with your inner self which wants to be as good and pure as our very basic life settings are.

Shame on me and us

2007-03-18T13:29:00.001-07:00

I was to write this post with the same first half of the title after the World Cup cricket matches yesterday, but the recent developments forced me to change it to insinuate it at everyone. Bol Woolmer died of heart attack after being under extreme pressure over the first round exit of Pakistan team. It is still to sink in but it shows how hollow our passion related to this game is.
Nothing can be bigger than the game, but not the life of men truly dedicated to it. Then who are we, many of us who never wielded the cricket bat or threw ourselves on the field, to force our opinion on their commitment, or express our wrath on them.
Every nation's citizens are extremely passionate about one of their games and want the players to win at any cost. It is within their rights but it crosses the boundary when they start identifying every move of theirs with the team's. Why, who told we guys to relate our every dream to theirs, when we are not even an iota connected to them. Don't we have our own dreams to fulfill, and our own areas to excel in? Getting a Nobel Prize in Literature is as big a achievement as winning the World Cup. So, why put our everything on this game of cricket?Burning effigies of the players doesn't do them any harm, rather show our ineptitude. Tendulkars, Dravids and Kumbles have done more than these combined multitude of senseless people.
Shame on us. It is from we only that the team becomes. I have seen teams changing, but performances remaining same, because the guys playing there are from amongst us only, some of them who sit back when even something minimal is achieved, and attainment of excellence is subsequently booted out. The team gets a high-falutin coverage on even a small win and then the next day, when it loses, it is thrown into dustbin. Neither the team performs nor the fans.
It all then gets in this vicious cycle of derogatory denigration and farcical encomiums.
Let us get away from this, when this is so senseless. Let's savour the beauty of life not looked into by us till now. Let's celebrate Viswanathan Anand becoming the World Number 1 as much as a Sachin Tendulkar's century. Then only we will do justice to both, we and the players.

The Story of New Year

2007-01-01T13:26:00.001-08:00

Every year on 31st December, I would remain awake steadfastly till 12 midnight, and at the stroke of the hour when 'Old Year Changeth, Yielding Place To New' I would raise myself up and solemnly make a heap of promises to myself, only to realise later on that they are the repetitions of last years one's. But reaffirming my faith to turn those resolutions into reality, I would seamlessly pass into another year's opened arms. Then a perked up soul and Happy Greetings to all and sundry.

This year though,it was a sleeping soul, into the arms of pillows, only to be woken at the midnight hour by the creatures bursting crackers to felicitate another year. I put the pillows on my ears, mouthing them names, and cursing their insanity of being overjoyous on yet another day.Only till yesterday, I was one of them. But now having changed, I had the right to admonish them.

Yaa, this year I slept at 11 o clock with the biggest resolution in my life that from this year on, no more promises and no more repentances. Why on earth, there should be an earmarked day, where in one out of every two person on this earth makes false pretences to himself, only to look like a buffoon at the end of it. More resonably, it takes the sheen out of New Year by marking it an 'Asseveration Day' to fight battles ahead in life. Which battles, nobody knows but they sharpen their weapons, only to fight their own demons in the end. Why to tense yourself that this year too, it is going to be a helluva sort of ride and you have to gird your loins for it. Beneath all those celebrations and greetings, lies those simmering disquieting thoughts of struggles lying ahead. Give me a break.

So I slept on, again murmuring the unmentionables to those blockheads, into the abyss of time, and woke up next morning refreshed and with a hitherto energy bereft of any more lurking singeing feelings. I had a good day, passing it like yet another holiday and at the end of it, I had the wherewithal to declare before you and everyone my this year's resolution, 'Not to have any more Resolution'. Oxymoronic !!! Oh, but the bottomline remains, this way, at least this year, I will turn my resolution into reality. The long awaited cherished desire. Over to you 2007.

