Hypothesis

One day I read an article on General Patton. Magnificent it was. The very next day I saw a tank with “patton” written on it. Such incidents must have happened with many of you before, if you ever cared to notice them. Small, inconsequential instances which may have no bearing on anything in your life and so we tend to ignore them after getting a pang of delight, however short-lived it may be.

Sometimes I feel that I am slowly becoming oblivious to my surroundings. Either I am working on something or I am jelled to my few smart devices. I may be aware of everything happening in the wide world, but still I am oblivious. Oblivious and happy, I must say.

I think due to this state of ignorance I must have missed on many small instances and I regret it because I feel that may be I am not alone in literal sense when I think I am alone. Someone is watching my thoughts and these small instances are just there to make me realize that. To make me realize the fact that no matter what happens, I shall never be alone in my walks of life. I realize that there is vindication-in-waiting for every ounce of effort I must have put, when everyone around was thinking it to be a futile effort. The fearlessness I feel is unparalleled.

3-4 days back we had overcast weather and just made a remark that suppose it rains we may get a slight feel of English weather. It has been raining in breaks from past 3 days. “When you desire something all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it”. I have read, heard and said that sentence many a time without really thinking about it most of the times. Suddenly it makes sense. May be all those signs were the part of the conspiracy to make me write this.

My take

I am sure that by now everyone must have seen the scandalizing video from IIT-Roorkee. Those who haven’t are either not on any networking site or they stay away from such stuff on personal discretion. I saw the video and I really felt amusing for the guy who devised the idea of that competition. I mean hats off to his audacity. FYI, as I heard that the competition asked to put the lipstick in an unconventional way. Considering the cheap acts some lunatics are pulling of through the reality show sham these days, this was pretty innocent and innovative in the most sensual way. And to say the least, it needs guts to pull off such an event.

Those who are condemning the event are oblivious and may be they have chose to ignore the fact that the India of “babri mosque demolition” and the India of “Babri mosque verdict” are on 2 different quantum levels. In the same way we, as a youth think on different levels and well ahead of some saffron cynics. I mean if you don’t like don’t yelp, go to your home and stop your young ones from watching it. At least you will be doing something good. Just don’t put on that this-is-not-our-culture thing. I accept that it may have not appealed to the sensitivities of some percentage of elder population, but then there are many things which are worse but they just don’t come out. It is a proof that the portion of media which was targeted in Peepli Live has evidently remained unchanged. I was very happy with the comments which some of my friends posted in response.

The people who are vociferously claiming to be the keepers of our culture are the same who ensured that Mr. MF Hussain doesn’t ever come back, who ensured that Ms.Tasleema Nasreen is out of the country, who scandalized and beat an art student a year back and who were responsible for the Bangalore pub fiasco.

That’s that. An institution should be a safe haven. And so even if the events of the past may have violated the basic tenets or sanctity the institution proclaims. It should be accepted that violators have become, no matter what, the part of the institution now. Their creativity may have gone wrong somewhere, but it should be acknowledged that they had some creativity and if fostered in right direction it can work wonders. In any case, I am proud of my alma mater. No justification for what is coming up. So, just think of those two words. Carpe Diem. Those who are clueless, please watch a Robin Wiliams’ Dead Poet’s Society.

The naked king

My mother told me this story when I was a kid. I never knew at that time this simple funny story was not just the story of the naked king but had some truly greater significance. This write-up is simply an expression of acceptance of that significance. Before I start the story I request all of my fellow readers to skip it at once if they know it and read what follows the story.

There was very rich king of some country. He was very fond of trying new clothes. He had satiated himself with all kind of different style of clothing oriental to occidental, north to south. He was really in search of some kind of clothes which were truly exceptional. He told his desire to everyone and soon 2 clever guys appeared in his court. They said that they would design special clothes for him. So special that only knowledgeable could see them. King was suddenly in a soup. If he rejects the idea, suspicion may arise on his mental prowess. So he happily agreed and asked the treasurer to help the guys with the money.

After taking 6 months of time and consuming half of the treasury, the 2 guys arrived in the court with their arms stretched in front as if they were holding something. They told King that the clothes had been done and they were in their hands. The king bound by the “knowledgeable” clause acted as if he was very happy to see the amazing clothes. The 2 guys were clever with a sinister sense of humor. So they asked the king to dress up in those special clothes and take a round of his country. By that time everyone around knew about the special clothes. As soon as the king, fully stripped of his clothes, stepped out of his palace all his subjects and people started shouting praises and accolades for his new clothes. He turned a corner where a boy of 3-4 years of age was standing with his mother and he was really oblivious to all this hype and hoopla of the clothes as he himself was in bare minimum of clothes. As soon as he saw the king he shouted “the king is naked, the king is naked”. There was the briefest of silence before the whole country burst up with laughter, slogans, sarcastic comments and what not. The king wound up his procession and sent for the 2 guys but obviously they were nowhere to be found.

