tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84735147840720611882024-03-13T09:16:16.616+05:30TAUREANSANDY - Sandeep Kothapalli's BlogMarketer. An IIM Ahmedabad Grad. Traveler. Photographer. Author of a self published book. Trying to make a name as a writer.taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-44272279325936814732016-02-01T23:47:00.002+05:302016-02-01T23:47:51.383+05:30Writers are special! Here's why...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: white;">I am a writer. Began my amateur stint as a blogger, almost six years back. It wasn't exactly the kind of start I would have desired. I was bad. But...</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">I persisted. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">And today. I have authored two novels - both of them self-published - with contrasting styles. The ride exactly hasn't been hunky dory though. I am not a celebrity novelist yet. Nevertheless, the confidence of having completed two books telling fictional stories in my unique way stands me in good stead in the corporate world. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">I now know that I can express what I think, in a way even the <em style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">aam aadmi </em>would be able to understand. In essence, verbal and written communication comes naturally to me. Same is the case with other 'good' writers as well. Moreover, writing a novel means that I had to be persistent and patient. Especially, given the fact that many writers endure phases, when the creative juices just stop flowing. I endured these phases, often known in the publishing realms as <strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">'Writer's Block'</strong>, and emerged victorious with scripts that eventually took the form of two books titled <a href="https://www.facebook.com/OSTSTL/" rel="nofollow" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">'Once Smitten, Twice Shy, Thrice Lucky'</a> and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/blinkthebook/" rel="nofollow" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">'Blink!'</a>.</span></div>
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<strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: white;">I now make an assertion - 'Writers are special'.</span></strong></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Why? Writers - can be bloggers and/or authors - are inherently persistent, patient and have immense self-belief in their abilities. They learn, make mistakes, don't fear failure and eventually perform to deliver. Aren't those the very qualities desired in an employee? The very qualities a recruiter looks for in prospective candidates competing for a job.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Not that I am boasting! But yes, I can't help but analogize the inherent qualities a writer possesses with an ideal employee an organisation would love to employ. That's precisely the reason why I believe <strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Writers are special</strong> and make for potentially great resource(s) in an organisation. Especially in critical projects with a high degree of uncertainty involved. That's exactly the kind of scenarios a writer encounters while working on a script/story.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">To summarize, if you love writing, high chances are that you will make it good in the corporate world. Well, it's not always about good supervisors, is it? You need good communicators who with their immense self-belief are tenacious and never give up in the face of adversities. In writers, you have one ready-made!</span></div>
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taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-2634639313004601602016-01-11T22:51:00.003+05:302016-01-11T22:55:26.805+05:30How to bell the CAT?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Folks,</div>
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I belled the CAT! Probably, it's been my single biggest achievement so far. More so, as CAT 2008, the one which I cracked was the last 'paper & pencil' exam before it went digital.</div>
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<b>How to crack CAT though? How did I do it?</b></div>
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I am not going to pen a Dale Carnegie style 'How to bell the CAT and achieve success' guide. Instead, I will harp on those things which I did to ensure I was in the right frame of mind on the D-Day. That helps as CAT is more of a mental game than an intellectual one. CAT as a competitive examination is tough, not because the questions are puzzling and sometimes 'unfathomable', but because many candidates are busy battling their inner demons (self-doubts) rather than focusing on honing their Verbal and Quantitative skills.</div>
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<i>Funda number 1 - The wise 'choose and pick'</i></div>
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'Aakankshi Prabandhak' was my best friend. We never missed attending our CAT coaching classes together. There were times, when he used to call me up, late in the night, discussing a problem that would have him wrack his brains and lead to frustrating outbursts when unsolved.</div>
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I would often tell him, 'Leave that behind and move on to other questions. It's not always necessary that you attempt all questions in a given section. Instead, the 'strike rate' and the 'accuracy' is important.' In his typical derisive manner, he would sometimes shoo me away and question,'What if the same type of question appears in the final CAT? What're you gonna do? Leave it unsolved?'</div>
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<b>Aakankshi Prabandhak clearly obsessed over difficult questions, thereby wasting precious time that could have been used to 'obtain the low hanging fruits.' Remember, there're always low hanging fruits in a given section. The question to ponder should be, 'Can I identify them and solve them quickly?'</b></div>
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<i>Funda number 2 - The curios case of 'inner demons'</i></div>
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Aah! <b>Percentile.</b> It's a scary word. Ain't it?</div>
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Over the course of attempting my mock CATs, I spent a considerable time analysing where I went wrong. I profiled my SWOT, thereby identifying my weak areas and did everything I could to focus on them. The idea was to ignore the result i.e. Percentile and focus on the process, which was to commit less mistakes. That's a habit that needs time to inculcate and you have to be really patient and committed to the process of dissecting each attempted mock CAT.</div>
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Whereas, my friend Aakankshi Prabandhak, was obsessed with Percentile. He would be disheartened when his percentile dropped and soon began to question his abilities.</div>
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That's DANGEROUS! Parents do have expectations. But you hardly have a control over them. Then why fuss and burden yourself? Manage your own expectations and focus on the process. That should do the trick!</div>
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<i>Funda number 3 - Passion & Commitment</i></div>
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Why MBA? If you can't answer that for yourself, then I would suggest that you introspect a bit, before you even think of attempting CAT.</div>
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And of course, CAT is not the end of it all. Give time to your health as well. Sleep enough to keep your brain in good humour. If you can't laugh at yourself, then it's time you take a step back. FOLKS! ARE YOU SO SERIOUS THAT YOU CAN'T LAUGH AT YOURSELF? BECAUSE, I HAVE NEVER SEEN SOMEONE SO SERIOUS, CRACK CAT. PERIOD. Live life the easy way. In the process of preparing for CAT, don't become so thick skinned that you forget how to smile at the little nothings.</div>
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And yes. If you fail, but still want to be an MBA and are PASSIONATE enough, give CAT a shot again. Why not? I know friends, who have cracked CAT after multiple attempts. Now that's COMMITMENT for me.</div>
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I sign off here. Do feel free to revert in case you have queries for me.</div>
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Never say never!</div>
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Rock on!</div>
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taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-29930391793722709612015-09-15T12:49:00.000+05:302016-01-11T22:55:47.817+05:30Dudhsagar Falls - An experience of a lifetime!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Hi Folks,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It’s been nearly two months,
since I and my adorable wife took the 14 kilometer rail trek to <i>Dudhsagar</i> Falls. I have been meaning to
write a travelogue describing our experiences in this trek. As they say,
‘Better late than never’. And so, here it goes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My wife had undertaken this
arduous trek last year as well. It was through her that I got to know about a
bootstrapped start-up called <i>Crazy Yatra</i>.
Led by the eponymous ‘Crazy Ajay’, this group of motley individuals who share a
common passion for travel and fun, arrange for the logistics and make sure you have
a ‘crazy’ time on the treks and tours they organize. True to their motto, this trek had indeed turned
out to be one hell of a crazy roller coaster ride, albeit for not exactly the
right reasons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">About the trek:<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The rail trek begins from <i>Castle Rock</i> railway station. A small but
important junction on the South Western Railway line at the Karnataka – Goa
border. <i>Castle Rock</i> has got an
imperialistic air to it; something that’s instantly perceptible once you walk
on its platforms and notice the generous doses of British Architectural
influences on the Station building. A few blocks further to the west beside the
tracks, lies a moss covered wall, part of an ancient ruin that witnesses trains
slowly chugging their way towards <i>Dudhsagar.
</i>14 kilometers of trek on the tracks, passing through a series of pitch dark
tunnels and evading dollops of dung and ‘shit’ later, you’re treated to a
visual wonder. The route itself is also quite scenic, with small streams, and
breathtaking gorges between the blue Western Ghats. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Dudhsagar </i>roars! Quite literally. The auditory effect can best be
described as ‘boisterously loud’. So much so that for a moment, you can’t hear
yourself think! There’s so much turbulence and churning of water that the
streams appear milky white from a distance. And hence, the name given to this
massive waterfall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So why was this trek so crazy?</span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What do you do when you hear a
passing statement from a fellow trekker that <i>Dudhsagar </i>has been closed and trekkers are not being permitted an
entry? I chose to ignore it, right at the start of the trek. But as we went
straight up ahead, we crossed paths with fellow trekkers - wearing distraught
faces – informing us that entry to the falls has been banned. Murmurs grew
amidst fellow trekkers in the group and the naysayers were already discussing
the possible ways to return back to base. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">At <i>Caranzol</i> station, which lies midway on the trekking route, we did
have our lunch. Ajay, the organizer who was leading us though continued to
remain uncertain. There were quite a few times, when I played a devil’s
advocate, incessantly bothering him with uncomfortable questions. <i>Are we coming back? But, they say that the
entry is not there, na!? I just confirmed with the workers at the station and
they say there’s no entry to Dudhsagar now. </i>And there was Karthik, a fellow
volunteer for <i>Crazy Yatra. </i>An ever-smiling
genial guy. He tried to lift up our sagging spirits. From <i>Caranzol</i> onwards, it was difficult to go on with the trek what with
our prospects of witnessing the falls becoming grimmer by the moment. That’s
when Ajay came up with a masterstroke. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We were up a kilometer further
from <i>Caranzol</i> towards <i>Dudhsagar. </i>That’s when he asked us to
take a break and he himself walked all the way to <i>Dudhsagar</i> to assess the situation. Trust him to return with an
alternate plan and he did. Half an hour later, I saw him walking towards us
with a poker faced expression that’s so typical of him. He waved to us to
resume the trek and despite a pestering me, he didn’t quite reveal the plan
till we reached <i>Dudhsagar </i>railway
station<i>. </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Why was the entry banned after
all?<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Check this link for details<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.deccanchronicle.com/150722/nation-current-affairs/article/karnataka-dudhsgar-waterfalls-shut-trekkers">http://www.deccanchronicle.com/150722/nation-current-affairs/article/karnataka-dudhsgar-waterfalls-shut-trekkers</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The Moment of truth:<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">‘<i>So guys. Officially, there’s no entry to Dudhsagar now. However, there’s
a goods train that’s going to stop here in a short while. The moment it stops,
we all sprint our way to the Guards Cabin and board there. That’s our only
chance! Okay!?’ </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was worried for my wife, for sprinting on the rocks wasn’t
exactly a child’s play. Ajay’s heart was racing. A moment gone wrong in this
melee and that would be a big blow for his start-up. Yet, he was icy calm on the
outside. Eerily calm, I thought. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The goods train chugged along and
stopped. And then, as if in a flash, the entire group of 30 odd trekkers
swiftly boarded the Guard’s Cabin. All of us, jam packed and squeezed in as if
we were a sheep herd being transported for a mass slaughter. The goods train
jerked violently during transit, scaring the hell out of us. And yet, when we
passed through <i>Dudhsagar, </i>the deafening
roar we heard and the gigantic fall of <i>milky-white</i>
water that we witnessed blew our fatigue away. All this super-tiring effort
wasn’t for nothing! It was sheer awesomeness…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Nevertheless, there are other
means to reach <i>Dudhsagar</i> that are highly recommended. You wouldn’t want to miss
one of the tallest waterfalls in the country. And if you do visit the falls,
please, please, please don’t carry plastics and dump there!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>A word about Crazy Yatra<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Ajay & Co – the team at Crazy
Yatra, showed admirable courage and persistence in handling the group in such
uncertain and treacherous conditions during the trek. Kudos. And I am pretty
sure, they must have already learnt from their mistakes (information asymmetry in
this case - of no prior knowledge of a blanket ban on <i>Dudhsagar </i>rail trek). However, there remains scope for improvement
for Team <i>Crazy Yatra. </i>What would that
be? The way they organize ‘fun filled’ activities during transit in the tour
bus. Can be much better! Would I recommend <i>Crazy
Yatra? </i>Yes. Ajay & Co will make sure you have a crazy memorable time!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">signing off,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">taureansandy</span></div>
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taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-86931200463338750432014-06-13T23:35:00.003+05:302014-06-13T23:35:57.997+05:30A bit more about OSTSTL (Once smitten, twice shy, thrice lucky)...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Now that my debut novel titled ‘Once smitten, twice shy, thrice lucky’ is out for sale, people have started asking me a lot of questions. But there is one question which has stuck to me and the answer to which, I haven’t been able to give so far. But, now I think the time is just right.<br /><br /><br />What made me write this story?<br /><br />To begin with, I started off with this script in the second half of 2011. Back then, I was angry, frustrated at my inability to do things that made me happy. In other words, I was undergoing an identity crisis – ironically it is something, I shouldn’t have after passing out as an MBA graduate from IIMA. My life had changed completely and I was financially independent. But I continued to feel a void inside me, which I couldn’t attribute to anything specific and that made matters worse. And if you are wondering how something like this could happen to someone, then either you are plain lucky or not have gone through the inflection point called ‘Quarter-life crisis’.<br /><br />So, at that stage, one fine day, I just started writing. And this process continued uninterrupted for about three straight months. I transformed in those three months for the process itself had a therapeutic effect on me. I had a story, I long wanted to write. Though, the outline of the story was based partly on real experiences, I had to fictionalise it. That was one challenge, I loved. <br /><br />If you ask me if there was anything specific or tangible that acted as a trigger before I decided to be an author; yes, there is. Writing allows me to visualise and shape characters I have always loved. Writing allows me to set stories that I have always wanted to be a part of. So, when I write, I invest a small emotional part of me in it, something that hopefully makes me different from the rest. <br /><br />In this case, the story of Varun was something that I wanted others to be a part of. It’s not every day that an MBA from IIMA decides to shift gears and go for a supposedly offbeat career that actually makes him/her happy. Varun is that guy, who eventually becomes a photo-journalist. But what makes him do so? That is essentially the crux of Once smitten, twice shy, thrice lucky.<br /><br /><br />If you think OSTSTL is just another love story, then think again!<br /><br />There are multiple layers to the story. Characters like M.C Aaliya, Sasha make a fleeting but a special appearance; either triggering an onset of an emotional roller-coaster tsunami or making Varun realise the importance of being alive and loved. <br /><br />Quite a few scenes in the story revolve around socially pertinent issues like Corruption, Black money, AIDS etc. Look out for the part where Varun decides to take on a Machiavellian landlord and nail him down for his innumerable sins. Don’t expect Varun to be a super-hero when he does that though! <br /><br /><br />A brief sneak peek into the characters of OSTSTL...<br /><br />I have tried to sketch characters, who are ordinary, like you and like me. So, I hope many of you are able to connect or relate to how the characters behave and act in response to a given situation. <br /><br />Meera – Varun’s sister. She’s Varun’s sounding board. Intelligent and way more mature than her age. Is a banker. When she says, ‘I know you are one hopeless romantic,’ she reads her brother like no one else.<br /><br />Rekha – A fashion designer, she’s Varun’s best friend, who doesn’t shy away from chiding Varun when he has acted stupidly or done something not expected of him (which Varun does quite a few times!)<br /><br />Satish – Rekha’s husband. He’s Varun’s partner-in-crime in college and his other best friend. Satish is probably the only one who gets Varun when no one does. <br /><br />Vishu – She falls madly in love with Varun and so does he. But she doesn’t acknowledge the same for reasons Varun refuses to comprehend. She’s the ‘Once smitten’ part of Varun’s life, who returns back into his life as a good friend.<br /><br />Nancy – Varun and Nancy share a special bond. A special bond that Varun shies away from labelling it as love. Nancy though after a bitter turn of unintended events, decides to walk away from Varun’s life. Destiny brings them together though, yet again.<br /><br />Lahari – A neuro-surgeon who brings back Varun from the brink of certain death. Her presence changes Varun’s life for the better. But she has a rather violent past that Varun has to embrace. <br /><br />Zamindar – He’s the villain! <br /><br />Kishore Naidu – Vishu’s father. A caste obsessed politician and someone who Vishu abhors. He’s the other villain!<br /><br />Shivaiah – Lahari’s guardian, he’s the one who brings Lahari up as his own daughter and helps Varun plot the downfall of Zamindar.<br /><br />Artists crave appreciation for they toil hard to bring alive their figments of imagination. In a sense, I too am an artist. An applause or a pat on the back is something I am never tired of. So, if you find that Once smitten, twice shy, thrice lucky has in some way or the other made you sit back and contemplate on your life, inspired you to fight for what is right or made you realise that true love is all about trust, then don’t forget to share your thoughts and give your rating for this book on <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22392417-once-smitten-twice-shy-thrice-lucky" rel="nofollow">Goodreads</a>. <br /><br />I would also appreciate a constructive feedback on how I could improve in my quest to becoming a better storyteller.<br /><br />For more details, please visit the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/OSTSTL" rel="nofollow">facebook</a> page.<br /><br />Cheers,<br />Sandeep Kothapalli<br /></div>
taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-90603521805720068262014-04-24T00:28:00.001+05:302014-04-24T00:28:25.059+05:30The making of OSTSTL...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Love? I
think ‘Love’ is the most misconstrued and abused word of all time. Most people
don’t quite understand what love is all about. I don’t have any qualms in
admitting that I too have failed to decode the mystery that’s love. And yet, I
have managed to write a contemporary romantic novel titled ‘Once smitten, twice
shy, thrice lucky’. I proudly unveil the cover design. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxLBHk9INd65AvEmLkUBNnceHGGsCAHV2XN6cm41egjIeOCPrZ3i4UuE6s7jLhgYN8zDb3O2R3m-w2Pry6l-08EdhkVgcfgWbQokomJbDyfYMv5ZJdxO3fAnGHGrFCvVt2Bul4uLLFFtU/s1600/Once+Smitten_Twice+Shy_Thrice+Lucky_cover+1_rev2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxLBHk9INd65AvEmLkUBNnceHGGsCAHV2XN6cm41egjIeOCPrZ3i4UuE6s7jLhgYN8zDb3O2R3m-w2Pry6l-08EdhkVgcfgWbQokomJbDyfYMv5ZJdxO3fAnGHGrFCvVt2Bul4uLLFFtU/s1600/Once+Smitten_Twice+Shy_Thrice+Lucky_cover+1_rev2.jpg" height="149" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Many thanks
to my current roomies Srinivas Drona and Siddharth Varshney for ideating and
coming up with the cover concept that’s before you. It’s pretty simple –
depicting the three emotions, the protagonist experiences. Heartbreak. Then, the
rebound when the protagonist is unsure what to make of his friendship with a
girl he likes. And then finally meeting his soul-mate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Published by
Notion Press, OSTSTL will be soon available in Flipkart, Amazon, Bookadda and other
such leading portals. An e-book version will also be released along with the
paperback.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">My tryst
with this book began about three years back. I started giving shape to the
protagonists after Diwali 2011. By then, I had written many short stories that
I kept to myself. Most of them were wildly imaginative and some were
outlandish. But with OSTSTL, I literally let my imagination run amok. There
were days when I would skip office and come back home early, for I knew what
the protagonists were about to do next. I feared that if I don’t pen down my
thoughts soon enough, I would lose them. And that wouldn’t be fair to the
protagonists and the story in general. OSTSTL has been my baby. And I have
nurtured it for so long that I sometimes find it hard to let go. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I have never
been a morning person, so to speak. So my nocturnal habits that I inculcated at
IIMA, came in handy. I would spend the evenings visualising how the
protagonists would think and hence act, taking the storyline forward. After
dinner, my fingers would start rolling on the keyboard. In between, I would
listen to music that would more often than not suit the mood the story would be
set in. I have come to realise that I can’t be a good writer if I let my
personal life tamper with the engine (my brain) pumping the creative juices.
So, in that sense, writing was therapeutic. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Meanwhile, I
had to endure a debilitating mental condition, known to afflict even the best
of writers called ‘Writer’s Block’. A well lubricated knee allows you to walk
normally. An inflammation of the knee joint is debilitating. A writer’s block
is the inflammation of your creative thought process. It’s debilitating for it
jams that part of the brain that churns out ideas. And yet, writer’s block is
an intrinsic process, a result of your own undoing. Why? I think part of it has
got to do with the process of writing itself. Writing is a confusing profession
to be in. While developing the story, most writers often keep to themselves and
seldom share what they write for fear of getting influenced. I was no
different. As a result, when I reach the so called ‘saturation point’, I am no
longer able to think rationally. I am not happy with what I try to write. Ask
my ‘backspace’ button on the keyboard and it will tell you the extent to which
I sometimes subjected it to insurmountable levels of cruelty. I will not mince
my words. I was depressed as hell, when I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t able
to write. Of course back then, I wasn’t aware that I was experiencing writer’s
block. And that further made matters
worse. Luckily, I knew that I needed to take a break, which I did. But a writer
has to stay afresh and inspired for you never know when you experience a
brainwave. And you got to be ready for that moment to arrive, like a flash, like
a thunderbolt that jolts you into writing again. I guess I was ready. So, this
is how I ended up completing what I thought was OSTSTL.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">But then by
the end of January 2013, I felt that my draft needed a little refining. The
vocabulary was far from impressive. The narrative lacked the depth, finesse and
dimension. And the grammar was horrible. That’s when destiny brought me and my
editor Divya Lavanya together for a collaboration that was to last for the next
9 months or so. I can’t thank her enough. Of course, this collaboration
wouldn’t have been fruitful without the unflinching support of her husband
Sarat. And how can I forget Divya and Sarat’s cute little daughter Baby
Satvika. I hope that she picks up my book when she starts reading fiction! Divya,
Sarat and I share the same alma mater – JNTU Hyderabad. So, it didn’t take us
much time to connect in a big way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Anyway, so
what my editor brought to the table did wonders to the book. The draft
underwent further revisions. Dots that didn’t connect were done away with. Some
tracks were removed. Ruthless editing was done. In the process, Divya pushed me
to the limits. She was critical which a good editor should always be. And yet,
she sometimes sang paeans, telling me how dramatically I had improved under her
tutelage. Looking back, I think Divya was the best person to edit my book. Why?
