The making of OSTSTL...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

Surya Chandrika Bondada – Now you know why I constantly kept on bombarding you with queries. 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.

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!

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.

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!

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...

signing off,

Sandeep Kothapalli

Bragging is good!

Hi folks,

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. 

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! Why a team I am in, always chokes? 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.

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.

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. *Laughing at myself* 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...

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.

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. 

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. IIMA was a humbling experience though. 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!

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.

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.

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.

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!

signing off,

taureansandy

'Sach' is life...

Source: NDTV

1030 hrs, 15^th November 2013

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 ‘Cricket will never be the same again’. 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!

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 – Rahul Dravid and Sourav Ganguly. 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 ‘God of off side’. I especially enjoyed the long partnerships Sachin shared with Rahul in tests and with Sourav in the ODIs.

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 ‘nicely’. 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.

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.

• 1983 – 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.  

• 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.

• 1996 – 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.

• 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?

What does Sachin mean to me?

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. 

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 Sigmoid function that saturated towards the end.

‘Why do you think the curve should saturate to a straight line?’ asked one of the professors.

‘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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

signing off,

taureansandy 

I can write as well...

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?

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.

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.

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.

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 Wren and Martin. 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!

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!

‘Writing a book is the intellectual equivalent of running a marathon’. 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 writer’s block 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.

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...

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. 

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. 

signing off,

taureansandy

Friday, the 13th!

Hi folks,

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!

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 ‘Heinous’. 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!

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.

Hi Nirbhaya,

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!

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.

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 ghoulish thoughts. Yes Nirbhaya. Ghoulish thoughts indeed!

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^th 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. 

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.

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!

Yours friendly,

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?

One of my dear friend and a fellow batch-mate from IIMA had once remarked – ‘Jab tak hum nahi sudhrenge, yeh desh bhi nahi sudhrega’. So true, I say.

Friday, the 13^th 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.

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.

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^th in the year 2010. More details on http://taureansandy.blogspot.in/search/label/IIM%20A

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!

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.

• 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
• 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
• 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!

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? 

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? 

signing off,

taureansandy