last day of school

The three of us walked out from school for the last time - Aditya Singh, Ankur Sharan & me. We decided to spend some time together at my home. Mom & Dad were not coming till late in the evening. So we decided to play. But what should we play? It was a day that would never come again. It was a day of extremes in many ways and yet there was nothing remarkable about that day. It was just another day and so we decided to play.

We made paper planes. Lots of them. Then we decided to have a competition. Whoever's plane stays in air longer, wins. It was a stupid competition if you ask me now and yet it was so symbolic of the day. We were free for now. We were the paper planes - trying to stay afloat as long as possible.

Those hours were timeless. We laughed at things we will never think of laughing at. We were more than friends, we were brothers - the blood of common past ran among us.

the sons of fortune

There were those who wrenched from the fists of fate what they wanted. Then there were those who wished but never had. In between were us - the sons of fortune - the right people at the right place at the right time. We got more for less. We had what we wished. We did what we wanted to do. It was too damn easy. No responsibilities, no nerve-testing adventures. We had no back-from-the-cliff stories to tell. Yet we were listened to. Yet we were followed. Yet we enjoyed verdict by default. It was the dawn of a new era. An era where imbalances were aplenty. We were the tilt. We were the agents of cataclysm.

The drive's not that boring ...

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10.00 Start from home on my Walle. FM surfing begins on music system.
10.05 Akshardham passes by on the right. Metro passes overhead.
10.08 Yamuna flows below.
10.10 Humayun's Tomb is visible at Nizamuddin Bridge traffic signal.
10.15 Old Fort stands proud at left.
10.20 Delhi High Court is buzzing to start the proceedings at 1030 HRS.
10.27 Prime Minister's residence is visible on the other side of the road while I fill fuel at HP station.
10.35 China Embassy does not look that crowded.
10.39 Dhaula Kuan maze is crossed in a single shot.
10.45 Plane passes above while my speedometer shows 120 kmph on Gurgaon Expressway.
10.48 Mahipalpur Warehouse is warming up for the day.
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e-books my ***

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E-books ! Ha ! When I read lotr on computer seven years ago, I had no idea that a product which is marred by piracy, thanks to its copiability, will one day make the beloved books obsolete. Hence it took me few days to assimilate what Manish told me.

Tell me how a .kindle. will replace the smell of a new book. Can I sleep reading it while my fingers are not ready to leave the thick pages I just finished? They will have a bookmark for sure but will it go oft missing to drive me crazy which page I was at?

I am telling you this technology thing is going out of control. Today it is e-books. Tomorrow they will develop a half an inch wide three inch long hi-tech bottle that you just need to push inside your ass and you will no longer need to poop. That convenient !
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tolkien's class

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Frodo: I can't do this, Sam.

Sam: I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn't. They kept going because they were holding on to something.

Frodo: What are we holding on to, Sam?

Sam: There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it's worth fighting for.

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the reset is close?

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For about 1.728 Mn years everything was going perfect. A committed workforce and defect-free output was trademark. The days were called Satyug. The next 1.296 Mn years were not bad either. There was some slack in supply chain but the machinery ran smoothly. The period was called Tretayug. By the end of it the system started showing maintenance issues. Inventory started piling up in front of input area. Zero tolerence policy on defects was compromised now and then by the workforce which, although totally committed, started demanding salary-hike at par with the market. The phase is said to have lasted 0.864 Mn years and was called Dwaparyug. Then came trouble.

The so called incorrigible Managers fell first into the trap of convenience. In the absence of constant vigil, workers started taking periodic swap-naps while the machine was still running. Defects ran high. Interdepartmental friction was commonplace. Capacity utilization took a deep dive. Marketing team was insouciant. It was as if the entire plant was following the Murphy's law - things were going from bad to worse and then the cycle would repeat itself. The era, popularly remembered as Kaliyug, was a phase of leisure, pleasure, sin & pain and lasted for a good 0.432 Mn years.

