Mera State poor hai toh kya hua honest toh hai (My state may be poor, but honest)

Being born and brought up in the east, having done my masters in Delhi, PhD in Mumbai, and married in south India, for me travelling is a quite a frequent phenomenon. Among all modes of travel, I love train journeys. These journeys are an occasion to relax, a time to sit, eat, sleep, and chit-chat. Out of my numerous train travels this summer journey, from Vijayawada to my home town, Bhubaneswar was nothing special. It was a twelve-hour onward journey and a thirty-hour journey back to Bangalore the next afternoon. It would be just an overnight stay at home. But, home being home, whether it is for a half a day stay or for a half a month – one looks forward to live each moment of it.

I had to board the train at 3 AM in Vijayawada, the much inconvenient time, when most of the people would be breathing deep into their final quota of night gift. But for me, a plus-minus of half an hour to this is the usual time I go to bed. Coincidentally, this is almost the time my father-in-law gets up. So, without making any concession, I had somebody to drop me at the station.

One of the symptoms of people who go to bed late is that irrespective of the time they choose to retire to bed, they wake up between 9 to 10am.  Also, I am among those who love to sleep a bit more during travel. I was in a middle berth. This is the compromising berth, where the comfort to enjoy sleep depends on the mood of others. I was rather grateful to have my co-passengers who allowed me to have my sleep till I wished.

At home my mother used to prepare lunch early as she had to go to office. As I grew old, with my love for sleeping late into the morning I developed the habit of starting my breakfast with the lunch. In travel, this habit too prevailed.

As the train crossed Palasa, it was past eleven. I just had completed my morning dose of newspaper and was feeling hungry. Coincidentally, a few vendors had got in Palasa and there were yells of “meals ready – saada (vegetarian meal): Rs. 50/-, maach bhat (Fish rice) Rs. 60/, chicken meal: Rs 80/-.” The vendors seemed to belong to one group. The person with a thick moustache appeared to be the manager collecting the order. He looked so serious as to give an impression that until he feeds you, he wouldn’t smile.

I took maach bhat. Opened the packet; a full plate rice, a tiny fish fry, a packet of rasam, and the Andhra pickle. I finished my lunch in ten minutes. Needless to say that the food was not even worth fraction the price. But given the train had no catering service, this was the only option to have the pleasure of eating rice in a train.

Now, the train has crossed Ichhapuram and entered into Odisha border. A new set of meal vendors entered. A similar call for food, but price was exceptionally low: saada – Rs 25/- and maach bhat – Rs 30/-.

With me in the boggie was a Telugu family. The male head of the family was able to speak broken Hindi. He asked me – “Brother… aisa kaisa... (how it is...) half price!”

I just smiled. His bewilderment was justified as he had already purchased vegetarian meals for all his family members with each costing Rs 50/-. Within a half hour distance, as one crossed Andhra Pradesh to Odisha, the price halved.

There comes Chattrapur… and there were fresh shouts…
“aa gaya (here comes) 20-20… maach bhat – Rs 20/-.  Chennai–Mumbai 20-20; maach bhat – Rs 20/-.” (The following day was final T20 match between Chennai and Mumbai). I could see fried fish of size twice of the size I got in my meal. I again smiled to myself; and looked towards the Telugu uncle and said –

‘Mera state poor hai toh kya hua honest toh hai’ (My state may be poor, but honest).

He nodded in affirmation.

On the rest of the journey I was thinking, perhaps I should have said – My state is honest; therefore, poor.

Places and People

- “Viddu, what’s the name of this place?” I asked while taking an afternoon stroll with my son near Benz circle area.

- “Vijayawada.”

Right comes the answer. I was happy to learn he knew about places.

- “Very good, Vidwat. Now tell me, what’s the name of our country?”

- “It’s India, bapa.” (Bapa is Odia for Dad)

I felt excited. Thought, he is already five. May be this is the right time I talk about capital city.

- “Viddu... do you know what’s the capital of India?”

- “Uuuhun” (an informal way of saying No)

- “It’s New Delhi.”

- “Why? Why New Delhi?”

- “New Delhi is important.” I gave the reasoning.

- “O...” Vidwat gave a signal of understanding.

- “Viddu... can you tell me what’s the capital of Andhra Pradesh”

- “Subha Pinni” (Pinni is mother’s sister in Telugu)

- “What! Subha Pinni!!!” I could not resist my laughter. “How come Subha Pinni is capital of Andhra Pradesh?”

- “Yes, she is. She is important.” Vidwat replied normally. Subha takes care of the Cetre at my In law's family and considered to be an important member. My dad complements her to be the center of the Atheist center.

I realize, I am at fault. I should have made him understand at the outset, capitals are places, not people.

Vegetable

In an uneventful afternoon I asked my son, who is his favorite animal.

- "Elephant, bapa...." (Bapa is Odia for Dad)

I looked at myself. Thanks to some early morning jogging at 10.00 am at my institute in Bangalore, I no more exactly resemble an elephant. I was not disappointed. Rather, I was happy for another reason. Elephant has been my favorite animal since childhood. I always wished like we have smaller version of tigers as cats... it would have been fun if we had smaller version of elephants, which we could have fondled and carried in our laps.

Seeing me lost in thoughts Vidwat pulled my hair. Children rarely understand it becomes habitual for fathers to find silence to be the most preferred options. I was critiqued to be not a good listener before marriage. I continued,

- "Viddu, what's your favorite bird?"

- "Peacock". Well my son has taste for beauty. Impressed.

- "What's your favorite fruit?"

- "Mango". Cool, that's the nation's favourite Katrina has been advertising for quite sometime.

- "Do you like it ripe or raw?"

