Dear God,
This was my "Goodbye" to Satyam....
My friend and well wisher,
You have received this email because you are one of the very few I have known and interacted with during this cathartic sojourn. Easily one of the finest individuals, you have been kind to me and helped me facilitate exchange of thoughts from time to time. Regardless of the nature of interaction or capacity, I am happy we got working together, making every endeavour a meaningful and realistic one.
You have also been the one I could relate to easily, and in no time. We may not have accomplished as much as we envisaged. All the same, my association with you will remain etched in memories for a long time to come.
Today was my last day in office. I couldn't have left here denying you the privilege of knowing that - you deserved it of all. As I write to you, my current phone number is being deactivated. I will apprise you of a new number shortly.
In the interim, please write to me on ramtherock@hotmail.com; Look me up "Aham Brahmasmi" on Facebook and Orkut. I would really like for us to be in touch.
God bless you, always.
Ram
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Nadodikattu I (The Wandering Wind)
Dear God,
At long last I am back talking to you. Call it lethargy or smug, I have just not been up to anything lately.
Slowdown, job/pay cuts have left all of us drained emotionally. I needed to break free, escape to a place away from this pandemonium. An unplanned, almost overnight decision put me on a train to my hometown, Palakkad.
As I set foot in your country, I knew this was going to be a memorable and a rejuvenating trip. It had rained the night before and the aroma of Earth almost jump-started my senses.
Thottam house, the ancestral home from another century stands tall and proud in the hamlet called Chandrasekharapuram. One look at the structure tells you that it has weathered many a violent storm, has stood the test of time and has become a significant part of history and legacy. The insides have scarcely been modified ever since I have known it. Every element in the building still goes strong and carries generations of memories. I have vivid memories of scampering around the house with Thatha (Grandpa) chasing, trying to keep speed. I was born here and although spent very little time after, I have always been drawn to the house and the village folk.
Thinnai (Front yard), the house and the Kollai (Backyard) constitute to the Thottam House.
A recently modified gate that rests on two ageing (albeit, gracefully) pillars welcomes you into the Thinnai, into Thottam House. The slanting Ottuperai (Roof made of mud) forms the parasol. Thinnai is lined with plants/trees bearing flowers like Shoe flower, Lily, Bougainvillea etc. Most of the flowers are used as offerings to you during the morning Pujai (Puja). A Nellikkai (Gooseberry) maram (tree) at the foot of the Thinnai keeps popping its produce onto the Ottuperai.
The insides of the house comprise of Ullu Thinnai (Sit out space), Macchikullu (Store), Your room, Adukullu (Kitchen, there are two), rest room and Macchimellai (Attic).
Kollai (Backyard) is love beyond poetry. Dotted with tall trees and now an unused well, it is but natural for poetry to flow here. Quiet is abundant here. Trees and birds alone have the right to utterance, if any. The thicket that forms when branches embrace each other is divine abode. Coconut and Jackfruit trees are like an epidemic, really! Every house here, as elsewhere in Kerala is embellished by these trees. So we call upon Kunjuraman's services to get some coconuts down and feast on them. Kunjuraman to me is the real Spiderman, the real Superhero. He can go up the tree in almost no time and send those fruits flying down like it was a routine day in office. Oh! by the way, Kunjuraman runs errands for houses here including gardening, cleaning up wells etc. Back to his exploits, I feasted on at least three of them, along with the fruits that lined the walls inside. What thrilled me truly was that I had them for free versus having to spend about 8/- back home in the city.
"Green is the colour" goes the Pink Floyd ballad and how truly so. Hard as you might try, you cannot escape the greenery around - the Paddy fields, the trees, the hedges etc haunt you, in a good way of course! The end of the Kollai opens into the perennial Attangarai (a tributary of the great Bharatha Puzha). This is my favourite place here. I can thrive on this place, the sounds of the waters battering the rocks within, the fish biting into your legs etc. I believe the fish can bite into germ-infested wounds and heal them. The force of the current undulates onto your back giving you an almost therapeutic massage, one you cannot get at the plushest of Spas in town. There is so much to hear here - the birds, the splashes, the swaying of branches etc are nothing less than a beautiful composition. The sand encircling this beautiful stream shines in all its glory when the Sun embraces it at noon. Unfortunately, not too much of the sand is now left with realtors digging into it for construction purposes.
Part two follows.....
At long last I am back talking to you. Call it lethargy or smug, I have just not been up to anything lately.
Slowdown, job/pay cuts have left all of us drained emotionally. I needed to break free, escape to a place away from this pandemonium. An unplanned, almost overnight decision put me on a train to my hometown, Palakkad.
As I set foot in your country, I knew this was going to be a memorable and a rejuvenating trip. It had rained the night before and the aroma of Earth almost jump-started my senses.
Thottam house, the ancestral home from another century stands tall and proud in the hamlet called Chandrasekharapuram. One look at the structure tells you that it has weathered many a violent storm, has stood the test of time and has become a significant part of history and legacy. The insides have scarcely been modified ever since I have known it. Every element in the building still goes strong and carries generations of memories. I have vivid memories of scampering around the house with Thatha (Grandpa) chasing, trying to keep speed. I was born here and although spent very little time after, I have always been drawn to the house and the village folk.
Thinnai (Front yard), the house and the Kollai (Backyard) constitute to the Thottam House.
A recently modified gate that rests on two ageing (albeit, gracefully) pillars welcomes you into the Thinnai, into Thottam House. The slanting Ottuperai (Roof made of mud) forms the parasol. Thinnai is lined with plants/trees bearing flowers like Shoe flower, Lily, Bougainvillea etc. Most of the flowers are used as offerings to you during the morning Pujai (Puja). A Nellikkai (Gooseberry) maram (tree) at the foot of the Thinnai keeps popping its produce onto the Ottuperai.
The insides of the house comprise of Ullu Thinnai (Sit out space), Macchikullu (Store), Your room, Adukullu (Kitchen, there are two), rest room and Macchimellai (Attic).
Kollai (Backyard) is love beyond poetry. Dotted with tall trees and now an unused well, it is but natural for poetry to flow here. Quiet is abundant here. Trees and birds alone have the right to utterance, if any. The thicket that forms when branches embrace each other is divine abode. Coconut and Jackfruit trees are like an epidemic, really! Every house here, as elsewhere in Kerala is embellished by these trees. So we call upon Kunjuraman's services to get some coconuts down and feast on them. Kunjuraman to me is the real Spiderman, the real Superhero. He can go up the tree in almost no time and send those fruits flying down like it was a routine day in office. Oh! by the way, Kunjuraman runs errands for houses here including gardening, cleaning up wells etc. Back to his exploits, I feasted on at least three of them, along with the fruits that lined the walls inside. What thrilled me truly was that I had them for free versus having to spend about 8/- back home in the city.