Then one day the Plant Manager decided enough is enough. He pressed the cataclysmic reset button that was placed conveniently below his table and all of a sudden life as we knew at the plant ended . True story.

2010

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Chikmagalur. Belur. Hampi. Vrindavan. Agra. Dalhousie. Khajjiar. Chamba. McLeodganj. Kalatop. Rishikesh. Mussoorie. Panchgani. Chitradurga. Hogenakkal. Hyderabad. Copenhagen. Bergen. Voss. Stockholm. Luxembourg. Brussels. Amsterdam. Bruges. Fredrichshafen. Zermatt. Spiez. Salzburg. Munich. Helsingor. Flam. Godvangen. Oslo.  Jelling. Berlin. Grindelwald. Interlaken. Lucerne. Bern. Basel. Hamburg. Paris. Zugspitze. Pisa. Rome. Venice. Naples. Nice Villa. Monte Carlo. Antibes. Cannes.

Dear N73

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Today is our third anniversary and believe it or not, I haven't loved you more. It seems only yesterday that I planned my Kerala trip with you. Many a travelogues have come and gone by but you stood with me the sands of time like an enamored soul.

Days into our relationship, I let you slip into the Athirapally but you came out intact and, I believe, even stronger. Only last fortnight the way you pulled yourself together from a twenty feet fall at Naples fort was unbelievable. You are my Seabiscuit.

I know I have not been a good friend all these years. If I say I have used you, it would be an understatement. I downloaded movies from you. I reduced you to a GPS guide on my Delhi- Bangalore drive. You were my music library and you were my photo album. You were my single point of contact to this world. It was always me. When was I thinking about you?

People say you look old. that you don't look like a three year old. I am to blame. I have not treated you like an equal. Call it an anniversary gift, but the least I can do is dedicate to you the pictures you collected for me these last three months. For 90 days in 35 different cities across 11 countries you never let me down once. Let the world know that it was not me. It was you - my BFF. N73.

http://picasaweb.google.com/neo.prashant/EuropeByN73#

Prashant

Calvin says ...

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"Why isn't my life like a situation comedy? Why don't I have a bunch of friends with nothing better to do but drop by and instigate wacky adventures? Why aren't my conversations peppered with spontaneous witticisms? Why don't my friends demonstrate heartfelt concern for my well being when I have problems? ...I gotta get my life some writers."
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the fifteen miles stroll

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It must be the 11th mile when I started dragging myself. By the 13th mile I had this queer feeling that I will not make it. When the youth hostel finally materialized at the other side of the river, I was incapable of joying. Another 10 minutes, which felt like an hour, went by before I filled the forms, collected my bed sheets and checked into my room. I must have rushed into the bath.

The hot water coming out of the shower were drops of pleasure as my legs and brain recovered back to sensation. Walking was painful in the beginning. A pleasant combination of warm sun and cooling breeze welcomed me outside the hostel. I bought a few bananas from the nearby Coop store and settled at a round wooden bench in front of the sea. I have always loved the kind of landscape that Norwegian Fjords epitomize. Sky high hills suddenly give way to water.

I reflected back at the very morning when I started walking downhill from Myrdal for Flam. It was an act of innocence and had its rewards and pitfalls. I would cherish both of them. They add to the beauty of life - pain and pleasure. Pain makes pleasure a little bit more fun.

interesting perspective

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“Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things – air, sleep, dreams, the sea, the sky – all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it.” 

– Cesare Pavese

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it happened in Basel SBB ...

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Its 5.13 PM. I am sitting comfortably sipping a hot cup of coffee. In front of me is tri-nation point - which means that I do not even need to angle my face to see what people are up to in France Germany and Switzerland. Simple exaggerations won't hurt the thin readership of my blog. What was the time of my train? Was it 6.41 or 6.31 PM? Let me check.