THE END

I am sure many of you have come across the situations where fallacy is visible and still we have to praise it with full voice. The question comes that what is next? I think it is never wrong to praise the loophole on full voice when your own ass in going to be in trouble. But it would be most ethical to develop a system or say a pocket of excellence in your own small group or office where you take care of that loophole in a methodical way. That is success. And so as you grow up and traverse through the organization you keep creating many such pockets of excellence. And suppose you become the king you ensure that at least your immediate subordinates are like the child in the story, who would always tell you the truth on face.

One of the things that should be encouraged in the subordinates is candidness. It is quite obvious that as we grow up in organization this candidness gets lost. Majority of us eventually become the king’s subject and that childlike thinking is lost somewhere. If you are able to impart your subordinate courage to come up and speak to you about the state of affairs and also give his own set of ideas, then I think you have solved almost half of the problems. Most of the times it happens that he may have a better grasp of the situation and he may have faced it before as well. But your high headedness is not giving him enough strength and talk to you.

Candidness and cockiness should be perfectly differentiated as the former may easily turn into latter which is disastrous in equal measure. You should always ensure that while giving any idea objectivity of the cause is not lost. It should also be made clear to everyone.

I just felt that I should share the story as well as the analogy.

This was long due

The average speed at which I ride on my bike has gone down from about 50 Kmph to something 35 Kmph during past 2 years. Obviously my bike’s performance has deteriorated as compared to what it was 2 years back but I feel that I have become increasingly cautious as well. Let me put the fact very straight. The driving sense of Indians (all of us) sucks big time. We are a mass with most ill sense of road safety and with least civic sense when we are on road. I am not going to castigate us further. If you have lived in India for considerably long time, you know what a massive challenge it is come back home safely.

Defensive driving:
It just means that don’t be happy just by driving according to rules. You may get killed because someone else is breaking all the rules and averaging you out. While on road always be at your cynical best. Impossible is nothing.

Beware of dogs:
If you are at high speed and a stray dog comes in your way, kill him. Put your benign side aside and I say override him. The possibility of getting yourself killed in order to save a dog is huge. If you still have a doubt I want to tell you that it is quite possible that you may be substituting for that dog moments later. If still you are doubtful, just compare the worthiness of the life of a stray dog with that of yours. Still the doubt persists? I suggest you to join Menaka Gandhi.

Respect buffaloes:
Dogs and buffaloes are obviously not comparable and so just keep watch on some stray buffalo or a cow getting into your path. These benevolent looking creatures may suddenly become death angel for you.

Tie your seat belts every time you drive or sit in the front seat. You don’t have to be told that every time by a sexy air hostess.

Know that many people around are biggest fools and the first place they go after coming out of their hideouts is road. A car with one head light damaged, a rickshaw with a head light as small as torch bulb are common occurrences.

We all are in constant hurry. We are in hurry for everything. We rush to our offices, back to our home and everywhere we go we are in hurry. It is altogether a different matter that the same hurry has just now started reflecting in our growth stats in 50 years of independent existence. And so respect the fact that we all have very less time, factually and philosophically.

Have you ever gone to a gaming arcade? Don’t worry if you haven’t. You get it live on our roads. The difficulty levels go up and down. You win if you reach back to your desired destination unharmed.

I must say that I have tried my best to put everything in a lighter manner. But believe me that I am dead serious when I say that you may die someday just because you behaved like a rash idiot on road. May be there are many things which I have left aside.

This article comes after one my good friends met an accident, after I heard the fact that about 2000 people died last year in jaipur and adjoining areas. I think our lives are far more worthy to be taken away in a road accident. Suppose after reading this article you become cautious and just escape a near death experience I suggest you read one of my previous posts called “Acknowledgement”. Best of luck.

The sailor's side

When has the calm sea made a good sailor? Every person going through the torrid time is told this by a preacher. There are only two outcomes in the case of storm stricken sailor. Either he comes out alive or he dies fighting. In both the cases he is a hero in my view. That is fine with me. What makes me uneasy is the fact that his heroics are so situation dependent. I mean, what if there is no storm at all? Won’t there be any hero in that case? Never does a calm sea produce a good sailor?