- "Ripe... buddu bapa." Buddu is what my wife calls me claiming to be affectionate; our son has picked up that adjective. Children approaching five years of age learn a new word with every breathe.

- "What's your favourite flower?"

- "Sun flower". Good; But, frankly speaking I wished he had said rose... well, that might be the favorite of the eighties. Or may be there was time for him to fall in love with roses.

- "Well, Viddu, What's your favourite vegetable?"

- "Apple".

- "No, apple is a fruit."

- "Grapes".

- "No, grapes are not vegetable."

- "Then... Watermelon".

- "No, my dear... all these are fruits. I asked about vegetables. The one we eat regularly, they are leafy; they are of many variety."

- "O... noodles". He smiled with all the delight.

Well... I did not seek an explanation why he said noodles. May be there are many vegetable flavoured noodles in market nowadays. But this is worth a complaint to be put forward to his mom.

We continued; but I changed the topic.

Beach Cricket

That was a Sunday. Sunday is always special for families - visible from both inside and outside. It is a day when you can wake up at ease and chew the tooth brush for as long as you want. It is a day when you can revise your newspaper and can ask for another cup of tea. The morning is longer though the day seems short. I remember in my childhood the streets of the modest localities of Bhubaneswar town would look more colorful as people would come out at their leisure and with their most relaxing attire. There would be a little crowd in fish market, and fragrance of cooked chicken curry from every third home. Sunday is the time for a haircut, to catch up with a favorite program or an old friend, or to draft or craft something.

That was a Sunday and that was my last day at Vishakhapatnam for that phase, as my wife was about to shift to Vijayawada after completing her tenure of PG course. She had rented a flat at beach road. Acknowledging that I won’t get any further chance to spend time on a beach in the near future I made it a point to spend the early morning hours on the beach. I am usually a late riser. And as we all know bad habits die hard. In spite of an inanimate and animate alarm (wife also tried to wake me up before she went for hospital duty) I could manage to get up past 8.30 AM and was on the beach by nine.

It was a relatively crowded beach than I expected. The thing which caught my attention was cricket by 10-15 teams on the beach within a stretch of one kilometer. In a scenario when many teams play in one ground, at times onlookers find themselves in a puzzling situation in identifying fielders’ affiliation. The position of the fielder may be right near the pitch of one team, but he may be a boundary line fielder for another team, whose wickets are three teams away. This scene reminded me of the playground in front my institute IGIDR, where children of all ages from poor localities of Santosh Nagar and Aarey Milk Colony play in many teams in a space ideally meant for one. I observed those children always with a serious note attributing such crowding to the dearth of playgrounds in our over-populated country and the consequences thereof. But here in Vishakapatnam beach what I was seeing was pure fun.

There are players of all sizes and shapes. So are the wickets, bats and balls. I could see people of all ages; young, very young, old, and very old. Older the people, shorter are their shorts. In every team there were players of all hairs – black, gray, white, full, partial and none. I could make out these were families enjoying cricket on the beach on a Sunday. The ladies of the family sometimes being bored with their male counterparts throughout the week pack them off to beach for a change. And I am sure as these husbands and brothers play cricket in the beach, the wives and sisters at home must be having coffee in the cracks of gossips– such gossips, whose resultant is a big zero. After coffee they must make some fried pakodas ready for these tired beach cricketers.

I was witnessing beach cricket for the first time. I never knew there is any sport other than volleyball which is played on beaches. So, cricket has spread from verandas and lanes to the beaches! This popularity of cricket made me weave arguments to make it as the National Game in place of hockey. I have often witnessed unknown people on roads and trains crack a conversation by asking an update on cricket scores. And people volunteer information on cricket statistics as if they were long time friends. In these days IPL cricket is emerging as an alternate career option, and quite a few local boys are getting chances. But the popularity of cricket comes with a price. The other sports suffer.

I would have gone further on my thoughts had my heart not vibrated. I realized that the mobile is on the left chest pocket. My wife was back from her morning duty at the hospital and I need to join her for breakfast. I gulped a few more handfuls of fresh air and walked across the road. There was a dog chasing a motor bike, which gave a scene as if the speed of the vehicle was purely on account of dog's rage.

As I prepare to move homeward, I passed by a young boy selling peanuts. No. Breakfast must be ready; wife must be waiting. On second thoughts; I could not resist the bliss of popping warm nuts on a breezy morning while rubbing their soft skins which would swirl away in the wind. I smiled to myself. Indeed if you are a foodie and your wife is a doctor, there can be no better vibrant marital life.

The boy was neat, dark and precise. By the time I drew out a two-rupee coin from my pocket my kulfi-cup shaped newspaper wrapped peanuts are ready. I was so preoccupied with cricket that before taking leave from the boy, I suggested him the following.

- Why don't you sell your stuff at the other side of the road and enjoy the game of cricket.

- Oh Sir, I don’t have a license to sell on the beach side of the road. Plus, I don’t like this game.

- Strange! Today almost a lakh people must be watching India-South Africa test match at Eden Garden stadium, Kolkotta.

- I know Sir, and couple of crores may be watching on TV.

- Then! Believe me, whether you like or not; cricket would soon replace hockey as the National Game.

The boy seem hardly impressed with my idea of making Cricket as the National Game and was busy in controlling the fire which was moving erratically like the chunri of a girl passing by the roadside. I continued my advocacies on cricket on the basis of popularity of the game – both in terms of playing and watching. Every unknown street of all unimportant towns of this country testifies the game at all even and odd hours of the day. And when we have an important match the busiest roads of metropolitan look deserted. After giving a patient ear to my arguments, the boy clarified,

- So, Sir, you are for cricket as National Game as it has the maximum visibility.

- Precisely so. I asserted with a smile.