She understands what it is to love and be loved. I am pretty sure that we have
many more such projects to work on together. The final draft was ready by
January 2014. Now, it’s time for some more acknowledgments. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Writing is a
lonely process. And yet requires that your support system be strong. My
unassuming little sister has always been a source of inspiration and rock solid
support for me. Thanks Sindu. You rock! Many thanks Dipika, Srinivas, Divya for
the constant stream of morale boosters that helped me clear all shreds of a
lack of confidence in my abilities. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Manoj
Motiani, Abhilash Gudla, Aditya Shekhar, Abhinav Pathi, Avinash Singh, Soumya
Poddar, Vikas Nigam, Prasad Dhake, Rachit Kumar, Charu Lata Sharma, Arulin
Jajorea and Anirban Samajpati – Special mention to all of you for sharing your
life experiences and insights on love, money and women. Thanks a ton for making
my living life at IIMA a memorable experience. Did I mention that a small part
of the story in OSTSTL is set in IIMA? Don’t worry. I have tried my best to
paint a very realistic imagery of IIMA!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Surya
Chandrika Bondada – Now you know why I constantly kept on bombarding you with
queries. </span><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Thanks a lot. Your
medical insights have contributed immensely in shaping an important protagonist
of this book. I am sure you will rock as a great surgeon some day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Kiran
& Divya Gone – To be an integral part of your tryst with unbridled love has
been both an honour and something I take great pride in. I have taken the
liberty to sketch characters based on you both and I hope you connect to them.
Many thanks to you both. Keep rocking!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Lakshmi
Yadavalli and Sonali Korada – I have immensely enjoyed listening to your version
of how men fail to understand women. Or rather should I say your version of a
dummies guide to understanding women? Can’t thank you both enough though. For
making me a better person and labelling me with the proverbial ‘nice guy’ tag.
It sure does feel good, listening to you both. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Special
mention to PVR, Sandeep Yerra, Abhinav Agarwal, Shekhar Raj for bearing a
silent ‘me’. All of you have been very supportive of my creative endeavour. We
shall raise a toast some day!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">And of
course mom and dad. I have inherited many traits. But the one thing I will
cherish the most is the power to remain silent for long periods of time. This
has sure helped me. Silence is golden? Naah. I say, Silence is Platinum! And of
course, all of life is a chance...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">signing off,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">Sandeep Kothapalli</span></div>
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taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-38221734828931612912014-02-21T00:04:00.002+05:302014-02-21T00:06:19.725+05:30Bragging is good!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hi folks,</div>
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There are only three sports I play
fairly well – Badminton, Football and Cricket. My tryst with Football though ended
in an absolutely humiliating defeat, topped with the fact that I got my knees heavily
bruised. In school, I was a lanky guy – timid and looked down upon with utter
disdain by the usual bullies. They never messed with me in the classroom. But out
on the field, I was virtually non-existent. How was an unfit guy like me supposed
to compete with the champion players on the field? I mean wasn't it already bad
enough that they were being humiliated day in day out, being compared to me
when it came to how good I was in academics? There was no way they were allowing
me to steal their thunder in something they were so good at. </div>
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Looking back, I
realise that the only time I felt inferior and utterly worthless was while
playing football. The last time I played football was in the eleventh standard.
I was the goalkeeper and our team was leading in the first half. But like
always, my team choked when it mattered. Well, I choked! <b><i>Why a team I am in, always chokes?</i></b>
It felt terrible. I was dejected and that wasn't the first time, you see. No
wonder, I am all at sea when my peers have a passionate discussion on EPL and
Champion’s League. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Badminton was an indoor sport I
played, more for killing time than anything else. And to be frank, playing
Badminton allowed me to vent out my feelings whenever I was frustrated or
angry. I was really good at smashing the badminton cock, sometimes literally to
smithereens. Quite something for a stick-thin guy! Even then, I was a good
doubles player. But that was just about it. </div>
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So, needless to say, I was a
really good cricketer. So much so that had my father been rich enough to send
me to a cricket coaching institute, who knows! I can say this with a fair degree of pride
that I am a self-made cricketer. <b>*</b><i><b>Laughing at myself*</b> </i>I never managed to play beyond the school
level. But it was simply because Cricket wasn't my priority. And look where
that has landed me to! Pun obviously intended...</div>
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Anyway, I have fond memories when
it comes to Cricket. I was a very good deep fielder. I have held stunning one
handed catches – each one of which I vividly remember till date. I have
effected run outs for my team in crucial match winning moments. And sometimes
in one of those days gone horribly wrong, I have also spilled the simplest of
catches. My lean personality didn't allow me to go for lofty shots. So, as a
batsman, the ‘Dravid’ school of batting technique suited me the most. I would
be dismissed mostly while attempting a lofty shot or try an adventurous cheeky run.
Otherwise, I was so good at sticking around and converting the ones into twos that
the opposition would instead try to dismiss the other batsman. My tall frame
allowed me to play even the short balls better. But if you look at my
wagon-wheel in batting, I was a dominant leg-side batsman. The only shots I
played really well on the off-side were the late cuts. Enough of boasting, Sandy!
I never bragged like this before and you might be wondering why. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Because, two weeks ago, while
playing for league matches organised by the HR guys, I opened the innings for
my team in a 15-15 over match. At the team meeting held a day before, I volunteered
to open the innings. Call it the effect of monotony at the workplace, but I
actually wanted to be under pressure and feel the surge of adrenalin through my
body once again. Weird, I guess. But sometimes, monotony takes a toll on you.
And that’s when people like me take impulsive decisions – most of which are
associated with a high risk high returns payoff. The last time I felt
butterflies in my stomach was on the day of graduation at IIMA. So, when I had
pre-match jitters, going through the motions rather anxiously and pacing to and
fro in the room, my roomies were amused; wondering why I was taking the match
so seriously. ‘Dude, it’s a bloody HR team-building endeavour. Just play for
fun and enjoy,’ is all they said. </div>
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But I wanted to do well. I really wanted to
be a match-winner, again. I wasn't feeling like a winner for quite some time.
Do you know how it feels to be on top of the world? ‘Utopian-exhilaration’ is
the word! I have been a winner for most part of my life. <i><b>IIMA was a humbling
experience though.</b></i> So for me, this league match was a golden opportunity to
redeem the winner in me. Now you know why my tone in this post is boasting in
nature. For a change, that feels good. It feels great to tell you that I did a
pretty good job as an opening batsman, especially when wickets around me were tumbling.
Literally! </div>
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We won the toss and decided to
bat first. The team felt that anything above 100 was a pretty good score to
defend. And I was to play the anchor, at least till the first six overs. Alas,
the team lost three wickets in the first three overs itself. The opposition was
bowling well, keeping it tight. Even my personal score was in single digits. There
was no way to let loose and attempt stupid shots. It was time to build a
partnership. Thankfully, the new batsman started playing his shots right away and
that allowed me to rotate the strike. His strokes released the pent up pressure
and lifted our spirits. I was happy taking the ones and twos, with occasional
boundaries and giving most of the strike to him. Our partnership ended in the twelfth
over, when I holed out to the fielder in the deep. With a personal score of 30
and a strike rate of 85, I was applauded for my performance. It felt great,
when my teammates patted my shoulders in appreciation. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But then again, my team choked pretty
badly. As a part-time pacer, I did my bit, trying to resurrect my team’s
fortunes when I got a batsman out caught in the gully. But three catches off my
bowling in the next five balls were spilled or not attempted at all. I was
dejected, not because my team lost but the way we didn't try to win. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Nevertheless, I was still happy
with myself. It felt great to feel the surge of adrenalin in a strange way.
Exhilarating, when you have realized that there is no need to run, for the shot
you have hit is going away for a boundary. It took a good performance in
Cricket to remind me how good I was in school, winning mostly and being a
pretty sore loser. I realised that for a winner, being humble is the greatest
virtue anyone can ever possess. But who doesn't like a little spice sometimes? It’s
alright to deliberately put yourself under pressure and come out triumphant. You’re humble and that’s fine. But sometimes, it’s
okay to be bragging about your successes under pressure, however insignificant
and silly it might seem or look. It’s critical that we sometimes indulge in
something that invokes the warrior spirit in us. It’s a win-win bet. You win,
you brag and feel good. You lose and it is a humbling experience. You learn
from your mistakes and try to emerge victorious the next time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Hail the philosopher in me!
Although, I must admit that most people who know me well avoid invoking my
philosophical alter ego. Probably the reason why I am a better listener!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
signing off,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
taureansandy </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-64060045896266599432013-11-17T00:28:00.003+05:302014-02-21T00:06:31.445+05:30'Sach' is life...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_3cjUDy9wXCpAkNPYvmLZmePMCFLAxVh88wJlq3ppFW7hdsIrQqwaZ6j-gP4RG1pOaxYKPTll7gm9QxuoLkEjHBNFaXbEmTQYIQMwGLzl__0T7mcmEB8lg9zSdQBa3fYYb40N8N0j9g/s1600/sachin_tendulkar_up300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_3cjUDy9wXCpAkNPYvmLZmePMCFLAxVh88wJlq3ppFW7hdsIrQqwaZ6j-gP4RG1pOaxYKPTll7gm9QxuoLkEjHBNFaXbEmTQYIQMwGLzl__0T7mcmEB8lg9zSdQBa3fYYb40N8N0j9g/s1600/sachin_tendulkar_up300.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Source: NDTV</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
1030 hrs, 15<sup>th</sup>
November 2013</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
On any other day, I can be seen
checking mails in Outlook in the office at this time. But today was different.
Sachin was still at the crease, playing in what has turned out to be his
swansong. I missed watching him in his final moments as a Master Batsman and
will for the rest of my life. I sounded
so banal, right? You might have already heard many others like me saying
‘<i>Cricket will never be the same again</i>’. But then isn’t that the fact? Well,
some might differ with the likes of Virat and Rohit making their mark in a
spectacular fashion. Yes, they are remarkably talented. But it remains to be
seen how well they perform in the bouncier pitches of South Africa. God, I
digressed again!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I am 26. Sachin started his
international career on this day, 24 years ago. Fair to assume that I and many
others of my generation have literally grown up watching him play his trademark
straight drives and leg glances – two strokes you know run away to the boundary
when Sachin plays them. Such was his impeccable timing. Of course, I know two
other Indian players who had a divine sense of timing like him. They were his
contemporaries – <b>Rahul Dravid and Sourav Ganguly</b>. Rahul almost always pulled
the short ball with disdain and yet managed to keep it to the ground – a shot I
tried to replicate in the matches I played and failed miserably. And of course
Sourav is the ‘<b>God of off side</b>’. I especially enjoyed the long partnerships
Sachin shared with Rahul in tests and with Sourav in the ODIs. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Reminiscing those glorious days,
when I used to sit glued to the television sets watching ODI cricket played by
players who were real gentlemen, I can understand why my maternal grandfather
keeps harping on how 20-20 cricket has killed the fun of watching test cricket.
My generation of cricketers – the likes of Sachin, Rahul, Sourav, Anil and VVS
were aggressive on the field and yet played ‘<i>nicely</i>’. They were players who
would keep their emotions in check (Sourav’s extravagance and Anil’s temper?
Okay. But we all crave for a little spice, don’t we?). But if tomorrow, my kid
cousin brother comes up to me and asks which cricketer he should emulate, would
I say Virat or Rohit? NO! Sorry Virat and Rohit. But dudes, beep your
expletives please! I am no one to comment on your skills for you both are well
on the way to be legends in your own right. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
We Indians are jingoist.
Offended? Oh, come on! Truth is bitter. But when it comes to Sachin, have we
been so? You would say that all the immense adulation, respect and love that
his contemporaries, cricket experts, the common man, politicians and Bollywood
stars alike have showered on him is what he fully deserves. Yes, he does!
Unequivocally yes! Otherwise, what would explain the fascination of Media and
Brands with Sachin that has reached the pinnacle today? But this ‘Sachin
mania’, a phenomenon of an unprecedented scale has happened because quite a few
elements of the universe have come together at the right moments to conspire
and lead to the phenomenon we Indians are witnessing today.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
</div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="text-align: justify;">1</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;">983 – India wins the World Cup: And if cynics
then dismissed this off as a flash in the pan, then winning the Benson and
Hedges Cup in 1985 proved them wrong. This period coincided with the
spectacular fall of Indian Hockey. People found solace in the fact that India
was beginning to do well in Cricket. The win in 1983 and 1985 only served to
popularise the sport we are so obsessed with now. Cricket stars like Sunil
Gavaskar and Kapil Dev were soon endorsing brands and BCCI shifted its focus to
organising more and more ODIs to mint money. And even as Cricket started
undergoing what many would call ‘glamorization’, a certain Sachin Tendulkar was
already creating a buzz in the domestic circuit. </span></li>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: justify; text-indent: -24px;">
<br /></div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">1991 - Liberalization of the Indian Economy:
Sachin’s genius by then was already being talked about and as a child prodigy,
he was touted as the next big thing. And then our economy opened the doors to
the likes of Coke, Pepsi, Nike and Adidas. Realising the immense marketing
potential Cricket as a sport offered, they lost no time in making Sachin the
poster boy of Cricket. With his endearing boyish looks and yet an adult like
maturity in batsmanship, Sachin’s brilliance was soon the talk of the town. The
fact that Sachin, a boy from a middle class family, never let success get to
him made him a darling of mothers who wanted their sons to emulate him. And
sons like me are still trying to. Why? I won’t bother to answer you! But his
demeanour on and off the field speak for themselves. And I am not even talking
about his feats in numbers and statistical parameters.</span></li>
</ul>
<div style="text-indent: -24px;">
<br /></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">1</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;">996 – Mark Mascarenhas signs a long term
contract with Sachin making him one of the richest sportspersons globally. That
to me was the moment Sports marketing became synonymous with Cricket. The likes
of Virat, Rohit and other youngsters minting so much money now through IPL
should thank Sachin for it.</span></li>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: justify; text-indent: -24px;">
<br /></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;">Sachin and the Indian Demographic profile – An
estimated 150 million Indians today are in the age bracket 18-23. And over 450
million Indians today are in the age bracket 5-24. What does this mean? Simple.
An entire generation (40-45% of the country’s population) has grown up watching
this man play. Add to this the fact that Sachin’s textbook technique and boyish
charm has even impressed the likes of my Grandfather – a generation that has
grown up watching test matches (Of course back in the 60s and the 70s, people
in India had all the time in the world to sit and listen to Radio commentary
all day). His humility despite absurdly insurmountable levels of success he has
achieved, longevity and endurance has ensured that he waved his magical wand
over youngsters and elders alike. Isn’t that enough reason why we all should
miss him?</span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
What does Sachin mean to me?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
He’s a demigod to many Indians.
Someone, guys like me can look up to for lessons in humility and achieving
excellence. But for me, Sachin is much more. Sachin was the answer to that one
question which I believe led to IIM A opening its hallowed portals to welcome
me in. In retrospect, I did answer many tricky questions well but this question
about Sachin will be something that I will always remember and cherish. Aah! I
can see you are keen to know how. So here goes the story. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I was the first candidate to be
called in for the interview by the panel. 15 minutes into the interview, I
hadn’t stumbled at any point, though I took my time to answer their tricky
questions. But the panel had other thoughts. They were yet to throw their best
salvo at me. And then one of the professors asked me which sport I followed the
most. I said ‘Cricket’. They grimaced as if to suggest ‘Oh God! Cricket? Not
again’. Then they asked me who my favourite cricketer was? Yes, you know what I
answered. And then they asked me to plot his ‘Popularity curve’ with time on
the x-axis and popularity on the y-axis. That caught me off-guard. There was no
right answer to it. But then I had to be logical and explain why I drew a classical
‘S-curve’ - a <i>Sigmoid</i> function that saturated towards the end. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
‘Why do you think the curve
should saturate to a straight line?’ asked one of the professors.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
‘Sir, to be honest, Sachin’s
reflexes are already slowing down and with the young crop taking over, his popularity
might dwindle a bit. So I think it would saturate towards the end’, I replied. They
nodded. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Three months later, I was elated.
I was in IIMA and was living my dream. And the two years that I spent learning
the nuances of management also coincided with that period when against all
odds, Sachin once again peaked to the best form of his life. His 200 in the ODI
in Gwalior against a very good South African bowling attack and then his last
test century against the same opposition in the bouncier pitches of South
Africa – both of them in 2010 stand out. He seemed timeless. And then in Diwali
2010, I saw him bat for the first time in the test match in Motera against New
Zealand. He missed out on a half century. But watching him bat in front of my
eyes, I realised he was human after all. I saw him in flesh and had goose bumps
all over. That day, when he walked back to the pavilion visually disappointed,
it struck me that I was wrong to surmise that Sachin’s popularity would
dwindle. Leave alone his popularity. He had set newer benchmarks and broken
records in 2010-11 with the final jewel on his crown – A world cup medal. Damn!
He cried, I cried and like me a million others. Trash that S-curve! It didn’t
straighten after all. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
God has powers. A superhuman is a
human who with sheer talent, perseverance and humility achieves the status of a
demigod. So, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar isn’t god. He’s a superhuman. And now he’s
a Bharat Ratna. But for me, Sachin would remain an enigma, a name, a memory
associated with those moments when I had given it all to fulfill a dream. I was
wrong about this man, and I don’t regret one bit about it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Yes, I had tears watching him
touch the cricket pitch one final time in reverence and make that final
farewell speech with an immaculate control over his emotions. Amidst tributes
galore to this great man, I couldn’t resist the urge to jot down what I feel
for SRT. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
If ‘Bhaag Milkha Bhaag’, a biopic
on Milkha Singh has grossed over 100 Crores globally, then I am pretty sure a
blockbuster of a movie is coming its way with a biopic on Sachin Ramesh
Tendulkar!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
P.S: Rahul Dravid and Sourav Ganguly deserved a
similar farewell. But then I am not missing them much. In their new avatars as a commentator
and a cricket analyst, they are as classical and extravagant as they both were while batting.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
signing off,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
taureansandy </div>
</div>
taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-38849751375444975042013-11-01T00:12:00.000+05:302013-11-01T07:51:55.997+05:30I can write as well...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I am listening to a soulful
composition by Harris Jayaraj. A haunting melody sung by Bombay Jayashree. My
fingers keep rolling on the keyboard of my laptop, as my thoughts translate to
words on a Microsoft word document. Yet sometimes, I struggle to form cohesive
sentences. The fact that ‘Backspace’ is the keyboard button I use the most
after ‘Space’ is testimony to this fact. I have forgotten how it feels to
physically hold a pen and write on a piece of parchment. There were days, when
I used to practice so many mathematical problems on paper that my index and
middle finger would terribly hurt. Don’t you remember the days when possessing
a ‘Cello Gripper’ was considered a fashion statement of sorts? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And now, here I am trying to make
a name as a ‘Writer’. Okay, not just a ‘Writer’ but a great one. But I am
struggling. I am no better than a junior artist in Bollywood, who’s trying to
break in and look for that one ‘lucky break’ which is elusive in most cases. Why?