Days of bliss

2006-11-06T01:01:00.000-08:00

We all are human beings and are moved more than anything else by humane feelings. Our heart has a direct connection to our faculty of senses wherein we experience each and every feeling around us. Quite often, we have those wonder feels of inexplicable moments of abandon gaiety, but how often?
May be a few minutes, may be a few hours. But definitely not more than a few days. Days when you first experienced an eternal joy emanating from your unknown side. This thing finds petinence in the movie 'Bluffmaster', when 'Boman Irani' lists out those countable days of bliss. When you started reading, when you topped the class rankings, when India won numerable cricket matches, when you fell in love with the girl of your dreams and when you touched a girl for the first time. The effusiveness of those times are hard to indite.
It gets upon us then how to extend those bilssful days into eternity. But it is hard to get happiness if one goes around seeking happiness, instead of seeking life. Yes indeed, 'life is happiness' if one lives with it every day, every moment. Let mirth be the metaphor and sorrow the sarcasm of our life. Then only we will be able to truly experience the life in our years and not years in our life.

If You Forget Me

2006-11-02T05:51:00.000-08:00

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists:
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats that sail
towards those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgetten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

---- Pablo Neruda

The language of love

2006-05-04T04:22:00.000-07:00

Love is a passion of ineffable ecstasy. The vibes of the heart, emanating as fumes of aromatic olfaction, take wings of flight and fancy and ride to the rubicon of the firmament as a condor, oblivious to the parade of life underneath it.
Who can claim to define it? While others merely read the word 'love', those swathed by its satiny fabric feel the tactual luxury of its silkiness. The reverberating pulsations of the heart, rhythming with each and every sinew, metastasize the aeonian fixation of love. Some say it's morbid, but those who have never kissed the petals of roses always fear the thorns.
The language of love isn't comprehensible in a listless soul. He only who reads more than just the semantic links can actually revel those inexplicable moments of artful titillation. And that is probably the best thing a person can ever wish to have.
"God has never made anything better than love"-the words remain as true since time immemorial as the very genesis of our identity. Let its magic and mojo continue to mesmerize us under the marquee of this world.

The power of nostalgia

2006-04-20T10:58:00.000-07:00

I never felt I would ever feel this.

It felt I again landed in the classroom of DPS Bokaro. Dressed in whites, getting bored, looking at the first opportunity to talk to a girl, waiting for the break etc.. etc.. it was a few days back only. Oh ! the days.
It had to pass n they passed. The imprints remained though n often come out now n then.The friends of yesteryears. You were so young then, now I don't know how u look like. In fact, never met most of u since then. But your memories remain. Some are settled abroad, some engrossed in jobs. Some have got married too. Life moves on n so has mine. But how can it be unchained from u. That was when I made most of my best buddies, that was when I first had the wonder-feels of love, that was when I first had the identity.

I never thought I would ever scribble these things here. But I m passing out again. Again in a few days from one of the best places of my life, into the open world of aliases. IIITM, u were great. The farewell happened a few days back. But it will really take a few days to realise what I am going to miss. Sports, Com Science, Cricket, AOE, bakar......will they happen again? I don't know...
But what I know is that I will always have those reminiscences of u n my days at SST, DPS n IIITM etched in my memory till I bid adieu.

That is the power of nostalgia n u....

Rang De Basanti! Another league, another me, another Aamir

2006-01-28T11:03:00.001-08:00

Spellbound! The word most often used when you watch something out of the ordinary. It gets more substantiated when u await for something special n are on ur heels waiting tantalisingly what will be in store.
That is what I felt after watching RDB. Also relieved-ya relieved, for I and Aamir Khan go synonymous, at least for me, that with RDB he has just confirmed that he is not lost after the blip of Mangal Pandey. In fact, he has come back stronger.
RDB is not only a great movie but has the makings of a trendsetter in the industry.n that is where Aamir has been the best. I just fail to understand what stuff this guy is made of. How his movies are so crisp n full of flavour never smelt before. I won't enlist his films but the ensemble does inspire one's awe.
RDB is so current that everyone can feel oneself out there on the screen. A topic so tough to handle has been presented with such freshness that people just gel with it n so the movie has just sent the nation in a frenzy. I would have never written this before checking it out, for there were some spectics of the movie.
n neways, whether the movie scores financially or not, it has come as a whiff of fresh air amidst those routine mundane stuff. A league of its own.
As per its impressions on me, ya I do feel to do something for the country. n I m gonna be part of it. What I always believed about the youth, the movie has just emphasised that. So that much more grown attachment.
In fact, some of its settings are so novel that ithey can be part of the filmdom's folklore. There may be and are better movies than RDB but there will never be a movie like RDB.