"Green is the colour" goes the Pink Floyd ballad and how truly so. Hard as you might try, you cannot escape the greenery around - the Paddy fields, the trees, the hedges etc haunt you, in a good way of course! The end of the Kollai opens into the perennial Attangarai (a tributary of the great Bharatha Puzha). This is my favourite place here. I can thrive on this place, the sounds of the waters battering the rocks within, the fish biting into your legs etc. I believe the fish can bite into germ-infested wounds and heal them. The force of the current undulates onto your back giving you an almost therapeutic massage, one you cannot get at the plushest of Spas in town. There is so much to hear here - the birds, the splashes, the swaying of branches etc are nothing less than a beautiful composition. The sand encircling this beautiful stream shines in all its glory when the Sun embraces it at noon. Unfortunately, not too much of the sand is now left with realtors digging into it for construction purposes.
Part two follows.....
Monday, August 10, 2009
Wasted life
Dear Mr. Editor,
I have often believed that wavelength is a definitive and tangible term rather than just a feeling. Here's a comparison to demonstrate that:
1. Your name (Mohan Sivanand) sounds South Indian and I am a South Indian too.
2. You sport spectacles and so do I.
3. Apart from the fact that this is bread and butter, you appear to be committed to the language. This is evident from the prefaces, articles and some of your responses to emails from readers.Trust me, I have the same attitude towards English - I have written a bit (blogging) and I read a lot.
4. Considering you started your career while in Kerala, I assume that's your native. It is mine too!
Just a handful to bring out tangible coincidences. So what's the moral of the story, you ask? Well, since our wavelengths match, do you think you could get me a job at Readers' Digest?
Here are some reasons that may help you work on an answer:
1. We have been subscribing to the journal for the last 3-4 years. Avid fans of the monthly, the courier guy has been promptly delivering them at noon when dad's not home. This enables me to be the first to lay hands on it.
2. My father has gone crazy picking up those RD collectibles that will someday roll into the sweepstakes.
3. I have a profound respect for language and an undying passion for words.
4. I am between jobs and can use a job (Part time will do too) to capitalize on my skills.
5. I do not have any formal education in journalism or mass communication for fitment. All the same, I think I have a natural advantage with the language. So if you think I am worth a try, I could send you bits of what I have written in the recent past for you review.
Any role will do, I just need to be amongst words.
Let me also guess what you would do after reading this outlandish piece of junk:
1. Rubbish it like you would with any other junk you receive by the hour.
2. Share this email in a group and have a good laugh.
3. Maybe this will never even reach you, your office administrator might have a strong mind to consider this SPAM and junk it.
Sir, please help!
Of course, there was no response. I mean why would there be!!! What was I thinking.....
Dear God,
Don't let the title or the account take you aback. I am still trying to figure out why I wrote that ridiculous piece of junk - is it excess free time, joblessness or sheer foolishness? That's the email I had written to the Editor, Readers' Digest...
I have often believed that wavelength is a definitive and tangible term rather than just a feeling. Here's a comparison to demonstrate that:
1. Your name (Mohan Sivanand) sounds South Indian and I am a South Indian too.
2. You sport spectacles and so do I.
3. Apart from the fact that this is bread and butter, you appear to be committed to the language. This is evident from the prefaces, articles and some of your responses to emails from readers.Trust me, I have the same attitude towards English - I have written a bit (blogging) and I read a lot.
4. Considering you started your career while in Kerala, I assume that's your native. It is mine too!
Just a handful to bring out tangible coincidences. So what's the moral of the story, you ask? Well, since our wavelengths match, do you think you could get me a job at Readers' Digest?
Here are some reasons that may help you work on an answer:
1. We have been subscribing to the journal for the last 3-4 years. Avid fans of the monthly, the courier guy has been promptly delivering them at noon when dad's not home. This enables me to be the first to lay hands on it.
2. My father has gone crazy picking up those RD collectibles that will someday roll into the sweepstakes.
3. I have a profound respect for language and an undying passion for words.
4. I am between jobs and can use a job (Part time will do too) to capitalize on my skills.
5. I do not have any formal education in journalism or mass communication for fitment. All the same, I think I have a natural advantage with the language. So if you think I am worth a try, I could send you bits of what I have written in the recent past for you review.
Any role will do, I just need to be amongst words.
Let me also guess what you would do after reading this outlandish piece of junk:
1. Rubbish it like you would with any other junk you receive by the hour.
2. Share this email in a group and have a good laugh.
3. Maybe this will never even reach you, your office administrator might have a strong mind to consider this SPAM and junk it.
Sir, please help!
Of course, there was no response. I mean why would there be!!! What was I thinking.....
Dear God,
Don't let the title or the account take you aback. I am still trying to figure out why I wrote that ridiculous piece of junk - is it excess free time, joblessness or sheer foolishness? That's the email I had written to the Editor, Readers' Digest...
Sunday, April 26, 2009
W.
W.
Dear God,
Last weekend, I watched this movie by Oliver Stone – a portrayal of the 43rd President of the United States of America. In retrospect, I have been trying to answer the question – Is the movie good or bad?
I am not sure if rating the movie good or bad does any justice to an honest depiction of a man, a man of myriad shades, his life and times. It is not a work of fiction and hence rating it would mean taking sides. I mean here’s a man who was and will remain etched in our memories for a long time to come for some obvious reasons and some not so. Here’s a man we have all seen and heard from time to time for his eccentricities, his frequent faux pas with language and for all the hatred he garnered for himself over time.
W’s journey through reckless and irresponsible teens, his constant disagreements with Sr., his brash behavior, aimless life, indecisiveness etc is hardly a picture one would have of a man touted to be President.
The film moves back and forth in time throughout – W’s early days vis-à-vis the most significant chapter in his life and career. Some of the scenes leave you stunned, providing an insight into what W. actually endured.
Let’s start with one of the first scenes – his life at Yale. In a scene where seniors, as part of ragging require that rookies of Delta Kappa Epsilon earn their respect and credibility, W. demonstrates an outstanding knack of naming each member of the group along with their nicknames with total precision. Call it outstanding memory or his ability to impress easily, a trait that becomes a contrast later in life when he makes enemies with even more ease.
His attributes as an irresponsible, spoilt brat comes to light when he has nothing to do after graduating out of Yale. The movie showcases his tryst with destiny in local bars, squandering money, knocking up women and basically doing everything other than what his lineage stood for. Every time he gets into trouble, Congressman Sr. comes to his rescue. That is not to say that Sr. always favored him or that he was the pet at home. Sr.’s bias for Jeb (the younger Bush), his preference for Jeb running for office and his apparent dislike for W. leave W. completely under-confident, broken and shattered. This lingers for days to come right up to his tenure as President.
W’s fascination for baseball sees him co-own the Texas Rangers circa 1994. Not that he had any experience or “boastable” credentials, it was just fascination and an aim to do something in life and prove daddy wrong. The one striking feature of the movie is how he imagines himself in a baseball field as a player catching the ball on the boundary. He imagines the crowd applauding his effort. This happens every time he does well or is down in the dumps. This makes you want to empathize with his miserable state, makes you feel for him. This is what he craves for – attention.
Needless to mention, the movie also takes a view of what we thoroughly made fun of - Bushisms like “misunderestimate” (!!!!) or the significance he attaches in naming his initiative on Iran/Iraq/N. Korea (axes of evil) or his ignorant style of snubbing critics by “I am the President, I have the last word”. I was particularly stunned when in one of the scenes, W. is hosting a press conference and he points out to a journalist (assumedly, from the East) as a “Miss China”!!!!
