• Anecdotes,  Musings & Short Stories

    Kuch Kahaniyan – Ep1

    Are you one of those people who always have ” A similar thing happened to me once….” story? Doesn’t matter whether you’re sitting over a leisurely weekend drink or taking that quick smoke break at work you most always have an anecdote that’s related.

    Confession time….I think yours truly is also one of those for the lack of a better word or phrase “notorious recounters”.
    No excuses but here’s where I feel the first mover has the classical advantage of being considered origninal. So here’s a new series of officially recorded anecdotes(for the wives..sorry you still got to hear these everytime) and my claim to the high ground forever for as the copyright owner.

    Disclaimer: All characters and incidents in this narrative are rooted in truth. Resemblance and reference to people and places is intentional and not in the least coincidental.
    Another Disclaimer:I wasn’t necessarily involved/present when some of these happened hence some amount of artistic liberty requested.

    1

    It was New Years eve and once we had been officially invited by someone who was a friend of someone whom we barely knew. But what the heck!!! This was one of those must attend “Farmhouse” do’s which were very “in” as far as Delhi of the early 90’s was concerned.

    We all decided to rendezvous at around 9:30pm (only loosers hit a party early) at DefCol Nirula’s before we headed towards the party somewhere in Mehrauli. The gang duly converged and as things stood we had 1 car more than what was required. The wise men conferred and it was decided that the one of us would drive the extra car and park it en-route at a friends place and join the others. Sensible too since the lady who did come in the car would need it to get back home and DefCol Nirulas was not exactly on the way home for her.

    So the gang drove off “happy” only to realise after a while that both the extra car and driver were not to be spotted. Suddenly, amidst the traffic our lady car owner spotted a bearded grin typical to our driver friend a couple of cars away…only problem wrong car!!!

    Our man had gone into the parking and tried the keys on the first Maruti 800 in the parking lot…not exactly a unique identifier one would say and as we learnt it neither were the keys!!

    Well the rest of the eve was spent driving back and earnestly hoping the real owner of the car hadn’t reported a stolen car.

    The long and short of it…did not make it to the party that year!!

    2

    Young blood. Young blood with alcohol thrown into it… not very smart.

    Getting back after that public service message…this in my book is one of the most recalled responses in my friends circle.

    Here’s the scene… empty streets wee hours of the morning…race is on!!! One car zips past the other goes round the bend, the other car slows down goes round only to find the driver of the car kicking the air in disgust.

    Our friend has rammed his car into a tree/parked car do not remember exactly.

    We get off, ask him why in the heavens name he’d not veered clear coz we’d slowed down and there surely was room and he went “Dude…I was committed!!”

    ….to be continued and to close the first chapter a relatively unknown song called The Storyteller by Ray Davies.

    I‘ll tell you a story to pass on to the end,
    as told to me so long ago by my good friend
    As we hollowed round the log fire, we laughed the whole night long,
    As he told me a tale passed on to him by a wanderin’ vagabond
    My friend told me the story and I’ll pass it on to you
    It was handed down this century and he swore that it was true

    And in the morning I could see him fade
    Was it fact or fiction? Who can say?
    (Storyteller) I believe ev’ry word you say
    (Storyteller) I bet you told a good tale in your day

    He tried to tell the people, but the people wouldn’t hear
    him spinning yarns and telling tales from yesteryear

    Then he smiled and finished his story
    He said “Will you pass it on for me?”
    (Storyteller) I’ll tell that tale for you
    (Storyteller) Somehow I’ll get your message through

    My friend told me the story and I’ll pass it on to you
    It was handed down this century and I swear that it is true

    Ray Davies

  • Anecdotes,  Musings & Short Stories

    Yaari, Dosti etc.

    Walked into Coffee Home at CP after a very, very long time. A thousand memories walked in along with me, but that is not what this piece is about. Sitting at the table alongside ours was a group of elderly gentlemen.Seemed like old pals catching up over coffee and snacks and that’s what set me thinking.