I think it does. Rather I strongly believe it. Though in that case the sailor has pivotal role to play which is so obvious that the sailor himself plays the major role in his own success. I always feel that when a capable sailor takes his ship into the sea, he implants a fear into the sea. Every act of the sailor exudes confidence and he has an aura which has been built by years of hardship. The resultant storm is an act of sea but the root cause is the same fear which the sailor has instilled. The storm comes this time around not to test the sailor, because his caliber doesn’t need any proofs, but to suppress him, to quell his lofty ideas.

I won’t try to fiddle with the end. In this case too, either he comes out alive or he dies fighting. In both cases the calm would be restored. But both the calms will have a valley of difference. In the first case, the calm would be of submission, not to power but to potential. In the latter one the calm would be that of a sadistic victory mixed with the fear of another such sailor.

We assign too much importance to the state of the sea. The sailors keep coming till the day there is a hero who comes out alive. And this keeps repeating. Just look around yourself.

Stuck

Two years and counting, I am still “stuck” at the same place. Friends and people around me have been visiting places. At least they pretend doing so. Well-wishers have stopped asking me whether I plan to switch or take MBA exam. I am an incorrigible case to them. I have succeeded in pacifying them and making them believe that I have finally made peace with the bureaucratic system of my present organization. Well this is what many of them feel. I am really thankful if they feel contrary to what I proclaim. I am here to give all my well-wishers a feel good factor, a write-up which would possibly make them feel that I am not getting wasted, a notion which even I had once in mind.

Lets start with the fact that I had never visited a steel plant in my life. I could only imagine any such entity, that too partially during occasional distraction from the mischief and sleep during the class. So when I came here it just captured my imagination. I realized that its far bigger than the reach of the hands of our professor, a man with a penchant of saying “huge blast furnace” with 2 hands held parallel over the head, who taught a course on iron and steel-making to us. The sight of red-hot iron flowing out, crude steel getting formed into slabs, red hot slab coming out for rolling, mesmerized me for an instant. The things in the theory made some real sense. But this is very hygienic version of a steel plant. A crude version is far more exciting. Read on.

How can production go on unabated for 24x7x365? It seems just amazing that while we are sleeping, eating, talking all the time there is iron flowing out of furnace and sheets coming out of mills. And to make it possible a colossal human effort required. Its not easy to control these beast of machines to run according to you. It requires some thinking on the part of engineers who are constantly slogging to run the plant. To whom the dirt and sweat on the shirt at the end of the day just mean the Medal of Honor. And believe me when I say it, because this has been going on for past 100 years, unabated and unhindered.

It is imperative in my job that I develop a same rapport with a down-the-line worker as with a high level officer. The real HR professional are made on the shop floor. This place gives me an opportunity, for an ephemeral second, to be a hero of Ayn Rand. Because when you are responsible behind that flow of iron, or making of the sheet or in short, the formation of the world, you can at least once in a while feel that you are the Atlas, bearing the burden to support the world on his shoulders. The rush of adrenaline is unparalleled. And hence I am “stuck” at this place. Someday I will move on but that day is not coming in near future. I am yet to absorb the whole thrill.

This write-up, in spirit, is dedicated to all those workers of steel industry who are stuck there on their own will, to few of my colleagues working with me and to all those good people who have mentored me constantly.

Acknowledgement

What do you feel when you see the ragged beggar? Sympathetic, Pitiful or something else? I feel lucky. I am sure I will have support on this answer too, though I may sound pretty unsympathetic. But to me the thought which follows is much more important. We should feel lucky and should immediately make a mental note about our luck so that whenever we crib next time about the worsening situations or about our helplessness, this mental note would come to the rescue. Believe me when I say that it has absolutely nothing to do with complacency. The thought would knock on the door of consciousness reminding us of the fact that since we are not in place of that beggar, we should acknowledge it and work harder to justify our luck. Personally I feel that I have spent a considerably chunk of time in my life cribbing about situations on which I have no control.

To make it more clear imagine two scenarios, a soldiers dies in the battle field and man walking on the road is suddenly hit by a truck, both die in an instant. But both had different price tag on their lives. I know the families of both will be equally bereft but then, dying for a purpose will always be superior than dying for nothing. And so if in case the person just misses getting hit by the truck, not only he should feel lucky but he should realize that his life is much more important than to be wasted in a fraction of a second. It has a higher price tag attached to it. And after that he should work to justify the price tag. If you still do not understand what I am saying just imagine the situation when anyone of Mahatma Gandhi or Nelson Mandela would have died in an accident in their early age. Many would say that someone else would have taken their place. But the fact remains that every such “someone” has the realization of the “price-tag” on them.