So throughout the movie, we see a man who is confused and reckless, beaten down and under-confident, funny and ridiculous and yet successfully runs for two terms as the most powerful man in the world. The movie doesn’t at any point in time, take sides by criticizing his stand on Iraq; it does not take a unilateral view of the man who bought vitriol to millions in the world for his actions in the Middle East. It just portrays a man – one who was born with a silver spoon but carries its burden throughout his life.
I will not comment on the characters or their ability to portray a W., Colin Powell, Condoleeza or Sr. All I will say is that care has been taken to demonstrate a personality, his mannerisms and attributes. Take for instance, W’s habit of winking at his audience or transferring his body weight on one leg during conversations or his funny gait. Care has also been taken to portray the distinguished personality that Colin Powell is, his stoic and yet strong opposition to some of Bush and Co.’s policies like the stand on the “War on Terror”.
My verdict – No rating can measure up this absolutely profound and honest movie.
Dear God,
Last weekend, I watched this movie by Oliver Stone – a portrayal of the 43rd President of the United States of America. In retrospect, I have been trying to answer the question – Is the movie good or bad?
I am not sure if rating the movie good or bad does any justice to an honest depiction of a man, a man of myriad shades, his life and times. It is not a work of fiction and hence rating it would mean taking sides. I mean here’s a man who was and will remain etched in our memories for a long time to come for some obvious reasons and some not so. Here’s a man we have all seen and heard from time to time for his eccentricities, his frequent faux pas with language and for all the hatred he garnered for himself over time.
W’s journey through reckless and irresponsible teens, his constant disagreements with Sr., his brash behavior, aimless life, indecisiveness etc is hardly a picture one would have of a man touted to be President.
The film moves back and forth in time throughout – W’s early days vis-à-vis the most significant chapter in his life and career. Some of the scenes leave you stunned, providing an insight into what W. actually endured.
Let’s start with one of the first scenes – his life at Yale. In a scene where seniors, as part of ragging require that rookies of Delta Kappa Epsilon earn their respect and credibility, W. demonstrates an outstanding knack of naming each member of the group along with their nicknames with total precision. Call it outstanding memory or his ability to impress easily, a trait that becomes a contrast later in life when he makes enemies with even more ease.
His attributes as an irresponsible, spoilt brat comes to light when he has nothing to do after graduating out of Yale. The movie showcases his tryst with destiny in local bars, squandering money, knocking up women and basically doing everything other than what his lineage stood for. Every time he gets into trouble, Congressman Sr. comes to his rescue. That is not to say that Sr. always favored him or that he was the pet at home. Sr.’s bias for Jeb (the younger Bush), his preference for Jeb running for office and his apparent dislike for W. leave W. completely under-confident, broken and shattered. This lingers for days to come right up to his tenure as President.
W’s fascination for baseball sees him co-own the Texas Rangers circa 1994. Not that he had any experience or “boastable” credentials, it was just fascination and an aim to do something in life and prove daddy wrong. The one striking feature of the movie is how he imagines himself in a baseball field as a player catching the ball on the boundary. He imagines the crowd applauding his effort. This happens every time he does well or is down in the dumps. This makes you want to empathize with his miserable state, makes you feel for him. This is what he craves for – attention.
Needless to mention, the movie also takes a view of what we thoroughly made fun of - Bushisms like “misunderestimate” (!!!!) or the significance he attaches in naming his initiative on Iran/Iraq/N. Korea (axes of evil) or his ignorant style of snubbing critics by “I am the President, I have the last word”. I was particularly stunned when in one of the scenes, W. is hosting a press conference and he points out to a journalist (assumedly, from the East) as a “Miss China”!!!!
So throughout the movie, we see a man who is confused and reckless, beaten down and under-confident, funny and ridiculous and yet successfully runs for two terms as the most powerful man in the world. The movie doesn’t at any point in time, take sides by criticizing his stand on Iraq; it does not take a unilateral view of the man who bought vitriol to millions in the world for his actions in the Middle East. It just portrays a man – one who was born with a silver spoon but carries its burden throughout his life.
I will not comment on the characters or their ability to portray a W., Colin Powell, Condoleeza or Sr. All I will say is that care has been taken to demonstrate a personality, his mannerisms and attributes. Take for instance, W’s habit of winking at his audience or transferring his body weight on one leg during conversations or his funny gait. Care has also been taken to portray the distinguished personality that Colin Powell is, his stoic and yet strong opposition to some of Bush and Co.’s policies like the stand on the “War on Terror”.
My verdict – No rating can measure up this absolutely profound and honest movie.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Pressed to call
Dear God,
It’s been a while since I visited here. Blame it on the mundane, uneventful, uncertain times we are all enduring…And yet so much has happened in the recent past – Obama’s bail-out plans, Top executives of AIG returning their bonuses from the bail-out funds, Sarkozy on an apparent trip of revamping his cabinet (like it were a wardrobe) with the choicest of good-looking women, Varun Gandhi’s demented speech, Mulayam’s dig at Ministhy Dileep or the war of words between Chidambaram, Jaitley and Modi over IPL. Too many events and yet not much to write about, if you know what I mean.
Scribbling is how I began here and I intend to keep it that way too. To save the risk of running out of thoughts and therefore voluntarily closing down this area, I thought I’d write something that transpired (Something I thought was funny. Exaggerated, but funny) recently.
A very good friend of ours had been out of touch for a long time. Unusual I thought, because it was he who would always initiate the calls, messages or the well-wishes. I knew he was going through a tough time (like all of us are) with recession biting in. So, I decided to call him for a change. Actually, I called him multiple times. Surprisingly, he would either not respond or choose to keep conversations REALLY short with a “In the middle of something, give me a minute and I will call you back”. Of course, that “minute” never transpired and I kept waiting until I was truly motivated to write this exaggerated and rhetorical mail….
From: Ramaratnam Sunderrajan
Sent: Tue 3/24/2009 9:19 PM
To: manavbhalla
Cc: aloktiwary
Subject: "In the middle of something, give me a minute and I will call you back."
Respected Mr. Manav Bhalla,
I, Alok Tiwary (ex-XX, employee code - 30353, SSO number - 500009567, Ration card number - will have to write back!) write to you on behalf of S. Ramaratnam, another co-worker from ex-XX (pass-out, Dec'08).
This has reference to the aforementioned subject. As you may see, the subject indicates an oft used statement by you. The words were constantly ringing in his ear all the time. He had reached a point of hallucination and was recommended therapy. The shrink who we consulted said that his mind was beyond repair and until and unless a call or a message (read a "Sadma") from the "Be-all and End-all" (read Manav Bhalla) of M/S The XXXX Corporation happened to him, there was no hope! Sir, I write to you to describe the appalling plight that our friend has been put through, just for want of hearing from you.
It is imperative that I mention here Sir, that S. Ramaratnam was extremely disgruntled and indignant at the fact that every time he attempted to call you, "refer-the-subject" is what he got. He would always wonder (in my presence, of course) as to why your respected selves were never in the left or right of something, why only the middle. This geometrical anti-theorem caused deep and unwarranted stress on his rather sensitive mind. It also appeared that every time he called you, you never greeted/addressed him by name. Instead, you would just say a rather insipid, pale, uninterested, morose, melancholic (think I've run out!) "Hello". It was as if, your high flying, revolutionary and technologically superior handset could not store his complete name. To what Sir, does he owe this pathetic condition?