Aamir Khan and Sachin Tendulkar

2006-01-10T10:02:00.000-08:00

Aamir Khan and Sachin Tendulkar-the two persons who are the masters in their trade, have been my role models for years. It wasn't based on any reason but just some sort of affinity that drew me towards their talent, discipline and work ethos. I remember Sachin getting into my memory when he hit Abdul Qadir for 4 sixes in an over in a game at Sharjah. He was driving the whole country wild then with his prodigious talent.
Similarly Aamir had become the nation's new wonderboy and heartthrob with his cute arrival in QSQT. He was instantly recognized as an actor made for acting. I dunno how and when I grew such a big fan of him but I distinctly remember getting uneasy when Salman's MPK was faring better than Aamir's Dil. No hard feelings but it was like that.
While Aamir made debut in 1988, Sachin played his first cricket match in 1989 against the arch-rivals Pakistan. Both got noticed at the first instant only. Since then they have been delivering grand performances on a regular basis. It is not only about their records but the sheer discipline and attitude towards their work that stands them out. Both are methodical and nothing less than perfect satiates them. And so, it is no strange that both are big fans of each other. While Sachn was amongst the first to watch Ghulam while away on the Srilankan tour, Aamir has always been a cricket follower, esp. Sachin's. n they do meet quite often.
So where does it leave me then? I too, since they are my role models, to say at least, would like to emulate them.n what about my wish? Ya, it is to have a dinner with both my heroes together. But will it be possible? If yes, then when?

India and Sourav

2005-11-25T01:02:00.000-08:00

O India! Wake up. Sourav is there and here to stay. U tried to oust him with the help of an Aussie Kangaroo. How mean? See Kolkattans fight for him burning effigies and giving their soul for a just cause. Well Bengal thinks today what India thinks tomorrow, n after all Sourav must play. What if he hasn't scored runs for last few years, he has his backers n that is what matters even if Chappell says to selector,"Don't kid he is a test match bowler."
But I do remember the day when I woke up at 4 in the morning, rubbing my eyes to see clearly India setting off their tour Down Under. India reeling with 3 wickets down, in came Sourav, and lit up the Brisbane ground with majestic strokeplay paving the way for a magnificient display by the team there after. Oh that was great, but a long time back. Now everyone including I swirm in my seats seeing him fending off the rising balls with uncertain ease. See the vagaries of life.
But the undeniable truth is, it catches up with everyone, I , you or Sourav. The wayout is tough , varying from one individual to another. But the hypostatsis of the matter is working towards the goal which probably every sane mind knows where it is and how to attain it. Sourav u have to bat for India whether in the garb of captain or not. Chappell u have to guide him, putting aside his lethargy and bring forth his regal
touch. Selectors u have to pick the right team based on conscience and not on phone calls. n what about we, the lordly viewers. Oh we r the critics, n can burn tyres in protest, leave alone other things, in protest unmindful of its usefulness. We do rule. But for a change dear, let India play. Let India play sans those bickerings and parochialness. Let sanity return to one and all for a better morrow.

The Road Not Taken

2005-11-14T02:53:00.000-08:00

Here is my favourite poem:-

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the differenc
-By Robert Frost

Explanation:-

This poem tells the story of the poet who is travelling on a road in a wood when he comes upon a fork in the road and, even though he would like to travel both, he has to make a choice. He contemplates where both roads will take him. While one road is well trodden and safe, the other road is grassy and has not yet gone through the rigours of time and thus, as he says, had the better claim. He also remarks as to the fact that on that morning, neither road had been travelled upon. He took the road less trodden, keeping the first road for another day. But he realizes that he may probably not have a chance to go back on his choice, because the world moves too fast for one to look back.

Later on, when he is recounting his tale, he says that he has no regrets of his choice and that choice has made all the difference and led him to where he was that day.

The poem states that "the passing there had worn them really about the same" meaning neither of the two roads was less traveled.