6.04 PM? The train departs at 6.04 PM? Its like a mild thunderbolt running through my spine. Even if I run for the bus it would not be possible - its already 5.15 PM. Still I run. The bus is there to take me to station. Now let me get the ticket from the vending machine. Before I am back with the ticket the bus departs . Its 5.23 PM on my watch. The next bus is scheduled at 5.32.

What are my options now that I have missed the train? I can take another train for Hamburg. Or I can enquire if it would be possible to catch a fast train to catch this one? That is for short run. The long run option is not to be such a dumb slack wanderer. I can only curse myself and I am not liking it.

The bus moves slowly through traffic. It is now time for me to curse the driver.  I check my watch - 5.50 PM. We are not even on the street that leads to the station. I have given up - and yet that little flicker of hope is there. These two never desert you - hope and doubt. It is as if: hope + doubt = 1, while none can be absolute zero or negative. Only god knows if the equation is correct.

The bus reaches station at 5.59 PM. In the milieu of thoughts I almost forgot to see the time. I run again - this time through the crowd. I glance at the big board while running. There it is Basel SBB - Kobenhavn at 6.04. Platform number 5. The train is there.

Now that I introspect, I shouldn't have been so hard at myself while at bus. Actually I am a dumb slack lucky wanderer :) and I am liking it.

हज़ारों ख़्वाहिशें ऐसी ...

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हज़ारों ख़्वाहिशें ऐसी के हर ख़्वाहिश पे दम निकले
बहुत निकले मेरे अरमाँ लेकिन फ़िर भी कम निकले ।

डरे क्यूँ मेरा क़ातिल क्या रहेगा उसकी गर्दन पर
वो ख़ूँ, जो चश्म-ए-तर से ‘उम्र भर यूँ दम-बा-दम निकले ।

निकलना ख़ुल्द से आदम का सुनते आयें हैं लेकिन
बहुत बे-आबरू होकर तेरे कूचे से हम निकले ।

मोहब्बत में नहीं है फ़र्क़ जीने और मरने का
उसी को देख कर जीते हैं जिस काफ़िर पे दम निकले ।

ख़ुदा के वास्ते पर्दा न काबे से उठा ज़ालिम
कहीं ‘एसा न हो याँ भी वोही क़ाफ़िर सनम निकले ।

कहाँ मैख़ाने का दरवाज़ा “ग़ालिब” और कहाँ वाइज़
पर इतना जानते हैं कल वो जाता था के हम निकले ।
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Vyasa the Grandpa

When Vichitravirya died without a son, it was time for his mother Satyavati to panic. Fortunately she had another son through a pre-marital relationship with Parashar. This son was Ved Vyasa who upon invitation from mother agreed to beget aons to the two wives of his half brother Vichitravirya, Ambika and Ambalika. The two sons born were Dhritarashtra and Pandu. Their lienage waged the mother of all wars - the Mahabharata. This epic was written by Vyasa as per the records. Who else would have known the fine details of a war better than the grandpa of 'em all ?

DETP Assignment 2 Submission (Word Limit 250)

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Summary

An inflextion point was reached in 1967 when the landless agricultural labourers of Naxalbari, led by few CPI (M) leaders, could not tolerate further and revolted against the exploitation of landlords. The first phase of Naxalbari Movement (1969-75) was characterized by ‘direct action’ taken by dalits in the form of attacking the landlords, burning the mortgage papers and looting granaries for redistribution among themselves. The second phase (1978-90) was known for the repressive measures taken by the state and the involvement of police as an agent of the state. The third phase (1991-2005) was contemporary to the economic reforms.

One of the prominent repressive measure taken by the state has been in the form of ‘grouping’ where villages after villages are relocated in a single area to cut them off from the underground Naxalites who depend on these villagers for their daily needs. The area thus vacated is being allocated to MNCs like Tata and Essar. On one hand renegade Naxalites are receiving protection from state to become powerful and exploitative. On the other hand it is not uncommon to declare Naxalite a person who questions the state and its institutions. This is happening all over India.