Please treat this email as a humble plea to make time out of your endlessly busy schedule and call our common colleague who is now on the brink of being crowned the next King of England (ok, that's exaggerated, but that's what he thinks). It has been ages since we made any contact with you (phone or email). Needless to mention, there have been similar episodes in the past where we have been unsuccessful in making any contact with you.
Rhetorical and caustic as the email may appear to you, all laws of physics have been defied with the ringing in his ears. It has left many a physician/ist dumbfounded as to why the ringing does not emanate a sound audible to others around. A research committee has been identified to study and counter this unique and historical phenomenon.
Bhalla, we all are going through pressures of some form - big or small. Guess you got the message, please call!
Regards,
Ram
Chei peete?
Minu
Chei – Rs. 5/-
Lukmi – Rs. 15/-
Paaya – Rs. 15/-
Meals – Rs. 25/-
Minral water – Rs. 10/-
Wash Bashun ------------>
(No Smoking Allowed here)
Dear God,
In case you wondered what this is about, let me introduce you to the world of Hyderabadi Cafes. And if you thought the spellings were blasphemous, don’t blame me – they are a straight lift from my experiences sitting around in there. Oh! Before I forget the absolutely prickly warning sign, Ambumani Ramadoss did successfully put a check on smoking, but did not probably envisage the faux pas with warnings.
So let’s start with our day’s visit to the quintessential Garden Café or the Omega Café…
Dost: Kaisa hai be?
Me: Good hai, kya chalra?
Dost: Kuch nahi be, wohi roz-madra ki zindagi!
Me: Chal Chai maarte hai (I can’t get over why we are so violent in life, verbally too!)
At the Café, after we are settled down with our usual smokes (Devil may care Ambumani Ramadoss):
Waiter: Chei peete? (Unusual, because a waiter here never stops for orders)
Me: How, do chai, malai ke saath
Dost: Ek bas re, merko nakko (there you go, our Hyderabadi versatility, a bit of Marathi)
The waiter yells “Ek chei, malai maarke!!" at the shady, dark and scary-looking kitchen. You have to be there to believe the baritone, modulated voice of the waiter. While the tea cup makes its journey to our meanwhile clean-dried mosaic table, we admire the facility.
Dost (nostaligic): Abbe, yaad hai apan poora din Café mein ek chai pe ghanto baitthe the! “
(Around here, you could actually sit smoking and talking, sometimes without ordering for practically an entire day. No questions asked.)
Me: How be! Everything else has changed, not these joints. Thank God for that!
In the interim, our cup of Irani Chai lands with a THUD! accompanied by an empty cup. Now that’s a Hyderabadi Café for you – if you can’t have all the tea, share it! And Guess what, if you don’t get one, ask for it. “Ek emty laa do”!
So then you get to hear the various voices around you – some chatting business, some giving mouthfuls, some others taking earfuls!, all of it in staunch, orthodox Hyderabadi lingo. In here, as across HYD, your mother ka, sister ka take a completely different meaning. Swear words are customized to suit the tongue, if you like.
Let me name a few prominent Cafes – most of which we frequent purely to appease our nostalgic hunger pangs. Garden Café, Omega Café, Niagra Café, Alpha Café, Hotel Blue Sea….Man! the memories associated with each is just so filling. I still recall, these hangouts served as the best stress busters after an argument at home, a tiff with the bus conductor or a long, drab day at the college.
Another feature of these joints – customers, loyal regulars. Some of them can take you back in time and narrate how these joints sprung up, the historical significance associated with each of them. The customers know the waiters by their names, or so I think! (every waiter here is either a ‘Seenu Anna’ or a ‘Munna’). Some of the customers around here are so comfortable, they actually use the water glasses around to double up for wash-basins post a sumptuous meal.
Your neighbour could be anybody, smoker or non-smoker, labourer or businessman. There are no frills attached, no questions on dignity. Everybody here is a customer.
Coming back, we finish our “chei”. We call for Seenu or Munna, pay him “ek chai” 5 bucks and are out of the café in no time. No queues at the counter, no tipping required and best of all, there are no complaints. The tea here is all ready before orders and is served piping hot.
So God, the next time you are here in HYD, do visit one of these vibrant joints. Trust me, you will not be disappointed. Who knows, you might go back and start a chain too!
Cheers to Hyderabadi chei and the Café spirit!
Chei – Rs. 5/-
Lukmi – Rs. 15/-
Paaya – Rs. 15/-
Meals – Rs. 25/-
Minral water – Rs. 10/-
Wash Bashun ------------>
(No Smoking Allowed here)
Dear God,
In case you wondered what this is about, let me introduce you to the world of Hyderabadi Cafes. And if you thought the spellings were blasphemous, don’t blame me – they are a straight lift from my experiences sitting around in there. Oh! Before I forget the absolutely prickly warning sign, Ambumani Ramadoss did successfully put a check on smoking, but did not probably envisage the faux pas with warnings.
So let’s start with our day’s visit to the quintessential Garden Café or the Omega Café…
Dost: Kaisa hai be?
Me: Good hai, kya chalra?
Dost: Kuch nahi be, wohi roz-madra ki zindagi!
Me: Chal Chai maarte hai (I can’t get over why we are so violent in life, verbally too!)
At the Café, after we are settled down with our usual smokes (Devil may care Ambumani Ramadoss):
Waiter: Chei peete? (Unusual, because a waiter here never stops for orders)
Me: How, do chai, malai ke saath
Dost: Ek bas re, merko nakko (there you go, our Hyderabadi versatility, a bit of Marathi)
The waiter yells “Ek chei, malai maarke!!" at the shady, dark and scary-looking kitchen. You have to be there to believe the baritone, modulated voice of the waiter. While the tea cup makes its journey to our meanwhile clean-dried mosaic table, we admire the facility.
Dost (nostaligic): Abbe, yaad hai apan poora din Café mein ek chai pe ghanto baitthe the! “
(Around here, you could actually sit smoking and talking, sometimes without ordering for practically an entire day. No questions asked.)
Me: How be! Everything else has changed, not these joints. Thank God for that!
In the interim, our cup of Irani Chai lands with a THUD! accompanied by an empty cup. Now that’s a Hyderabadi Café for you – if you can’t have all the tea, share it! And Guess what, if you don’t get one, ask for it. “Ek emty laa do”!
So then you get to hear the various voices around you – some chatting business, some giving mouthfuls, some others taking earfuls!, all of it in staunch, orthodox Hyderabadi lingo. In here, as across HYD, your mother ka, sister ka take a completely different meaning. Swear words are customized to suit the tongue, if you like.
Let me name a few prominent Cafes – most of which we frequent purely to appease our nostalgic hunger pangs. Garden Café, Omega Café, Niagra Café, Alpha Café, Hotel Blue Sea….Man! the memories associated with each is just so filling. I still recall, these hangouts served as the best stress busters after an argument at home, a tiff with the bus conductor or a long, drab day at the college.