    Watching them break into occasional laughter, pulling each others leg and then shift gears into a serious discussion on a story playing out on one of the news channels for some strange reason evoked a feeling of time travel. It was as though I was looking at my circle of friends through a telescopic lens through time.

    Will we have the pleasure of meeting up like this when we are 70?? How many of us would still be in touch??

    Friendship, unlike other relationships has a wine like quality and each passing year makes it special.

    I have mentioned in one of my posts that friends are family you can choose.

    They say that God could not be every where so he made mothers. Friends in my book are on similar lines…only difference,they are a joint venture between Angels and Demons.

    Friends are trust worthy;you can trust them to lead an expose of your most embarrassing moments at the most in-opportune of moments. Equally so, you can count on them to bail you out of awkward situations (well at least they always try).

    I remember this one time when a bunch of us wanted to go out partying late. We had to get this friend of ours out of his house (his dad was a terror codenamed Phantom!!). One of us volunteered to be the birthday boy. All was going as per plan till Phantom for some strange reason wanted to know what the date that day was. He looked up and asked our helpful birthday boy who went… “Umm..Ummm…Uncle 10th. No no no uncle… 11th uncle”.

    Old jungle saying “Only a fool crosses the Phantom”.

    Whether we were able to get our friend to party that night is anybody’s guess..

    Coming back; friends like lovers often talk about growing old together and wonder how they would be when they are older. They dream of togetherness forever.Take the quintessential Jai-Veeru kind of friendhip of Sholay or the more contemporary Dil Chahta Hai.

    Friends perhaps are individual pieces of a jigsaw. It is loads of fun putting them together, making mistakes as we go along- putting the wrong ones next to one other. You make, you break, you make again trying to re-create what once was was or what it ought to be, because it takes all pieces for the picture to be complete.

    Trouble is, sometimes some pieces go missing.

    So here’s to the existing pieces sticking together and living everyday like a Saturday night!

  • English Poetry

    We (I) Owe You

    Could have said these words any other day
     Not for tokenism but now is better than never they say
     So here’s to the women in our life
     To our mothers, teachers, friends, daughters and wife
     For all the times you were taken for granted
     For not always knowing what you wanted
     For the love you’ve unconditionally showered 
     For all those tough times you were brave and someone was the coward
     A simple thank you cannot repay
     For holding up our world yesterday tomorrow and today
  • English Poetry

    A River Called Hope

    There’s a river that flows eternal its called Hope
     From the zenith of optimism and down its mountainous slopes
     It runs the deepest along the valley of despair
     The currents dismissing obstacles like it just didn’t care
     Ever accommodating in its spirit
     It carries within it
     Streams of negativity, even the past
     Meandering along teaching you nothing lasts
     To opulence from penury
     To contentment through misery
     There’s a panacea for problems one can’t cope
     It’s a river that flows eternal and it’s called Hope
  • English Poetry

    Older

    We are growing older
     All the mountains we climbed
     We could because for every difficult wheel
     I always had your shoulder
     We were not even meant to be
     Or so we thought
     Keeping each other company
     Good friends it was...weren't we?
     We've come a real long way
     Blessed with beautiful angels
     Who warm our hearts
     Filling them with joy every single day
     We are growing older
     So much yet to experience and explore
     So here's to us keeping the flame alive
     Burn bright and before we go out we smoulder
  • English Poetry

    Remember

    Remember the time when we were WE
     Remember when would be together and could just BE
     Times when doing nothing together meant EVERYTHING
     Times when arguing was just a way of TALKING
     Remember saying what we meant and meaning what we SAID
     Remember never wishing for a lifetime but always FOREVER
     Times when making out meant way more than LOVEMAKING
     Times when we gave it all but nothing was really worth TAKING
     Remember when we could hear every thought without SAYING
     Remember feeling the pain without anyone HURTING
     Times of living in the moment and every moment worth a MEMORY
     Times of breathing easy around each other and making it easy to BREATHE
     Wonder why life feels like all of it was a LIFETIME AGO
     Wonder what came over us where did all the time GO
     Time perhaps to count our blessings and making the blessing COUNT
     Time to stop changing what we had and remembering to make that CHANGE
  • English Poetry