My manuscript has been rejected by the biggies. That was a jolt I probably
needed to come out of complacency. I was pretty confident of my writing
abilities. But rejection forces you to rethink. Rejection is the best thing
that can happen to anyone, for it is a humbling experience. I think I should
first set the context right, before I proceed further. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It all began in the month of
September in 2011. Four months of life in the corporate boardrooms, I was
disillusioned. Who am I? What was I doing after passing out from the ‘toughest
B-school to get into’? What do I want to do with my life? And then there was
this tryst with... I suppose you got that one! A very depressing day in office
was the trigger. I furiously opened my laptop and vented out my feelings on the
keyboard. And there it was – a short note, reflecting on anything and
everything that happened in my life in the last one year. I read and reread it
and laughed at myself, wondering how puerile I can be sometimes. I wasn't
immature. I was less mature. Then, as an afterthought I decided to share it
with three friends who know the in and out of me. One of them then suggested
that I extend it further into a fully fledged novel. Of course, it had to be
fictionalized. And it was. It’s been over two years now. We are on the verge of
getting it published. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
We? Yes, me and my editor. This
script is my baby. Precisely five months ago, I began searching for an editor to
nurture it. Lucky me! It wasn't such a painful exercise after all. Working with
my editor on this ‘soon to be published’ book has been a delightful and an
immensely enriching experience. Of course, I did have some trouble trying to
unlearn all those things ingrained in my psyche, to which I was conditioned to
and look at the script from her perspective. And I also managed to rile my
editor once with my stupidity while reworking on the script. But she pushed me
to stretch my realms of imagination and come up with something better. Of
course, that’s what good editors are supposed to be doing. Now, when I realise
I am a better narrator than I was probably a year back, then I have to thank my
editor for it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Dear editor, if you are reading
this and I know you would, I would like to tell you that I have downloaded a
copy of <i><b>Wren and Martin</b></i>. The file’s conveniently saved on my laptop's desktop, so that every time I see it, I know I am messing with the ‘funniest
language’ in the world and trying to make a career out of it. This, despite the
fact that my score in the ‘Verbal Ability’ section of CAT 2008 led me straight
into the hallowed portals of IIMA! Boastful, eh? Unequivocally, yes!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Disclaimer: I am venturing into
the ‘blunt’ mode. I would like to call this the ‘phase’, when I am unabashedly shameless
and brutally honest about my views and the insights I share. So, if you can’t
stand this mode, I suggest you stop right here!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>‘Writing a book is the
intellectual equivalent of running a marathon’</b>. I quote my ex-roommate,
verbatim. He so succinctly described my experience of writing a novel that I
could only nod in admiration. He recently quit his job to venture full-time
into wedding photography. A bold step I must say. Anyways, the point I was
trying to make was that Writing as a profession doesn't guarantee financial
stability, especially for a fledgling writer like me who aspires to make it
big. And moreover, writing is an exhaustive activity in itself. I remember
having endured the proverbial <i>writer’s block</i> a couple of times – a phase a
writer dreads the most. Writing is inherently associated with solitude. Most
writers embrace silence and contemplate in solitude, for it allows them to be ‘in
the zone’. I know what it’s like to be ‘in the zone’. It’s that phase when the
creative juices overflow and you just can’t stop writing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Being a writer is also tough, in
a society that is turning increasingly materialistic. What’s the first thing
that comes to your mind when I say I am a writer? People who don’t know me well
might conjure one or all of the following: Crazy, lunatic, eccentric, most
probably a serial drinker, hardcore introvert, irrational, radical, lean, hairy
(OMG!). It’s bloody true, given the kind of imagery associated with some of the
bestselling authors of the world. I can’t just roam around proclaiming that I am a writer.
Not until, I have written a bestseller. Unfortunately, I see myself being
dragged down by people who fail to appreciate fine arts and still have a word
of advice for me or worse, think that all I do is daydream. Bloody
hypocrites! But, I have to also acknowledge the presence of friends who have
firmly supported me. It’s because of them that I can dream, imagine and write.
The sad truth about us, the proud Indians that we call ourselves, is that we
sometimes ruthlessly rebuke those who dare to dream beyond the obvious. Visionaries
have blossomed in environments where they were encouraged to dream and act on fulfilling
them. What harm is there if I want to be one? Anyways...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I have managed to complete my
book. Per se, it’s an achievement. Is the book good or bad? You have to judge. Incidentally,
there’s a contest called NANOWRIMO where budding writers register and write
50000 words of their novel in the month of November. ‘Gosh’ was my first reaction
when I first went through the infomercial. That’s crazy! I can never do that.
Probably, that’s the reason why it took me two years. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
My editor did ask me
once. How did I keep going? Did I not run out of patience? Was I not tired
whilst letting my imagination run amok and pen my thoughts down? Of course, I
was. But I was so involved with the characters I created, that it would have
been gross injustice if I hadn't finished their story. I felt a strong inner
urge and the responsibility to finish their story. There were days when I only
thought about the characters of the story I was weaving. I was in the zone and
I felt special. Damn! I already sound like those well established authors. I
hope I become one of them. And yes, for those cynics droning on around me –
Yes! The book will be out soon. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
signing off,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
taureansandy</div>
</div>
taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-80285851227537697882013-09-15T00:16:00.001+05:302014-02-21T00:06:47.780+05:30Friday, the 13th!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Hi folks,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Friday, the 13th day of September
in the year 2013. Rarely has been a day as eventful as this one. Dear
Sreesanth, thanks for your histrionics. But we have had enough of you. Thanks
BCCI. One of those few decisions you have got bang on target! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And then there was the conviction
of the four insensate youngsters. If I were to use any English word from my
vocabulary to describe the nature of the crime committed, then that word would
be <i><b>‘Heinous’</b></i>. And if there is any other word or phrase that you can think of
other than the one I just mentioned, then consider my vocabulary weak! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Anyways, the point is this - how
many times have you seen a court in India deliver a verdict within 8 months of
a heinous crime being committed? I bet even the convicts would have never
imagined that such deathly fate would befall them so quickly. Had it not been
for the public uproar and open protests that were amplified by the social media
to a degree, never seen before in the history of Independent India, this
conviction wouldn’t have been so swift and effective. Now, it’s time to address
our dear friend Nirbhaya. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Hi Nirbhaya,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I am pretty sure you were
watching the drama unfold in the court proceedings, sitting somewhere up in
heaven. And I guess the fact that the swiftness with which Delhi Police
completed the investigation to nail the offenders must have come as a surprise
to you. I don’t know what you must have felt when the verdict was announced. I
guess, I can never know. After all, I am a guy who thought he could afford to
roam the streets at night without a care in the world. How wrong, I was! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
What I do know is that you must
have felt – why me? As someone who could have gone on to become a brilliant
doctor, whatever happened to you is indescribable. So heinous, that thousands
of people like me were outraged. Every day, you fought bravely against odds
heavily stacked against you - we hoped against hope. And that eventful day, our
hearts sank. When that small glitter of hope was extinguished, we seethed with
anger and gritted our teeth. A chill ran down my spine though, for I have always
had a soft corner for Delhi – a city where I grew up as a kid and have many
sweet memories to cherish. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I wished that nothing less but
the ‘noose’ be tied around the offenders. And there were many like me, vocal
enough that the lawmakers had to sit up and take notice. ‘Swift action or
otherwise its doom’, they must have thought. And when the desired verdict was
announced, people who crowded in huge numbers at the Saket Complex applauded. I
will admit this to you, Nirbhaya. After the verdict, I heard myself cursing the
‘four *****rds’ with the choicest of swear words that I know of. But then the
next instant, I was completely engulfed with <b><i>ghoulish</i></b> thoughts. Yes Nirbhaya.
Ghoulish thoughts indeed!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
If not for their deeds, those
four convicts possibly could have gone on to become future leaders of this
country. If only the government had provided the right kind of resources to disillusioned
youngsters like them. Friday, the 13<sup>th</sup> of September 2013, was a sad
day, because we publicly killed the ambitions of four youngsters who could have
been virtuous instead of the ghastly abhorrent monsters they turned out to be.
Of course, let the four of them be damned for what they did. They deserved
every bit of what they have got. No one will shed tears the day they are hanged
until the tightening noose sucks every bit of life out of them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But do we
really need to applaud and celebrate their death? Are we so morbid, Nirbhaya?
Doesn’t that tell you something about ‘we the people’? The verdict ‘Death to
all’ that was labelled as ‘historic’ by some newspapers doesn’t matter now, but
for the small glitter of hope that it serves as an effective deterrent to ‘Rape’
– a term that has been so trivialized now that every time I hear someone utter
it, I am disappointed by the lows to which ‘we the people’ can stoop to. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Before I end this letter
Nirbhaya, I would like you to ask something. Nothing much, though. Please pray
that we get better in treating women, irrespective of age, caste and religion and
of course, the power to introspect and learn basic civility. If you are reborn
as the ‘second woman Prime Minister’ of India, then nothing like it!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Yours friendly,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And that brings me back to the
point I had earlier raised. I mean how morbid can we be. No point taking to
twitter or Facebook and blaming the Congress for the current state of affairs.
No point blaming a Prime Minister who remains mum, even when our soldiers are
beheaded in a brazen act by the Pakistani Army that can only be termed as
cowardly. Yes, I mince no words when I say so. I have never been a great fan of
‘Aman ki Asha’. Does that make me jingoistic? Or is it because I am the son of
a soldier, taught to place the country’s interest above anything and everything
else? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
One of my dear friend and a
fellow batch-mate from IIMA had once remarked – <b>‘</b><i><b>Jab tak hum nahi sudhrenge, yeh desh bhi nahi sudhrega’</b>. </i>So true, I
say. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Friday, the 13<sup>th</sup> day
of September 2013 is also eventful because ‘NaMo’ as he is lovingly referred to,
was announced as the official PM candidate. This is so reminiscent of the
presidential ballot that happens in USA. Rahul Vs NaMo should be an exciting
contest. More so, because this is probably the first election in which an
entire generation of tech savvy youngsters aware of the in and out of what’s
happening politically (thanks to Social Media and a certain foolish politician ‘DS’
who keeps on uttering ridiculous bullshit), will turn up to vote in large
numbers. With young India overwhelmingly in support of NaMo, things look bright
for this charismatic leader. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Winds of change are blowing.
Given the pathetic state of affairs in our country, it comes as no surprise
that people desperately seek change. I have never been a great admirer of NaMo.
He’s a polarizing figure - a leader who has the ability to intimidate, whenever
required and inspire whenever necessary. Godhra has been a blot on his
otherwise stain-free tenure as the CM of Gujarat. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Of course, while doing projects
in IIMA, I did observe that in some parts of the hinterlands of Gujarat, funds
still don’t trickle down to the grass-root level. Caste based discrimination is
rampant. In Ahmedabad, the manhole workers, most of who belong to a community
called ‘Valmiki’, are treated with disdain. There’s an entire slum in the
outskirts of Ahmedabad, where people survive inhumane conditions without electricity
and basic sanitation. I happened to visit this slum and somehow managed to not
puke after spending over two hours with the residents who described their
living conditions in excruciating detail. Of course it was all there, explicit
visuals some of which I managed to capture in my camera as well. The irony - it
was August 15<sup>th</sup> in the year 2010. More details on <a href="http://taureansandy.blogspot.in/search/label/IIM%20A">http://taureansandy.blogspot.in/search/label/IIM%20A</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I mince no words when I say I am
not a great fan of NaMo. A leader like him ought to be intolerant of such
discrimination happening right in the midst of a major city in a state he’s
governing. But then, thousands of such slums lie unattended to in various cities
of our country. And there are other issues like Primary education, basic
sanitation, food security etc. that haven’t been addressed properly despite 66
years of being a sovereign country. So, it is unfair to expect so much from a
leader like NaMo who is relatively a better performer than many other useless
administrators the country has seen. Despite all his failings, he is assertive
and decisive – in many ways like Atal Bihari Vajpayee, although NaMo needs to
bolster his secular credentials. I would rather prefer a decisive leader than a
mum one! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
NaMo is the beacon of hope of a
better tomorrow. And if BJP indeed wants to return to power, then it has to do
certain things right.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Acknowledge the fact that being a ‘Gandhi’ does
matter and carries immense brand value. Go to a village and ask an old lady and
you would realise that she’s more likely to recall who a certain Gandhi is as
compared to NaMo. Dear BJP. Please realise that the literate working class is
tired of being taken for a ride by the incumbent government. So, most votes in
urban constituencies are likely to be polled in your party’s favour. Instead,
you would do better to take the fight to the rural bastions where the real political
drama is set to unfold in 2014. Clearly, Congress is better equipped than you
are. Why? Simple. They are still in power</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Magic figure of 190 – It would be foolhardy to
assume that you can form a coalition government even if you manage even a tad
less than this figure. BJP, are you listening? AP and UP together combine to
form 122 seats. But alas, BJP’s presence in these two critical states is not
much to cheer for. It becomes that much trickier with potential kingmakers like
Jagan and Mayawati/Mulayam who are shrewd players</span></li>
<li><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;">Avoid indulging in a slandering duel with Rahul.
It would be like playing into the hands of Congress which just wants that.
Instead, the better strategy would be to convince people how BJP can make a
difference to people’s lives. Focus on your election manifesto and make it so
intent heavy that it by itself wins you the election. Of course, easier said
than done!</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It is after 22 years that Indian
economy has hit such a rough patch again. And if the appointment of Mr Raghuram
Rajan (proud to be a fellow alumnus) and its immediate impact on Rupee and
Sensex is anything to go by, I can’t help but be optimistic. Of course there were
external factors like Fed’s announcement of tapering of the amount spent on QE,
better than expected GDP figures for US and Eurozone that helped, but his firm intent
evident in his speech, did give a boost to the sentiments that turned bullish
again. And that’s what might just happen next year if things go NaMo’s way. It’s
time for the phoenix to rise from the ashes. And it’s also the time for
youngsters like me to participate and at least vote to make a difference. Isn’t
it time already, for young India to isolate those who don’t treat their daughters
and mothers with respect and dignity? Why do we marginalise the downtrodden and
desolate when the right thing to do is marginalise the monsters created within
the system or create the right infrastructure to reform them? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Nirbhaya, if you
are listening. You can still be reborn as the PM of India – possibly the
youngest ever, and create wonders for this country. That would be just perfect!
Ain’t it? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
signing off,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
taureansandy</div>
</div>
taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-49669319195588035422013-08-04T14:10:00.000+05:302014-02-21T00:06:47.776+05:30THE GREAT HYDERABADI DREAM<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Hii folks,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
One fine day in the sunny month
of May 1998, my maternal uncle came up to me and asked me to get ready for a
short trip to Hyderabad. I was told that we were to attend a marriage. It was
my first visit to Hyderabad and I had heard a lot about the city that it was.
Till then, I had known Hyderabad to be the city famous for its pearls, <i>Biryani,
Haleem </i>and <i>Golconda</i> amongst others. And boy, how excited I was when I finally
boarded the bus from Warangal to Hyderabad! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Gorging on authentic <i>Hyderabadi Biryani</i>, my love-love relationship with this dish began with gusto. <i>Continues till date!</i> Watching the magnificent
<i>Buddha Statue</i> standing tall on a platform in the <i>Hussain Sagar</i> lake, surrounded by
<i>Necklace Road</i> that dazzles at night (<i>as
the name suggests</i>); I wondered at the city that Hyderabad was. My father
had by then dropped enough subtle hints that this was the city we were to later
settle in. And after years of living a nomadic life at various IAF bases in
India, I was elated that we would be settling for good in a city that held a
lot of promises for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
As an 11 year old kid, I was
enamoured by the spirit that Hyderabad as a city embodied. Its laid-back charm
coupled with the <i>tehzeeb </i>with which
its residents welcomed people from all parts of India was endearing, if not anything
else. Located almost centrally in the Indian subcontinent, it is easily accessible
from all the four directions. And it is probably the only South Indian city that can still boast of a population consisting of varied ethnic and linguistic
groups. Relatively speaking, Hyderabad was and continues to be women-friendly
compared to other metro cities in India.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Home to a multitude of research,
manufacturing, pharmaceutical and financial institutions, it is sometimes also
referred to as ‘<i>India’s Pharmaceutical Capital</i>’. DMRL, BHEL, NGRI, CCMB, NMDC,
NIN and I can go on and on with this list. But the game changer for Hyderabad
was probably the emergence of <i>Cyberabad</i> as an IT hub. And later, the state of
the art Airport that is now the ‘Best Airport in India’ as per <i>Skytrax </i>for the year 2013<i>. </i>Hyderabad is now home to the Indian
headquarters of IT giants like Google, Microsoft and Amazon and is still the
first-choice destination for budding IT start-ups. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
2001 - It was the year that my
family finally settled in Hyderabad. A year had passed by when the erstwhile US
president Bill Clinton addressed IT leaders in this city. Hyderabad was vying
with Bangalore to be the top IT exporter in India. As a city, Hyderabad was
bustling with unbridled energy and investments were pouring in from all parts
of the world. The so called IT boom had a domino effect on other sectors like
Energy, Pharma and Real Estate that soon rose to prominence. And five years
later in 2006, even the then US president George Bush made it a point to visit
Hyderabad. The fact that apart from New Delhi, Hyderabad was the only city to
be host to two successive US presidents speaks volumes of the potential and
promises of a great future this city had then. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But for Hyderabad, the downhill
ride had begun with the infamous ‘<i>Satyam Scandal</i>’ in 2009. By then, even the
movement demanding statehood for Telangana had gathered steam and residents
like me had begun to feel the heat of dissent brooding over Hyderabad, in the
form of frequent call for <i>bandhs</i> and
strikes by Labour Unions tacitly supported by TRS activists. The <i>Telangana movement </i>as the media refers
to, was till then an exercise in restraint. But thanks to the retracting
statements by the then Home minister, the movement soon turned violent. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
November 2009 onwards</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I was to catch a late night
flight to Ahmedabad. I was on the Airport Shuttle bus when the driver announced
that we were stuck in a traffic jam at the <i>Tarnaka – Osmania University</i> campus
junction. Minutes later, we were surrounded by an unruly mob. Armed with hockey
sticks, placards and possibly sacks full of stones, they staged a <i>Rasta roko</i>. The driver announced that
there was no way this melee was going to end anytime soon and we should
probably make our way out through it. But with the arrival of the Police force,
things turned messier. And when the window pane of our bus was cracked open by
the stone pelting mob, we just had to escape our way out. <i>No casualties, not much damage done with the exception of a few
activists injured in the ensuing lathi charge and arrests - </i>This was what
the local media had reported in the next day’s newspapers. But the damage was
done. I missed my flight. The perception of this city had received a dent, a
deep gash resulting in a wound that was not to heal anytime soon. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
From then on, Hyderabad has been
in the news for all the wrong reasons. And as a lad, who considered himself a
proud ‘Hyderabadi’, I found myself in the midst of all intellectual discussions
on the Telangana movement and it’s repercussions on the IT industry in
Hyderabad. Most of my friends either lost their jobs or settled in other cities
that are more financially stable and are not clouded by the kind of political uncertainty
that has enveloped Hyderabad now. Hyderabad was once the second largest IT
exporter but is now relegated to the fourth position. Real estate prices have
touched rock bottom. Frequent <i>bandhs</i>
led to all academic schedules in major universities like OU, JNTU going haywire
and putting the careers of thousands of aspiring engineer/doctors in jeopardy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But this period coincided with my
MBA stint at Ahmedabad. So, I didn’t exactly find myself in the thick of
action. But to see the city I lived in, go into a deep state of chaos hurt me
no end. And when my peers disapproved of the state of affairs in Hyderabad, I
could only nod in agreement. My city was bleeding and the two terror strikes
that happened (one in 2007 and the other earlier this year) only aggravated it
further. So what went wrong? A city that was once expected to be the ‘IT’
capital of India now finds itself in the news for all the wrong reasons. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
For me, the inevitability of
Telangana as a state was never in doubt. And I won’t comment on an issue that
is sensitive and is close to the hearts of over 30 million people who reside in
this region. How can I? When I have never really had an emotional connect with
this movement. But it is a known fact that blood has been shed in the process.
So the fact that Telangana is going to be the 29<sup>th</sup> state of the
Union of India is indeed good news. And I can only hope that things go smoothly
from now on, that real development at the grass-root level happens in the new
state and creates avenues for employment to the many lying there unemployed and
disillusioned with the establishment. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But the announcement that
Hyderabad will be the shared capital for 10 years has come as a shocker. As a
professional, I am not the only one planning to eventually settle down with my
family in Hyderabad. There are thousand others who share the same thoughts I
have. But when leaders like KCR openly make provocative statements asking
employees from <i>Andhra </i>to leave the
state, then I shudder to think of the events that would unfold once the process
of allocation of assets and resources begins after the formation of Telangana.
It’s certainly unbecoming of a leader like him, who is widely perceived to be
the next CM of this new state.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The allocation process is going to be long and
painful, rife with disputes over <i>what is
mine and what is yours</i>. The fact that this process hasn’t been completed in
states like Jharkhand and Uttarakhand (<i>Thousands
of petitions by disgruntled government employees waiting to be heard out</i>)
should be a harbinger of things to come for Telangana and Andhra Pradesh. I
just hope that the disputes are not over <i>who
should live and who should be out. </i>That would be extremely disappointing.