Another feature of these joints – customers, loyal regulars. Some of them can take you back in time and narrate how these joints sprung up, the historical significance associated with each of them. The customers know the waiters by their names, or so I think! (every waiter here is either a ‘Seenu Anna’ or a ‘Munna’). Some of the customers around here are so comfortable, they actually use the water glasses around to double up for wash-basins post a sumptuous meal.
Your neighbour could be anybody, smoker or non-smoker, labourer or businessman. There are no frills attached, no questions on dignity. Everybody here is a customer.
Coming back, we finish our “chei”. We call for Seenu or Munna, pay him “ek chai” 5 bucks and are out of the café in no time. No queues at the counter, no tipping required and best of all, there are no complaints. The tea here is all ready before orders and is served piping hot.
So God, the next time you are here in HYD, do visit one of these vibrant joints. Trust me, you will not be disappointed. Who knows, you might go back and start a chain too!
Cheers to Hyderabadi chei and the Café spirit!
Friday, February 6, 2009
My purpose around here
Dear God,
I must confess I don’t know why I started writing. I don’t think there was an influence or a driving factor. However now, after a not-so-great hand at some scribbling, I think I am motivated to write more and more. It seems to get me thinking all the time. It makes me look for words to fit meanings to thoughts. Needless to mention, the feeling of triumph makes me feel lighter.
Maybe I did draw inspiration from my Idol, my mentor Amit Bhaskar and to some extent from my sister too. But I don’t know. I am not going to spend too much time talking about their styles of writing. To maintain continuity, let me tell you what my objectives are around here.
1. My thoughts, my ideas are intellectual property to you and me. No one else needs to alter my thoughts or try influencing my conversations with you.
2. I will write what I feel like. In you I trust, all others (especially, the cynics) can go and take care of their businesses.
3. I will share my conversations with absolutely select few, few who will understand my thoughts and critique them wisely.
4. I am not the kinds who will write to you because I have to. I will do that at my will and to suit my whims and fancies.
5. I am not sure if these thoughts reach you Dear God. Nonetheless, I will continue scribbling because I feel good talking to you.
6. I want my efforts to be a dialogue and hence I write to you. I will try and eventually imagine your responses too to my thoughts.
7. If my language is not flashy and my thoughts are small, it’s alright. All I need is for you to understand me. In you I trust, all others (especially, the cynics) can go and take care of their businesses.
8. I don’t care if my dialogues have snap-endings (a la O. Henry) or no endings at all. All I need is for you to understand me.
Good talking to you God.
I must confess I don’t know why I started writing. I don’t think there was an influence or a driving factor. However now, after a not-so-great hand at some scribbling, I think I am motivated to write more and more. It seems to get me thinking all the time. It makes me look for words to fit meanings to thoughts. Needless to mention, the feeling of triumph makes me feel lighter.
Maybe I did draw inspiration from my Idol, my mentor Amit Bhaskar and to some extent from my sister too. But I don’t know. I am not going to spend too much time talking about their styles of writing. To maintain continuity, let me tell you what my objectives are around here.
1. My thoughts, my ideas are intellectual property to you and me. No one else needs to alter my thoughts or try influencing my conversations with you.
2. I will write what I feel like. In you I trust, all others (especially, the cynics) can go and take care of their businesses.
3. I will share my conversations with absolutely select few, few who will understand my thoughts and critique them wisely.
4. I am not the kinds who will write to you because I have to. I will do that at my will and to suit my whims and fancies.
5. I am not sure if these thoughts reach you Dear God. Nonetheless, I will continue scribbling because I feel good talking to you.
6. I want my efforts to be a dialogue and hence I write to you. I will try and eventually imagine your responses too to my thoughts.
7. If my language is not flashy and my thoughts are small, it’s alright. All I need is for you to understand me. In you I trust, all others (especially, the cynics) can go and take care of their businesses.
8. I don’t care if my dialogues have snap-endings (a la O. Henry) or no endings at all. All I need is for you to understand me.
Good talking to you God.
“I don’t want to be an actor”
Dear God,
Acting is commonly defined as a profession where a person through visual, sound and any other storytelling media tells a story by portraying a character and usually singing or speaking text or play.
Notice the stress on ‘portraying’. Portray in turn, means to depict, represent or show. Now, let’s talk about it in relation to acting skills. A bit of history to open the subject…
Rewind to the 1800s and the first available video footage is of the silent movie Roundhay Garden Scene, a British short film. Fast forward to the 1900s and the first Sound film was called The Jazz Singer, an American musical.
I define acting as an ability to live a character and connect with the audience through the character’s emotions, mannerisms, habits etc. with utmost conviction. Dialogues to me are secondary; significant but secondary. Take for instance, the silent era – a true test of the actors’ skills to portray characters without being able to utter a word. Imagine the amount of expressions, emotions that would need to go into the movie if the actor had to connect with the audience, to sweep them off their feet!!
Can you imagine a ‘Cape fear’, a ‘Men of honor’ or a ‘Godfather I/II in the silent era? I for sure, can’t. These movies relied heavily on the dialogues and the characters’ ability to deliver those power packed, heavy and sometimes snappy dialogues. Most of the characters were based either entirely or loosely on real-life characters. All of them – De Niro, Nicholson, Brando/Pacino lived the characters and delivered us the masterpieces as we know them today.
So, what’s my point you ask? Here goes. I feel acting is no longer the only required skill in times we live today. Times have changed, tastes have changed, and so have emotions and the overall outlook on life. Life is fast-paced, attention spans are reduced, and we want action laced with captivating content.
Why do you think there is so much of hatred for our never-ending Hindi soaps? Simple, we can’t relate to them anymore. I can not relate to the long, endless pauses between dialogues. I find it difficult to agree with the expressions on the characters’ faces, their emotions. They simply do not apply to life as it is today. I wanted to personally explore these soaps to experience why there was so much prejudice. So I watched a couple of them. I couldn’t believe that the characters mouth a single “Nahi!!” four times in four different photographic angles. Who on earth does that? Or there is a force-fit, meaningless and unwanted suspense to every shot before a break or at the end of every episode. And why so much emphasis on a negative word “Nahi!!”? Come on!
In contrast, look at a new breed of actors, Farhaan Akhtar, Neil Nitin Mukesh or Abhay Deol to name a very few. I don’t see any expressions on their faces, no extraordinary emotions and certainly no heavy dialogues. And yet, I am able to readily relate to the characters they play. For example, Farhaan’s character of a lead singer – not only is it believable but also the trauma that it goes through with disbanding without excessive banter or long-winding dialogues and a final reunion with the band is pure magic. Or take Neil’s character of a small-time thug, nothing flashy about it either. He plays this very stoic, cold and unfettered character and executes the heist with almost no effort.
I do not say that acting as a skill is void. It just has to transform into a new plane, a plane where emotions or dialogues don’t matter. All that matters is connection, appeal and a lingering bond with the audience. Movies/plays now need to be fast-paced in capturing attention, for otherwise we have better business to take care of.
Acting is commonly defined as a profession where a person through visual, sound and any other storytelling media tells a story by portraying a character and usually singing or speaking text or play.