I would say that just don’t continue with the course of life after an incident which shook you to the core. Acknowledge the course changing capacity of the incidence in your life. Remember that we are simply lucky to be here and we should always acknowledge it.

Unspent time

Summers to a young child typically means mangoes and vacations. Obviously school results and heat waves do not feature here since I am talking of all things pleasant. Summer vacations form the core of the childhood memories. Playing cricket in scorching heat, video games in afternoon, reading loads of comics and the list just doesn’t end here. One activity, which I still miss some time, is hurling stones at tamarind and mango trees just to taste some of those sweet and sour fruits of hard work. And I am always in search of someone who would accompany me in these acts.

During my last semester I discovered that one of my friends also didn’t give up such quirky ideas, quirky since logically we had passed the appropriate age. I was surprised to discover it so late since he was my good friend then also and still is.

Since our hostel was near to the Profs residential area, which had a lot of mango trees, we both, in the obscurity of the night, at about 2-3 in the morning used to walk till there. Then I used to sit on his shoulder and used to pick some of these keris(unripe mangoes) from the tree. We used to walk back and then savor the fruit of our expedition with a bit of salt. With every walk we also discovered the trees which had the easy accessibility and which had sweeter mangoes than the rest. This continued for many days and eventually stopped.

Why am I writing about the quirkiness after 2 years? Firstly, it is very rare in life that you get to live your childhood days once again. Secondly and importantly, it is rarest that you spend these moments with a friend, who you would have loved to have in childhood. I felt, in hindsight that I was just making up for the time which we could not spend together as children by just doing one of the silly activities during oddest time of the day.

Before Semi-Finals

I have been supporting Mumbai Indians for 2.25 seasons now. My wait has paid some rich dividends in the form of an exclusive display by my team. And so I take this opportunity to vindicate my team of the semi-final loss, if they suffer one. Personally I have full sympathy with all the DD fans because DD, which was the best team last year, didn’t win the IPL. In fact the one which struggled to get into top 4 did it ultimately. My criterion of best is based, not on the basis of semi-final and final but on the basis of consistency. With 18 points already and 2 matches to play, there is no doubt that MI has been the most consistent team this year. So I say that I have serious objection with the present format of the IPL, in which consistency has been sidelined to make place for a single match heroics. You got to reward consistency and that reward should be nothing less than a winner’s cup. I know this is opportunistic but then it simply proves that I am a FAN.

Zabraku

Now what’s that? Well it’s a name of an entrepreneurial venture started by one of my friends. A website designer was contacted and within no time there were 46 users. Well none of them knew why had they registered at all and majority was friends and friend of friends. My friends boasted of Zabraku as being the top search result as if there were million other things in the world with this weird name.

Well before every one of you googles “zabraku” please finish reading this. So one fine day some glitch occurred in the web page and the programmer was nowhere to be found. And so my friend himself night out-ed and learnt something about webpage designing. As a result, there was no place for users to log in. It was like; Come to the home page, stay for some time, realize that nothing further can be done, go back to your work. I sometimes try to imagine if such thing happened with google or yahoo. For the content of the webpage initially the idea was of video sharing by college students, then it moved on to “hot or not” and then many such things. Finally my friend realized that the bout of enthusiasm, during which the idea of zabraku popped up was all but over. And then we fulfilled the duty of being good friends by suggesting that it should be turned into a porn sharing site, with absolutely free service. We just didn’t want to see our friend upset. Also that he should keep his name anonymous and that the word should be spread to every hostel. A rumor had to be spread about the creator of the webpage.

The venture didn’t even start formally but it certainly fulfilled the duty of Corporate Social Responsibility, by bringing smiles and laughter to the faces of souls marred by grading and GPA’s. Hail Zabraku.

