Thursday, December 07, 2006

Love is the suspension of all faculties and senses.......

............including intelligence!!

Monday, September 18, 2006

Sometimes more spills out onto the pages than from the eyes.
Taking the only way out is often mistaken for bravery.

Saturday, September 16, 2006

All the remedies in the world......
............Yet the mind has no cure.

Friday, September 08, 2006

Just a thought......

Hope it is not stolen......

I hate it when people steal thought. It is different when two people are thinking the same thing. That's empathy. But when you express a thought and find moments later that someone had claimed it to be his own, in other word steals it...its horrible!! Its the worst crime next to murder, probably same as murder because who are you without your thoughts? Just an empty shell. When material objects are stolen there are ways to claim them back. But thoughts!.....Once stolen they are gone...it is all about who goes around expressing them first. That is my thought. Stealing thoughts is murder. I have been murdered. And it is horrible because no one can see that I have died.
Just a thought.......

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

The Limousines of Snobdom

Have you ever been to the Lodhi Empire....No no....not the 12th century one....of course I know THEY are dead.....but the other one with the capital in IHC. Actually the original capital was Mr. Stein's landmark IIC the India International Centre...but it has now shifted to its more chic and "mod" younger bro...the IHC...for those who are unfamiliar with Delhi...The India Habitat Centre.
The vast dominion of this kingdom spans from the IHC at one end, across Lodhi estate, it ends at the very hub of "snobdom" the Sujan Singh Park with Khan Market looking on in disdain at any stray mongrel that may have strayed into its sanctified domain.This empire is ruled by the "Snob" dynasty...quite a contrast to the rulers of the original Lodhi empire who have been known through history as the "Slave" dynasty. Go to Lodhi estate and you meet with the plethora of snobs...of all sizes, shapes and colours. There are the snob aunties, the snob babes, the snob offsprings, the snob bureaucrats, ....oh the list is endless. I am not going to talk about them...If you are interested in further reading on them pick up one of the scores of coffee table books that are mushrooming across bookstores.
What intrigues me are the "autowallas" and the transformation they undergo when they cross the Khan market or IHC red light.They are no longer CNG burning, noise and smoke emitting, funny shaped media of public transport. No, don't be fooled by the seemingly common appearance of green and yellow battered metal and torn upholstery. They have become the winged mythical vehicles from Ravana land. Its like the red lights are some kind on invisible time portals.Pass through them and the auto is no longer a three wheeler. Its a stretch limo with more wheels than those snaky carrier trucks found on Ring Road after midnight. They drive up grandly to the waiting diplomats and other people full of self importance waiting their ride an inch away from the IIC gate. Even the buses are so rare that it would almost seem that they do not want to trample on the holy grounds. And if they do stop, they pick up their passengers surreptitiously and are away sooner than you can even decipher their route.
The other phenomenon that never fails to amuse me is the throng of autos that line up the IIC road with apparently no intention to go anywhere. If you are a frequent visitor you will realise that they are chauffeured autos and are awaiting the hirers, sometimes all day long, to take themback to their new destinations. What amuses however is how these guys dont even so much as blink towards the lesser mortals like yours truly, let alone send out the silent query of all "normal" autofellows-"kahan jaana hai?"(where do you want to go?) instead they go pretending that you do not exist and leave you to seek the condescension of a more generous autowallah....perhaps if you are fortunate enough after an hour of standing around looking foolish, you might meet up with a stray one that has mistakenly entered the hallowed lands and is as desperate to get out of there as you are. But be ready to pay through your nose, if you are catching a ride on Lodhi Estate, if you happened to have even breathed that air, you are supposed to be green....with money! What brings about this disdain? The fact that you do not have your own little wheely, a vintage or a flashy new Benz....oh my God not even a lousy 800, WHAT are you doing in the L land??? If the citizens of snobdom have such an outlook towards you, thats okay. They apparently are entitled to by their rights as a L land citizen, but what is hilarious that even the autofellows think that way, and they survive on overcharging and subterfuging people who do not have their little wheelies to spin around town in!!!
So next time you do take a trip to those sacred grounds, my advice to you is: if you dont have a car, then walk...walk as fast as you can...till you have stepped out of the sanctum of the Lodhis that is unless you have a wallet that can afford a green CNG driven Limousine.