- Then let crow be made our National Bird.

On this crafty remark, obviously, I was speechless. My right thigh vibrated this time. The phone call saved me from further discussion, which of course I would not have prefered after being completely outwitted by the boy.

I walked fast back home with mixed feelings.

An incident...

On that day I was in a queue at Dadar ticket booking counter. Being the connecting link between western and central railway of city local trains, Dadar is the most crowded station of Mumbai. The overcrowding of the station is also evident in the booking counter meant for long distance trains. Every queue looks a quarter of a kilometer long with impatient faces around. It was not a situation where ‘the other queue moves faster’. People in different queues were giving sympathetic gestures to each other, gestures which if translated to words would perhaps have been read as “I, here, am no better”. And yes, some of the first timers in such long slow-moving queues must have considered themselves to be the most unfortunate creatures next to the terrorist hostages. However, I, since seasoned with such situations, was just killing time by looking around people. And in Mumbai, at any point of time, public places like these have enough pretty faces to keep one engaged.

During this not so wasteful time-pass, one couple caught my attention. Though not newly married they looked attractive partly because of their young attire and partly because of their elegant English speaking style. They were standing quite close to me in the very next queue at my left. I started observing them with a little more concentration.

I could clearly see the husband wearing a collared T-shirt with ‘East India Company’ engraved on it and ‘UK’ printed at the chest pocket. The rest of the T-shirt was plain except some logos here and there which I could not decipher.

Four centuries before, this British East India Company, stepped into India for trade and subsequently became instrumental in establishing British Empire on this soil. At the outset, I wondered how one could wear a dress symbolizing the company which conspired to take away the political freedom of people in the name of business. Another important reason of surprise was how the person managed to get a T-shirt of the company, which died hundred and thirty years ago.

There was a break in my thought, when I heard the wife complaining on the slow progress of the queue. After a while, the husband approached the counter at my right, which had hardly five people. That counter was actually meant for freedom fighters and senior citizens. The same was clearly mentioned on the signboard over the counter. The husband might have missed that. But the irony was this gentleman with a British East India Company brand T-shirt was standing in a line meant for freedom fighters. And this view looked so much inapposite and funny that I could not resist in sharing the same with couple of persons around. And each person, who witnessed the same, enjoyed the scene and gave a puzzling and satirical look at the gentleman.

However, the gentleman did not get a helping from the counter, and had to come back to join his wife in the original queue.

A TITANIC Revelation

At the outset I would like to give a full credit to my old friend Gaurav Harit for this piece. We came to know each other at IIT Delhi, though not immediately after joining. We were both in Masters, but in different streams. Both stayed in the same hostel, yet in different floors. Some casual discussion on dining table on a random day made us friends. Gaurav - a thorough gentleman from Rajsthan – used to be simple, studious and a keen observer of life possessing rational opinions. This all-India 5th ranker in GATE (Electrical) is humbleness personified. The last I know, he was doing PhD from IIT and I am out of touch with him since last 6 years or so. Hope he reads this blog someday.

On one Sunday morning, Gaurav spoke to me about Titanic, the movie he had seen the night before. He seemed to be in an enlightened state of mind. He told that he had seen numerous movies, particularly the Hindi ones, where ‘love’ is an integral part of the storyline. While reflecting back on those, he could never used to convince himself about the plot. He used to feel something was missing; something was inappropriate – but could never able to make out what that ‘something’ was. However, Titanic turned out to be so perfect that he was feeling nothing more to be seen, nothing more to be explored as far as movies based on love theme is concerned.

Gaurav was the first person to make me philosophize that love, in principle, has to be without violence. When one loves somebody, one in turn falls in love with the world. Hence, a person in love cannot be violent to anybody howsoever nefarious that anybody may be. Violence germinates from ‘hatred’; and hatred gets no place in a person who is in love. One must have witnessed in the movie Titanic how the hero and heroine did never think or discuss ill of the villain (to whom the heroine was engaged), let alone cause physical harm to him. They do not strike back when they were chased or attacked – they just ran away. This is quite unlike of Bollywood movies, where the hero conspires with his friends to eliminate the villain and finally emerges successful in his violent mission. One’s violence thoughts and deeds just reflect how much away one has fallen from the state of being in love. Gaurav was not able to convince himself how it is possible for a person immerged in love to cause damage to others as naturally as depicted by conventional movies. A wholly non-violent couple in Titanic was nothing less than a eureka for Gaurav’s long sought completeness in movies based on love theme.

Another aspect of Titanic love story is the associated selflessness. Love is painful when self interests are involved i.e. expectations are attached with love. Many would agree this pain accounts for the tears people sheds or the beers they consume when they have a break up with their loved ones. They feel their dreams are dashed. But selfless love is always painless, and Titanic is a splendid show of the same. It is a classic example where love is depicted beyond any personal agenda. In the entire movie the lover duo spends the time together in both happy and difficult situations without expecting any selfish gains out of the relationship. That was perhaps the reason for the fitting end of the movie where the heroine did not end her life after the hero died protecting her.

No Tobacco Day Slogans

One of my relatives asked me to coin some quotes to mark No Tobacco Day...

***

1. Before you light the cigar,
think about others inhailing air.

***

2. Someone somewhere is made for you;

say NO to Tobacco for that ‘someone’, if not for you.

***

3. Live and let live – Oh dear!
Be a Non-smoker.
***
4. Passive smoking is like second-hand car;

you pay for the maintenance before reaching far.

***

5. Be Strong, be Human, be Considerate;

say no to cigar; motivate a mate.

***

6. A smoker is a slave of the ill habit;

a chain-smoker is like a chained slave.

***

7. Your family loves you, friends admire;

smoking spoils your life, scars their.