    Past Continuous

    It’s September again
     The great healer has ground on
     It’s passage though hasn’t erased pain
     Life meanwhile has been persistent and gone on
     But thoughts and questions they never cease
     The why and what if keep meshing new tales
     Indulging the heart, dancing the tease
     Memories coming to life in great detail
     Some things perhaps are just too good to be
     Breezy lives that leave happiness for your lifetime to last
     Angels passing by, meant for another world maybe
     Our present and future unfolding from their continuing past
  • English Poetry

    The One

    Life oh life!
     Mysterious are it’s ways
     How and when
     Who knows and who can say
     It doesn’t matter
     How brilliantly the light shines
     Is and was
     Separated by a moment, literally a matter of time
     If only, only if
     There just could be a last summer of song
     Chances passed around
     To maybe correct things, all that went wrong
     Oh! Cruel tide
     It favours not and it waits for none
     This much is certain
     Everyone is in the queue, just unaware about the (next) one
  • Musings & Short Stories

    Where the Mind is Without Fear

    As I write this post on the occassion of Independence Day, the patriotic fervour has been higher than I have ever seen in my conscious years. In an age where the distance between thought to tweet is 140 characters and an entire nation can be bridged with seven degrees of WhatsApp group separation; thoughts and opinions can travel….fast.

    69 long years since India became an independent nation. Time enough for an entire generation to pass. Today’s senior citizens are not those who fought during the Independence movement. We have a Prime Minister who was born in independent India. For a large part of the population today the mention of Vande Matram evokes images of the Bharat Bala produced A.R. Rahman rendered Maa Tujhe Salaam and not the original lyrics penned by
    Bankim Chandra Chatterjee that used to float liltingly over the air waves every morning and perhaps still do.

    The symbols of Digital India’s pride are different from that of the previous generation. The binding glue of today’s India is the mobile phone. If there is one asset that is availble in a majority of the 200 million households which have 996 million mobile subscribers it is the mobile phone and with 280 million of them connected to the internet!

    No other medium today can promise this kind of reach or penetration. The various messengers services have woven a web where dissemination of information happens real time as it happens.

    Rural-urban, literate-illiterate, the haves- the havenots, young-old there is no chasm that is not bridged today in terms of a common platform of presence. Today, more that ever before the average Indian speaks his mind, airs his opinions and views to the world at large, he tweets, blogs, creates and forwards WhatsApp messages. Today support is not silent, anonymity is not a required condition for going anti-establishment or for that matter anti anything.

    The growing confidence of being one of the faces in the crowd and not afraid of being seen as one. Being a part of an uprising or a movement much akin to the crowds that were a part of the independence movement. Only difference, they now do it with a few key punches or screen touches on their phones. In the comfort of their homes or while on the move.

    The dream of using the mobile as a vehicle for upliftment, progress, betterment (pick a term of your choice) is not a distant one. The first step of embracing change has been taken and how!!

    Today, more than ever before, we really can understand the meaning of Rabindranath Tagore’s immortal words and maybe, just maybe, hope to make our tryst with destiny! To close I quote the poem that inspired this post.

    Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
    Where knowledge is free
    Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
    By narrow domestic walls
    Where words come out from the depth of truth
    Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
    Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
    Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
    Where the mind is led forward by thee
    Into ever-widening thought and action
    Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake

    Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore

    Wishing that all of us find and revel in the greatest independence there can be… THE FREE MIND!!

  • Musings & Short Stories

    A Tale of Two Cities

    “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had ­everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present peri­od, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”

    Charles Dickens

    This is a new tale of two cities. One with phoenix like capabilities and the other with a mythical lineage. This is the story of the path they traversed over the past 10 years or so. This is the tale of opportunities lost. This is the tale of Deadly and Greedgaon.