And for once, even the staunchest supporter of the Telangana movement should agree with me that leaders like KCR set a
good example in tolerance and harmony for the millions of youngsters who look
up to him and not be provocative like he was recently. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Given the current state of
affairs, Hyderabad appears to be a lucrative piece of meat waiting to be torn
apart. And this can certainly be avoided if Hyderabad is declared a Union
Territory. But it is no Chandigarh. Hyderabad is geographically encompassed by
Telangana and that is one of the many factors that put Srikrishna Committee into a state of dilemma. Even
an elite panel of jurists in the committee had to come up with three narrowed
options to appease all stakeholders and avoid the volatile law and order
scenario in Hyderabad to flare up further. Isn’t this a classical case of Catch
22? Do you declare it as a Union Territory and deny what the people of
Telangana think is rightfully theirs or declare it as a shared capital and
create a logistical nightmare for the state of Andhra Pradesh? And what is
going to happen to the great <i>Hyderabadi
Dream </i>that professionals like me and many others harbor? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Needless to say, we the people
have the answers to these questions. Irrespective of the decisions made by the
lawmakers, if people of Telangana stay true to their instincts and follow the ‘live
and let live’ principle, then things look bright in the times to come. The
people of Telangana have sacrificed a lot, shed blood and have eventually been
victorious. Good times are to come. But patience is the need of the hour. This
is not the time to be unduly jingoistic and make the phrase ‘Jai Telangana’ a
tool to gain further political mileage. Much of the damage has already been done. Telangana can’t afford to risk giving rise to
another party akin to the one in Maharashtra, so intolerant of the migrant
population in Mumbai. That would be fatal to Hyderabad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
When you are ‘down in the dumps’,
you can only rise from there on. The same holds true for Hyderabad. I for one
remain optimistic about my prospects in this city that I have come to love so
much. <i>Do I really have an option other
than to remain positive? </i>Yes, I do. But I simply don’t see myself settling in
any other city but Hyderabad. For starters, no other city offers me authentic Biryani
on their menu to titillate my olfactory and gustatory senses. And the fun of
watching a <i>Mahesh Babu</i> or a <i>Pawan Kalyan</i> starrer in Hyderabad is
unmatched anywhere else. Why should I miss all of these seemingly insignificant
but priceless moments? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
signing off,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
taureansandy</div>
</div>
taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-37922964682458502902013-05-01T13:33:00.000+05:302013-05-01T14:11:13.570+05:30In conversation with a Narcissist... <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'8 pm it is then' I finally managed to seal the deal after days of convincing him to spare some time for me. Its hard to believe he is the same guy who 5 years back appeared so lean and slender that he could be easily blown away by a waft of air. We would often resist the strong urge to bully him around. And what might be the reason, you would ask? - He was the quintessential academic topper he has been always; and we needed him to help us around during exams. Of the four years that we were in the campus turning ourselves to engineers, we spent more time watching movies and gossiping inside canteen premises than the number of hours that we spent in the classrooms combined. With an almost 6 foot long skeletal frame and hardly an ounce of muscle in his body, he used to walk with stooped shoulders and appeared naive, meek and vulnerable all the time. Wearing almost half an inch thick moustache, he would never fail us for he also knew that we were capable of making his living life hell in the campus. So, it was a win-win relationship for us. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In 2009, he achieved the unthinkable. And we couldn't help but marvel at his sheer perseverance that finally led him in to the hallowed portals of one of the finest academic institutes in the world. But after years of riding the peak in academics, he soon fell down flat on his nose there. It took all of 9 months for him to stare down the barrel - Shudder at the very thought of not finishing amongst the creme de la creme of his batch in one of the toughest PG courses designed ever. For a guy used to winning all the time, this was a first. And he certainly struggled to cope up with it. But then he managed to survive and for the next 11 months that he spent in the institute, he was back to his true elements.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It is 8 pm on my watch. And as promised, I am on time. Few seconds later, I am welcomed in with a glad smile. Still in his track suit, he's perspiring and is nowhere close to being ready for the 'interview' I was here for. With a glass full of milk that he gulps down in a jiffy, he finally settles down in front of me on his bean bag. Offering me a cup of tea, I take a few seconds to observe his demeanor. He's a changed man. With a fairly athletic frame he appears fit; clearly no longer the 'lean nerd' we have known him as, back during our engineering college days. And after the initial greetings and reminiscing about those memorable days spent in ragging juniors and harassing our professors, I started the process of knowing the Beta 2.0 version of my friend here. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'So what's with you and working out in the gym? No one told me that you have gained so much muscle' I asked him, exaggerating a little about the whole 'muscle' thing. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'It all started back two years ago when I was doing my MBA. Academically, I wasn't performing to my potential. Frustrated, I finally needed something to take my mind off the fact that I was failing time and again. So, I started working out and focused on my health. And that kind of helped me cope up with what I perceived as failure' he stated. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Philosophizing never suited my friend. But he was always prone to it - Something he had long back acknowledged as the reason he struggled to connect emotionally with his girlfriend and most friends who were girls. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But I was here to know about the book he has written and is now trying to get it published. I was curious to know how he could write a 250 odd pager (<i>at least that's what my sources confirmed till now</i>) while working as a Senior Manager in a big Indian conglomerate at the same time. And then he revealed it all!!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'Four months into my first job as a management professional, I realised I wasn't cut out for this. And that was also the time I was having a hard time dealing with what many now label as 'Identity Crisis'. I had begun to question my decision of pursuing MBA whereas my peers were already doing worthwhile for themselves and my country. Someone was helping senior scientists build ICBMs whereas the other was doing cutting edge scientific research on rats and zebra-fishes. And then there was this '<i>four letter word</i>' you are well aware of. So at a time when people around felt nothing bad could happen to me - now that I was earning well and financially secure, I felt otherwise. And just like that, I would be frustrated with little things in my daily life as the monotonous routine got into my head' he paused when his cell phone rang and excused himself. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Just when I think I would elicit responses pertaining to only his book, I find him beating around the bush. So whoever it was who called him up, certainly was a welcome relief for me!! Alas, it was to be short lived. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'So where did I stop?' he interjected my thoughts. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'Ohh...yeah...hmmm...you were talking about how frustrated you were' thank heavens, I recollected.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'Yeah. One fine day after a particularly satisfying workout in the gym, I was all feeling good for no reason. And out of thin air, the thought of maintaining my own journal stuck to me. So, I did' he stopped and I looked at him with my brows raised in anticipation, expecting him to complete his version of how he ended up writing the book. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'So?'</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'So what? That's how I ended up writing this book' he said poker faced.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
He had me completely befuddled. How could he turn his own journal to a full fledged contemporary romantic fictional novel? Turns out he allowed his imagination to run wild, like letting loose a rogue wild elephant out on the streets (<i>not exactly the best of analogies I have made till now!!</i>). The chaos that followed is now what he is trying to get it published. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'Then how can your book be termed as 'fiction'? I asked him, by now clear that a part of him was also present somewhere hidden inside.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'Well, it's not exactly fiction for some aspects of the story are clearly inspired by what happened with me. But then, all the characters in it are fictional. Doesn't that make my book a fiction?' He made his point.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I could do nothing other than simply nod. So what's his book all about? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'It's an autobiographical account of a guy who thinks he is an emotional sissy' is the only response I manage to get from him. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'Are you the guy?' I ask to confirm. He's for once, definitely an emotional sissy. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'No, certainly not!!' he catches me unaware with that one just when I was expecting an affirmative.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So how's been his experience like, working on a book for about 16 months? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'Phantasmagoric!!' is his one word response.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'What the hell does that mean?' I ask him totally foxed beyond my senses.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
'Doesn't matter. Well, it was a surreal experience. I could write whatever came to my mind. Build a world of my own, where I could do whatever I have always wanted to do and create life out of thin air. It was nothing less than magical' his childlike enthusiasm brought a bright smile to my face. No wonder he is a 'Harry Potter fanatic' and has an unending crazy crush on 'Emma Watson'. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Refusing to divulge details further citing the fact that he is yet to get it published, I could sense that he was also getting restless and impatient. Why? His manuscript got rejected by the major publishers and he for once is known to be poor at handling rejection. And just when I remind him that even JK Rowling and Amish had faced multiple rejections before they eventually succeeded, he cuts me politely with a 'But I am not them buddy. I am me!!'</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I don't know what to make of it. But it's very clear that his book is his baby. And I am pretty sure that if no one publishes it, he will then eventually get it e-published. In his own words, he admits that his style of writing is as simple and plain as it can be - Nowhere close to the bright colorful fabrics that some of his peers weave out of words a layman could never have heard of. And he does clearly state that his book is not for the intelligentsia (<i>Although I reckon he wouldn't mind if they read his book!!</i>). </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When I ask him what his strength is then? 'My strength lies in the fact that I let my heart tell me what to write. And my weakness is my vocabulary. I am yet to reach the literary standards set by Shashi Tharoor who is one of my all time favourites. Have you read 'The Great Indian Novel'? I am having a tough time comprehending it!!' he muses. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Sensing the fact that he has only spoken about him and his book till now, he switches gears and asks me about me. I tell him that my job as a photo-journalist and an active blogger continues to give me good reasons to stick to the same job; in a clear attempt at banter. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Somewhere in this conversation, it felt as if his unpublished (<i>hoping it is published soon!!</i>) book was indeed his baby he wasn't willing to let go so easily. He wants the best for it and that's why despite the evident impatience written all over him, he is willing to wait for the right publisher to present it in the best possible manner. That's almost narcissistic, <i>isn't it? </i>But then sometimes, it pays to be one!!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I happened to chance upon this extract from his untitled novel that goes like this:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Of course, what else?’ she responded.
So, I straightaway went to Abbas Bhai to order breakfast for us. Within the
hospital, there have been only three people apart from Lahari I have had the
most interaction with. One was Dr Atreya, who would be quite wary of me and my
blackmailing antics. He apparently had an affair few days back with the head
nurse, whom the staff popularly knows by the name Savitha Ben. Of course there
was Kamini who would always like a dedicated reporter feed me with juicy
gossips and scoops on whatever scandalous that would be happening within the
hospital. And then there was Abbas bhai, the ever smiling guy who was so down
to earth that every time I had a chat with him, he would either tell me how
lucky I am to have Lahari as a soulmate or talk about Allah and the ‘karam’ he
has on his devout devotees. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Salaam wailaikum Abbas bhai’ He was
counting cash in his cash box when I greeted him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Wailaikum as salaam Varun ji. Badey dino
ke baad Eid ka chaand chaandni ke saath nazar aaya hai. Mashallah!!’ he
complimented as I blushed again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘How are you miyan?. How are things at
your end?’ I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Bas, sab Allah ka karam hai Varun bhai’
Whenever I asked him how he was doing, he always had the same trademark
response to offer – <i>‘Sab Allah ka karam
hai’</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Kya, bhai? You always say the same
thing. Don’t you have anything else to say to me? It kind of gets boring you
know’ I shrugged. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘I am what I am because of Allah. If I am
fine, it is because his grace is on me. And the same goes with you Varun bhai.
After all we are nothing for you and I have to leave this world and eventually
reach the great Lord himself. <i>Tab tumhare
karam ka sab hisab kitab hoga. Kya jawaab doge tum?’<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-4937789925056772462013-01-17T01:03:00.003+05:302013-01-17T01:28:46.234+05:30Love knows no boundaries - 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i style="font-family: Cambria, serif; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">Continued from <a href="http://taureansandy.blogspot.in/2012/09/love-knows-no-boundaries-1.html"><b>Love knows no boundaries</b> Part 1</a></i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Actually I have been thinking of
donating a part of my salary to an NGO. And that day I saw you entering this
institute and I thought...’ I stopped with my eyebrows raised, waiting to see how
she would respond.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘So were you actually stalking me that
day?’ she snapped. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘No, no. I just happened to see you
entering this institute. I work as a marketing manager in Nagarjuna
Constructions’ and then showed her my ID.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Just chill Mr...’, she paused and then
began to laugh at my nervousness more than anything else.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Oh! I am Srivats’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Yeah, Mr Srivats. I was just kidding.
Anyway you definitely don’t look like a stalker or a roadside Romeo to me’ she giggled again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘And may I know your good name?’ I asked
her politely this time gathering some courage, finally that she smiled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘I am Aaliya and I teach mathematics here
at the primary level’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Whenever she smiled, I felt the cupid himself strumming up the Harp nearby for me; celebrating the fact that <i>mere dil mein garden garden </i>was happening. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘So, Srivats. You will have to fill up
this form and sign a declaration. Your donations will be non taxable under
Section 80 D’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">After all the formalities were done away with, she took me around to a tour of the institute. After the tour, I did what
later turned out to be the best decision of my life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Can we go out for a cup of coffee?’ I
signalled coffee with my hands while asking her out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Sure. Let’s go to the canteen’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">I wanted to take her out to the Minerva
in my car and possibly savour moments of timeless romance. But the moment she uttered ‘Canteen’,
the dream then and there shattered to smithereens. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="line-height: 150%;">‘I guess you are one of the many
corporate slaves in this city. I have met many who spend all their lives
working for money. But money </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">isn't</span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> everything right?’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">That was out of the blue. Here was I,
thinking how to start off the conversation and she wasted no time opining about my profession. I felt this was the right moment to impress her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Yeah that is what I feel sometimes. And
this donation is nothing but an attempt to break away from the monotony I have
been experiencing for the last 4 years.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="line-height: 150%;">She smiled at me. I had to always look at
her while speaking so that she could read my lip movements. But at the same
time, I was also looking at her eyes as well. I could sense a lot of loneliness in
them, but she never gave an impression that she was one. I don’t know what she
saw in me but I sensed that she must have gone through a lot of struggle and
pain. So much so that even the tears have now dried up, leaving only the smile
behind. May be she had </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">realized</span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> that clutching on to optimism was the only way
she could survive in this cruel world now. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘So where do you live?’ I started the
process of knowing her more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Oh! This is my home’ she referred to the
institute. ‘We have the hostel right beside the church where I live.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘And your family....?’ I hesitatingly
asked her though I never wanted to. I was an orphan myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘I never knew who my parents were. I was brought up
here and this is my world where I have dedicated myself to’, she gently added
this time in a low serious tone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">There was a brief moment of silence
before the conversation resumed again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">On the pretext of donations, I began to
visit the institute every month. Slowly and gradually the frequency of visits
began to increase and there came a time when we started meeting every weekend to go out for dinner and shopping. She was unofficially my girlfriend now. But
she never acted like one would do - Be demanding and ask the guy
to shell out and burn their pockets(<i>Of course, not all girlfriends are like that but then....</i>). She was a woman who was supremely assertive and yet gentle in a nice strange way and treated me like a friend. I was able to be myself with her. Despite her
happy go lucky demeanour, she also managed to listen to me and advise me sensibly whenever required. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Every Sunday I would meet her in the church.
I started loving it inside the Church where I found solace in the silence pervading all around;
something which I was craving for a long time. Inside the Church, Aaliya would
be a totally different self; calm and serene like a silent Himalayan lake. I
was feeling good now that I was contributing something for the children at the
institute. I started accompanying Aaliya to her favourite places like the
Sultan Bazar, where she often bought books for the institute and then we would
go and have Pani Puri at Gokul Chat or have tea at the nearby stalls, though I hated the fact that they were never hygienic to my ultra-posh standards. People around would stare at me when we communicated using signs. But we both were always oblivious to the
surroundings. <i>Or at least I managed to pretend that way!! </i>I could sense that she was comfortable with me and so was I. But
she never expressed her feelings for me and in her words our status was: ‘WE
ARE SPECIAL FRIENDS’. I absolutely hated this part as I was in love with her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">SMS was the only way we could communicate whenever we were not together. One fine day I was typing an SMS which read ‘I will pick
you up at the institute by 6pm’ when the office peon commented, ’Sir, these
days you have been messaging a lot. What’s happening?’ stressing on the last
word with a mischievous blink. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Dude, this is the only way I can chat
with her’ I blinked and smiled back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘But you could call and talk to her
right? Why stress your fingers on the keypad?’ He was obviously confused.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘You won’t understand’ I replied
nonchalantly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">The word ‘understand’ brought back the
fear and anxiety I was facing all these days. I was seriously pondering on how
to propose her for marriage. And then I would think of what her reaction would
be. This kept happening since the last three months and never once was I able to
gather the guts and utter those three magical words to her. I left for the
parking lot in a hurry and saw that I had only thirty minutes to manage the
Hyderabad traffic and pick her up at 6. Unlike girls I have been with, she would always
be on time and there was never a moment when I waited for her. It was probably
because she was never the one to rely on cosmetics to enhance her looks. And even without that,
she looked absolutely gorgeous to me. God! I was so in love with her!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘You are 20 minutes late!!’ she announced
with a stern upset look on her face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">I immediately presented her a ‘5 Star’
chocobar and all her anger vanished into thin air. She absolutely loved
chocolates and I used it as a secret weapon to calm her down whenever she was
upset or angry for any reason. The mere mention of the word ‘Chocolate’ would
lighten her up. So, it wasn’t surprising that we were a regular to Monginis to
have chocolate brownies together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘So where are we going?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Just wait and watch’ she winked and put
her hands on my shoulders. It was always a special feeling whenever she did
that and I wanted her to do that for life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">She asked me to drive to Ohri’s. I looked
at her in surprise. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Arey keep driving na. I will tell you
when we get there’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Twenty minutes later, we reached Ohri’s
and sat on a table that was reserved. This wasn’t cool and happening for me –
Especially the chivalrous part of me was feeling very embarrassed. Usually it
is the guys who reserve tables and arrange a date. But here I was; so helpless
that I chose to be silent, wait and see what was in store for me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Happy birthday Sri’, she announced with
a thousand watt bright gorgeous smile that made me yet again go weak in the knees. Immediately a band of
musicians made their presence felt and started playing my favourite song ‘<i>Har ghadi badal rahi
hai roop zindagi....</i>’ from the movie <i><b>Kal Ho Naa Ho</b></i>. It all happened in a
flash that I didn’t know how to react. <i>Or rather, I was dumbstruck at the suddenness of it for I never expected such a lovely surprise from her. </i>While I was enjoying the song, here was
Aaliya who could never experience the mellifluous feel of those musical notes the band was
playing. But she nevertheless enjoyed all the way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Thank you so much Aaliya. This is my
best birthday ever’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">The next moment she hugged me and then I
realised that losing her would be indeed very painful. I decided it was time to
propose. <i>But then again like always, I couldn't!! Was it my ego or the fear of listening to a NO from her? I don't know. </i>We had dinner and spoke of all the things we did since we met. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘You are indeed special to me Aaliya. The
world around me has changed since the day I met you’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="line-height: 150%;">‘It is not the world that has changed
silly. You have changed. The world </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">doesn't</span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> care what happens to you or me. Life
goes on’, she said philosophically.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘And believe me, even I have come out of
my shell. The institute was all that meant to me, but now I have seen and experienced lots of
other things. Been to malls, movie theatres and coffee bars and have had the
time of my life. All thanks to you’ she further added.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="line-height: 150%;">‘Oh! I guess we should stop this mutual
admiration society now’, I said blushing. And we both had a hearty laugh. But still I </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">couldn't</span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> utter those magical words. There was something that was suppressing my urge to express my heart out to her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Three days later, I got an SMS which was
alarming in its tone. It was from Aaliya and read ‘Come quickly to the
Lakdi-ka-pul station. I am alone here waiting for the MMTS’. <i>What was she doing at
the station all alone at 11 pm in the night?</i> There were no buses running that
day as a scheduled RTC union strike was on that week. So I reached there in
about half an hour driving at the maximum speed possible. All this while though, my
mind kept imagining things horrible beyond belief and my heart was threatening to implode with the heart beat at its
peak as adrenaline surged through my blood vessels. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">When I reached the platform, I noticed her frozen in
a tensed state facing two huge guys. They definitely appeared like someone who
could have easily pulped me black and blue had I tried to act smart like a
hero. I knew she was in trouble and so ran towards her like there was no
tomorrow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Yeah Aaliya. Wassup? Shall we leave
now?’ huffing and puffing, I was hardly able to catch my breath, but I
nevertheless asked her pretending as if nothing had happened. Along with her, I wanted to escape from there unscathed as soon as possible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">She was silent, clearly too scared to even mutter. One of the guys then interrupted me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Is she your wife?’ he interrogated<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Yeah she is my wife.’ I was panting
heavily and in the silence of it all, it could be clearly heard. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="line-height: 150%;">‘Is your wife dumb or what? We were
asking her the way to Necklace road and she </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">wasn't</span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> even looking at us.