***

8. Smoking - a transitory pleasure;
which invites a risky future.

***
9. “Human Chimneys” best describes a Smoker;
who burns own lungs & damages others’.
***
10. Listen to me, my dear smoker;
your lips deserve a treatment better.

***

Hope, you liked these.

It rains…

The clock strikes 12 in the night, the only time shared both by today and tomorrow. In Mumbai the rain has finally had a start; the month long wait ends. And what was a drizzle in the day is now a downpour. The TV Channels have started telecasting the fresh rainy scenes of roads and lanes. Certainly, tomorrow’s newspapers will not be free from the same pictures with lyrical captions.

Like any other year I have placed myself in the balcony to welcome the newly arrived monsoon.

It rains…when nature craves for beauty. Perhaps rain is the most beautiful attire of nature - more beautiful than summer and winter. Everybody, be it human or animals, insects or trees – all look so fresh, lively and natural. Beauty unbound.

It rains… when body cries for wetness. Rain moistures the palms, the lips and the voices. Yes, the skin, which has got tanned in summer and dried in winter needs rains the most. It turns soft and sweet. Once strong and wild, now looks so delicate. Especially, the fairer species mesmerise the onlookers as rain drops play hide and seek in their long curly hair.

It rains... when air wishes to be neat and cool, water wishes to be pure and full; when land wants to be clean and green. Rain symbolizes serenity and peace of mind. It embodies happiness and completeness.

The Jamun tree from my balcony looks lovely. Each leaf of it appears as if it is carrying an offspring to bring about new life. The branches look as gentle as sponge. The swimming pool behind looks contented with unbounded pleasure. The overflowing water gives a sense of submission and satisfaction after being free its limbs from chains of artificiality. I can see through the drowsy streetlight a small plant peeping out of the neighbouring building crack planning for a revenge on concrete. Two street children wrapped in polythene play pebbles under the lights as if they are out for a trip to moon.

I come back to my desk with a drenched mood. My YouTube is playing popular lines of the hashyakabi Dr Kumar Biswas … Koi deewana kehta hai, koi pagal samjhta hai; magar dharti ki bechaini ko bas badal samjhta hai…

The restlessness of the earth finally has the answer.

Tomorrow is busier than today

This is not a mere assertion, but a conclusion I am making based on my own experiences with self and with others. Many things in life, which I postponed thinking to take them up at a later date - when I would be relatively free - remains undone for ever. On the contrary, quite a few things which I forced myself to do in spite of seemingly hectic schedule worked out well in the end. I had similar experiences with people who have assisted me in PeFSSED. Many friends, who genuinely felt that they are tied up at present for a genuine reason, and they can contribute more to the organization on a later date, have admitted that they have actually moved to a busier schedule with time.

Indeed with every new day, we get to interact with new people, encounter new situations - which make the cobweb of life further knitted and complex. During childhood days, for all the 24 hours, we, the typical middle class, have to do two typical things - i. Curricular (Study) ii. Non-curricular (play, paint and poetry). Many other activities though are related to us but are taken care by our parents and other care takers. We have got few friends - all of them are only from school and colony, less are the isuses, and few are the dreams.

Though we tend to forget things of past, but we tend to remember things which bear high relevance for us beyond its temporal and spatial dimension. And with time, these significant things keep increasing. As full grown adults our 24 hours are not the same as of a kid going to school and back at home study and play. As adults, dreams are many - as it has piled up since childhood days to youthful times; day to day challenges are numerous - because of the actions and reactions in response to both things of past and present. List of activities increases with every day. Managing 24 hours become more and more difficult with passing time. Hence people become busier day by day.

This monotonicity of busyness with time is in line with physics law of entropy or second law of thermodynamics which says - Entropy (disorderliness) of the universe can only increase. Similarly, I feel busyness can only increase with time. Postponing soft tasks, which may be penning a passage or extending a helping hand, with the expectation of an idler tomorrow is like running after a mirage as tomorrow can only be busier than today.

One in eighteen years versus three per monsoon

I was in Visakhapatnam in one monsoon to see my wife. My wife was doing her masters there and she had taken a rented flat on beach road adjacent to sea. Being born in Puri (a costal town of Orissa) I have special affection for sea. My mother says in my infanthood I was exposed to sea so many times that I used to identify all sorts of water as ‘sea’ – when I feel thirsty I used to ask for a glass of sea :). However I had never seen sea in rain. This desire I wished to fulfill while in Visakhapatnam.

One day it was raining heavily. My wife did not get excited with my idea to go to sea in the pounding rain - may be because she had witnessed it during rain number of times on her way to hospital. She preferred to stay indoors and volunteered me with her umbrella. I satiated my desire to see sea taking bath in the rain. It gives immense pleasure when dreams come true, particularly the childhood ones. 'Gain' in pleasure but 'loss' in drive... one needs to have dreams to keep going...

“Ladies umbrellas are too small” - back home I asked wife while she handed me a towel.

“Actually, this umbrella I am having since class 7.” - She replied with a smile.

There was less - a sense of achievement and more - a sense of guilt in her statement. Guilt - because I might have faced discomfort with the relatively small sized umbrella.

“Don’t tell me you have used it for the last eighteen years!” – I gave her a dumb look.

“Yes I have.” – came the casual reply.

I was in the habit of losing umbrellas – on average three per monsoon. My economist friends would argue endorsing my habit that when one loses and re-purchases – this is good for the economy as it results in transfer of wealth, more consumption and hence production, more GDP, more employment - all positive signals.

“But this is surprising… how could you manage to do this!” – Still the fact has not sunk in me.

Being well aware of my losing habits, her answer to this was probably within the question she posed to me that she is equally surprised that how could I manage to lose them so frequently.

