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.