Better option

Anshuman had left for office. Sitting in her porch, relaxing after the morning frenzy, Sushma picked up the local hindi tabloid. Skimming through the front page her eyes fell on a column on front page. “गाँव के युवको ने किया चक्का जाम” it read. First line had the village name, which seemed familiar to her. A boy aged 11 from this village had met an accident 3-4 days back and he eventually died in the government hospital. Villagers cried foul over the lack of care shown by the doctors. The only thing which caught her attention was the village name. She stressed her memory and then it clicked to her that ammaji was from the same village. Ammaji, who previously worked at her parent’s place, had been around since childhood. After her marriage to Anshuman, they moved to this place and so did Ammaji, due to nearness of their house from the village. Sushma was more than glad, as it was never easy to find a good maid. She folded the paper and then looked at the clock. Still lot of time, she thought. Once Anshuman left for office, she would wait for ammaji to come so that her time would pass hearing to gossips and worries of ammaji. After cleaning jobs were over, ammaji would help her preparing lunch. Anshuman used to come home for lunch and so the preparation for lunch would generally start as it approached 12.

Ammaji was done with cleaning. She was sitting and chopping onions, unusually silent, indulged in herself. Sushma had waited for her to talk, but realizing that it was an odd day with ammaji she decided that she should start herself.

“Someone from village died?” asked Sushma
“Yes” answered ammaji
Why didn’t they take him to some good hospital?
Who would pay for it?
Were doctors really negligent, how did he die?
They didn’t even start the treatment, till crowd gathered and did hungama
This is really bad. Tabloids said he was hit by a truck
Yes
May god bless his family; tell me if they come for any help to you, I will try to help
Hmmm
It was already 2 now and Sushma was tired as well hungry. It seemed to be a hectic day in office for Anshuman. And the wait seemed impossible to her now.
“Ammaji what’s the matter with you, why are you not talking today”
“What should I talk?”
I said tell me if anyone from the family of deceased comes to you for help, I will try to help
They have been helped
Who helped them?
God
It was so irritating now.
What rubbish are you talking?
“I know what am I talking”, said ammaji. “The family was in huge debt, they are total of 6 in the family. Last year his father borrowed huge sum of money and the crops failed. Not a grain to eat. For some days villagers helped them but to what end? He came to find some small job in the city. Then he met this accident. From where would they bring money for all the treatment when they are out of ways to survive? And treatment for what, so that still there is someone to be fed. Finally God intervened. This was a better option than to die of hunger”

“Have you gone mad?” such words never ever came to her for ammaji. But then she was overwhelmed with the description because to her simple mind it just seemed so horrific. Doorbell rang. Anshuman had returned for lunch but Sushmita was not hungry at all.

This Holi.

This holi was special. It had “bhang”. And associated with it was the insanity of my mind. I should tell all my readers about the effect of bhang. It is the state of trance associated with bhang that is really beautiful. And this state of trance this is what happened. While coming back to my home, an idea popped into my mind. The idea was to pen down all the thoughts that my mind was generating. I told this idea to my friend. I told him how I want to write about it. As soon as I came back I put pen to paper and started noting down.
And so it started like this (each gap is representing an arrow).

Blog.................... How will I put it to paper................... Oh my hands are shaky.............. How will I express my idea............. I make a theory about how this story originated (now that’s really insane, anyways keep reading)........ He is getting bored ( me and my friend had decided to sit in my gallery and talk)................. Never mind he will laugh after reading the blog. Most of the time it happens that we get annoyed by our good friends without realizing that they are doing good to us in long run......... Oh shit , I lost 2 ideas............... Will I become a famous writer? I should write the names of all those friends who will feature in this blog............... Lets write. No I may hurt people.............. But lets make things clear…. Oh leave it .. Devil wins............. यार ये इंग्लिश बहुत गलत हो रही है, अगर तेजो जैसे लोगो ने पढ़ लिया तो खूब हसी उड़ेगी............... But its fine, above line must have made many of my friends laugh (who have some serious doubts about my English).................... Oh God, lemme remember all these thoughts, and even in hell I will make you laugh (poetic)..................

After this I gave up writing and started calling people so that they can remember all what I was thinking. Meanwhile I still felt one thing which I will share here. While I was writing my thoughts on paper I was, most of the time, thinking that how will I express them? Wont people laugh on me and all such sort of garbage. And then I came to realize that most of the time we are more concerned with this garbage rather than the pure thoughts which our mind is processing. It was so nice to realize the fact that at least in trance I was able to concentrate on all these thoughts which were insulated from all the external influences. There were many thoughts which came to that time and I felt that I should keep some of them to myself. Seldom my mind is so free to express itself.

P.S . All my friends should consider themselves lucky to have received call from me on that day. And those who didn’t receive just don’t feel bad about it, within 2 hrs of the start I was asleep.