I did not say anything to her. I said to myself in defense – it is an art. The same answer I gave when I was asked by one of my professors – how did you manage to do that - after I forgot my laptop in an auto.

Yes it is an art. But how about not losing and maintaining the same umbrella for eighteen years. When she handed me the umbrella, it was wrapped in a cover and placed in the cup board. In the afternoon I saw her neatly packing the umbrella back after it got sun-dried. Yes, this is also another art. But surely, a far superior one!

How big our heart is!

Do you remember the first scene of the movie "Mera Naam Joker" (Superstar Raj Kapoor's one of the best). The film starts with a stage show in which a doctor (veteran actor Om Prakash) lifts the unwilling patient (the Joker - Raj Kapoor) to the operation table for a heart surgery. Following is the dialogue exchange between the patient and doctor -

patient:- Why I am being operated. I am completely allright. Perfectly healthy.
doctor:- No no, u have serious problem at ur "dil" (heart).
patient:- what problem?
doctor:- Your "dil" (heart) is 'big' - not fitting to this 'small' society.
patient:- But then, why to operate my heart, why not operate the society!!!

But as u know the doctor does not oblidge... takes out that big red heart from the joker...
and the joker dances holding his heart with the song "Jeena yahan marna yahan" (life is here and death is here), and the heart drops on the floor from a height and breaks into number of pieces... and the story unfolds.

The important inference is, we all need to be big-hearted joker patient. And if we find narrow mindedness in the surrounding meddling in our pursuit, then we need not change ourselves, rather we should try at our level best to change the society in the desired way. Now, the important question is 'what that big heart is?'. To me having a big heart is to love our fellow human beings irrespective of the 'birth bondage' or any 'economic-politico-circumstantial barriers'. If we are not able to do that, we need to change from within and to work towards making our heart 'big' to accomadate everybody.

A blanket makes one to enjoy winter

It was a typical rainy day in Mumbai. Anybody who has witnessed a monsoon in Mumbai knows the intensity with which the rain dates the city. Rain seems all the more stimulating at IGIDR (Indira Gandhi Institute of Development Research, www.igidr.ac.in), which is built on a mountain top in such a way that the topography of the mountain is not compromised with. In the words of Mr U C Jain, the chief architect of IGIDR –

the institute was never built as a building with four walls and a roof. Porosity is important as it responds to the hot and humid climate, and gives the required openness and visual linkage.

Standing on the corridor of IGIDR, I was listening to the rhythm of pounding rain and getting moistened with fine drops rebounding from the concrete. This hybrid color of the wall of rain with the red building, green grass and blue sky in the background was making a literary scene.

My affair with rain took a pause when I saw Satish on staircase struggling to fold his umbrella. As he came close I found him completely drenched. Umbrellas are poor fellows. When they were manufactured they were told that they would be only used as a shield against rain, but certain rains come with wind. Mumbai rain is one of those. That has made Satish a victim who could only save his head. As I took Satish inside to give him a towel, Satish said “such a nasty rain”.

Satish was right. The scene of Dharavi in rain appears in front of my eyes. The same rain, which I was enjoying a moment ago, actually acts as a villain to million of slum dwellers. For many low laying houses rain enters inside the homes, the people therein have no option than settling temporarily in some neighbouring house which is somewhat at higher level. On a rainy afternoon, if one passes through a lane of any slum, it seems life of the residents is no better than life of domesticated animals. Pavement dwellers have more pathetic life like that of stray dogs.

The art of life has its own place. The rain can be enjoyed only if one has a secured roof. Otherwise the most pleasing pursuit of nature would look atrocious. Even in daily life our enjoyment is conditioned to the comfort cushion of secured feeling. Before I conclude, let me give couple of more examples.

I was travelling via sleeper class train from Mumbai to Rourkela with my cousin and one of my friends. We had three seats booked for us, but we spent the whole time in one seat (side lower berth) swallowing the cool air in a rainy night, playing Antakshari and talking on random topics. In morning, my cousin remarked that our other two seats were waste! Yes, it may seem wasteful as throughout the travel it carried a small baggage or scattered newspaper or a magazine. But on the second thought, I realized that our unbound happiness was pegged to the those unused seats as we were sitting in one seat 'voluntarily', under our free will. Not under any compulsion. Voluntary discomfort is pleasing; where as compulsory ones are severely painful. You might have expereinced or witnessed such compulsory adjustments during travel.

I had a similar experience with one of my ex-colleagues. He was on a one-day Bangalore trip for personal reason and did not have sufficient money in his account for any emergency need. I gave him my ATM card. He returned from Bangalore and returned me the card with a 'thank you' note. But the card was not used even once, and not a penny was drawn from my account. I told him that perhaps I did not deserve a "thank" as my card was not used for any purpose. But his opinion that the card had served its purpose. It gave the required financial security, and kept him relaxed throughout the journey.

'Security' is indeed very important in life. It is a precondition to enjoyment. It is like a blanket in winter, which we can embrace tightly or loosely as per our freewill to enjoy the climate.

False Promise

Pitter-patter rain
Woke me up again
Clouds campaign
Made me lazy, a little insane.

Smell of woods, cold snaps,
Half-day leaves, afternoon naps.
Spicy pakodas, kissing of cup,
Hours on TV, ceaseless gup-sup.

Long drives, lush green fields,
Dancing waves, rustling winds,
Paper boats, the splash and ripple,
Mothers worry, children’s giggle.

Comes the evening with the drizzle,
People fancying, music bubble.
Lazy day, dreamy night,
Earth rests waiting for the light.

Rain O' Rain!
Pleasure unbound,
I become insane, a real insane.