Teach her some manners dude!!’ the other guy added in a condescending tone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Now this was getting into my head but moments later, </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; line-height: 150%;">both of them then went away to oblivion. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; line-height: 150%;">I
managed to stay calm as I held her hand and led her towards my car. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; line-height: 150%;">She was shit scared and I was lost in thoughts. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; line-height: 150%;">It was total
silence all the way till the moment I burst out all agitated. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘What were you doing at the railway
station at this point of time?’ I was gesturing vigorously through signs by now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Stop the car Sri’, she said softly. I
was shell shocked. <i>Did I say something wrong? Did I piss her off?</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘What happened Aaliya?’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Stop the car’, she said sternly this
time raising her tone as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">The car stopped. The next moment, she held my hand in her palms firmly. And then she uttered those words that went on to
define the best moments of my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="line-height: 150%;">‘Stupid!! Why </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">didn't</span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> you propose to me
till now?’ she questioned me. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Tears rolling down her eyes, I began to stutter!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">'Ohh...Yeah...Hmmm...I was...you know...I felt....' </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘I love it when you stutter. I love the
time that I spend with you. I love the way you care for me when we go out. I
love the way you look at me in the Church. I love the way you readily agree to accompany me to all those stupid little places I have wanted to go, those tea stalls and countless fancy emporiums. I love the way you listen to my demands when we are hanging out
(<i>Whatever little she demanded compared to
some of the girls I have known!!</i>). I loved the way you came running,
huffing and puffing all the way for me at the railway station. I love the way
you have pani puris with me even though you don’t like them’ she was in a very
excited state and all this while was also gesturing what she was saying
vigorously through signs; something which she rarely does when she is with me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">I opened my mouth wide open, pleasantly shocked at the suddenness of it. But the next moment, she pinched me
in the arm. I yelled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘This is not a dream you Dumbo. I love
you. Will you marry me?’ she came close to me and gently whispered those magical
words in my ear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><span style="line-height: 150%;">I looked back and forth. The roads were
still and empty. There </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">wasn't</span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> a single soul. This was definitely not a
romantic place to propose. <i>But who cares when I am with the love of my life</i>? I emerged out of the car and started
yelling loudly and crazily danced in elation. It was sheer utopia. She started
laughing heartily on seeing how crazy I was now. Out of the car beside
the door, she waited patiently for this crazy maniac-like celebration to be over with.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">After this stunt was over, I went to her and lifted her up in my arms. Looking at each other's eyes, I could hear her breathe and smell her distinct scent. <i>But then she was too heavy for me to have held her in my arms like that till till eternity!!. </i>So moments later, I had to put her down. Then I took my cell
phone out, typed something on the keypad and showed her this <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; line-height: 150%;">‘I LOVE YOU TOO LIKE CRAZY. Yes, let’s
marry </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; line-height: 150%;">J</span><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; line-height: 150%;">’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">The next day we married in the Church
with the blessings of all the students and nuns in the institute. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-66837145671699629062012-09-20T12:22:00.003+05:302013-01-17T01:08:43.659+05:30Love knows no boundaries - 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">The
best and the most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard,
but must be felt with the heart – <b>Hellen
Keller</b></span></i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><b><br /></b></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">It was about 5 years back that I came to
Hyderabad. I was working as a Marketing manager with Nagarjuna Constructions
back then. That day I didn’t take my car out for I found it’s tyres punctured.
So, I took the crowded bus, on the way to office when I saw her in the seat
right in front of me. The perfume she carried tore through my senses and there
she was, laughing her heart out. The way she was talking and giggling with
her colleague gave me an impression that she was someone who
loved herself and was an eternal optimist. The conversation was completely one
sided as her friend was dead silent most of the time, preferring to just 'Hmmm' her way out.
It was her radiating smile that finally swept me off my feet. She bid her
friend bye leaving the seat next to her vacant. So I promptly sat beside her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Hi, I am Sri’, I introduced myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">She didn’t look at me. I thought she couldn't hear
me amidst all that Hyderabadi clutter and so I again greeted her. Busy
typing an SMS on her cell phone, I thought it was very rude of her to ignore
me like that. <i>Did I just make a fool of myself? </i>A few minutes of silence later, she woke up ready to alight the
bus as her destination had come. I was angry and upset at having been ignored
in such an ignominious way. But still I couldn’t help but notice that she was entering
an institute and wondered was she old enough to be a teacher there? The bus
conductor then announced loudly ‘Hellen Keller’. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">I ignored the commotion that followed in
the bus and started pondering. Why didn’t she even acknowledge my presence when
I greeted her? It was about ten minutes later that I recalled the conductor
having announced the name of the bus stage as ‘Hellen Keller’. And then
everything began to fall in place. There was indeed a ‘Hellen Keller Institute for Deaf and Deaf Blind’ and I was now sure she entered the same. Questions began to crop up and I
answered them myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Is
she deaf? No<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Is
she dumb? No. I clearly heard her talking with her friend. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Is
she a teacher? But isn’t she also young enough to be a student? Let’s find out. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Unfortunately, I had to make a presentation the
same day to the board. So I decided to check her out the next day. But, it
wasn’t until 4 days later that on a fine Saturday morning, I finally managed the time to visit the institute. The watchman at the gate stopped me. I showed him
my ID and started walking on the beautiful pathway surrounded by lush green lawns, admiring the Gothic architecture
and the serene ambience of the institute. Suddenly a boy emerged, huffing
and puffing his lungs out after running all the way to me from nowhere. He was
curiously checking me out and obviously wanted to find out who I was. Looking
at him, I guessed he was old enough to be in the fifth or sixth standard. Using
the sign language, he asked me what I was looking for and then I realised he was
like many others in the institute, both deaf and dumb. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">So, I took out a piece of paper and wrote
down ‘Lady Teacher – Long hairs!!’ I took my chance for I was yet unclear as to who
she was - a student or a teacher. To my surprise, he led me directly to a class
where she was teaching Mathematics to the second standard students. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">It was a pretty weird way of teaching
mathematics. Abacus was extensively used and everyone in the class used the sign
language for communication. A typical maths class is characterised by decent
amount of decibel levels, whereas this class was totally silent. I decided to wait
outside till she was done with the class; utilising this free time to prepare
myself and conjure up ideas to start off a conversation with her. <i>Is she also deaf?</i> Something deep inside
me was refusing to believe so. I was absolutely sure she was not deaf. Fair
complexioned and round faced with sharp eyes and a jawline that reminded me of
Scarlett Johansson, she was dressed in a chiffon pink saree, tall and slim enough to look absolutely
stunning and smelt the same way she did that day in the bus. It was mesmerising
to say the least.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Hello. Aren’t you the one who sat beside
me that day in the bus?’ she started off straightaway with a question that was
interrogative in its tone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Yes. I had also greeted you then. But I
guess you were busy messaging someone’ </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; line-height: 150%;">I wasn’t looking at her when I said that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Did you say something now? Sorry I am
deaf’ How could she be so nonchalant while declaring that? I was shell shocked.
Then she locked her eyes with mine, looking directly at me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Ok. I am deaf. But I know lip reading.
So whatever it is, talk while looking at me and make sure I look at you as
well’ she instructed with a hearty laugh at the end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">I was clearly shaken enough to be not in the
right state of mind with her anymore. But I had no other option
but be myself, lest I offend her. It was pretty clear to me that she was a
supremely confident assertive woman and didn’t like people showing any signs of
sympathy towards her. I </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">couldn't</span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> gather the guts to tell that I came all the way to meet her. The alibi I conjured up earlier came in handy. We were now in her room and
she promptly asked me to take a seat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘So how can I help you?’ she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Hmmm...yeah...Actually......’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">‘Are you fine? Shall I get you a glass of
water?’ she enquired clearly amused at how I was beginning to stutter. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"><i><b><a href="http://taureansandy.blogspot.in/2013/01/continued-from-love-knows-no-boundaries.html">Love knows no boundaries Part 2</a></b></i></span></div>
</div>
taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-62817128981751913072012-08-09T23:30:00.001+05:302013-01-17T01:04:47.813+05:30Life of a Soldier...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW0hr4eTfIUnno_MQCWrIvIM2R2JerNDC8PUFFikpQN1Xc7y4qFhJnJh1uF-KnKMm0sPv6RVGfaREo70kqizSwaOlMoycT8q3Q1LEA16mdwOIgxzdhdaucsxR30VwRA_hkykI04s3ZxOA/s1600/IAF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW0hr4eTfIUnno_MQCWrIvIM2R2JerNDC8PUFFikpQN1Xc7y4qFhJnJh1uF-KnKMm0sPv6RVGfaREo70kqizSwaOlMoycT8q3Q1LEA16mdwOIgxzdhdaucsxR30VwRA_hkykI04s3ZxOA/s320/IAF.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Some people are destined for greatness (<i>Actually they inherit superhuman genes from their progenitors!!</i>). Others write their own destiny. He is one such soldier and this is his story.</div>
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Once upon a time in the sunny month of May, God decided to send him to walk the path called life in a sleepy town somewhere in a state called Andhra Pradesh in India. That was the time when India was having a tough time dealing with China on the East and Pakistan on the West. That was also the time when Jawaharlal Nehru was criticised and banged by the media and people in general for his failure to properly deal with the arrogance and might of the Chinese. (<i>A little digression I guess!!</i>). </div>
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Anyways, he grew up amidst people who were mostly illiterate and probably were of the opinion that Black Pigs are more loyal to humans than Dogs. You can’t really blame them for their ignorance as the whole town was and is still infested with lots and lots of Pigs. (<i>I don’t know why some people still find Pigs cute!!</i>). His father earned just enough to afford spending on his education. Mind you, at that time in India, studying in a school was a luxury only a few could afford. Spending most of his time playing in the streets, he soon grew up to an age where most of us now ask ourselves <i>‘What am I going to do with my life? Will I become an Engineer or a Doctor?’</i> After struggling to clear his Intermediate studies, he plunged into the <i>identity crisis mode</i>. That’s when one of his dear friends advised him to join the Indian Air Force. Despite resistance from his parents, he decided to participate in the fair – a fair where youngsters try their luck to make it into the Armed Forces as a Non Commissioned Officer. </div>
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Now the story of how he qualified to be stamped as <i>‘Fit for Induction in IAF’</i> is by itself an interesting one. The minimum weight one ought to have to qualify was around 48. But he was only 45 then. Alarmed by the fact that he would soon be rejected, he secretly gobbled up enough Bananas (<i>luckily available at the fair then!!</i>) to increase his body weight to 48 and scraped through the final medical round. (<i>If gaining weight is so easy then why am I working out so hard in the Gym??</i>) Thus, he began his career in the IAF at the tender age of 19. His parents were unhappy with his decision, but he stuck to his guns. Now whether it was his desire to experience the real world outside, the passion to make a difference by serving his country or to land up a government job is something that is unknown. Nevertheless, he flew off. </div>
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At the training institute, he had a tough time adopting his frail body to the physical and mental rigours that one is made to go through. So much so that he tried to escape and return back home. But life had other plans for him. He finally made it through the rigorous training period, learning to shoot with a ~3Kg 303 rifle and running around the huge dusty grounds holding the heavy rifle <i>‘Shoulder up’</i>. (<i>Reminds me of Karan in the movie Lakshya</i>).</div>
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The transition from civil society to a life in the Military Barracks was never going to be easy, for he was gullible and trusted people easily. His first posting was in Srinagar where he was welcomed by a gang of thieves. They posed as Inspectors of the CID and on the pretext of checking his luggage, stole cash and other valuables kept in his suitcase. That was life’s way of telling him <i>‘Welcome to the real world dude!!’</i> Soon enough he married the love of his life. She was his childhood sweetheart and they first met when her family started living as tenants in his house. Soon, they began to love the time spent with each other, chatting all the way whenever they had free time after school and college. There were no mobile phones then, so they had to physically meet to catch up and enjoy sweet nothings (<i>That is why I hate Mark Zuckerberg!!</i>). Sweet friendship then blossomed into love and when he finally declared his love for her at home, he was chided for reasons best known to him and his parents. Nevertheless, he managed to convince them and eventually exchanged marital vows with her - the woman he knew he couldn’t live without. </div>
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With his soul partner supporting him all the way, life in the armed forces became a smooth journey he traversed effortlessly. Hopping around places every four to five years, he became an Indian in the true sense working with dedication for his country as well as his family. Along the way, he also became a father to a son and a daughter and that made him complete. But all wasn't hunky dory yet. His dedication to his country was something his immediate family back in his hometown couldn't fathom at all. And that probably isolated him from all things and affairs happening in his hometown. It hurt him. A farmer and soldier are two people who are experts in <i>expectation management</i> for they are in a very thankless profession. He moved on for he was a soldier. Along the way he saw his colleagues die in air crashes and in freak inexplicable accidents for the Armed Forces were still not modernized to international standards. Working overtime to ready the majestic <i>SU-30 MKI's, MIG-29's and Jaguar's </i>for wartime, he witnessed the death of his seniors and colleagues from close quarters during <i>Operation Vijay</i>. But he also made some friends who later went on to become his <i>‘Friends for Life’</i>. He educated his children in the best possible way, giving them whatever they asked for and not compromising on their education and attire. And yet also managed to save enough to later buy a flat and become a proud owner of a home. His wife went on to become the reason he managed the finances within an income that is now <i>‘measly’</i> if not anything else. </div>
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Living life by his rules, he happily chose to retire after 20 glorious years of service to the country; because he wanted to provide his son and daughter the best possible avenues for higher education. It has been ten years since he left the armed forces. But one can still feel the discomfort with which he is constantly trying to adapt to the whims and fancies of the civil society. Transition back to the civil society was much tougher for him for he had a wife and two children to take care of as well. But he managed everything with gusto. <i>Guess everything else is a child’s play for a soldier who has spent 20 years of his life amidst guns, bullets, jet engines and roaring fighter jets!!</i></div>
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In a few days from now, he is all set to complete 30 years of service which includes 20 years as a non-commissioned officer in the IAF. And whenever I have admired him for his patience, will and dedication to his work, his humility has made me realise I am being a sissy when I whine about work in a corporate setup (<i>I am a chronic complainer nevertheless!! By the way, I am going to retire right after cutting my 45th Birthday cake</i>). Post retirement from IAF, his life has been a relatively smoother ride compared to many other thousands of Ex-Servicemen who are still struggling to earn a little respect and dignity from the civil society. If I tell you I am lucky enough to have seen how soldiers literally work their asses off, come no matter what; then that’s an understatement!! </div>
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This post is dedicated to him – A truly obedient son, a lover who fought for his love, a loving and loyal husband, a father who became a living hero in the eyes of his children and above all a Soldier who with the utmost sincerity dedicated 20 years of his life serving his country. This post is dedicated to all such soldiers who sing along <i>‘Ab toh humein, aagey badtey hi rehna....’ </i></div>
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<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
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<i><b>“May God bless all the Soldiers”</b></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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signing off,</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
taureansandy</div>
</div>
taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-48464147508473160302012-05-22T00:17:00.001+05:302012-05-22T00:31:20.838+05:30Is Facebook a Parasite or a Virus?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">Hi Folks,</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLde83QMEXAqhEC0oCtYs6I_FCOzhw1HGEeIwq5B2BsHTLFFR3ac3H2wgURCxnfuuzAgMeh5iyFlI6jMpcpFO0E5PK9WfsXsSjz5MhiRg9cPFulsy-d67n5ALh0E4RsawP5yptoGu7dk4/s1600/anti+facebook+logo+21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLde83QMEXAqhEC0oCtYs6I_FCOzhw1HGEeIwq5B2BsHTLFFR3ac3H2wgURCxnfuuzAgMeh5iyFlI6jMpcpFO0E5PK9WfsXsSjz5MhiRg9cPFulsy-d67n5ALh0E4RsawP5yptoGu7dk4/s1600/anti+facebook+logo+21.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">Is Facebook
a virus or a parasite? Based on the dictionary meaning of both the nouns ‘Virus’
and ‘Parasite’, I infer that it is more like a parasite than a virus. It has diffused
through our minds via the Internet and derives its nutrition from our
irresistible urge to know what is going on in the lives of our peers, friends
and acquaintances. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">Now you
might be wondering why describe FB in medical terms all of a sudden. Call it
the fascination with medicine and everything remotely to do with biology these
days. It is because, of late quite a lot of action has been happening in my
life with a direct link to FB. And then, I am beginning to wonder whether I
have become a FB addict of sorts or not. Let me restate some facts before I
proceed further:</span></div>
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</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">If Facebook
were to be a country, it would be the third largest populous country in the
world</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">According to
an official study done by Facebook, 190 is the average number of friends each
one of us has in it</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">People now
spend more time on Facebook than the time they spend daily on personal
hygiene!!</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">Given these
facts, I now have a disclaimer to make. Unlike the past, when I made sure not
to hurt any sentiments through my blogs, this time I am going to be blunt and
straight. So it won’t be a surprise if you as a reader don’t agree with some
or all of the points and statements that I am going to make. <i>Read further at your own risk!!</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">It was only
yesterday that I read ‘Mark Zuckerberg marries his long time girlfriend Chan’.
