THE SPOILED BRAT

He’s the super Bourn-vita kid! Faster than a Twin Turbo! Invisible but omnipresent! Wraps the whole world around his little finger and makes us all run in one direction…..

We wish so much we could chase him and tie him up forever; so that we stay forever young and forever in the present. We wish we could know which direction he’s running; the direction that is taking us from beginning to the end. But this notorious tot refuses to give in to the endless demands of his chasers and takes everyone for a ride.

He’s a thief! A very good one! He steals everything from right under your nose and leaves no sign of the mischief. Fathered by God, it is only when he’s gone, that we could see his omens; in the mirror, in the tears and in the new beginnings.…

It’s strange however, in spite of knowing the fact, that one day we HAVE TO lose this race to him, we run, until we’re tired, sick and dead. And it’s funny that in this wild goose chase we often forget that whatever we have earned so far, we’re going to lose that one day, TO HIM, the child of God Almighty, the ruler prince, THE TIME; and still we condemn, we deplore, we compare and complain…What an irony of destiny!!

Sajan re jooth mat bolo khuda ke paas jana hai,
Na haathi hai na ghoda hai, waha paidal hi jana hai..

Because…

He spares no one. Not even the richest and the humblest. So no matter how wealthy or how popular you are, don’t try to stop him. He won’t listen, as everyone is equal in his eyes. If he won’t listen to you he won’t even listen to the pleadings of a dying millionaire….

Don’t befool yourself by mocking others with what you have; you’re as much a target in his eyes as anybody else. Just run and enjoy the journey!

He’s the super Bourn-vita kid! Faster than a Twin Turbo! Invisible but omnipresent! Wraps the whole world around his little finger and makes us all run in one direction – towards the inevitable end game of life…

PURANI JEANS AUR GUITAR.....

"That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, the happy highways where I went and cannot come again." - A. E. Housman


Remembering the masti-filled days of college, this one is the MAKING of our news bulletin called NEW HORIZON(a very hard-won title)in both hindi n eng...the first official video project we handled as media amateurs...still managed to submit on time...

In spite of all the differences of opinion, regarding presentation, script, news items’ priority, and even the name of the bulletin, we stood united and never let each others’ suggestions turn into domineering statements.

The credit goes to all four of us, for it is always the team work that counts at the end of the day!

I would like to clarify that though we did a lot of goof-ups here but we have grown both as individuals and media professionals.

This video is a reminder of the cherished college days and is a dedication to all those college pass-outs who are sagging in nostalgia.

Let’s consider this a virtual reunion of memories and promise ourselves that –

As we go our sordid separate ways,
We shall ne'er forget thee, thou golden college days.

ELAN-E-JUNG!! ARE YOU SERIOUS???

Thinking of trying your luck in one of those lame games of talent hunts? Now as you pull-up your socks, don’t forget to gather your armor and other artillery weapons also, for a fierce battle of proving self-superiority is awaiting your already vacillatory arrival. This is not for the wishy-washy kinds. Even if you are a brave heart and as you stand at the centre-stage, sweating and collecting yourself, you better watch out; as you could be attacked anytime by the sword of the tongue, unleashed, like it’s ready to run for your blood!

Talent hunts have literally become the MAHAYUDH of recent times, given the fact that they sire a situation wherein the contestant/participant is forced to encounter a do or die circumstance. In the name of publicity gimmick, the judges don’t mind mouthing a few tear-jerking comments targeted straight to the psychology and self-respect of the poor contestant. Whoever gave these self-proclaimed MUSIC GODS, the license to inhumanity?

They give wings to the dreams of an element of anonymity and then brutally cut those wings in front of millions. Wouldn’t it be better to deselect them in the audition round/prelims itself if they were so very bad?? At least this will spare them from adopting an ostrich-like approach of hiding their faces in the sand when trying to take in the sympathy-prone, scornful or mortifying public glare.

The hurt caused psychologically could be worse than any physical pain. Is any one of THE JUDGES listening?

Say cheeeeeeeeeese……..

Whoppy!!!

So finally the wait is over. My braces are gone!

That was a surprise that dawned on me when my dentist, with a child-like excitement, held forth a hand mirror in front of me, after he was done with the routine check-up and smiled playfully. Initially I took the expression as the dumbest visage one could ever exhibit. I gave him a frowned look as I was already disgusted with my aching teeth after going through a grueling clean-up. But that was usual. So I didn’t bother and never in my wildest dream did I imagine that this day will put an end to the enormous torture, my teeth had gone through in the last five years.

But as I held the mirror, my left, arched eye-brow gradually scraped the ceiling. This usually happens when I am expecting some nuisance to happen. You know lady instinct! But this time around, exceptionally, my instinct did not work like a charm. I was quite bamboozled by it. The mirror reflected something that was long dismissed from the mind. The look that was under wraps for a long time could now be seen free and clear.

It was weird in the beginning, but as I went home and sported that forgotten smile, it was déjà vu.

I thank my Chacha, who patiently awaited my discharge from the regular and annoyingly lengthy clean-ups and also consoled me when I was fed to the teeth (both idiomatically and philosophically) with this tacky regimen.

At the end of the day I happily miss my braces!