Pitter patter rain
Woke me up again
Breaking windowpane,
Made me worry, a little strain.

Leaking roofs, flooded drains,
Uneven roads, halting trains.
Snuffling nose, occasional fever,
Flood warnings, cyclone danger.

No Sooraj Barjatya, no Karan Johr,
Madhur Bhandarkar takes over.
Uprooted plants, houses in water,
Relief camps, faces of hunger.

Sleepless nights, terrifying days,
Floating animals, disease and deaths.
Loss of wealth, kith and kin,
Rain sweeps away everything.

Rain O' Rain !
Pain unleashed,
I become sane, a real sane.

Rain O' Rain, pitter, patter.
You too despised like none other.
Many enjoy, yet millions suffer
You gave pain, promising pleasure.

Spouse and politicians...

In Oriya we have a saying.

Puri bol, Khiri bol, Bhata tale sabu
Bapa bol, Bhai bol, Kacha tale sabu

This translates to…
Be it Puri (fried puffed whole wheat flat bread ) or Khiri (porridge , called Payaysam in Sanskrit), everything is secondary to rice. Be it father or brother, everybody is after husband (in fact kacha means bangle which girls wear after marriage - as a symbolic depiction of marital life).

The above quotation is highly relevant in our day to day life. Being the staple diet, Rice or roti (Indian bread which is a staple diet, particularly in North India), can never be replaced by more sophisticated food. Food items like puri, payasam can be taken once in a while, but these can never be eaten on daily basis. Also, sophisticated food items, taken in excess are detrimental to health. Similar to rice and roti, the importance of spouse can eclipse other relationships. I have an example in this regard.

That was one of the most dreadful days in my life. I and my mother were taking my father to CMC hospital, Vellore. My father was having continuous vomiting and headache for several days or months, the exact cause of which could not be traced by the doctors who were treating him in Orissa. So, my brother, who was working as a psychiatrist at Vellore, asked us to bring him there for appropriate diagnosis and treatment.

At the airport waiting hall, I saw my father feeling severely uneasy, when I asked whether he is feeling any pain, he swings his head in negation. At the very next moment, when I was not looking, my mother asked him the same question, he nods his head in affirmation. That is the difference – that is the love, the intimacy and the oneness.

So, in marital life (both true for husband and wife), the relationship with spouse is the thing which one can not do without for long, like one can not do without rice or roti as a food item.

In similar lines can we write on professions, about professionals?

A politician does not design a moon-trip per se, but s/he envisions the same, takes the decision when to plan it, and facilitates the entire process. On most occasions, scientists, engineers, technicians just act as instruments in the fulfillment of politician's aspiration.

I faintly remember a chapter on C V Raman, in our school days. During his old age he admitted that he could not succeed in developing fundamental science research in India. He, as a Nobel laureate Scientist for four decades (C V Raman got Nobel in 1930 and lived up to 1970) tried his level best, but he failed as he realized (off late though) that the real authority to develop science in India lies solely with the people wearing Gandhi caps (he was referring to the politicians).

What is true for scientific research is true for any other field. I don’t think an educationist can do a better job in shaping our education system than a politician; an engineer can better our infrastructure than a politician, an army-man can provide better security than a politician. So, be it education, be it health, be it infrastructure; a politician comes before everybody, politics comes before everything.

So, can we say the following…

Pulish bol, wokil bol, bol engineer babu;
doctor bol, collector bol, neta tale sabu.
(Be a police or a lawyer or an engineer, be a doctor or a collector, everybody comes after a politician)

I am proud to be Indian because...

One friend asked me to complete this quote -

"I am proud to be Indian because..."

I was puzzled. Yes, I am proud to be Indian when I come across a Amartya Sen or a Viswanathan Anand, but 'pride' is not the singular or the most prominent feeling in me as Indian. Rather, I have mixed feelings of being an Indian...

I am insecure to be Indian - when I am a lone Bihari boarding a Mumbai train.

I am privileged to be Indian - when I see a Sub Saharan country having just above forty years of life expectancy.

I am victimized to be Indian - when I am one of the faces in the crowd i.e. when I am the 'stupid common man' of Wednesday.

I am indifferent to be Indian - when I think of disarmament, world government and world peace.

I am ashamed to be Indian - when I am an onlooker to that nun parading naked in Kandhamala, Orissa.

I am fortunate to be Indian - when I find me amidst challenges and see opportunity of life through them.

"Hey boss... you cant change the first part of the quote" - my friend clarifies as if he read my thoughts.

Well, what came out after some manipulation of indigenous thinking with consulted ideas was the following -

I am 'proud' to be an Indian because she 'humbles' me by her vastness, plurality, freedom, and the unique strengths of emotions and intelligence through the dark struggles of starvation and ignorance.

There is no god; if there is one, its google

Looking at the title of the article, one of my friends commented 'how much google is paying you for this'? Well, by using google I don't mean 'google' per se, but google is a symbolic use here to represent facilities on internet.

Let us not discuss the first part of the assertion i.e. whether there is god or not - the age old debate between the theists and the atheists, and probably the longest one in human civilization. The theist ones have every right to disagree, but assuming that my personal opinion lets move on to the issue of analogy of google with god.

First, what does god supposedly do? One of the major practical contribution of god is s/he acts as a helping hand emotionally (per sure) and physically (debatable) at the time of need. Doesn't google do the same? Let us ask ourselves. What you, I or anybody spending considerable time in front of a pc does at the time of crisis. We do a ‘google’. Here I am not saying about all the countrymen of which 65% farmers. But I am telling about those 7% computer users, for whom google comes as savior at the time of any kind of trouble. From school kids, to advanced researchers and professors google to keep themselves updated with the available materials. Not only in studies, for each and every requirement like to locate a place in a map, or to read a story of O Henry, or to download a freeware google is invariably used. Virtually, google is the window to peep into the world of knowledge. Of course, it is not the knowledge itself. But it acts as the facilitator. Well, here theists would opine god is not only attributed for knowledge, but also for the reason of our existence. So, yes, to that extent google has not replaced god, but yes it has replaced the role of god as facilitator. It has made the progress of life easier, helping computer users in innumerable ways. It is not surprising to see 'google' appearing as a verb in standard English dictionaries.