Notice the stress on ‘portraying’. Portray in turn, means to depict, represent or show. Now, let’s talk about it in relation to acting skills. A bit of history to open the subject…
Rewind to the 1800s and the first available video footage is of the silent movie Roundhay Garden Scene, a British short film. Fast forward to the 1900s and the first Sound film was called The Jazz Singer, an American musical.
I define acting as an ability to live a character and connect with the audience through the character’s emotions, mannerisms, habits etc. with utmost conviction. Dialogues to me are secondary; significant but secondary. Take for instance, the silent era – a true test of the actors’ skills to portray characters without being able to utter a word. Imagine the amount of expressions, emotions that would need to go into the movie if the actor had to connect with the audience, to sweep them off their feet!!
Can you imagine a ‘Cape fear’, a ‘Men of honor’ or a ‘Godfather I/II in the silent era? I for sure, can’t. These movies relied heavily on the dialogues and the characters’ ability to deliver those power packed, heavy and sometimes snappy dialogues. Most of the characters were based either entirely or loosely on real-life characters. All of them – De Niro, Nicholson, Brando/Pacino lived the characters and delivered us the masterpieces as we know them today.
So, what’s my point you ask? Here goes. I feel acting is no longer the only required skill in times we live today. Times have changed, tastes have changed, and so have emotions and the overall outlook on life. Life is fast-paced, attention spans are reduced, and we want action laced with captivating content.
Why do you think there is so much of hatred for our never-ending Hindi soaps? Simple, we can’t relate to them anymore. I can not relate to the long, endless pauses between dialogues. I find it difficult to agree with the expressions on the characters’ faces, their emotions. They simply do not apply to life as it is today. I wanted to personally explore these soaps to experience why there was so much prejudice. So I watched a couple of them. I couldn’t believe that the characters mouth a single “Nahi!!” four times in four different photographic angles. Who on earth does that? Or there is a force-fit, meaningless and unwanted suspense to every shot before a break or at the end of every episode. And why so much emphasis on a negative word “Nahi!!”? Come on!
In contrast, look at a new breed of actors, Farhaan Akhtar, Neil Nitin Mukesh or Abhay Deol to name a very few. I don’t see any expressions on their faces, no extraordinary emotions and certainly no heavy dialogues. And yet, I am able to readily relate to the characters they play. For example, Farhaan’s character of a lead singer – not only is it believable but also the trauma that it goes through with disbanding without excessive banter or long-winding dialogues and a final reunion with the band is pure magic. Or take Neil’s character of a small-time thug, nothing flashy about it either. He plays this very stoic, cold and unfettered character and executes the heist with almost no effort.
I do not say that acting as a skill is void. It just has to transform into a new plane, a plane where emotions or dialogues don’t matter. All that matters is connection, appeal and a lingering bond with the audience. Movies/plays now need to be fast-paced in capturing attention, for otherwise we have better business to take care of.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
I seek answers
Dear God,
You know I am a sucker for the unexplained, the mysterious, and the supernatural. I have often had questions that do not always seem to fetch convincing answers despite lots of reading up and talking to various people. One such question – What is Hell like?
The other day, I was reading an extract of Dante’s Divine Comedy. His clear and vivid imagination of what Hell might be like is truly outstanding.
I have always known (blame it on the upbringing!) hell to be a pot of boiling oil. Those that committed sin were dropped into that pot and left to burn till eternity or until another dimension relapsed. Our movies always depicted God as Almighty, The One and that just a mention of his name would reduce the evil to shambles. Some movies are still etched in my memory for the treatment that is meted out to the naughty, prankster evil when he ventures out during his night shifts in search of his conquests!
I wonder if that is actually true, Dear God. Is it true that your power is such that no evil is even light years close to being a match?
In sharp contrast, many an English movie I have watched depicts you and the evil on an even platform, bilateral if you will. Movies like The Exorcist required the High Priest to work hard in his profession. Movies like The Omen (and the series thereafter) depict the strength of your evil counterpart. As a matter of fact, the characters (the supposed “Know-alls”) fail to finally fell The Prince of dark.
So Dear God, why this difference in interpretation? If you are The One and The Force to reckon with, and if every corner of your creation that believes in you knows that, why this ambiguity?
Anyway, I think that is best left unanswered because I know I don’t have to worry about any other entity when The Force is with me. However, out of persuasion of curiosity and to maintain continuity of this dialogue, let’s move on…
So, back to the Divine Comedy… Dante describes Hell as a very cold region (not sure if that is a befitting word!) and that is a BIG deviation from what I had always known. What’s more, there isn’t a single pot for all crimes and all sinners!! While crime is organized, treatment to crime also seems to be more organized than outside the Indian context!
But wait, let’s talk more about Dante’s account. His articulation of the seven stages of Hell is nothing short of a treat. It is amazing how each crime is dealt with separately and in an organized fashion. Take for example, the Second Circle of hell – this one packs those who have sinned, overcome by lust. Sinners in this circle are blown about by violent storms with no sign of rest. It is amazing how Dante draws a comparison of their plight with their sin. This, he says symbolizes the power of lust to blow one aimlessly.
Similarly, he describes each circle of hell with a convincing precision of the sin and treatment thereof. Some of the text, when pictured in the head makes one want to truly explore regions beyond your borders. The timing of the account obviously has nothing to do with his imagination. However, what strikes me is the confidence he demonstrates during times when mention of evil was evil in itself.
As part of reviews on his work, it was hard to believe that it was originally not well-accepted until around the 19th century when it was drawn for inspiration. Sad, for an account of this epic proportions and colossal creativity.
Nevertheless, it made excellent reading and gave me an insight into the various possibilities with the power of imagination.
You know I am a sucker for the unexplained, the mysterious, and the supernatural. I have often had questions that do not always seem to fetch convincing answers despite lots of reading up and talking to various people. One such question – What is Hell like?
The other day, I was reading an extract of Dante’s Divine Comedy. His clear and vivid imagination of what Hell might be like is truly outstanding.
I have always known (blame it on the upbringing!) hell to be a pot of boiling oil. Those that committed sin were dropped into that pot and left to burn till eternity or until another dimension relapsed. Our movies always depicted God as Almighty, The One and that just a mention of his name would reduce the evil to shambles. Some movies are still etched in my memory for the treatment that is meted out to the naughty, prankster evil when he ventures out during his night shifts in search of his conquests!
I wonder if that is actually true, Dear God. Is it true that your power is such that no evil is even light years close to being a match?
In sharp contrast, many an English movie I have watched depicts you and the evil on an even platform, bilateral if you will. Movies like The Exorcist required the High Priest to work hard in his profession. Movies like The Omen (and the series thereafter) depict the strength of your evil counterpart. As a matter of fact, the characters (the supposed “Know-alls”) fail to finally fell The Prince of dark.
So Dear God, why this difference in interpretation? If you are The One and The Force to reckon with, and if every corner of your creation that believes in you knows that, why this ambiguity?
Anyway, I think that is best left unanswered because I know I don’t have to worry about any other entity when The Force is with me. However, out of persuasion of curiosity and to maintain continuity of this dialogue, let’s move on…
So, back to the Divine Comedy… Dante describes Hell as a very cold region (not sure if that is a befitting word!) and that is a BIG deviation from what I had always known. What’s more, there isn’t a single pot for all crimes and all sinners!! While crime is organized, treatment to crime also seems to be more organized than outside the Indian context!