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Alma "Matar"

Defaming the institutes that make us the individuals we are, is in my opinion, a shameful act. It is pitiful that we turn around to mud-sling the very places that have brought us all this way.

Often, with no exception to myself, I find people talking about the institutes, of which they are the alumni, in a manner that makes them seem the worst places to be. Little do we realise that defaming these stepping stones only signifies our dissatisfaction with who we are, and is a convenient way to shift blame.......

The "Common" cold

Last November I had scribbled.........
"I hate how common the "common cold" can be. As the mercury dips, faster than any of the years I have been here, my entire respiratory system does a municipal plumbing on me...clogged and runny at the same time. Sorry to sound so gross but when your voice sounds like you drank the entire bar the previous night, there is little else that comes to an oxygen deficient brain. My ears feel like there is enough surgical cotton in them to supply AIIMS. This is sick you say ??....well try having a "common" cold in this uncommonly cold weather....now thats being sick."

Friday, June 30, 2006

My twopence on Bongland!!

15th Aug 1947, New Delhi, India. A proud man standing tall on the remnants of his past declared….Tonight at the stroke of midnight while the world sleeps India awakens to its freedom…or something to that effect. Some “Smart Alec” was sharp enough to observe that at the stroke of midnight half the world was actually wide awake and it was in fact 2 p.m. in the afternoon at New York and people were in fact returning to work from their lunch break. Well these minor details aside, at the stroke of midnight while Indians woke to their first taste of freedom in 150 years, one state switched off the alarm and remained stooped in slumber. Bengal, the chief instigator of the National movement, the pioneer of the freedom struggle was too tired to open its eyes. It was still in shackles, a slave of its own past, of its heydays when the bright young stars of the national leadership hailed from the Bengal skies. Ah! The sweet proud glorious memories. Kolkata had drunk long and hard at its cup of glory. The hangover lasted even longer.
Bengal is yet to awaken to a present when a very different seducer threatens to caste its net over Bengal and bind it again in the chains of slavery. For thirty long years communism has reigned unchallenged and Bengal sways to its hypnotizing tune in dazed assent. It has been bedazzled by the recantations of its own resplendent past and put into a deep slumber of complacency by the panegyrics sung in honour of its brave sons.
Time, it seems, has slowed down for this state in stupor. While the rest of the world rushes by to beat time itself, Bengal’s machinery is coming to a slow grinding halt.
Look around Kolkata and walk down its cobbled streets, this is a city that is clinging to its past with all that its got, petrified at the thought of letting go, lest it may never be able to stand up again. So afraid to march forward into the future lest it plunges into the dark depths of anonymity and never recover. Yes Kolkata has much to loose, more that most in India. But in its desperation to cling to what it has it is loosing out on something even more valuable-time. The time which has been gained by the all else to think beyond their horizons and challenge the very frontiers of time. It is the reluctant child being dragged on its knees by necessity towards the future.
Wrapped up in the tiny bubble of self glory, the Bengali Babus laugh at the world at it hurtles by, amused by what they interpret as the foolish craving to trade the past traditions for improbable dreams. This from the land of the likes of Ram Mohan Roy is irony indeed. The Babus continue to discuss the follies of the world outside in their steamy addas over piping hot cups of tea, only the venue having shifted from the deorhis of the house to government office chairs, lack of space being the coz thereof (population is something that has kept up with the times even in this state). Nothing has changed. “Its yesterday once more” the Beatles soulfully sang. It has always been yesterday here. Yes nothing has changed here as they would have us believe and it has been 60 years since the clock stroke at midnight.

Saturday, March 25, 2006


Current affairs...

Perspectives.....

Chandni Chowk....Or life??