After a long time

2005-10-31T11:02:00.000-08:00

It has been quite a while since my last post. Not really busy but just lethargic.
Anyways it was a usual routine month, nothing more nor less. But suddenly there is a big giant stride to be taken in a few months. Life seems to be beckoning me finally, with all its intensity. It can be the time, of something big, which probably I had always been waiting for.

One does introspect and restrospect at times. Looking deeply into his self and the world around. How is he with respect to his beliefs and ideals? How is he going to cope up? Similar questions keep coming up, pushing me all the time to put my best foot forward. But do I , or will I , or more importantly, can I? Earlier I would have said God knows, but now I say yes, because I know what God knows and what He would have said.

Who said it's over?

2005-09-28T11:54:00.000-07:00

Do you know a great thing about life? It never gets over, except only once. Before that you can always feel it keeps coming back with the same or different hues and tints. You feel it's all over, yet it becomes the start; u feel u have failed, yet u realise it's the chance to start afresh n u really think the road is blocked, u find there is a tool aside to remove the boulder.
So where do I move from here on? The big CAT, my idiosyncrasies, learning words, skipping classes,
remaining in fantasies, watching nonsense stuff, reading poetries..the list goes on. But still it's my life. Very different from others n in itself, a great delight. Probably prabs never thought it could be so involving sometimes.So living with it as life lives with me (wink).

And now time for writing something literary. Another poem, this time a different one:-

The India that I live in

Leaning against the wall
And jostling for the space
It was getting really difficult
To keep myself on my legs

Such was the rush on that day
In the Puri-bound Utkal Express
That an incomer had to climb
Over the rest to gain an entrance

Wedged in amongst the people
I prepard myself for the pain
"Why the hell, did I board
General Bogie of this damned train"

All stowed with people, the train
Did leave the New Delhi station
Bringing in the much-needed draught
And a general sense of elation

Gradually the squeezed in populace
Distended themselves to cosier postures
Scowling at the callousness of the
More fortunate seated passengers

I too manoeuvred myself into
A more standable posture
With my nose sticking out into
The squalid kurta of a commuter

The fetid aura was odious
And made my head go dizzy
But as the time trickled
I started feeling somewhat easy

I peered at my ambience and was
Struck by the nonchalance of others
It seemed I was the only one
Dishevelled and confined by fetters.

They were all of various ilk
Workers, potters and menials
Going through the motion
As if inured to such ordeals

Some sagacious elderly minds were
Rueing the depravity of Indian polity
While a young ruffian was busy
Leering at a newly wed lassie

Muslims talked to Hindus and vice versa
Without the much televised rancour
Quite often there were lewd jokes
Followed by the usual banter

Destinations kept coming by and
People gave way to new members
But India as it seemed kept moving
On the rails of the chambers

Having remained cooped up in my
Own world of gambol and gales
It was an unusual episode for me
To experience those rending travails

Travails- but only for me
For them it's the usual travel
And they keep moving as if
On order from a judge's gavel

My station, Gwalior, came and
I too moved out with my luggage
But with a strangely developed
Homely connection with the carriage

I reached my hostel, carrying
An unfathomable mix of emotions
But immediately got on with my chums
Raving in those usual passions

I had my dinner, and then
Got snug inside my cosy quilt
Again hiding away from the
Real India that I live in.

How to unravel???

2005-09-20T09:21:00.000-07:00

When u get bogged down n r held inextricably by something intangible, how do u get out? My biggest search till date has been this only, when I find myself fettered to such extent that it starts hampering my other life processes. May be here this is circumlocution but it's true of my life. Hopefully someday I will be able to unravel this aspect of my life.

Haan continuing to my other poetry, here is another simple one :-

God came in my dreams

One day God came in my dreams
He asked,
My dear, what is your demand?
"Nothing more than a swish of your wand,
Which will relieve me of my sorrows,
Angst and anguish, pain and pangs,
Due to which my life hangs,
Caught in a vortex of tension.
Please, I continued my harangue,
Get rid of these emotions.
I wish living sans any fear
Mind free and heart full of cheer."

'Amen', God said,"but beware,
Nobody has wished this ever."