    Liberalisation was doing its job and money was coming in thick and fast. All the key economic indicators were looking up. Multinationals were setting up shop big time. These were the times when “outsourcing” was the buzz word and not a bad word.

    The real estate hawks had got it right. The waiting game had paid off. All the farmland that they had picked up was about yield rich dividends not of the green kind but of the concrete kind.

    In Greedgaon tall, shiny glass buildings came up and so did swanky high rise apartments, the cycle of prosperity had been kicked.

    The BPOs took the bait because they had worked on keeping the cost base low and the MNCs saw virtue in picking up the false ceilinged, centrally air-conditioned replicas of where they came from. So out went the socially and politically correct Rajendra Places, Nehru Places and the business districts moved out of Deadly and into Greedgaon.

    The BPOs and MNCs both needed people and people is not a thing this nation was short of then or is now for that matter.

    Well, all these people needed a place to stay and since Deadly and Greedgaon were not “well connected” in those days Greedgaon became the better option.

    The offices and the apartments had come up with the people moving in the malls sprang up too.

    There was of course one teeny-weeny problem there was still no connectivity between Deadly and Greedgaon save the Multiple Gaddhas Road or as it is known the MG Road. For people who had moved to Greedgaon roads continued to be something like science fiction i.e. possible, but only in the future, one that is still awaited.

    The powers that be were enamoured by infrastructure and aided by all the trips the netas were making to neighbouring China decided it was time for the Deadly Greedgaon Expressway. Now have they not told you that “Good things come to those who wait; All good things take some time” and time they did take.

    In the meanwhile, roads or no roads, connectivity or no connectivity the hundreds of thousands who had joined workforce at the plush offices in Greedgaon had to get to work and get around. The money was good and loans came easy it was time to give another sector a boom. The upwardly mobile executives bought their shiny sedans and monstrous SUVs and started zipping around.

    Now we had large offices, lots of apartments, huge malls, thousands of cars but still no roads.

    Time passed, more offices, more apartments, more malls and more cars came up and the good thing that all were waiting the Deadly Greedgaon Expressway finally opened.

    The expressway was world class with its wide metalled roads and neat signages, there was of course one minor problem. The expressway went over practically every important road (the reference is to physical places where they are supposed to exist!) of Greedgaon.

    Now, while Greedgaon was busy becoming the Million-hole City, Deadly was attempting another rise from the ashes. The Metro started, roads widened, more flyovers came up and more people could get to the Greedgaon Tollgate faster obviously in their faster, high powered fuel guzzlers. And then the people waited, no not for good things but just to reach wherever they wanted to in Greedgaon.

    The bottomline, over the years the BPOs/MNCs benefitted from the low costs; the real estate guys made big money selling, leasing, developing; the local farmers turned cubby hole millionaires; the car companies made great fortune selling cars; the oil companies too kept afloat since people with their BS IV compliant cars were now consuming more fuel for travelling the same distance.

    Deadly on the other hand was scheduled to host “The Games” and so the forward thinking government declared that it intended to transform Deadly into a world-class city.

    Thus began Deadly’s travails. The Madame at the helm of the affairs like all things Deadly deemed that improving public transport was key.

    On the agenda amongst several noble things was converting the fleet of buses into green machines albeit prodded, nudged and eventually kicked by the judiciary before some part of it could be implemented. First the orders and then the deliveries were delayed oh yeah we must remember “Good things come to those who wait”.

    Next on the list was a master-stroke called BRT(Bus Rapid Transit) that perhaps single handedly causes more misery to more people at any given instant than anything known.

    Honourable mention for the almost Tughlaq-esque beautification drive that involved uprooting the existing lampposts and replacing them with new ones or uprooting existing signposts and replacing them with new ones or digging up the existing footpaths and relaying them and oh did i forget to mention the re-colouring of all traffic poles.

    The citizens through this all have gone through a melee of juxtaposed emotions patient yet irate, brazen yet accommodating, troubled but at times impressed and disgusted yet hopeful.

    To conclude a few lines from the epic…

    “I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making expiation for it­self and wearing out.”