Thursday, February 26, 2009

I pay them to leave

Comment by Charlie Sheen on being asked why a man like would want to pay for sex -
"I don’t pay them for sex. I pay them to leave."
An article in The NY Times speaks on how modern world is leading people to all live in their shells and not going out there and interacting with everybody.
I kind of agree with the view that we are becoming increasingly reluctant to interact and open up to new people that we meet in our everyday lives.
I travel a lot and I don't carry a book or an iPod with me (I don't have an iPod is another matter which I plan to take up with my father pretty soon :P). I like to chat up and know people and I find it extremely frustrating nowadays when you are sitting somewhere waiting for something with nothing to do and plenty of people around. Ordinarily, I would chat up with one of them but almost everyone is listening to an iPod or doing something on laptop or reading a book. A slight smile and a hello which normally would have been enough as an invitation to start a conversation are now reduced to just a gesture which receives a slight smile in return.

Kasab even booked for entering without ticket

Investigators in the Mumbai terror attack are leaving nothing to chance and they have even booked Ajmal Kasab, the lone gunman captured, for entering the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus without a railway ticket. Check out the story at TOI.

Link courtesy Shantanu Gangal.

Poetry by Agha Shahid Ali

Came across this magnificent piece of poetry by Agha Shahid Ali in his book The Veiled Suite. Feel the need to reproduce it here. Link courtesy falstaff.

I wait for him to look straight into
my eyes
This is our only chance for
If he, carefully, upon this hour of
will let us almost completely
tell me, who but I could chill his
dreaming night.
Where he turns, what will not
appear but my eyes?
Wherever he looks, the sky is only
Whatever news he has, it is of the

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Thoughts on Dev D

The musical score blows my mind. Nayan tarse and Emotional Atyachaar is fantabulous. The movie is riveting. The sexual freedom with which this movie is made is heartening to see. However, I still felt that a couple of things were made to suit our sensibilities like why was the MMS scandal girl made firang and why did her father commit suicide. The girl had nothing to be guilty of. It was the guy who needs to be taught a lesson.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Hard vs Hardest

Link courtesy Avinash Prabhu. Explanations on the graph wanted and welcome.