My first reaction was – So what? Then today, it was reported that Facebook’s
stock is down after the IPO. It actually failed to ‘outperform’ and even the
underwriters JP Morgan & Morgan Stanley couldn’t do much despite dumping an
additional 84 million shares later. Though it was bad news for the thousands of
retail investors, it was sheer music to my ears. I share a love-hate
relationship with Facebook, but of late I have started wondering whether I
would get rid of the addiction to it or not. And so, I am beginning to wish and
pray for a divine intervention that would stop FB on its tracks and stop it
further from playing havoc with my life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">If a fifth
grader would ask me what ‘Facebook’ is all about, I would tell him one or all
of the following depending on his ability to understand what I am trying to say
(<i>That Facebook is a bad place to be in!!</i>)</span></div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">Facebook is
a country where people (<i>including yours truly</i>) don’t mind their business and instead are interested in
other’s lives!! (<i>Pun Intended</i>)</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">Facebook is
a country where people speak only three words ‘Like’, ‘Comment’ and ‘Share’</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">Facebook is
a place where a simple status message put up by a decent girl would attract infinite
‘Likes’ whereas the same is not applicable to a boy/guy</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">Facebook is
an institute that can teach even an introvert the ‘art of flirting’ with
girls/guys/gays (<i>Read Section 377 of the
Indian Constitution</i>)</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">Facebook is
an addiction</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">It is not as
if I abhor FB completely. I love it for the following reasons</span></div>
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</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">Facebook
enables me to stay in touch with all those fellow Facebookers who have literally forgotten the fact they have something known in common
parlance as a ‘Cellular Phone’</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">Facebook lets
me dump my stupid thoughts and opinions through a feature known as a ‘Status
Message’ (<i>Otherwise, I would have
definitely become a nervous wreck not knowing what to do with the useless
thoughts my brain conjures up time and again!!</i>)</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">Facebook is
the source of all the minuscule traffic that I ever manage to get to my blog
and is also a marketing medium where I plan to potentially bombard you readers
with requests to read up my upcoming untitled imaginary book (</span><i style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">God
knows when it will be published!!</i><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">)</span></span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">But I hate
it more for reasons that are countless. Given the spatial constraints and the
need to not piss Mr Mark Zuckerberg off, I shall list only a few of them</span></div>
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</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">Facebook is
the only way my relatives constantly keep track of my activities. So I can’t
use words like ‘Love’, ‘Engaged’, ‘Single’ and ‘Committed’. Using these words
is a strict no-no for them and is a sign that I am turning to a spoilt brat!!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">My niece’s
are also in FB. Come on, they are still kids for god’s sake!!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">FB increases
the expectations that you have from your friends and peers. I am expected to
hit ‘Like’ or ‘Share’ to every photo or status message uploaded/put up by dear friends/relatives even if I don’t like them</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">FB is also a
place where my messages and comments are misconstrued and where I also
sometimes end up misunderstanding other’s comments</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">I have to
constantly filter out people from my friend’s list and put them in the ‘Custom’
category under the default privacy option</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">Wherever I
go, FB follows (<i>Geo tagging and tracking</i>)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">When I log
in, FB almost inevitably shows me status messages from people I want to ignore
or forget (<i>Does Mark Zuckerberg hold a
grudge on me?</i>)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">And what the
hell!! Do I care about how many points X has scored over Y in a game Z? Naah!!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;">The ‘timeline’
feature initially seemed very sugary but now has become so bitter that I feel
like having a little honey</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">And the list
goes on. Is there a cure to Facebook addiction? I don’t think so. In my case,
it has reached a critical mass (<i>Read 650+
friends, half of whom I barely know!!</i>). I desperately want to get rid of it
but can’t understand how to. Can you help me? Of course, I know where there is
a will there is a way out as well. But the addiction has reached to levels
where I now have a widget of it on my android phone. So I urge you readers to
suggest some practical solutions so that I get de-addicted without having to
delete my account for good. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">One of my
colleagues doesn’t have a Facebook account. In fact, he doesn’t have any
account in any social networking site at all. I was initially shocked. But
later I realised that probably it was one of the best decisions he had made in
life – <i>Not to have any presence in the virtual world</i>. This blog post is
dedicated to him; a guy I want to be like, content and very happy like the
people from Bhutan!! </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">signing off,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">taureansandy</span></div>
</div>taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-42110204841154750052012-02-23T17:06:00.001+05:302012-02-23T17:08:48.472+05:30Dialogue in the Dark<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Xno6k2PJuaWPPGwAHv5RmRPEO_shWpD6Ymo5VMXfHb7XY7a7O8S2eLLYn_o5pqXyDvdx-e-loSzQRv3-OJhSo6ggblWslRbU4_HDSwMA5enVRPjjKmmFEGuAXSGPGWaLgxh_nxK0oAo/s1600/did.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Xno6k2PJuaWPPGwAHv5RmRPEO_shWpD6Ymo5VMXfHb7XY7a7O8S2eLLYn_o5pqXyDvdx-e-loSzQRv3-OJhSo6ggblWslRbU4_HDSwMA5enVRPjjKmmFEGuAXSGPGWaLgxh_nxK0oAo/s400/did.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Hi folks,</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It was in August last year that I came home for a few days after spending a roller coaster three months in Mumbai, Allahabad, Surat and Lucknow. And one of my dear friends here proposed that we spend a day at one of the biggest malls in Hyderabad. It was a great day, with clear blue skies and everything happened as per the plan. We met at the Malakpet MMTS station and had a great time travelling in it all the way to Hi Tech city. After picking up another of our friends at Shilparamam, we finally reached Inorbit Mall. </div>
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We were six of us, but no one had any idea as to what 'Dialogue in the Dark' was all about. All we knew was that it was a theme restaurant where every activity is done in a pitch dark environment without a single <b>ray of light</b>. And when I say pitch dark, I mean it literally because no illuminating instrument of any sort was used - ZERO LIGHT. Essentially it meant that we would be experiencing what it felt to be completely blind for 45 long minutes. We were not supposed to carry anything except for some cash and so promptly submitted all cellphones, purses and wallets at the reception counter before entering the darkest tunnel we have ever known. Everyone was excited and looking forward to experience what later turned out to be a completely enlightening moment for me. </div>
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We entered inside and soon realised that we will have to fully rely on our remaining 4 senses or otherwise give up walking through the scariest path one could walk through. The guide was a bright, confident guy of my age and guided us through a Kitchen, a bedroom, a bathroom, a garden and then finally to a theatre hall where we were asked to identify voices of prominent personalities. And all this while, we felt and knew what we were walking through. We smelt soap and spices, felt pillows, bed sheets and towels. But more importantly we actually felt what it is to be blind, something that was increasingly becoming a difficult proposition with some of my friends stumbling here and there and hurting themselves in the process. But all this while, there was only one question that was bothering me. How were the guide's trained to maneuver in an environment where there was literally no light? The guide was effortlessly guiding us through the innumerable obstacles in a very curvy path interlaced with what we felt were speed breakers!! </div>
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And when we completed all the activities and were finally led to a cafe cum restaurant, I couldn't resist asking this to the guide himself.</div>
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'How much time did you take to get trained to operate in zero light conditions? A month?', I made a wild guess.</div>
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'A month?? No, sir. We merely took about 30 hours', he replied in a rather nonchalant manner.</div>
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I was taken aback. My guess wasn't even remotely close to what he said. But I was sure I was missing something all this while. </div>
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'But how could that be? The path that we walked on is so mind boggling. How did you....', I stopped midway unable to complete the sentence, searching for appropriate words to express my disbelief.</div>
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'Sir, I am partly....I guess, about 60% blind. In fact all my colleagues working inside 'DID' are blind to various degrees of extent. The guy who served you Coke, Chips and also correctly gave you the balance amount now is the only guy who is completely blind'</div>
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All of us fell silent on hearing this. It was an eerie silence that was making us very uncomfortable. I could in the darkness of it all, feel that each and everyone of us was pondering as to how these blind guys here were adept at doing something that we normal people were struggling to in the first place. </div>
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To lighten up things a bit, I finally broke the silence and complimented the guides there for doing such a wonderful job. Most of them were youngsters from the Old City, but chose to be independent despite being physically handicapped. And, mind you they were the best in what they did. What impressed me most about this group of 4-5 youngsters was that they were silently guiding visitors through the path less traveled - A path where there is no LIGHT but still could be walked on, only because you are being guided by someone who knows exactly what it feels to be in the DARK forever. And that is precisely the reason, that these guides here are diligent and focused because they know 'Where there is a WILL, there is a WAY'; doesn't matter whether that WAY is illuminated or not!!</div>
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And when we finally came out of the tunnel, it felt so good to see things the way they are. And that is when I realised that we (gifted with the ability to see things) often complicate LIFE and so fail to see things the way they are. We complicate all things, relationships, emotions and thoughts and in the process hurt everyone involved. But then LIFE is all about perceptions and stereotypes, isn't it? And, I guess that's what complicates it. So if you are the one who thinks your way of life couldn't have been more complex, then I suggest you come to Hyderabad and visit 'Dialogue in the Dark'. The 45 minutes spent here will change the way you look at things or at least keep reminding you that you are still any day better off than the Blind guides working here the hard way to lead a dignified way of life!!</div>
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signing off,</div>
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<i>'A grateful fool'</i></div>
</div>taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-85229644869334288622012-02-01T21:33:00.000+05:302012-02-01T21:43:50.791+05:30WIMWI's rendezvous with February!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hi folks,</div>
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It was exactly an year ago that I remember saying to myself 'Now or Never'. My roller coaster ride at WIMWI was coming to a close and one could sense the seriousness in the air within the campus. Yes, it was the month of placements; something where you literally witness what 'Cut throat competition' actually is. Some of your peers start playing games, you would never have imagined of. And the one who comes out of this melee, unscathed becomes the true survivor of the ultimate 20 month battle that students every year face in WIMWI. </div>
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Anyways, now that I have recently been to the campus as an 'Alumni', I recall those days with mixed emotions - Happy to have passed out successfully with honour and at the same time not happy with how certain things went about with some of my peers who were completely devastated after the end of the placement process. I could never rejoice my success for the fear of upsetting those pals who couldn't perform to their potential. And the reason I express all this is because I am sure some of my other friends would have also felt the same way as I am feeling right now. I make no bones about the fact that I somehow managed to face so much pressure on the D-Day all by myself. And so is also the case with many of my other batch-mates as well. It's very simple. If you can't manage the stress, you will fail. I don't claim to be someone who can guide you on how to approach the placements rationally. Refer to my good friend's (she happens to be my batch-mate as well) post here if you want a step-by-step practical guide to placements <a href="http://greencompass.wordpress.com/2012/01/28/a-wimwians-guide-to-practical-action-on-placements/">http://greencompass.wordpress.com/2012/01/28/a-wimwians-guide-to-practical-action-on-placements/</a> .</div>
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But I sure can share some tips on how to beat the stress and stay calm on the D-Day; something that I personally found out to be very effective. Disclaimer: This is certainly not a definitive list and the intention is to only share what I did with you.</div>
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<li style="text-align: justify;"><b>Stay away from gossip mongers</b> - It is not very difficult. Be clear on what you want from the placements and stay true to yourself. Don't let all the talk about pay packages influence your decision. </li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><b>Relax a day before the D-Day - </b>Watch movies you like, listen to songs or go and read up newspapers in the library. But don't hold a book in your hand the day before!!</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><b>Know the firm well - </b>Make a list of firms you want to apply and start surfing about them on the net. Know well about the firm before making the most important decision of your life. </li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><b>Know yourself - "</b><i>God has made each one of us as a first class individual, don't end up as a second class copy of someone else" - Anand Pillai (Chief Learning Officer @ one of India's largest conglomerate). </i>Learn to differentiate yourself from the crowd </li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><b>Don't take calls on the D-Day - </b>Switch off your 'dear' cell phone and give it some rest as well!!</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><b>Group Discussions - </b>Be yourself in a group discussion. Being aggressive and vocal, just for the heck of it never helps!!</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><b>Smile when you greet the Recruiter - </b>Remember, the recruiter is as tensed as you are. It is just that he knows how to camouflage his expressions better than you</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><b>Don't be harsh on yourself - A missed opportunity might be a door to something better!!</b></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><b>Rejoice and celebrate the day when you achieve what you set out to do in the first place</b></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><b>And finally - Do help out your fellow batch-mates in getting placed. Believe me, the thrill and joy you experience when you actually see your friends getting placed can't be described in simple words. You just have to experience it!!</b></li>
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February is a crucial month for all WIMWIANs. But we often tend to make it more difficult for ourselves. Moreover, the kind of expectations your parents, friends, relatives and the people around you have; it becomes that much more difficult. The key is to switch off the thought process on the D-Day and take every moment as it comes. </div>
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I know all this is easier said than done. But well, the blogger has also experienced what you are going to. To summarize, follow this mantra - 'Be yourself before the recruiter'. You start acting extra smart and things will definitely not go your way. Eventually, it is the time you spend with the recruiter that will matter the most - Nothing else!! Wishing all the fachchas the very best :)</div>
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Signing off,</div>
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A proud WIMWI alumni :)</div>
</div>taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-63395746615627999512012-01-14T21:01:00.000+05:302012-01-14T21:08:48.466+05:30of Passports, Chaos and Choices!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Hii folks,<br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"> I come from a city where every second boy is forced to become an Engineer. I am one of those engineers who is expected to make it big in the United States of America. Forget our country where unless I complete my Master's, I will not be able to make it big in life. The problem is that I am from a social background where my so called 'relatives' wouldn't consider me fit enough to be labelled as 'Successful', if I don't clear GRE or TOEFL and fly to the US of A!! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> So here I was standing in a queue beside the Regional Passport Office - Secunderabad at 4.30 am. By then there were already thirty odd people in front of me eagerly waiting to resolve their passport related issues and get their damn passport as early as possible. One of them wanted to go to Dubai where he was promised a very good 'package'; big enough for someone who only knows how to build walls. The other was facing problems in getting her passport renewed just because she didn't have a 'marriage certificate'. 'How am I supposed to get this marriage certificate now?', I heard her complain to her husband on the phone. My guess was they were married for more than 20 years now. And even as the Sun's first rays broke out, the queue was swelling exponentially. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Today was an unusually cold day and my fingers were already numb. I was finding it tough to type up 'Love you' and 'Missing you' messages to my girlfriend. Yes, I am supposed to have a girlfriend as well, just like many guys of my age have these days. She woke up rather early today; just to keep me motivated. Standing in a queue for more than an hour can be tiring especially when you don't know whether you will be able to accomplish the task or not. It was very sweet of her to have chatted with me till I bid her bye and wished her luck for the lab practical exam she had. She is my junior and I would like to believe that our love story is going great guns. You never know though!! Anyways thanks to her, I somehow managed to stay calm throughout. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Finally, by the time the Police constable there signaled the gate-keeper to let us inside the passport office complex, there were more than 300 people in the line. And along with the agents who roamed like Vultures waiting to pick up their prey (read gullible people coming from the rural hinterlands of AP), the people in the queue made a perfect setting for Chaos and Mayhem to kick in. As we started moving in slowly, I thought this to be the end of everything horrible I had imagined a moment before. The queue was moving smoothly and we entered inside the complex where there were seats arranged. We settled on the seats and there was a momentary pause of complete silence. Just then, a haughty lady arrived and asked us to get up and move towards the entrance to the 'Enquiry counters'. Was it a trigger? I don't know but the queue suddenly broke up and people started running towards the hallway to the counters. It was a stampede like situation and I didn't lose a moment to realise that I had to run to escape the unruly crowd's wrath. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There was hardly anyone to control the mob and people started hitting each other; hurling abuses at will to hold on to their positions in the new queue that emerged in front of the entrance to the 'Enquiry Counters'. I was shocked beyond belief. Was I waiting in the queue for more than 5 hours now just to feel like shit amidst an unruly and uncivilized group of people? Half of them were as educated as you and me are. Leave the Visa, I then realised that earning a passport itself wasn't going to be easy as it seemed a few days back. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I am proud of this city; a city where I spent the decisive moments of my life. But would I like to spend the rest of my life in a city where Corruption and Lawlessness have become the norm? I have my doubts. Anyways, thankfully the next one hour that I spent there was not difficult though. After I got my token, I sat beside a guy who held a black leather file with the title 'Indian Institute of Management - Ahmedabad' on it. I immediately felt a strong urge to talk to this guy and find out why he chose to stay rather than search for greener pastures in USA, UK or Australia. And after the usual intro-talk, when I did finally ask him the question lingering on my mind, his reply was in jest. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">'Dude, I liked the movie 'Swades' so much that I chose to do an MBA from the toughest B-School to get into rather than do what you are yearning to do now'. He laughed like a half-dead motor, then looked at me seriously and said,' I had no choice buddy. I was brought up amidst jet-fighters and guns. I was brought up in an environment where 'Nation' as a concept was given the utmost priority. So even the thought of going to 'Uncle Sam's' country was not an option for me. Yes, I still have to answer questions like 'Why didn't you go to the US of A? You could have earned so much more there!!' But I always had a choice and so do you. It is up to you as to what choice you make.'</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I had never seen a guy so expressive. It was rather the question I asked him that seemed to have struck his emotional chords. But he never imposed his views on me, which I thought was very prudent of him. We then had a rather lengthy discussion on why things are so wrong in this whole messed up system of issuing passports. Thanks to this particular MBA guy, I suddenly felt so much more important and enlightened. More so because I also had my chances to share some interesting snippets and insights about Hyderabad, with a guy who I thought asked a lot of questions given his qualifications.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">By the time I was finished, the clock was ticking half past eleven. I had now spent 420 minutes in what I would like to call as the 'Mess-hole of Andhra Pradesh'. If you want to experience mayhem and see how the face of corruption looks like - Visit RPO Secunderabad. If you want to see frustrated faces all around - Stand in front of RPO Secunderabad. And what more!! If you want to get robbed in broad daylight, it is again the best place for the same. Yes, there are pickpocket's lurking around as well!!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have made my choice. Once I get my Visa stamped, I will think twice before returning back to India again. That MBA graduate did say one thing correctly - 'Listen to what your heart says and stick to the decision you make. Life is all about making choices. There is no such thing as a 'Right choice' and a 'Wrong choice'. It is when you are not true to yourself that your choice ends up as a 'Wrong choice'!!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Signing off,</div><div style="text-align: justify;">An Engineer</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div>taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-55968002103821130152011-12-07T19:26:00.000+05:302011-12-07T21:26:21.106+05:30Nomoshkar Kolkata<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAiZMpUnV-AYmCdutWXwekvsGyQltQbibSR1HnubbIgRyvehCkSFbAZFhHmxF0FF8qGP5ckre3f6owbZy_b7PCTodAk2ptTih0LmDwK8IsVBoX6knmNmKwdrPJATqbOZ1-zguYUuipfgI/s1600/DSC_0061-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAiZMpUnV-AYmCdutWXwekvsGyQltQbibSR1HnubbIgRyvehCkSFbAZFhHmxF0FF8qGP5ckre3f6owbZy_b7PCTodAk2ptTih0LmDwK8IsVBoX6knmNmKwdrPJATqbOZ1-zguYUuipfgI/s320/DSC_0061-1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Hii folks,<br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">It was only a few days ago that I went to Kolkata to attend my friend's marriage reception; my second visit to the 'City of Joy'. But what a trip it was!! One of those trips where you see everything right from abject poverty to glittering luxury. Kolkata is one of those cities where people are very courteous and believe in the philosophy of 'Athithi Devo Bhava'. Unlike Delhi, where the Autowallah or the Taxi Driver won't miss any opportunity to take you for a ride; here there is a system which people make sure they comply. Right from the taxi drivers charging you as per the digital meter to people standing in a queue for buses and Trams, everything happens in a rather mechanical manner. So, the 'Chaos' that you observe in cities like Mumbai or Delhi is rather missing in Kolkata where despite a high population density, the vehicular traffic flows smoothly and pedestrians cross the roads promptly on the zebra crossing. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">But the welcome that I received was something that shook me like hell!! First of all the pilot 'Captain John Thomson' made the landing with a thud; something that evoked a collective 'Ouch' from the passengers. For a moment I felt my heart stop and it took me a full 10 seconds to realize that we were all actually safe. Then the airport itself smelt of 'Communism' with green and red hues everywhere. It is I believe the worst airport in India with not even a 'Waiting Hall' for passengers. I could only imagine the chaos that would begin every time a flight is delayed. Just when I thought the worst was over, the man sitting at the counter of the 'Bengal Prepaid Taxi Association' announced that there weren't any prepaid taxis available now.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The next day was though probably the best time I had ever. It was because when it came to photography, Kolkata offered me a lot. I could do all sorts of it, right from street, architecture, nature to abstract photography. As a photographer, you begin to see the world through the lens of your DSLR camera. That in itself is a different perspective as you begin to observe your surroundings closely thus creating opportunities to click some wonderful moments. And as I started doing it right from the word go, I found to my amazement that I was not that bad a photographer after all. I had consciously taken the decision to try clicking pictures even while in motion, which is difficult when you have to sit in the taxi. But I did manage to get some decent clicks. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Photography is not simply about clicking pictures, but it's also about understanding and associating with the stories behind each image. A good photographer can spot such stories in and around his surroundings quite instinctively and rest of the job is then done in a flash!! I can never measure myself as to how good a photographer I am as I am still learning the nuances of it. But let me share with you some of the moments in Kolkata which left a lasting impression on me. </div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZSNLfKSyuKlel7kHpcC2QH5hAgEdBtnl88ibXvDgiwEgAwb8d69d1RQIhI0K_ean6KuO5FfKmW760KyQAEFnkQ5QmnCS4u1h1N1C0CPs1EvjI6maUnuycZ7-mPNlRV0jjCOyw3lW0_mk/s1600/DSC_0002-1.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683393177401452530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZSNLfKSyuKlel7kHpcC2QH5hAgEdBtnl88ibXvDgiwEgAwb8d69d1RQIhI0K_ean6KuO5FfKmW760KyQAEFnkQ5QmnCS4u1h1N1C0CPs1EvjI6maUnuycZ7-mPNlRV0jjCOyw3lW0_mk/s400/DSC_0002-1.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">Watching this kid play badminton with a small plastic Table Tennis bat made me go down the memory lane. There were days when even I used to play 'gilli danda' with a wooden bat that my mother used to beat clothes while washing them. </div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_povSX4fiMH0F_XgoZpbyPRUhDNG4YFR7O2hxGA9lWc4X-uSeuLIYkV038vUXR5ubgYKUcKqjyhteGpUAj5J2xQsICgR9Zckp-vZQEVxxDt8ClJILYL6eMQclco3h4JR0-oN0fyYMgw/s1600/DSC_0023-1.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683394490554901170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_povSX4fiMH0F_XgoZpbyPRUhDNG4YFR7O2hxGA9lWc4X-uSeuLIYkV038vUXR5ubgYKUcKqjyhteGpUAj5J2xQsICgR9Zckp-vZQEVxxDt8ClJILYL6eMQclco3h4JR0-oN0fyYMgw/s400/DSC_0023-1.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">Took this shot from the taxi while on my way to the Victoria Memorial. I miss those days when I used to have my daily evening 'Masala Special Tea' just outside the IIMA campus.</div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM0abCt9TyS7oAlvSgmhhq45vusdPEgBzslXFY724ZUL58brfGtgb17Ae2IgFxM4yp8dsgx20clUPUJ1fe8c8WLWRWt9JOk5PY06pYAheletlxELGovz9Ch4wscaCSsQjBJuC6jiiUc0k/s1600/DSC_0026-1.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683395944897479474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM0abCt9TyS7oAlvSgmhhq45vusdPEgBzslXFY724ZUL58brfGtgb17Ae2IgFxM4yp8dsgx20clUPUJ1fe8c8WLWRWt9JOk5PY06pYAheletlxELGovz9Ch4wscaCSsQjBJuC6jiiUc0k/s400/DSC_0026-1.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">These blue and yellow painted tin buses can actually sustain the load of over a 100 passengers. At least that is what I felt when I saw this one passing besides me. Travelling in overcrowded buses is something I did way back in Hyderabad and so can empathise with the elder man who knows it will take a lifetime before he reaches his destination!!</div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZFiV_m7cmQ10Lr7eQGaD2cQycsqFwjSmvYSiV-QSjYWkOwJqsW2hoo2vsPFnq31V4jAxpJOqBaI4W4Rcjewuj7_a3fRZa9adQ4KjWy5fOTpIyIx29r8m_IV8A6x8ja387zxjjHIJIPQ/s1600/DSC_0029-1.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683396909242070178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZFiV_m7cmQ10Lr7eQGaD2cQycsqFwjSmvYSiV-QSjYWkOwJqsW2hoo2vsPFnq31V4jAxpJOqBaI4W4Rcjewuj7_a3fRZa9adQ4KjWy5fOTpIyIx29r8m_IV8A6x8ja387zxjjHIJIPQ/s400/DSC_0029-1.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">This yellow ain't dirty and in fact adds to the charm of the city. Kolkata seems so much more bright and joyful with this color around.</div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgsLpSd53LIVMefZjDQg2kJsC_EPFPQt9vaRt0fVEiba2bO7MbuDGW4re88XilOpWAexHjL75SZA2xThpVS9ybPixq7FS02QmUS6NqEbWuz61-8nK4C4ePilixhV75DAltTVxnbM8GAs/s1600/DSC_0038-1.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683397621643708210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgsLpSd53LIVMefZjDQg2kJsC_EPFPQt9vaRt0fVEiba2bO7MbuDGW4re88XilOpWAexHjL75SZA2xThpVS9ybPixq7FS02QmUS6NqEbWuz61-8nK4C4ePilixhV75DAltTVxnbM8GAs/s400/DSC_0038-1.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">The reason I feel that a sense of 'Chaos' is missing in Kolkata is because of 'TRAM'. People still find the time to travel in these painfully slow rail bogies. Pedestrians of Mumbai could easily overtake a tram in motion any day!!</div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0wAWEF5-YFyJX9CfZh3I_ur42v5E-C3RcVKpn0kJqK20nUCt-iR-gHtRohyphenhyphenrILyRVrgOTheWfSXnB6YaDGFfvh8i0nu3plsbPm1mlRcBc7eMNvonUzz7lqkbLGz87w0FKfbkerJ2MCvQ/s1600/DSC_0106-1.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683398599668086354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0wAWEF5-YFyJX9CfZh3I_ur42v5E-C3RcVKpn0kJqK20nUCt-iR-gHtRohyphenhyphenrILyRVrgOTheWfSXnB6YaDGFfvh8i0nu3plsbPm1mlRcBc7eMNvonUzz7lqkbLGz87w0FKfbkerJ2MCvQ/s400/DSC_0106-1.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">A great city is always known for the heritage value associated with it. And when it comes to Kolkata, you can't help but thank the British Empire for its ingenuity and persistence in transforming a once barren village to one of the most populated cities in the world. Same goes without saying for both Mumbai and Delhi.</div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjDIojYPWV5Ixx8LsfTX87-cadGmfRXRRMGgBlIXzWa5WeKpp-_ckn1CpNtwTmj5_LEODR7sETtk1cnpylDmNzo2Xy1O9OnnvBrXMO7Yn2clr-MAZvxHrBzaBqvlrb2pe2kG9L164jKOk/s1600/DSC_0117-1.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683399717153213762" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjDIojYPWV5Ixx8LsfTX87-cadGmfRXRRMGgBlIXzWa5WeKpp-_ckn1CpNtwTmj5_LEODR7sETtk1cnpylDmNzo2Xy1O9OnnvBrXMO7Yn2clr-MAZvxHrBzaBqvlrb2pe2kG9L164jKOk/s400/DSC_0117-1.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">This group of school kids reminded me of my school days. I thoroughly used to enjoy those excursions to the zoo's and the historical monuments.</div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF6EtlkwRxP6rXDd23APKJL2S1tBYQ11OfN20EZJj4jff3vFx3lbw1N1xVgfnAOg57D-NCDGBDEyEqJSrCrgQdO7WSCc-iPr5eiY8tWf7ILHMOzYHqlLlENQ0JOubhTXuYGY4cRTbMRGk/s1600/DSC_0140-1.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683400320848299650" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF6EtlkwRxP6rXDd23APKJL2S1tBYQ11OfN20EZJj4jff3vFx3lbw1N1xVgfnAOg57D-NCDGBDEyEqJSrCrgQdO7WSCc-iPr5eiY8tWf7ILHMOzYHqlLlENQ0JOubhTXuYGY4cRTbMRGk/s400/DSC_0140-1.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">The beautiful Victoria Memorial. To quote one of my friends,'Victoria Memorial is probably the most beautiful Indian monument after Taj Mahal.' Undoubtedly it is!!</div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3vdlmHDtFbrTIclTNY88mCEbWhImJ7M7-7aSw05EvVkQQRqFbf0ljqwD9eLjJxD5-UbbQIS5uWo_J-_or8ItAaRg013-yuz7uLzPYTh3RkxnPbkY1FVpyQJXo01l9fHIJj0zZs-XpPzg/s1600/DSC_0168-1.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683401224086908386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3vdlmHDtFbrTIclTNY88mCEbWhImJ7M7-7aSw05EvVkQQRqFbf0ljqwD9eLjJxD5-UbbQIS5uWo_J-_or8ItAaRg013-yuz7uLzPYTh3RkxnPbkY1FVpyQJXo01l9fHIJj0zZs-XpPzg/s400/DSC_0168-1.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">The ugly face of India. This rag picker was reading aloud an English article on Gandhi using the empty plastic cup as his mic. With a near perfect accent and pronunciation, he was either showing off his oral skills which I thought were excellent or was simply being mad!!</div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJhjLiZQmUlboI4u7e13pb0o3M_tJ4Dru3eBZErA7lFsluITrVdqwOIlmR5J8WpC9dlNRYjUP8tJGakC0pLw202AL00mGAWrJ7xve2WSDS1WURYuC7VuUFg-2G1-Ak3eTcqvYB01QKRkI/s1600/DSC_0217-1.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683402299783163650" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJhjLiZQmUlboI4u7e13pb0o3M_tJ4Dru3eBZErA7lFsluITrVdqwOIlmR5J8WpC9dlNRYjUP8tJGakC0pLw202AL00mGAWrJ7xve2WSDS1WURYuC7VuUFg-2G1-Ak3eTcqvYB01QKRkI/s400/DSC_0217-1.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">I should thank my friend Prasad for postponing his plan to do some shopping or otherwise I would have never been on time at the Princep Ghat to capture this :)</div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrMASkpDeOITgO_pbLB1el-0KTrC7MQdNebUK7fiC_5e-TQkjRRKAfby2mnetx6Xjc-hVl-u7pQAWHhrayJnt8oAGQf0Cff0nYZntipb4SSFrb-S7jeViT90C2QBxJHVJmdGznvHV-Uw/s1600/DSC_0234-1.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683403023644126546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrMASkpDeOITgO_pbLB1el-0KTrC7MQdNebUK7fiC_5e-TQkjRRKAfby2mnetx6Xjc-hVl-u7pQAWHhrayJnt8oAGQf0Cff0nYZntipb4SSFrb-S7jeViT90C2QBxJHVJmdGznvHV-Uw/s400/DSC_0234-1.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">The Sun at its glorious best in Kolkata. The new Vidyasagar bridge just adds to the charm amidst the serene and golden waters of Hooghly.</div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOQDBEboyk3oD8WzVKPIGv_K0HvJxErxkZfEivOzJaywqO1rbdlpuwdqDOZQo2MRF29VGyVA94jjb3V98JjzgRa3D0ysBOkpGGtCMvYCt2rtk3pGcklI8iyVX5ylITNvGh_mPTfI3IIk/s1600/DSC_0240-1.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683403579200819922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOQDBEboyk3oD8WzVKPIGv_K0HvJxErxkZfEivOzJaywqO1rbdlpuwdqDOZQo2MRF29VGyVA94jjb3V98JjzgRa3D0ysBOkpGGtCMvYCt2rtk3pGcklI8iyVX5ylITNvGh_mPTfI3IIk/s400/DSC_0240-1.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 268px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">The boatman actually stood still for a few seconds probably thinking that I was clicking his pic ;)</div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyU6LNk2fe8YhR5YyDQByxux1GKdE-hNVtl7P7TgDB0qHLZW61jcC-WkjVA9YUJPiOO8QKmiSbYgxgiHcl1K0HqwfbA5SvEVTVF4jqVWSDGURx06SpR1yLj0RlKrRC4s4lb9GTrNI3sNM/s1600/DSC_0239-1.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683404133222980594" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyU6LNk2fe8YhR5YyDQByxux1GKdE-hNVtl7P7TgDB0qHLZW61jcC-WkjVA9YUJPiOO8QKmiSbYgxgiHcl1K0HqwfbA5SvEVTVF4jqVWSDGURx06SpR1yLj0RlKrRC4s4lb9GTrNI3sNM/s400/DSC_0239-1.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 268px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">This shot was quite interesting. I bent a little to get a suitable angle with the Sun and after the shot was complete, fell down on the boat as the boatman turned the boat sharply to my left.</div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHXwVka7wywbKpMSo92_kFPnm3f2COenP94Az9lOVQkAsb7wOukIwrkN5kDWLtJeG60BI6EoS5CRB6vFT6Z9hRGhc5t-9AAuRjsfy8xEok_edAQMGM5AfYf3GNRThGDNwuW7mlqX9J4Ao/s1600/DSC_0304-1.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683404959033535426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHXwVka7wywbKpMSo92_kFPnm3f2COenP94Az9lOVQkAsb7wOukIwrkN5kDWLtJeG60BI6EoS5CRB6vFT6Z9hRGhc5t-9AAuRjsfy8xEok_edAQMGM5AfYf3GNRThGDNwuW7mlqX9J4Ao/s400/DSC_0304-1.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 268px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">Dancing in front of 200 odd people is never easy. But this wonder kid thought otherwise and rocked the floor with her mesmerising dance moves :)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Kolkata is a nice city to live in provided you earn enough. Otherwise, surviving in this city becomes difficult given the lack of infrastructure and amenities in most parts of the city. After experiencing the facilities or rather the lack of it at the Kolkata Airport, my friend commented, 'People here have forgotten to liberalise.' But the best part about this city is that the people here are sweet just like the sweetness associated with a 'Rosogulla' or a 'Sondesh'. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Signing off,<br />
Taureansandy</div>taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-50317224732176970212011-09-12T22:15:00.000+05:302011-09-12T23:32:09.683+05:30NostalgiaHii folks,<div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Having spent a good 45 days at home after passing out from IIMA, life for me has returned back to normalcy. 'Normalcy' in this context means a routine mechanical life; one in which you know what you have to do in a day and then complete what is to be done. There is neither a sense of adventure nor a hint of novelty that I would any day love to be involved in. Life has become mechanical to such an extent that I find it difficult to make time for activities like blogging that I so love doing. But thanks to some good songs from the upcoming movie 'Mausam', I finally have the good mood to indulge in some writing. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Facebook now is a 'virtual' country with a population of a billion and is fast threatening to challenge our beloved country's position as the second most populous country in the world. I hate Facebook, but I can't ignore it because there is no disputing the fact that its one of the most user friendly tools to network and be in touch with friends and acquaintances. It recently helped me get back in touch with my long lost school friends; bringing back invaluable moments of happiness and pain, ecstasy and agony back to life and in the process making me nostalgic like never before. To an extent that now I can't resist the urge to meet with old pals and relive those moments of fun. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Reliving those moments help you realize the fact that with ageing comes maturity because with ageing, you experience many things and events that have something or the other to teach you. And yes, you also want to be a child again and live life without worries and the burden of responsibility that now tend to bog us down. As a blogger, isn't it a good idea to share with you some funny moments that I would like to relive now? Yes. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Circa 1992</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I was playing with 'Nippa', my first friend who was a girl. And from then on, my saga of ups and downs had begun with the opposite sex. No offence intended; its probably a fault in my wiring that I have now come to realize that I can never anticipate or understand what girls do or mean. Well coming back to what happened that day; it was my first encounter with our ancestral cousins which are often lovingly referred to as 'Monkeys'. Me and Nippa along with some of our common friends were playing on a fine Sunday evening when we saw a 6 feet long guy trotting along with his pet monkey. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Me(Addressing that guy): Bhaiyya, is this monkey yours?</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Guy: Yes chote, its mine. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">Me: Will the monkey hurt me if I tease him?</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Guy: You wanna take a shot? Go on</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I made faces and teased him like hell, fully aware of the fact that the guy had him in chains. But little did I realize that I had managed to piss him off so well that a seemingly gentle one had turned to an aggressive monkey all set to show his might. It was trying hard to jump on me. Moments later, when the guy lost grip on the chain he started chasing me. I ran for my life. Well, the reason I remember the sequence of events is because of two things:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">1. Though I managed to escape, I could see Nippa laughing aloud at me while I was crying out in fear. That hurt me</div><div style="text-align: justify;">2. After 5 minutes when I came out of hiding, I was told that Nippa was on the way to hospital because the mad monkey which was clearly on a rampage had bit her before being brought under control. That hurt me even more (sob sob!!)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Moral: Never mess with our ancestral cousins. Never.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Circa 2000</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I was literally begging for a cool 'bike' that I could ride on and go to school. The fact was that I wanted to brag and impress girls because not many boys then had the luxury of riding a cool red Hercules MTB to school. That bicycle then was priced at 2000 bucks and that wasn't a small amount to spend for a non-commissioned technician in the IAF (my father). So when he did buy me that, I was over the moon. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Kiran was a good friend of mine back then and she had come to my home for the first time to ask for my notes, as she was absent for quite a few days in school. Our families were very close. I was just beginning to think of having a friendly chat when my mother hijacked her. They were both having the usual gossip (pun intended!!) inside the kitchen and here was me, cribbing over the fact that I lost a golden chance. After a while...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Kiran: Thanks Sandeep for these notes. I will return it to you tomorrow in the class.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Me: Oh yeah, yeah. Take your time. By the way, can I drop you home? (Looking back, that was a blunder!!)</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Kiran: On your cycle? No way, I will walk home. (She was staring at me, wondering how the hell did I manage to feel as if I had a motorcycle)</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Me: Oh! Its ok. You know my cycle is new. Just bought it a week back</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Kiran: Nice. Bye</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And she left. Two hours later, I was riding my cycle aimlessly on the road enjoying the pleasant whiff of breeze flowing even as the majestic evening sun was calling it a day off. I saw her on a distance with another girl. A stupid me was thinking of doing some stunts and I did manage to show off some quite well. Moments later, I went and greeted her.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Kiran: Sandeep, do you really want me to praise your bicycle riding abilities? I know you bought a new one</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Me: Ah....hmmm...Oh no! Its not like that. I just wanted to.....(The following words never mattered as both of them were laughing at me)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Moral: Never show off when you don't know how to. Or even if you know, never be a dumb*** like me to use a bicycle. Does someone recall a similar scene in the movie 'Boys'? I won't blame you though!!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There are countless such moments that I would love to share. But am I the only one to be living with such exciting memories? No. There are people who probably have endured a myriad of painful heart wrenching experiences. There are people who inspire themselves to get up every morning and do what they are supposed to, just because they don't have any other alternative. And there are people like me who are fairly comfortable with their lives and still find waking up and going to office a routine. But isn't that a corporate life is all about? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Its all in the mind. Isn't it?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div>signing off,</div><div>taureansandy</div>taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-23954965478582353572011-06-29T14:08:00.000+05:302011-07-09T17:59:32.958+05:30Transition<div style="text-align: justify;">Hii all,</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Its been a long time since I blogged. There was a time when blogging was a regular activity for me; for which I could take out time and vent out my feelings on various issues. But from the day I made the transition from being a student to a manager, life has never been the same again.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> As a student, you have less things to worry about. Its all about scoring good marks, making good friends with whom you can be yourself and dealing with the burden of expectations which your dear ones have. You do have a choice. You can either do well as a student or screw up your career, sit at home and become a zombie. But there comes the transition phase, you become a professional and things change drastically. There is a fundamental shift in your personality. There is a sudden sense of responsibility and you feel more mature than ever. Of course there are always exceptions, but I am talking about the majority of us. Or at least this is what has happened with me. The me who earlier never thought twice before spending money for his indulgence, now at least thinks twice before doing so. The me who never shied to speak his mind with his dear pals now is beginning to think of the repercussions if he does so. The me who earlier struggled to understand the subtle hints his pals used to give, now doesn't find it difficult. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> In my case, the transition was smooth and the best part of it is that I realize this change happening. And it has been because of the two years I spent at IIMA, away from best friends and family. And in these two years, I have traveled like never before which I guess is also one of the driving factors behind the change/transition I was talking about earlier. Two months back, I became a manager in a big Indian conglomerate. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Its not only me that feels the change. One of my very good friend almost spoke my mind, when one fine day she sent me a rather emotional sms which I must say was very uncharacteristic of her. She was experiencing a void, something which each and everyone of us at some point of time do experience. Despite having a great set of friends and a set career in life, there is this feeling that you are missing something. And that 'something' is happiness. It was the same experience which me and my friend were going through. Now the question arises on how to tackle such kind of a conundrum. The answer I guess is very simple. Watch a beggar on the street or a struggling rickshawallah. But not many people follow this mantra and that also includes me, for we are so preoccupied with our life or rather I should say we are so egoistic that our problems are always the worst and can't be compared. Leaving aside the philosophical aspect of it (which I am so good at ;-) ), how many people would consider leaving a well paid MNC job to follow their heart's desires?? Not many; but fortunately there are some people whom I have had the good opportunity to meet with during my travails across the country. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">At this point of time, I recall an incident which astounded me and made me realize the importance of being earnest and the value of staying humble. At my age, I was the champ in multiplication tables. I was having a great time with my cousin brothers and sisters at the public park at my native town. That was a Sunday evening, pleasant with birds chirping all the way and the setting Sun looking as majestic as it has been all these years. Suddenly, my uncle asked me to accompany him to a blind school where he often does some voluntary charity for the kids. The creaking door at the entrance of the school gave me the impression of the workhouses often described in Charles Dickens' novels. But to my pleasant surprise, it was well maintained. Even as I was looking at the children diligently studying through their Braille textbooks, my uncle called up Shiva. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Shiva was hardly about 4 years old. The warden said he was just three and a half. A frail looking boy who was hardly three feet tall, he straightaway identified my uncle and confidently pronounced, "Namaste sir". I was speechless. Not because he was a frail blind boy, but because I never expected such levels of maturity from a three and a half year old boy. I bent down, introduced myself and gave him a candy. He initially refused politely and that spoke volumes about the way he was being groomed in an excellent manner. But later he took it on my insistence. Then started the magic show. My uncle asked him to recite the multiplication table for the digit 19. He started off with, " 19*10, 19*9, 19*8.......and so on and ended it on 19*1=19. Incredible as it was, he was bang on target!! It was like he stupefied me. He made me look like a stupid arrogant fool. And when I challenged him to tell the table for the digit 17. He smoothly delivered the answers. I was so humbled that I was looking for something else to give him as a reward. When I couldn't find anything suitable in my pockets, I appreciated his flair for mathematics and then there was the thousand watt smile, much brighter than the "Happydent smile". That is when it struck me that nothing works more effectively than well deserved words of appreciation, something which I learnt in the first year of MBA. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now what does the above mentioned incident tell you? In plain terms, it tells you that you are nothing. It takes a lifetime for us to become something and unless you reach that stage, keep your ego in check. Of course, this is something which is difficult to follow at all situations. But, an awareness of this fact will hold us in good stead. Though I am having a tough time trying to settle down professionally, but I have got a good gang of friends who I share a great rapport with. And there are my old and very very special pals who understand me so well that sometimes I genuinely feel the need to improve my non-verbal communication skills. Hoping that this period of transition brings with it lots of happiness to look forward to; both for me as well as for my dear ones and special pals who form an integrated part of my life. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Signing off,</div><div style="text-align: justify;">taureansandy</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-55716008108324563812011-01-04T00:33:00.001+05:302011-01-04T01:55:02.437+05:30India and its colors<div>Hii folks,</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">With its rich cultural heritage and diversity in terms of people, language, flora and fauna; India ought to have been one of the biggest superpowers by now. But toxins like corruption, greed and an unending desire to quench the thirst for power have rendered it and its people handicapped, not physically but with the "Chalta Hai" attitude. But all is not bad with my country. The fact that it is the largest democracy in the world amply proves that we still have the time and the wherewithal to burnish our country and make it the next political and economic superpower in the world. It is with this optimism that I present to you - INDIA, and its various shades through my eyes. </div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVIRFG7JDRfE0s8miSjtmj_3qTFgbO83uYJsHXy9lY0w8ttWdEkaD_Aih5wmKYgSkyAyvYAM1DTRxOQDmENwbGhk90jljetfIOI7PvmEVhALdpdTdlZYsr328R0SS4m_od9Kx9jPZz_t8/s1600/DSC00675+%25282%2529.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVIRFG7JDRfE0s8miSjtmj_3qTFgbO83uYJsHXy9lY0w8ttWdEkaD_Aih5wmKYgSkyAyvYAM1DTRxOQDmENwbGhk90jljetfIOI7PvmEVhALdpdTdlZYsr328R0SS4m_od9Kx9jPZz_t8/s400/DSC00675+%25282%2529.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558048186905641186" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Past Present and the Future</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQgNTt0_ApGE2oyTOBGbJVpVa-qPOBLRf0r1QKOaMX8vDMkb8lF2f871zXyftDIIyR7aXgggjLxAVuGyNPHrKUG9GFJcZkVFV4k2RiQ9FXnEVVwl59IX7jpIOoL_0sIN7fL8HfUOyPYg/s1600/DSC_0063.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQgNTt0_ApGE2oyTOBGbJVpVa-qPOBLRf0r1QKOaMX8vDMkb8lF2f871zXyftDIIyR7aXgggjLxAVuGyNPHrKUG9GFJcZkVFV4k2RiQ9FXnEVVwl59IX7jpIOoL_0sIN7fL8HfUOyPYg/s400/DSC_0063.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558047497436814322" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Hell: One of the most heart-wrenching moments I have ever faced in my life </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJVvCLLyHHmc_cuGx7zVcD-HVYaINH6ET4RseODQkAKQc5qnl6a7ZF-RPz9WNVZacKl9dp1f3azI9RpuVUyqJU71YR3gDz0bRgarb7IzH3vcsc01x5D-iGNJu0FycxsJD-TOKWxPUPRo/s1600/DSC_0316.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJVvCLLyHHmc_cuGx7zVcD-HVYaINH6ET4RseODQkAKQc5qnl6a7ZF-RPz9WNVZacKl9dp1f3azI9RpuVUyqJU71YR3gDz0bRgarb7IzH3vcsc01x5D-iGNJu0FycxsJD-TOKWxPUPRo/s400/DSC_0316.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558046220243443554" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Is the Himalayan fresh water actually pure? We found it to be otherwise</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHF0dQhgOBM2W2QSeQ29YeEPJZdkSRFvZXVGPeGHVOJ6dRJmPNgtx2PJ4hUZmKthNyycVl-2t_WRThuZsd7MVmLaxlxAxCEal94ocNMeSMoiLfsMIf41pI8MFthq43lQPFJa9p6G7n9Z8/s1600/DSC_0033.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHF0dQhgOBM2W2QSeQ29YeEPJZdkSRFvZXVGPeGHVOJ6dRJmPNgtx2PJ4hUZmKthNyycVl-2t_WRThuZsd7MVmLaxlxAxCEal94ocNMeSMoiLfsMIf41pI8MFthq43lQPFJa9p6G7n9Z8/s400/DSC_0033.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558045254972233042" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Serene Ganges: I now know what 'Serenity' is</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTCd1zS5IK09_MjRxPemINKUZsZJwpCuQeetID0twOgESD55StPsfgslfpU7kjvDn1_kIj_HLdd3luUSRLHowVrSA8mdjO4AqYhK15h4tYhXRwh_LEgiBvP1ACoHZKwSYbZ5YV5E98HA0/s1600/DSC_0063.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTCd1zS5IK09_MjRxPemINKUZsZJwpCuQeetID0twOgESD55StPsfgslfpU7kjvDn1_kIj_HLdd3luUSRLHowVrSA8mdjO4AqYhK15h4tYhXRwh_LEgiBvP1ACoHZKwSYbZ5YV5E98HA0/s400/DSC_0063.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558044495572538002" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Majestic Himalayas: Go on a trip to the Himalayas and get your ego busted for free!! You will feel so small in front of the mountains that it will do you more good than otherwise</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzwRBhPhKsRzkjSWccK5HgKh_bygBSYaCW8-z3E3skMi48L8xP4A4dYdYkM4EI4YKNnnSOPsbxFfH5cXg1ZeJ3RsIS37HacjgM41_6vmC_uSYycYPy-6XDVE1V3KNER8tWjPQSvnGa44o/s1600/DSC_0025-1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzwRBhPhKsRzkjSWccK5HgKh_bygBSYaCW8-z3E3skMi48L8xP4A4dYdYkM4EI4YKNnnSOPsbxFfH5cXg1ZeJ3RsIS37HacjgM41_6vmC_uSYycYPy-6XDVE1V3KNER8tWjPQSvnGa44o/s400/DSC_0025-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558043927780320434" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Illuminated Helix: Louis Kahn couldn't have been more symmetrical!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0VV79KC7tD8KkWTWOYW1enQiFzbHEaFRjFkg1WYpp52kMRwYHWTH-bClJQh-NvAaTxJ8zVw2YE30JiZC2BzMSTwv4RlSZ5FAbW5aEUgTmGdZJCSGXy5Mxu-zSIghre9G0Yu8Kpklk9m4/s1600/DSC_0013-2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0VV79KC7tD8KkWTWOYW1enQiFzbHEaFRjFkg1WYpp52kMRwYHWTH-bClJQh-NvAaTxJ8zVw2YE30JiZC2BzMSTwv4RlSZ5FAbW5aEUgTmGdZJCSGXy5Mxu-zSIghre9G0Yu8Kpklk9m4/s400/DSC_0013-2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558043220736875490" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Diwali 2010 @ Dorm 13 - IIM AHMEDABAD: Though we were the joint runner-ups, but as usual there was no dearth of creativity and innovation in our presentation. Some couldn't understand, but that's ok!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOdokzh19vNDCYLS7TxA5rcKGhX_yopPwXW0iaxwMuCoKoUO3nOjOBAehgP3lW92nakWbVFLd1zoemvlxKQ02dtRg86sdr-wa4Hjg3R_x1CYZbrCa9gNq-V9-xckJXzSNYDIvO_9-sMLA/s1600/DSC_0230.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOdokzh19vNDCYLS7TxA5rcKGhX_yopPwXW0iaxwMuCoKoUO3nOjOBAehgP3lW92nakWbVFLd1zoemvlxKQ02dtRg86sdr-wa4Hjg3R_x1CYZbrCa9gNq-V9-xckJXzSNYDIvO_9-sMLA/s400/DSC_0230.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558041006747008594" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Misty Paapi Kondalu: We were cruising on the Godavari and it was very difficult holding the camera still for that perfect shot especially with the misty and chilly weather conditions around</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyGfUH4uV0lBFowvieIdwczowt05luyjfsCFZcmhxlcMNEdFYVbxojwuYNYOW-aa80UeJY-JTOxe5x8ZzgfTR3VORXENEn14sXrx2cgFwKSjCY7g_X7Xo3_fAq_1wqiNTek6_2iVaDNus/s1600/DSC_0162.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyGfUH4uV0lBFowvieIdwczowt05luyjfsCFZcmhxlcMNEdFYVbxojwuYNYOW-aa80UeJY-JTOxe5x8ZzgfTR3VORXENEn14sXrx2cgFwKSjCY7g_X7Xo3_fAq_1wqiNTek6_2iVaDNus/s400/DSC_0162.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558039907482558834" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Bhadrachalam Temple Complex: Specially decorated for the festival popularly known as "Vaikuntha Ekadashi"; a day when the gate to Lord Vishnu's inner sanctum is opened</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt6MBfiUpjGVXmgjMkFPamH7ba_Umm-qp8B-LwTcEhpnVvU4nT4wnDjUoYbA8SYNFJEqEFoD3sVPtydsmE6q-UBc-_7wFgbWQYE0BO-Z5ypMpWrByVWnF7dtDlz85KnOOzMZWcqZ-BxeE/s1600/DSC_0073.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt6MBfiUpjGVXmgjMkFPamH7ba_Umm-qp8B-LwTcEhpnVvU4nT4wnDjUoYbA8SYNFJEqEFoD3sVPtydsmE6q-UBc-_7wFgbWQYE0BO-Z5ypMpWrByVWnF7dtDlz85KnOOzMZWcqZ-BxeE/s400/DSC_0073.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558037609857579346" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Golden Jubilee @ IIM AHMEDABAD: Doesn't IIMA deserve those stars?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-37105108607336927282010-12-26T12:37:00.000+05:302010-12-26T14:06:00.431+05:30Cynicism personified<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMWGBiEGfnfjfUNe2CVV-VyTKqKJtTwBufFIULXrB4fKX3KMWVQ9wdeenuPtPa4V_iEotA0dA4PF1Pv8NQCId0TFYUN9-MDK7qAYzw50dpF4QudwxAKU-9K9JzLAsZFgHmpotA7Utu5L0/s1600/cynicism-in-health-cartoon.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 292px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMWGBiEGfnfjfUNe2CVV-VyTKqKJtTwBufFIULXrB4fKX3KMWVQ9wdeenuPtPa4V_iEotA0dA4PF1Pv8NQCId0TFYUN9-MDK7qAYzw50dpF4QudwxAKU-9K9JzLAsZFgHmpotA7Utu5L0/s400/cynicism-in-health-cartoon.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554906794010413426" /></a><br />Jai ramji ki readers,<div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> I would like to first thank Mr Taureansandy for allowing me to express my views on the current state of problems being faced by farmers like me. I am a small farmer in the hinterlands of what you all know as one of the most corrupt states in India. I won't reveal which state I am from. How should that matter anyway when you have humongous scams in the two most prominent G's I have known this year(CW'G' and 2'G')? To begin with, I would first congratulate all those who achieved what they had set out for this year. I am sure the feeling of achieving your goals must be extremely satisfying; a feeling I have never known as I never get the price that I deserve for my crop in the market. There is exploitation everywhere and when it comes to the same, I don't know how different this country, as we know now was different from the nation before Independence. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> I live in a small village where we never had access to Television till a few months back when our village landlord got one. I was happy that I could be aware of what's happening elsewhere. But that happiness was short lived when I realized I could only watch the details of how a celebrity's dog was being treated, in a channel ironically named INDIA TV. I congratulate those brains that pass out from the so called institutes of higher excellence and have dreams of doing something meaningful for the country. But then, Greed is such a powerful and pervasive force that I can't help but pity those brains that stoop down to extremely abhorrent levels for money and fame. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> I am 'cynicism personified' and I don't have any qualms in admitting that. I was once an optimist but the conditions in which I have had to struggle have made me lose trust in people. This year, the unlikely rains destroyed my crops and so has been the case with many of my other farmer friends in other states. I recently learned that my dear farmer friend who later settled in the Andhra region and with whom I had spent the best days of my childhood, had committed suicide because his rice crop was totally destroyed just when he was getting ready to harvest it. He was already under a huge debt trap and was beaming about a good crop when the thunder struck a few days back. There are only two types of people who actually know what uncertainty is, one a soldier and then the farmer. The other day someone from an NGO came to our village and started lecturing me on why I should allow my child to study in a school. Why should I when teachers there spit on walls and read newspapers while the students sleep? Why should I when the only thing my child learns is how to use expletives and speak rudely? I would rather teach him how to plow the fields and earn some money for the family than allow him to go to the school where even Maa Saraswati would hate to exist!!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> People don't touch me and neither am I allowed to touch them. The collector the other day came to our village and washed his hands after getting to know that he shook hands with me. The same day I attended the funeral of my friend's daughter who committed suicide shortly after delivering a cup of Tea to the room where the collector was staying put. Her father didn't raise a hue and cry as he received the due payment. Disgusting right. But I would prefer to be blunt than be diplomatic or politically correct. Grandmothers here are experts in killing off female infants. Luckily I don't have a daughter and I profusely thank God for saving me the wrath of the society around me, though I would have loved to have a daughter which I had always dreamt of. I still remember the day when Kiran Bedi had once come to our village, delivered an excellent inspiring speech and had shown us how to live amidst despair. Though short lived it was, she is one heck of a gritty woman. My wife has to sometime beg for potable water. We bathe not more than 6 times in a month. Monsoon is the only season when we manage to drink lots of water and bathe daily. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Bollywood is a luxury for us and we don't encourage our children watching romance and love in movies. Love is taboo for us and those who dare to venture in that territory meet nothing but death. The only thing that is efficient in our village is the 'Khap' that delivers the death sentence for lovers so efficiently that it could easily put all the legal courts in our country to shame. Cricket is the only game that children manage to play in my village. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> 'Ok, Ok bhai, I am just winding off!!'. The problems me and my community are facing are so many that I have already reached the word limit that Mr Taureansandy had set for me. So before I go back into oblivion, I sincerely thank the blogger for giving me this chance to put forth what I thought was best for all of you to know. Over these years, I have mastered the art of appealing and begging for it has helped me survive. So, its nothing new when I again appeal to all the bright minds of this country to not be sympathetic to our problems but instead show some empathy towards us. We don't expect any financial assistance from you all for we know EMPATHY is a force that would drive you to ACTION. On this parting note, I leave for my wife would be worried about my whereabouts. Well, we do have a cell phone at home but she doesn't know how to operate it :)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Regards,</div><div style="text-align: justify;">'aam aadmi'</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Disclaimer: The views stated above are that of the author's and there is no intention whatsoever of hurting any sentiments.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><br /></div>taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-61429566532255187802010-11-21T00:40:00.000+05:302010-11-21T01:54:08.904+05:30Oxygen Trading....<div><br /></div><div><br /></div>May o5, 2047<div>Hyderabad</div><div><div><br /></div><div>Dear Mother Nature,</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> I won't ask you how you are for I know that you have run out of patience and are now adamant on unleashing your 'wrath' on mankind. You have already swallowed Mumbai and New York and now I am beginning to test my knowledge of probability and statistics betting on which city is next. Its most unfortunate that two of the greatest cities on Earth are now no more even as I am trying to celebrate my 60th birthday and my country mourning the loss of Mumbai in the centennial anniversary of its freedom. I admire the sense of timing with which you struck fear in us, and can't stop remembering the time when a certain Al Gore was scorned and laughed at while he was trying to educate us about the perils of Greenhouse Effect. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> My kids don't know how a Tiger looks like because for them it is what Dodo was for us. When they see movies where the female lead actor dances around trees in the bright sunshine, they often ask me whether the Sun was really as bright as it is displayed or is it the 'magic' created by VFX. I have to spend half of my savings now on buying Oxygen because it is a scarce commodity in the commodity exchange where it is being traded at obscenely high prices. I haven't seen a bright Sun since days thanks to the Holocaust. After living all these years in sweltering heats when temperatures were usually 50-60 degrees, its been very difficult adapting to sub 20 temperatures. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Why am I describing all this to you when you know what's been happening with me and my family? Let me be frank. My intention is to convince you that there are other ways of punishing me and mankind for all the wounds that we have inflicted on you. Why are you being so cruel and inhumane? I assure you that people are already suffering from pangs of guilt and have been never so remorseful for the unimaginable ways in which they all tortured you. I plead you to stop this mayhem for if this continues to happen, the Earth will cease to exist. Don't you think mankind deserves another chance to undo what it did and once again reconstruct Earth to what it was 100 years back. I am sure you will oblige us and help restore the lost glory and prosperity of Earth.</div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div>Yours truly,</div><div>Taureansandy</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><u>Mother Nature's Reply</u></div><div style="text-align: left;"><u><br /></u></div><div style="text-align: left;">Dear Taureansandy (I hate your name!!),</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> I have never been cruel and inhumane as you have described me to be in your letter nor do I have a sense of timing for time is nobody's servant. I would have stopped time the very moment you humans started inflicting wounds on me. When my dear friend whom you all refer to as 'God' said to me once that mankind is ungrateful, I laughed at him and defended you all. But now I regret those moments for you don't seem to empathise with me even when you were writing that letter pleading me to be kind and considerate. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> You sure know about a gentleman called Isaac Newton who once said that 'Every action has an equal and opposite reaction'. That is the fundamental law of nature. So to now expect that I be kind and considerate is foolhardy because I am simply doing my job abiding by what you all call as the fundamental law. My dear friend has empowered you with 'Brains' which you have all used to lead a comfortable life so far. I expect you to use that again and escape my 'wrath'. However cruel and inhumane I may sound now, but there is something known as 'repercussions' which you all have to face. But I will consider your plea under one condition. If you can completely stop the trading of Oxygen in the commodity exchanges, then I will help mankind in reconstructing Earth back to its old glorious days. </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">Yours,</div><div style="text-align: left;">Mother Nature</div><div><br /></div><div>P.S: After reading Mother Nature's reply, he simply tore it for he knew that the task assigned to him can't be accomplished. </div><div><br /></div><div>The usual disclaimer applies...</div>taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8473514784072061188.post-29711582914467027032010-11-01T01:27:00.000+05:302010-11-01T03:13:06.818+05:30Delhi - Dilwalon ki Dilli<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHzr-v9CWUPiLHooArdwJhvkxDo62TFBV5a0HpsFyG2KSPyE1mU7P97EITB_HRuS60k-OBWPt6-adL-seJnImSGb6nPSAwU-KxFyQNLCZ1oIDPE-7oFyGeDL-8fMMcFyQtJ8_qRI5rJPM/s1600/new_delhi.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHzr-v9CWUPiLHooArdwJhvkxDo62TFBV5a0HpsFyG2KSPyE1mU7P97EITB_HRuS60k-OBWPt6-adL-seJnImSGb6nPSAwU-KxFyQNLCZ1oIDPE-7oFyGeDL-8fMMcFyQtJ8_qRI5rJPM/s400/new_delhi.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534327100751217490" /></a><br />Hii folks,<div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> I recently went on a trip to Delhi for about four days and returned back with mixed feelings. Delhi has just transformed totally, from a city which was reeling with floods and frequent traffic jams just before CWG to a city brightly lit with road signs promptly put in place and the Metro looking just awesome. Why does it take a CWG to transform a city from shambles to a world class city is a question only the policymakers can answer.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> But the welcome I got was never friendly and pleasant, to say the least. First of all I arrive at Ajmeri Gate at precisely 8am. That is the time when almost all the metro stations in Delhi are crowded and bustling with activity. After taking the token, I have to walk in a queue which is almost 200 metres long and on top of that you get to see scenes like the kid in front of you giving you a long stare, as if he knew that I wasn't a Delhite. Then suddenly the security personnel out there ask you to put your luggage through the X-Ray scanner. He was pointing his machine gun straight to my head. I was already scared enough and on top of this, a student busy with his girlfriend (she was definitely not his sister!!) hits me with his bag trying to overtake me even when I was pondering on how to walk past the narrow queue which was moving at a painfully slow pace. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> The crowd there was so scary that for once I thought I would never be able to reach the hotel. I was already calculating how much would I have to spend for the auto, when suddenly I was simply pushed into the metro. Fortunately, the doors opened that very moment or otherwise I would have crashed into the closed door. The huge backpack that I carried didn't help either. People were staring at me and just when I thought that I would survive this ordeal without being a part of any verbal duel, I was rudely proved wrong by a gentleman who generously mouthed some of the choicest expletives to me. I was chewing a spearmint Orbit gum and so probably couldn't indulge in a duel (was so dumb there!!). Or was I so shocked at the welcome I just received that I went numb? Only the almighty knows!! Nevertheless, I ignored that guy and that's the best thing you can ever do when faced with such situations in Delhi. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> How can I forget the autowallahs of Delhi? Despite acting like a Delhite, showing off my Hindi speaking abilities which is decent enough for a Hyderabadi like me, the autowallahs somehow sniffed the real 'me' out and charged accordingly. I was in no mood to argue with them over the prices they were charging but nevertheless attempted a bargain sometimes. Some of them were again rude to me, but I remember my dad saying that its always wise to ignore rather than pay them back in the same coin. I might be sounding very critical of Delhi's autowallahs but my experiences weren't nice at all. So pardon me for being so judgmental!!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> But when you ask me to rate Delhi as a city to live in, I would rate it as one of the best cities to live in India alongside other good cities like Jamshedpur and Ahmedabad. Roads in Delhi were always world class, but this time New Delhi was looking looking spick and span. The air quality has improved with Metro and CNG coming in. Delhites are some of the most helpful people I have ever seen. I was craving for genuine Andhra meals and I knew that Andhra Bhawan was the place to be for having it, but I was looking out for it in a wrong locality. Desperate to reach the restaurant, I casually asked a traffic constable about the same. I wasn't expecting any help from him either, but just took a chance. Just as I had thought, he didn't have any clue about the restaurant. I was just about walking back in disgust, when he asked me to wait for a moment. He went to his colleague, mumbled something over the walkie talkie, came back and gave me the instructions. I was pleasantly surprised. No wonder I dedicated the wholesome dinner I had that night to the nameless traffic constable and to the spirit of Delhi and its people.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> On the last day, I visited the Akshardham Temple which is unlike all other temples I have been to. It looked more like a stellar display of the wealth that the Swaminarayan community members have earned over the years. The temple is a treat to your eyes with greenery all around and the moment you enter the 'Sanctum Sanctorum', the only thing that you notice is Gold and nothing else. Here all that glitters is indeed Gold!! But I couldn't help wondering about the absence of beggars, something which is always associated with Hindu temples in India. An interesting incident happened when I alighted at the Akshardham metro station. I just came out of the terminus and was as usual looking for an auto when to my pleasant surprise I saw a fleet of cycle rickshaws out there waiting for patrons. Two men approached me suddenly and one of them was pushing me to board his auto, whereas the other just said. "Dus rupaiye sahab". I stared at him in surprise and that is when he said, "Auto nahi sahab, rickshaw hai". I heard myself saying, "So what, its been almost 15 years since I travelled in a cycle rickshaw way back in my home town." I wanted to relive those memories and moreover a cycle rickshaw gives you the time to observe whatever is all around whereas you can't do that sitting in an auto. So, I followed that guy and in the process seemed to have pissed the autowallah who started staring at me. By that time I had had enough of this staring **it and so promptly stared back at him. "Sahab, achcha kiya aap auto nahi liye. Aajkal hamara dhandhe ka koi mol nahi, sab jaldi jaana chahte hain" His words were profound because we have indeed become so fast paced that we have even forgotten how to relax. Do we now have the time to spend on ourselves? He charged me 10 bucks which I was more than happy to spend.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> I am not wrong when I say that Delhi is one of the best places to live in India. You will find the best food to eat in places like Chandni Chowk, best bargains at Palika bazar and the best roads to travel on. Delhi is one of those cities where the entire country resides. So even if you are alone, you are not because you will always meet someone from your community, just as I experienced when I went to Andhra Bhawan. For a fleeting moment, I felt as if I was back in Hyderabad and it felt good. And on top of it, Delhites are always there to help and take care of you. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>Delhi - Dilwalon ki Dilli</b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Regards,</div><div>taureansandy</div>taurean sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15455675924723207277noreply@blogger.com0