But wait, let’s talk more about Dante’s account. His articulation of the seven stages of Hell is nothing short of a treat. It is amazing how each crime is dealt with separately and in an organized fashion. Take for example, the Second Circle of hell – this one packs those who have sinned, overcome by lust. Sinners in this circle are blown about by violent storms with no sign of rest. It is amazing how Dante draws a comparison of their plight with their sin. This, he says symbolizes the power of lust to blow one aimlessly.
Similarly, he describes each circle of hell with a convincing precision of the sin and treatment thereof. Some of the text, when pictured in the head makes one want to truly explore regions beyond your borders. The timing of the account obviously has nothing to do with his imagination. However, what strikes me is the confidence he demonstrates during times when mention of evil was evil in itself.
As part of reviews on his work, it was hard to believe that it was originally not well-accepted until around the 19th century when it was drawn for inspiration. Sad, for an account of this epic proportions and colossal creativity.
Nevertheless, it made excellent reading and gave me an insight into the various possibilities with the power of imagination.
Times
Dear God,
I was in discussion with friends sometime last week over how times have changed. It occurred to me that the change seems to have accelerated only in recent times.
I still recall dad’s last take-home was Rs.10000/- (PM) and this was as recent as 2002. Thanks to you, I had started earning then and hence we didn’t feel too much heat. But then it got me thinking – if he earned only so much after having spent 25 YEARS in the same organization, what am I complaining about? In 2002 and at only 24, I was already earning Rs. 10000/- (PM).
Picture this:
There was a time when I had only one set of uniform for school – one in brown for Mon-Thu and another in white for Friday. Almost everyday stitching is what held the brown trousers in one piece. One day the stitches gave way when in school during a leisure hour. I remember I had to tuck my shirt out to cover the rip near the back pocket while on my way back home.
Those were tough times, with money difficult to come by. Appa had to work on Saturdays too, so he could earn a measly, paltry sum of Rs. 110/- for OT!! Hence, a new set of brown trousers was almost like a far-fetched dream. Yet again, thanks to you, an old Sweater came to my rescue. I put that on to school everyday over my shirt just to hide the rip. You will not believe it, this applied for summers too!!
Cut to today, my cupboard is overflowing with the choicest, the “most-branded” of clothes. Today, I disown a shirt if there is a hint of dirt or stain (sometimes, inconspicuous too). Today, I throw a shirt after a day’s use as if it were not my business to hang it up. Today, I spend Rs. 800 -1000/- on just a shirt!
Or this:
I had never known what pocket-money was or what it meant. And so, every time my friends went to the movies, hang out and have fun, I would throw a stiff at home and demand for extra money to be the “cool” one. Amma would have to part with a slice off Appa’s OT so I could enjoy.
And throughout all these episodes, my little sister would be the quiet and enduring one in the family. I can not recollect one occasion when she misbehaved or made unreasonable demands. Now, when I look back I know that she had matured before time and before I did; she clearly understood the situation at home.
You know, Appa had to sell his house of 8 years for 4 lakhs to cough up for the initial payment of my new flat. Who does that these days, God?
Cut to today, anything lesser than a Rs. 1000/- weekend would be a rude Welcome to Monday. It feels odd if money is not spent on booze and ‘Chicken snacks’ every weekend.
We would buy our monthly groceries at the “Marwadi kadai” (Marwardi store) on credit. I recall Appa having to cut some of the other expenses so he could accommodate the credit at the store. I don’t believe our monthly groceries went beyond Rs. 1000-1500/- a month.
Cut to today, Rs. 3500/- also does not complete our grocery shopping. It gives me a feeling that we just want to spend more regardless of utility value.
Or this:
I wanted to take up a course with NIIT (computers weren’t yet a boom back in 1997). I am still not clear why I did that. Even now, I am not interested in computers. So when I retrospect, I am sure I took it up because I liked fancy names (the course was Graduation in NIIT)!! Can you believe that? Amma had to pledge her ornaments for the Rs. 40000/- course fee.
To believe that Appa and Amma managed our education, home loan, household expenses and any other overheads within Appa’s salary is just truly amazing. I bow to them, God.
So then God, my questions to you are simple –
1. Will I ever be able to repay Appa and Amma and Sis for all the struggle that they have endured for me?
2. What did I do to deserve so much from them?
3. Why am I still complaining, what more do I want?
I was in discussion with friends sometime last week over how times have changed. It occurred to me that the change seems to have accelerated only in recent times.
I still recall dad’s last take-home was Rs.10000/- (PM) and this was as recent as 2002. Thanks to you, I had started earning then and hence we didn’t feel too much heat. But then it got me thinking – if he earned only so much after having spent 25 YEARS in the same organization, what am I complaining about? In 2002 and at only 24, I was already earning Rs. 10000/- (PM).
Picture this:
There was a time when I had only one set of uniform for school – one in brown for Mon-Thu and another in white for Friday. Almost everyday stitching is what held the brown trousers in one piece. One day the stitches gave way when in school during a leisure hour. I remember I had to tuck my shirt out to cover the rip near the back pocket while on my way back home.
Those were tough times, with money difficult to come by. Appa had to work on Saturdays too, so he could earn a measly, paltry sum of Rs. 110/- for OT!! Hence, a new set of brown trousers was almost like a far-fetched dream. Yet again, thanks to you, an old Sweater came to my rescue. I put that on to school everyday over my shirt just to hide the rip. You will not believe it, this applied for summers too!!
Cut to today, my cupboard is overflowing with the choicest, the “most-branded” of clothes. Today, I disown a shirt if there is a hint of dirt or stain (sometimes, inconspicuous too). Today, I throw a shirt after a day’s use as if it were not my business to hang it up. Today, I spend Rs. 800 -1000/- on just a shirt!
Or this:
I had never known what pocket-money was or what it meant. And so, every time my friends went to the movies, hang out and have fun, I would throw a stiff at home and demand for extra money to be the “cool” one. Amma would have to part with a slice off Appa’s OT so I could enjoy.
And throughout all these episodes, my little sister would be the quiet and enduring one in the family. I can not recollect one occasion when she misbehaved or made unreasonable demands. Now, when I look back I know that she had matured before time and before I did; she clearly understood the situation at home.
You know, Appa had to sell his house of 8 years for 4 lakhs to cough up for the initial payment of my new flat. Who does that these days, God?
Cut to today, anything lesser than a Rs. 1000/- weekend would be a rude Welcome to Monday. It feels odd if money is not spent on booze and ‘Chicken snacks’ every weekend.
We would buy our monthly groceries at the “Marwadi kadai” (Marwardi store) on credit. I recall Appa having to cut some of the other expenses so he could accommodate the credit at the store. I don’t believe our monthly groceries went beyond Rs. 1000-1500/- a month.
Cut to today, Rs. 3500/- also does not complete our grocery shopping. It gives me a feeling that we just want to spend more regardless of utility value.