Opinion

It seems the problem is not disparity but it is the 'forces' which want to sustain this disparity and to thrive on it.
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life is ...

There are moments in my life that, I am convinced, were created exclusively for me. The universe colluded, conspired and constructed the moment for my pleasure. Standing at the top of Chitradurga Fort, I had exactly this in mind. Clouds were gathering around me. The surrounding hills were as green as could be. It was windy up there. A sprinkling started which later on developed into a drizzle. The entire city covered itself with mist in front of my eyes. I watched and felt. The more I watched, the more I felt, the more and more I craved for. It was an insatiable hunger to feed the senses which was building upon itself.

There are moments in life which are worth ages. I believe that that is how we end up living more than the years that have been stipulated to us. I know there are also moments which are forgettable and yet not forgotten - so terribly painful that they stifle life out. It is a game that someone very powerful is playing with us and I have a hunch that that someone is only interested in  knowing one thing - are we game enough?

across the nimbus

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no more blue was the sky
no more white was ground
no more was horizon clear
no more was I bound

the maze is visible oh so well
now that Nimbus' above
and yet I love the binding
and yet I love love
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i ain't no shantaram :)

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I started walking from GTB Nagar Station. CGS colony was still two miles away. I love walking. Crossing the overbridge, I saw poor people sleeping on the pavement. A young mother was trying to cover herself and her daughter in a net. How do they sleep with the train thundering past below them every three minutes? May be they sleep after midnight when the trains stop. May be they are used to it so much that they won't feel sleepy unless two three trains pass by. I was indifferent.

There was a big jam building up on the road towards Antop Hill. No point taking a bus now ! I walked past the traffic policemen who were trying to manage the unmanageable. There was a stretch of small shops selling from juice to oil and offering from hair-cut to massage - all kind of services. Gradually on the left a hillock came up with a temple right on top of it. It was beautiful against the backdrop of a full moon. I started looking for a path. There were several gullies created by little homes made on the foothills of the hillock. I ventured into one. The gully was wide enough for me. Another person would have to stop at a corner for me to pass. Fortunately there was nobody. It was 10 PM. I could see through the creeks into the houses. There was a tube-light, few little children and a TV. What is a TV doing here and how did they bring it in?

The gully started ascending. There were houses still there on both the sides. However now it was much more open with the sky visible. I climbed further. It was sweating hot. That's one of the problems with Mumbai. Once you sweat, you won't be able to dry it - not even under a fan. The temple was getting closer. Another turn and I would be there.

I stood there on the front yard of the temple. GTB Nagar and beyond was visible. It was a harsh view - the land had elevated a further level and had accommodated thousands and thousands of slum dwellers within itself. The full moon was not helping. It could have not been there. The view might not have been visible to naked eyes. I would have been saved those painful moments. It took me a minute but I was indifferent again. 

Walking down I came out on the road at the point where the jam had started building up. A truck was standing there innocuously keeping the road three way jammed. I started walking again - towards my two bed room apartment - faster. I had to complete a couple of chapters from Shantaram tonight.

मैं ...

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चलते चलते उन्ही राहों में मैंने लोगों को भागते देखा
रहा न गया मुझसे, जिद की आदत से जो मजबूर था
मैंने बहुत रोका, पर मैंने तो ठानी थी सबको हराऊंगा
दौड़ पड़ा मैं जो, पता न था की कभी वापस न मुड़ पाउँगा
फासला जब कुछ तय हुआ, एक पल मेरी नज़र औरों पर गयी
हैरान था की हर कोई मैं ही था, मात तो मेरी ही हुई !

(Acknowledgement: Rohit Ag)

the cyclicity of life

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What has started has to end. But then the starting and ending is also in reference to something. There is something before 'start' and something after the 'end' . Except that for the thing that started and ended, the thing itself was not aware of when it started breathing and when it stopped.

Frost relieves me with his words - 'life goes on'. I am alive and will remain so.