I have had the occasion to galavander around the streets or rather lanes of Chandni chowk these past few weeks. For those who are not familiar with the capital of India, Chandni chowk is one of the oldest residential settlement that remains even today.
To be honest I was trying really hard to find a way to express the enigma that is Chandni Chowk in words. But I found my pen, or rather in this case, the keyboard running dry every single time that I tried. Until, I found a most remarkable metaphor for the place or I may say that I found the lanes of Chandni Chowk to be an amazing metaphor for something we are all too familiar with....Life!
Life is in every way nearly like Chandni Chowk. It is complicated, unplanned no matter how hard you try to set a course to it. And it is vibrant and scintillating. Every moment that you walk down the lanes, you are dodging, side stepping, tripping, balancing and all this while moving along with a well drawn map in your hand. Yet you have no idea where the next turn will lead to or if there is a surprise waiting for you just around the corner. It defies all calculations, disobeys all rules, except time and survival. And at the most unexpected places you find a treasure trove of the most beautiful experiences. We wish to travel down left out streets and turn into the missed out turns but would it really have taken us to a different place? Perhaps, perhaps not...would it have been any easier, perhaps, perhaps not, the only way to find out is to walk through all the lanes till you have seen them all...but that will take many trips , many lives.
Every one tries to knock you down in their hurry to get ahead, yet when you step back and look, you see that its nothing but a rat's race with no one really going anywhere. Curious eyes look at you when you step into strange domains...quickly and surely picking out the ones who do not belong and after having interrogated you let you pass with doubtful and suspiscious eyes burning holes through your backs. Ever been in a profession where you feel you do not belong. It feels just about the same.
Glittering red capes for the bride, books and stationary for the studious mind, food for the kings, you will find everything here. It is all here yet you have to find it among the narrowest lanes where every single one is squirming for space. Palaces have become huts and what were huts have become a modern day castle. And then, when you find that the walls are closing in on you...Suddenly you are in a open breather where the blue sky shines down on you through the twinkling shades of an enormous tree and you suddenly feel that there are powers beyond. And sure enough you hear bells ringing as a Pujari in his 1ft by 1ft little shrine offers prayers or somewhere a Mullah calls out to the faithful to join him in prayer.
Time is the sole thing that is constant in ths ever-changing canvas. The lanes of Chandni Chowk keep meandering and life goes on.....

Saturday, February 25, 2006


There and beyond.....been there done that!

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Ruddy joke!!

God is not without his share of uncanny sometimes cruel sense of humour. And considering He is far greater than the lesser mortals like us his share is considerably larger.

Monday, February 06, 2006


Bundi.

Dabhai Bavdi, Bundi.

The Bavdis of Bundi

Step into the mind boggling world of step wells. I never fancied myself to be scared of heights, but these inverted pyramids gave me a taste of vertigo. Optical illusions sweep you off the feet in this midget of a town called Bundi. Nestled in the lap of three hills with an ancient fort palace standing guardian atop one of them, this city has somehow lost its way in the passages of time. People gamble away the reality in broad daylight with bhaang assisted nonchalance. Amidst such forgotten lanes, ring out the chorus of "Hello, Hello, How are you? One pen please, Some rupees please" It is not a surprise since the only people who ever come to visit this forgotten town are tourists from faraway lands and irrespective of their nationality qualify as "angrez" due to their foreign tongue. We were "angrez" too for these naive people. A one year old toddler had hardly gained her balance and came staggering towards us on the instigation of her highly veiled mother to say "allo allo". And somewhere squeezed in between like invisible time portals are these wonderful stepwells. Once more sacred than the holiest of temples, these man made water bodies are now derelict and abused by the same community that once built and worshipped it. Tucked away behind a tiny temple or between two shops or behind a haveli, these marvellous structures are now defunct and have no use for the people but as garbage dumps. The water that it once held was used for drinking but now poses one of the greatest problems of sanitation for the local people. Flowers from puja that are not to be caste away in unholy grounds are dumped here without a second thought. Plastic bags hang unceremoniously on the beautiful cusped arches and toranas that were once adorned by fresh blossom. As a local man put it, this was once considered the abode of the apsaras and kinnarais and now they are the den of demons and feinds. Do they care...some do....some don't....but if you do...they tell you "Bavdion ke picche bavda ho gayo hai ke??!!"

cannon holes at Lucknow Residency