I woke up late in the morning
Pleased and fully relieved,
Nearby, there was a furore,
We all had a bad grade in our course,
The boys looked swooped,
But, hey, I was unmoved
Oh, seemingly free from emotions
I went for the lunch.

"Delicious curry and palak to partake,
What a good way to start the day."
But!!! curry wasn't delicious,
Though for others, it had tasted good
Oh God, what had happened to the food
Neither was the dessert sweet
Nor did water taste like water.

I came out of the mess,
Thinking it a part of the deal
At least now my sorrows were concealed
In the afternoon,
I went to the class
She was standing on the grass
With a smile on her face
But!!! It didn't give my heart a race
I had lost my love,
Now rendered to just a dove

Roses were red, but what
Red meant to me
Nothing more than a colour to see

The whole day passed like that
Driving me wild and filled with wrath.
I slept, hoping to see God again.
He came, and asked,
"Hey dear, what do you wish?"
"Please God please, take back this,
I can't bear it more.
Now I know,
Why roses and thorns alongside grow.
I beheld,
Life without emotions, so
Murky and morose. Oh God!
Please restore the old."

'Amen', in the end, he quipped,
With a flicker of smile on His lips.

The bard says.....

2005-09-10T09:46:00.000-07:00

Poetry is something which defies logic n creates dreams, at least for me. I dunno how successful I am in realising that, but one thing I know for sure is that the vision is there.

Here follows one of those from earlier times:-

A New Year Encounter

Watch the bland darkness of the night
fading away
Giving way to a new dawn
of anticipation and exhilaration
Making everyone abound with cheer.
Ya! It's the arrival of a new year.

With the same gusto of feelings,
I woke up on the premier day.
What a morning it was,
Everything pretty and looking gay
Making a heap of promises to myself
I decided to celebrate it the best way.

I went for a stroll by the city lane
To behold the beauty and resplendence
Novelty was pouring in from everywhere
Drawing auguries of hope and cheer.

I was pleased to see the newness
Which the year was to witness
And with an exultant heart
I sauntered along to the next part

What a dreary sight it was!
All cluttered up with muck and mayhem
Having no sign of mirth or merriment
It was the slums colony
Tawdry and squalid
Infested by the poorest of beings

The year may be new
But they are the same old
All tattered up with poverty, disease and agony
And residing in solitude from the multitude

My whole ecstasy was vanished
and flabbergasted to see the paradox,
I wondered,
What newness has this new year
brought for us?

The day after the start

2005-09-08T22:01:00.000-07:00

Ya, it was the start. I was really not prepared to write n it was only to kill time that it happened. But I now feel it would be a regular occupation, for it does give a good interaction with oneself. I chose to write somethin which belongs to my favourite writings. It was good I received a few comments, even though asking me to make the vocab less harassing.
Frankly speaking I don't write intently to make it high-falutin but I rather flow with my ideas and words come out naturally. Though I have constantly been censured for this, I don't think I would ever be able to rectify it. Neways not a big deal. The ideas r important n henceforth will come a lot of them.

The descent of a belle

2005-09-07T03:20:00.000-07:00

The outset is always the toughest, be it anywhere. Need to pass time, get on with the rattle of keyboard and some babble comes out.
Where to start? A desperate go-ahead in life is going on. U know, sometimes when life comes to a standstill and ideas r left stillborn, u wonder whether it is the same you. Oops, probably diverting from writing something sane.
So here I m writing bout someone out there in fantasy. U know when I behold the mackerel firmament searching beyond the rubicon, a nymph of beauty descends gently on the cushions of my heart, disseminating a titillation through the whole of my body. The winsome visage inspires a great enamour for her. How I move through the woods when she disappears with the chuckle reverberating all around. The hide-and-seek,seemingly going interminably long, with her long robe trailing her figure.
At once she turns around, accosts me and blushes. Her rosy cheeks turning rubicund and luscious lips inviting everyone. A few wafts of hair flow themselves on the side of the cheek, and my hands move to put them in order. She moves back a bit, then forward, shrinking with the touch and finally the lips advancing to meet ........
Oh was that me? A reverie. May be. But who was she? I dunno but hopefully someday somewhere.