After completing above paragrapghs, to substantiate my views further, I checked on google with the exact phrase "google is god" (in quotes) for reference. To my surprise I got as many as 25100 web links. That means the exact phrase has been used so many different times in past. This assures, I am not saying anything new and a lot of material is already available on the theme of godliness of google. So friends better for me to stop, and for you - who tend to agree or disagree on what I say - to see for yourself in the google.
Happy googling!!!

Energy Waste to Power House

Weight instruments in gym need to be combined with energy storing devices.

This one is long pending query I have. Is it not possible to combine energy storing device in instruments to weight exercise?

There are hundreds of people per body building centers (gym) and tens and hundreds of gyms per city. So, undoubtedly a large number of people do the work out day in day out. Loads are lifted and released. Springs are compressed and de-compressed.

Efforts are put. Sweat poured off. Calories burnt. Bodies toned. But yes, as per the energy conservation laws, the energies released by the humans get exhausted in machines in lifting loads and compressing springs. So how about transferring that energy to some storage device?

Has anyone, any engineer/researcher pondered over this?

A Gym instrument costs sky high. Here I am not talking about the dumb bells or simple instruments which cost in hundreds. I am talking about the instruments which cost in lakhs or close to a lakh. So can energy saving batteries be put in those instruments so as to conserve the energy that simply go waste in raising weights? This additional arrangement will store a good deal of energy which can be utilized on the same premise like air-conditioning, lighting or even running other gym instruments.

With this, people will have an additional incentive to do gym – they will understand that the effort they make not only tone their body but also create some useful energy. This is a very useful contribution to the economy as this reduces the overall consumption of energy in the country.

People are becoming now a days more health conscious. More and more people are joining health centers. So I appeal the Energy Device Researchers to take this as a research problem. If the research succeeds, gyms will no more remain a place where dumb weights jump up and down rather it becomes a “power house” where human muscular energy gets converted other forms fruitful energy.

In present situation of situation of energy crisis this must not be ‘bad’ idea…

Am I wrong somewhere?

The strongest weakpoint of The Wall

I am not a cricketing expert. I have seen hardly thirty percent of matches Rahul has captained, that too most of these in bits and pieces. But one dark side of Rahul's captainship I have consistently observed that he does lack the ability to rotate across his bowlers.

It seems Rahul does not apply his brain at all while his side fields. He just allows opponent batsmen to play through the overs. He allows them to settle. He never tries to get break through by bringing variation in the attack. So far I know, a lot has been crticized on the recent "over experimentation" in batting order, unfortunately, no cricket analyst, has pointed on "no experiment (lifeless)" in bowling order. To me, the crux of Indian failure is Rahul's captinancy and the crux of Rahul captinancy failure is this particular issue.

Some of you might be more involved in the game of cricket, hence, more competent to give a better judgment on this particular aspect of Rahul's captainship. But from a layman understanding level of cricket, we find quite a few times, a team wins a game because the innovativeness they bring in their bowling order. I remember, during Azhar’s or Saurav’s captainship we used to win matches because of the mere fact that the captain applied many a such innovations to unsettle opponent batsmen. There are quite a few instances where 'out of the box' thinking in slotting sequence among regular and irregular bowlers resulted in winning breakthrougs. No cricket lover must have forgotten the last over bowled by Tendulkar in the Hero cup match several years ago where he gave away only 2 runs. Can any of you site any match during Rahul’s tenure at helm, where we have won because he made some choices at the right moment in the bowling combinations.

A captain lifts the cup when a team wins. That is precisely so, because a captain has a role in almost every moment of the game. S/he can turn around the match by making right filed placement, right combination of bowling attach, right instructions to players. I am really doubtful whether Rahul does any of the thing on the filed.

It looks like; I am behaving as the subject in Raju Srivastava’s joke where he made satire in his inimitable style that how when our players fight hard in the sun, some of people play cricket relaxing in their cozy drawing room watching TV set and throwing ideas like as if they have the best clue for the moment. Well, I am ready to take the risk of sounding like a “chhoti muhn badi baat”, yet I could not resist myself sharing my frustration on Rahul’s poor bowling strategy (in fact no plan/or strategy at all) in this blog or for that matter in any other forum, with the hope that somebody will tell Rahul to innovate and strategize on filed to give life to the bowling attack by making it innovative and dynamic.

Because of Dravid's this inability, I am indeed apprehensive that India has any chance in World Cup or any future tournaments. Dravid is undoubtedly a great batsman, but I do think he has to come out of his copy-book style (his batting is known for this style) attitude while allotting slots to his bowlers to emerge as a decent captain.

Do share your thoughts.

Civilization spelt backward

Today’s Times of India (Mumbai Edition) carried the news on the front page of two children on the verge of losing their eyesight as the crackers they played with burst at an unanticipated moment. Two days back the same spot of the paper was filled with the news item that on this diwali the level of noise in Mumbai has far exceeded the allowed level. Four days back the same spot carried the news of 5 peoples’ death as a cracker shop caught fire in Delhi.

This is just the replay of what might had happened in last year in a different node. The individual tragic cases get suppressed under the commercial extravagance.