Chat wala

It was raining outside. Sadness had engulfed Pintu watching those small globules of water, as if conjured in midst, of which he had always tried to find the origin with his village friends when they used to run out in rain and went on to play till the rain stopped. Things had changed fast, faster than his small mind could grasp. Baba became bigger babu. Bulbs at home were replaced with tube lights and soon manager saaheb of the bank helped Baba with money from the bank so that they could buy a home in city. He came to full consciousness of it when the behavioral norms changed. You should be a good boy, Aai told him time and again. But Aai I used to do all these things in village, he told her but to no avail. He could never understand it. He had always tried to invoke the excitement associated with the prospect of playing football with his building mates but all in vain. He really used to get bored with this-is-my-ball-so-i-got to get-more-passes tantrums. Their delicacy was no doubt beyond his perception.

Still standing and craving to go out, his small eyes looked further and could see that basti walla boys playing football. This was too much of an attraction to resist for a child of his age. He sneaked through the door. Running down and out of the gates of the apartment premises he was soaked in the rain till he reached the muddy playground. Suddenly the play stopped. The basti walla children thought that an alien had appeared in all those clothes which they could only desire for. But as soon as the eyes met they all knew that somewhere he was one of them. Nothing else was required. Nothing else than that innocent expression in eyes, which gets lost as one grows up. And within minutes he was one of them, with mud on the clothes, some bruises on the knees and a bit of pain in side ribs but with all that happiness which he could only imagine while standing in his gallery. In no time it was dark and everyone was sapped. Play stopped finally. There little legs devoid of all the strength. It was time to say goodbye but a bond had developed. They had same mud on their clothes and joyous spirits. Returning home he saw Chat Wala coming out of gully of the hut-dwelling. He knew the Chat Wala bhaiya as Baba liked the chat and he was delighted that apart from the rain football, his new friends had one more thing in common.

Tan tan tan….. and Pintu knew that bhaiya has come on the gate. In the passage of time when bhaiya left the hut-dwelling and reached his building gate, a lot had changed for Pintu. He had reached home to find Aai Baba in full fury. When told where he was, he had been thrashed and scolded. He was told that he should never even step out of building premises without permission, let apart playing with basti walla boys. He would get spoiled if he plays with them. What will the uncles and aunties in building say if they come to know about this incidence? How can someone get spoiled by just playing, had eluded Pintu’s understanding.

Baba, him and some uncle, aunties had gathered around the chat wala. The word of his deed had spread. One uncle repeated how he would become bad if he continues to do such acts. His building mates were smugly looking at him as if he was an outcast. Pintu’s mood was now on better side though. Baba had brought him new water colours and it definitely doesn’t take more than that to reverse the mood of a child. As bhaiya started giving pani puris to all those standing in half-circle, Pintu suddenly spoke in excited voice. “Baba, Baba you know, bhaiya is also favorite of basti wallas. They also eat this chat”. Suddenly hands stopped in between plate and mouth. Something had transpired the understanding of elders. Social parity had been set by a chat wala and an innocuous line from a child.

Flip side

I saw “3 Idiots”. That is obvious. The unobvious is that I didn’t like it. I found the movie overhyped in some daring proportions. Well I am sure I will be booked for this culpable offence and hence I would like to put up my defense.

No issues with some typical bollywood style story in which a hero never ever loses, in which medical miracles happen at every step, in which there always is chronological chaos and everything happens at whim. Neither do I have issues with some flaws in the technical prowess shown by the hero. I take it that neither Mr. Vidhu Vinod nor Mr. Rajkumar Hirani took engineering classes and if they did they must have flunked them. The issues are with the basic premises movie is built upon.

Anger swept over me when in the end chatur is once again ridiculed by the cool hero. I am still unable to grasp that why a certain kind of individual has been mocked so thoroughly in the movie. I always find my college life, in retrospect, to be a collage of good and bad, cool and uncool yet different individuals with different attributes. Why is the success defined as the hero likes it to be. For every individual in this world it may have a different sense, even if he may end up with a bank job after doing engineering.

The book (Five point someone) from which the movie is allegedly inspired gives a contrasting picture, which says that you don’t need to have a chatur to make life of 3 friends beautiful. You don’t need to denounce someone in order to glorify other. In spite of alienating themselves from the book and the author, film makers could have had his inputs which I assume would have made it better.

In retrospect I felt that the message which movie must have wanted to deliver got lost somewhere in between the commercialization of the movie and coolness of the hero. In fact the absence of a clear cut message poses a danger as it will be open to interpretation to the masses who will be stepping into their college life. I am unable to fathom the consequences right now. But frankly all is really not well. I rest my case.