Thursday, June 13, 2013

Autobiography: Entry 6

The two years in Colwell & Salmon had characters and twists that could make a masala movie. There was ruthless ambition, misgivings, travel to exotic locations, confusion, blankness, flexing of moralities, indecency and of course an out and out engaging fun.

In my second week in the firm, I was flown to a small town near Sheffield with a bunch of bright domain experts who became like family in the one month of stay there. It was there that I realized how strong a factor of binding it can be to stick together in a foreign land with nothing but each other to fall to.

We used to have a couple hour session at the end of each day where we would share jokes and make fun of people around. It was our only stress buster there. Often the confusion there made us quote the famous lines of Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron - ' Ye sab kya ho rahaa hai beta Duryodhan?'

Once the project ended and we settled back in India, the time of the grapevine ripened. The next one year was an exodus of near and dear colleagues of mine. I took pledge not to switch into a job that did not give me good company at office. I was that alone.

Monday, December 3, 2012

Why

One can keep questioning 'Why' except when the answer is 'Love'. There is no reason expected when there is love. Somewhere beyond the realm of logic lies the realm of what a commoner understands not much. Love attracts wrath of the general public for this exact reason. People do not understand why someone did something because he/she was in love and they do not accept what they do not understand. Such is the tragedy of love.

devil's ball

A clear difference between Ramayan and Mahabharat is the unequivocal demarcation of evil in the former compared to the later. Ravan is evil at his purest while Ram is the righteous. Duryodhan is neither pure evil nor Krishna is all good. In fact Mahabharat is considered as the finest collection of grey characters who behave differently in different circumstances.

The greyest of them all is the mighty Karn. He has compassion and revenge in his heartin equal proportions. Indeed when Dinkar eulogised Karn and highlighted his dilemma in Rashmirathi, it was done keeping a balance of words. Else it would have been rejected.

The transition from Ramayan to Mahabharat is, according to me, a change of stand the devil took. It lost to Ram because it was concentrating on Ravan and with Ravan's death the game was over. So devil took a strategic step of diversifying the risk. It took longer than planned but now at the edge of Kaliyug when every human is a shade of grey, devil is finally going to have a ball.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

life vs movies

We continue to live a plain life and our movies continue to spin off twists that are anything but plain. As the audience gets adjusted to one level of twist, the movie makers have to go to the next levels to grab attention. Following this chain of thoughts, I realized why Americans are thought as people who would believe everything if said to be part of a conspiracy. They have Hollywood to blame.

And then I think about us Indians. We live in movies. Its just that our movies are evolving to the levels. Those  of us exposed to Hollywood are already there. The rest of us will arrive. The gap between plain real life and surreal silver screen life will decide what occupies our mind.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

अगर आरज़ू है ...

थोड़ी गुफ्तगू है, थोड़ी जुस्तजू है
थोड़ी आरज़ू है, थोड़ी है तमन्ना
अगर आरज़ू है, तेरी आरज़ू है
अगर है तमन्ना, तेरी है तमन्ना

Saturday, May 12, 2012

Marriage and parents

I think now I understand why it is so important for Indian parents to see their children married properly. It is not just marriage. It is birth - birth of another family, something that is as important as birth of their child. It is a responsibility that is ritualistically engrained deep into the heart of Indian parentage.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

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.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

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.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

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.
_

Thursday, April 28, 2011

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 !
_

Saturday, March 12, 2011

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.
_

Monday, February 7, 2011

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.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

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.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Dear N73

_
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

Friday, December 10, 2010

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."
_

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

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.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

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
_

Thursday, September 23, 2010

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.

Monday, September 6, 2010

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 ।
_

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 ?