On this Diwali night I was in Pune. On my way to a friends place, I witnessed roaring smoke filled roads filled with cracker debris. Almost all the friends and relatives I talked to during diwali days have said that they could not sleep late into the night, or forced to wake up very early in the morning (4 o'clock or so) at the sound of crackers. News items on disobeying the time-restrictions on crackers were reported from different cities. Be it Bhubaneswar, Delhi, Pune or Mumbai, I have observed form my childhood that on a diwali evening (now a days it is not just one evening but several evenings, late evenings, nights, and early mornings) one doesn’t get to breathe even once without hearing an explosion. A continuous bombardment of thundering noises split ones ears at every moment. There are some soft sounding crackers, but they sound soft, not because they are made to produce low decibel of noise; actually, they are equally deafening. Just that they are fired at a place distant from our stay. Hence, they lose the strength by the time they reach our ear. But yes, on the way they must have caused the damage to the people who reside in the vicinity, quite similar to what a neighborhood bomb cracker causes to us.

Now a days, Diwali is less a "festival of lights", and more a "festival of sounds" or rather "festival of noise", irritating, and harmful noise. One feels restless, precisely because, unlike a television remote s/he does not have the control to decrease the volume nor change to a different ambience (channel). I just wonder –
Is it real fun to being continuously subjected to high decibel noise for several hours, several days?
Are there people who like these, enjoys these Or they are just following a routine?

Don’t we feel necessary to review the use of crackers on diwali? I see crackers are ‘mini explosives’. It carries the danger throughout its complete life cycle. I am sure the people working at its manufacturing site must be experiencing dangers of similar nature with difference in scale and scope.

Without any accidents, crakers affect environment in a big way. Accidents, cause fatal consequences. Is it worth to carry this tradition of bursting crackers, just because we have been doing it for last several decades!

Any thoughts?

Root of Reservation...

In the last entire week, the incident which stole the limelight was Doctor's strike against OBC reservation in the field of medicine.

RESERVATION... one school of thought advocates it is an instrument to bring equality. The other school of thought tells just the reverese... it is to divide people in order to meet the vested interest of some socio-political groups. And the fight between the two thought-groups is on since independence. From 'discussion in drawing rooms' this has spilled over to streets often when either the quota-limit jumps with/without inclusion of a new section of the society in the reserved category or the quota enters into a new domain. Present medical student unrest/revolt is due to the later.

RESERVATION... though it takes certain tangible form in academics and jobs, but I think, it is very much there in the mind and action with even the so-called unreserved category from the early stages of life. Firstly, when a new born baby is named with a Surname - the caste tag, reservation germinates. Later in life, this tag plays its role on infinite occasions, small or big. Majority of marriages are in caste line, and the tag follows the person even after death in terms of the rituals performed. At all stages of life, in different socio-political sphere, this caste/community tag acts as an incentive or dis-incentive. Because of the inertia of caste-based practices of past, higher castes get an advantage, lower castes are in disfavour.

RESERVATION... the name carries it all. Even the sheer announcement of one's name does matter. I am not the only one saying this. Rather it is an experimentally proven fact, by World Bank. This year's World Developemnt Report (WDR 2006) says so in the following lines in page 24 of 300+ page document titled "Equity and Development" ... ''Striking evidence of the impact of stereotyping on performance comes from a recent experiment in India. Children from different castes were asked to complete simple exercises, such as solving a maze, with real monetary incentives contingent on performance. The key result of the experiment is that low-caste children perform on par with high-caste children when their caste is not publicly announced by the experimenter but significantly worse when it is made public (figure 5). If a similar inhibition of talent occurs in the real world, this implies a loss of potential output owing to social stereotyping.''

RESERVATION... many who are for it, argue that it is there to counter the "reservation" the high caste get in many other forms in society. It is a sort of 'government-oiling' required to decrease the 'frictions' the low caste experinece throughout in life; friction of all forms - social, interpersonal, or psycological. Isn't the root of this lies with the surname we carry? And... when we get the courage to drop our surnames to break the legacy of caste system - then I think, the authorities who ask for 'caste' or the individuals who declare the same volunterily - both would be ashamed of doing that. [Today invariably all forms carry the surname column, some even carry religion/caste column when the same is absolutely unnecessary.]

Lets give a big blow to this quota system by not declaring our castes... in both mind and action...
Lets uproot the reservation concept by naming our children synthetically... without surnames...
Lets imagine a society with only Sarthak Gauravs, and Nimisha Namratamayees...

Winner wins all... Not fair

One more round of election over... Switch on TV on 11th May. 90% of news of 10-15 news channels speak on one thing - the election results of 5 states... In any post-election analysis, two scorecards figure - 1. No of Seats and 2. Share of votes.
On the basis of former Govts form, collapse. Later is just for theoretical purpose :).

Share of vote does not matter as whether one wins by couple of hundreds of votes or few lakhs, result is the same - winner wins it all, looser looses it all.

Take the case TamilNadu election. The % share of vote for DMK led alliance was 45%. AIADMK led alliance vote share was somewhere around 40%. Out of 100 electorates, 70 voted (that was the turn out); and out of them 28 voted for AIADMK and 32 voted for DMK (i.e. 14% more). But If we look at the seats AIADMK+ got 69, where as DMK+ got 163 (i.e. 194% more). And the flaw is with the “simple majority” voting system.

I guess, political parties are silent about the system because even the victims of the system, think they can get benefited out of this flaw system 'next time'.

It is high time to dump the simple majority system and adopt MMP (Mixed Member Proportional System) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mixed_Member_Proportional, which is there in countries like Germany, NZ and the UK. Proportional representation is more democratic as everyone would be represented in true proportion and no group unjustifiably get promoted or demoted.

Are you all listening…