Or this:
I wanted to take up a course with NIIT (computers weren’t yet a boom back in 1997). I am still not clear why I did that. Even now, I am not interested in computers. So when I retrospect, I am sure I took it up because I liked fancy names (the course was Graduation in NIIT)!! Can you believe that? Amma had to pledge her ornaments for the Rs. 40000/- course fee.
To believe that Appa and Amma managed our education, home loan, household expenses and any other overheads within Appa’s salary is just truly amazing. I bow to them, God.
So then God, my questions to you are simple –
1. Will I ever be able to repay Appa and Amma and Sis for all the struggle that they have endured for me?
2. What did I do to deserve so much from them?
3. Why am I still complaining, what more do I want?
Times....contd
Dear God,
About a week ago, I chanced upon this forward. I am not usually BIG on ‘forwards’ but this one truly caught my attention. It goes…
”Here I am sitting in my office at night...Thinking hard about life.
How tiny pocket money changed to huge monthly paychecks, but then why it gives less happiness…
How a “2 Re. ka Mirchi bhajji” has changed to eat outs at KFC, Subway and yet why there is less hunger…
How a bike always on “Paanch point” (Hyderabadi for 0.5ltrs of Petrol) changed to a car with a full tank, but then why there are less places to go on…
How calls at the PCO changed to a flashy mobile, and yet why there are fewer calls & more messages…
How an old assembled desktop changed to new branded laptop, but then why there is less time to put it on…
Here I am sitting in my office at night… Thinking hard about life…How it changed…. "
There are bigger things in life than the sight of crisp currency notes…”
Unbelievably true, isn’t it? I was thinking that I have absolutely everything, everything a bachelor could ask for; a great family to go back home to, a fully loaded house, two A/Cs, a laptop and a desktop, a music system, a home Video with a decent collection of movies, books; all this and more. I do not mean to say that these are the only things that bring about happiness or content in life. But, since every bit at home is self-made, to me it holds a lot of significance.
And yet, there is a void in life – an inexplicable vacuum, certain emptiness. What happened to days when I could have four “Bhajjis” and feel elated about having eaten-out? What happened to the times when a first-day, first-“Chiranjeevi”-show at the movies gave me a sense of conquest? Whatever happened to those “Holis, Diwalis, Dussehras and New Year’s” that ushered in festivities, a feeling of gaiety all around?
All I do these days is finish work, watch TV before retiring, watch TV in the morning, watch TV over the weekends and that is it – appears the TV is my Bobo Doll. And what on TV – the stupid, irritating reality shows, beaten up and repetitive news, talk shows on which film star is dating whom, what is the current fashion statement, stand-ups that endlessly ridicule the system, the people and almost everything else in this world.
Sometimes, it makes me wonder if you had a purpose in mind when you bought me in your creation. Where God, where have the good days all gone? Is this what it means to grow up, to be mature – that you sacrifice the little joys, the excitement, and the content in life? That you give up on friends, those bus rides (on footboard!!), the visits to the parks, the movies – is that what it takes to be known as a “successfully settled boy” in society?
I know a lost hour is a lost hour – it never comes back. However, I earnestly want to start afresh – get out of this everyday “rat-race”, run-of-the-mill issues/concerns at work, mundane Mondays and absolutely insipid, drab folks to deal with.
I want to start simple, enjoy little moments of happiness, give to the society, spend time with you, talk to you, have a loyal set of friends to enjoy evenings with and come back home to a nice, quiet drink before retiring.
Dear God, some of my friends think that that way of life is too idealistic, too hard to live. I can’t believe I thought the same way about all the luxuries I enjoy (materialistic, really!) today. So tell me God is a simpler life too much to ask for?
I’ll sign off today with a few lines from one of my favorite songs…
So baby, let’s sell your diamond rings,
Buy some boots and faded jeans,
And go away….
This coat and tie is choking me, in your high society,
You cry all day…
We’ve been so busy keepin’ up with the Jones,
Four car garage and we’re still building homes,
Maybe it’s time; we got back to the basics of love….
About a week ago, I chanced upon this forward. I am not usually BIG on ‘forwards’ but this one truly caught my attention. It goes…
”Here I am sitting in my office at night...Thinking hard about life.
How tiny pocket money changed to huge monthly paychecks, but then why it gives less happiness…
How a “2 Re. ka Mirchi bhajji” has changed to eat outs at KFC, Subway and yet why there is less hunger…
How a bike always on “Paanch point” (Hyderabadi for 0.5ltrs of Petrol) changed to a car with a full tank, but then why there are less places to go on…
How calls at the PCO changed to a flashy mobile, and yet why there are fewer calls & more messages…
How an old assembled desktop changed to new branded laptop, but then why there is less time to put it on…
Here I am sitting in my office at night… Thinking hard about life…How it changed…. "
There are bigger things in life than the sight of crisp currency notes…”
Unbelievably true, isn’t it? I was thinking that I have absolutely everything, everything a bachelor could ask for; a great family to go back home to, a fully loaded house, two A/Cs, a laptop and a desktop, a music system, a home Video with a decent collection of movies, books; all this and more. I do not mean to say that these are the only things that bring about happiness or content in life. But, since every bit at home is self-made, to me it holds a lot of significance.
And yet, there is a void in life – an inexplicable vacuum, certain emptiness. What happened to days when I could have four “Bhajjis” and feel elated about having eaten-out? What happened to the times when a first-day, first-“Chiranjeevi”-show at the movies gave me a sense of conquest? Whatever happened to those “Holis, Diwalis, Dussehras and New Year’s” that ushered in festivities, a feeling of gaiety all around?
All I do these days is finish work, watch TV before retiring, watch TV in the morning, watch TV over the weekends and that is it – appears the TV is my Bobo Doll. And what on TV – the stupid, irritating reality shows, beaten up and repetitive news, talk shows on which film star is dating whom, what is the current fashion statement, stand-ups that endlessly ridicule the system, the people and almost everything else in this world.
Sometimes, it makes me wonder if you had a purpose in mind when you bought me in your creation. Where God, where have the good days all gone? Is this what it means to grow up, to be mature – that you sacrifice the little joys, the excitement, and the content in life? That you give up on friends, those bus rides (on footboard!!), the visits to the parks, the movies – is that what it takes to be known as a “successfully settled boy” in society?
I know a lost hour is a lost hour – it never comes back. However, I earnestly want to start afresh – get out of this everyday “rat-race”, run-of-the-mill issues/concerns at work, mundane Mondays and absolutely insipid, drab folks to deal with.
I want to start simple, enjoy little moments of happiness, give to the society, spend time with you, talk to you, have a loyal set of friends to enjoy evenings with and come back home to a nice, quiet drink before retiring.
Dear God, some of my friends think that that way of life is too idealistic, too hard to live. I can’t believe I thought the same way about all the luxuries I enjoy (materialistic, really!) today. So tell me God is a simpler life too much to ask for?
I’ll sign off today with a few lines from one of my favorite songs…
So baby, let’s sell your diamond rings,
Buy some boots and faded jeans,
And go away….
This coat and tie is choking me, in your high society,
You cry all day…
We’ve been so busy keepin’ up with the Jones,
Four car garage and we’re still building homes,
Maybe it’s time; we got back to the basics of love….
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