Winter holidays and Mood Indigo - Part I

After lot of procrastination, I have finally managed to finish the post. Last month of 2008 was incredible. As usual, it involved a lot of travel. Left for Pune on the 26th (yeah, I know - the day of the attacks) - Was woken up in the middle of the night to watch the news - Was stuck there till the 1st of December because Mumbai was unsafe - Then caught a train from Mumbai to Delhi - Stayed there for 3-4 days - Met old friends and my sister - Enjoyed the slight chill that had crept into the air - Went to Dehradun to my grandparents - Met my buddies and came back to Mumbai on the 19th for the Mood Indigo (Moodi or MI).
This MoodI was one incredible experience. As special as every MoodI has been for me, I think I'm going to remember this one for a long time to come for a lot of different. Met and re-met a lot of good friends and had a complete blast. The pronites ranged from so-so to good. Hearing Ensiferum is probably the only time in my life when I enjoyed listening to heavy metal. There was a major crowd control problem after that near the convocation hall for the afternite. It completely sucked. I also filled up the Mood Indigo's Most Wanted (MIMW) form just like every year. I am inclined to think now that I put a little more thought into it than the previous years. Well, what can I say, I was selected for the 2nd round among 25-30 other candidates. A nice feeling :).
For all those who saw my extraordinarily dumbass performance and for all those who, thank god, weren't there and are now reading this, here is the full story.
I got a call around 1 at night saying that I have been selected for the final round and I have to report for the second round at fuckin' 9AM the next day. They were also ‘kind’ enough to call me at 7AM in middle of my deep slumber to again ask me to be on time. Of course, when I reach there at 9, they start 45 minutes late at 945 and without providing breakfast, that's a different issue altogether.
The first and the second rounds are written. First round being writing/drawing on a paper such that when folded in a certain way it forms something else (humour expected). I, being my natural self, sex-itized the American political system. The second round was filling up an imaginary orkut profile. I chose to be Santa (Claus, not Singh). The third round was the one which got me nervous. That was the first stage round and we were not told what it was. We went like goats to the slaughterhouse (INA stage in front of convo). The saving grace was that it was in groups of 4. Our group (me, Aditya, Shantanu and [forgot her name]) was given a hoopla and told to do something with it. We sucked like no-one has ever sucked before. Thank heavens that we were the first group and no one was there to watch it. I came of the stage sweating. After seeing some other groups perform, I wasn’t so critical anymore. Of course, we were one of the worst but certainly not THE worst.
The 4th round was a speed dating round ;). Every guy spends 3 minutes with every girl and at the end of the round we have to vote for 2 girls and against 2. Kind of like a reality show. Of course, I tried to utilize the 3 minutes to the maximum but according to the statistics told to me later, I wasn’t very successful. There was one cute girl present who was the OC’s girlfriend. Since I had the license to flirt, I did so shamelessly.
After the whole of my 2nd day was spent on this fruitless activity, I headed for the DJ grind near the poolside. Towards the end of tiring time at the grind, I received a call from the coordie calling me for the interview. Apparently, I had been shortlisted among the top 15. I went tired and exhausted to the interview. Two guys (Thakkar and [random guy]) were there. They weren’t very friendly. In fact, it seemed to me that they just wanted to get it over with and weren’t really interested in me. Mine was among the shortest interviews (a thing that repeated itself in Delhi again a couple of weeks ago). It isn’t really a great feeling knowing that they got rid of you the fastest way possible.
Anyway, it was over and done with. In the awesome afternite, when Akshay, Nimish, Saurabh and I are joking around, I receive a phone call saying that I have been shortlisted among the final 8 and MIMW finals are going to be held at 2pm tomorrow – and they also have a talent round to showcase my talent. Now I am nervous. My heart is beating faster and I have no clue about my talent.
After lot of deliberation and un-helpful suggestions from my buddies ranging from rap, acrobatics, sky-diving, stand up comedy, break dancing, singing, stripteasing to a tutorial on making crotchless panties, I decide to go for displaying my prowess at salsa (I hear laughter and giggling!).
All said and done, it left me with one thing short – a dance partner of the opposite sex. I had to find a girl who could do salsa, convince her to dance with me in front of a whole audience, decide on music and practise the steps by 2pm tomorrow. It was already 12 at night.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

A life wanted

She misses a mother, not her mother. (Reference to a close friend)

Train journey

Thin mangled lifeless hair scream abuse, many creases on the forehead speak of the times she has had to bear, wrinkles on the face tell the number of blooming springs which have flew past her, the eyes without their glimmer symbolize the instances when hope turned to despair, her callused hands bent in the shape so as to accept anything that is bestowed upon them recite the misuse they have been put through. He looked at her without pity, contempt, compassion, hatred, irritation or impatience. He just stared with those cold, black, inert eyes that took in everything – the crowded platform full of people milling around doing their usual stuff – people hurrying to get into the trains, sentimental goodbyes, hawkers selling their goods and beggars competing against each other for generating the most pity.
The presence of someone in his compartment diverted his eyes. He saw a hefty sardar placing his luggage below the berth in front of him. The man seemed middle aged, was wearing an untucked striped shirt which looked like it could do with a wash, a worn out trouser and scuffed up shoes. He only had a dark blue coloured bag with him.

After finishing his sales, he realized he had to rush to the railway station. He only had a little time to go home and pack. He hurried home and without changing his stained striped shirt, stuffed all he needed into the dark blue bag that he had grown tired off. He thought of buying a new one but somehow it just kept slipping out of his mind. He hoped that he found an auto on time. Sometimes, it was difficult to get one for over 30 minutes. Luckily he found one instantly and reached the train station well in time. After locating his train and coach, he moved into his compartment and saw a person sitting there. To his immense joy, he saw a turban and a beard on him which meant that his partner in the journey was sardar too. A feeling of camaraderie rose to the surface and he became instantly at home. He immediately started talking to him in “dialectic Punjabi”. With no restraint, he launched into his rants.

He saw the kinship in his eyes and immediately averted his. However, he couldn’t do it for long as his fellow passenger started in “dialectic Punjabi” about the inefficiency of railways. He felt uncomfortable, strained at being taken for a friend so suddenly. The strain and the hesitancy was present, as is there when you have a slight contempt for someone who thinks of you as a close associate.

He sensed the uncomfortableness in the air only after a long time and he spoke nothing after that for the rest of the journey.