Smile Amigo!

DADDY DEAREST

Every year father’s day crumbles back to remind us of that special being who is so close to our hearts. At least there should be some day to make the fathers world over celebrate their fatherhood, right?

In the rush and din of our daily lives we forget to light up that endearing old candle, which we take for granted all through the year and consequently miss out on the inestimable fun we could have bargained for good.

The candle, which seems to have waited for ages in the hope of getting the slimmest of your attention and, is melting away without even being illuminated, craves for this special day to rediscover its lost identity as a guardian.

Father’s day convulses the soul to become cognizant of its atrocious crime of ignoring the man who proudly dealt with the rough and tumble of fatherhood from seeing his child all toothy and smiling to seeing her grow into an educated independent individual.

I dedicate this article to my Dad and it gives me mighty pleasure to write for the man who taught me the virtues of self-discipline and hard work, to walk tall in the society apart from many other things.

I request you to reach out to your dad now and tell him how much you love him and that you care and I know the loneliness that still looms large in his world without you will vanish forever.

I did that too and I would like to put on record, upfront and no strings attached that I am proud of my father who’s always been my teacher, my navigator and my life, unfailingly.

[The tradition of Father's Day actually came out of Mother's Day. It was at a Mother's Day celebration in 1909 that Sonara Smart of Washington found herself thinking of her widower father who had single-handedly raised his three kids. On his birth date the next year, she held the first ever Father's Day and ever since then, the third Sunday of every June is officially observed as World Father's Day.]

Success-fool’s paradise

Who cares how you define success? If at all it matters, it just matters to you. Why to impose your definition of success on others? It’s just unreasonable. To you success might be the fruitful outcome that you savor after spending years in taking a swarm of nightmarish rides in the overcrowded locals from Borivali to Churchgate.

Or to you success might be indulging in an ostentatious show of owning a luxury yacht, being surrounded by fast cars, beautiful women, designer houses, horses, jewellery and art just like the loud Richard Branson of India, Vijay Mallya.

Another definition of success could be the glam-doll way, chosen by the high-profile who’s who of Bollywood actors. The actors (most of ‘em) flaunt their bodies; earn bucks for being brazen in front of an entire audience of the nation of dignified discourse and celebrated sabhyata. And then they call themselves ‘successful’. (Do I need to specify the likes of Imran Hashmi?)

Whatever it might be, but that is success to you. Everyone, absolutely EVERYONE is free to relish in his own world of accomplishments. And EVERYONE in this world has to deal with his own set of struggles, which to you might not be a struggle in the first place!

By trying to convince others to accept what you think of success is simply disgusting. With no offence, I don’t buy the success stories of any of the aforesaid people. I think it’s a total waste of time to live life that way. But that is my opinion. People feel it’s an alibi for not working hard. You can think so too, if you have time. What’s the point in having everything from alluring looks to a walloping bank-balance and still hitting the rehab centers, more often than not? (Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, Britney Spears….)

Because you’re reading my blog, I will take the privilege to define success in my own way. And I don’t force you to comply with my definition. My definition of success is not at all materialistic, it’s very abstract. Success to me is more in trying and less in achieving. I believe in destiny. I am a theist. Your trying can be equal to your destiny, not more than it. A beggar on the road can dream of becoming Bill Gates one day and he may invest all his available resources in fulfilling his dream. At the end of his life he may not find himself scoring that high in his fervent hope, but his efforts will certainly give him an immense satisfaction and indescribable delight, which will in turn effectuate a tranquil and not disgruntled demise.

In the words of Alex Noble -

“If I have been of service, if I have glimpsed more of the nature and essence of ultimate good, if I am inspired to reach wider horizons of thought and action, if I am at peace with myself, it has been a successful day.”

The mature innocence

For heaven’s sake, somebody please tell me where has the adorable innocence of childhood gone? Instead of reading Little Red Robin Hood, sitting on their mother’s lap, kids today are busy vrooming with their Playstation steering wheel, plopping on a racing game seat! The other day my young niece, who’s just 9, surprised me when she said she wants to color her hair because then she would look more ‘cool’. Now children as young as that are busy upping their cool quotient.

I remember when I was that young, I used to potter around in the house in my pinafores. I decorated my doll house and found pleasure in such ‘uncool’, gizmo-unfriendly things.

Now kids don’t shy away from flaunting their ‘adult’ outfits. Even before they learn to spell their father’s name, they learn to say ‘don to patadna muskil hi nahi, namumtin he….’. They worry more about their own weight than their schoolbags’, they wear make-up to school (can you beat that!), they sing romantic tunes in the living room right in front of your guests when they are told to recite some poem and leave everyone in the house dumb-struck. (And yes baby, they could well comprehend the meaning of any damn Bollywood song in their own way.), instead of spending quality time with the family they chat on the internet or keep sms-ing ‘stuff’ to their friends. No wonder their teenage might find them on the wrong side of the sheet.

If parents ask them to act their age, they feel left-out, as other children in their group are busy giving us adults the shocks of our lives. And some take pride in showing off their kids’ stupidity. The ‘alpha’ society too hasn’t left these vulnerable kids untouched. Markets today offer thongs for children and skanky toys are profusely available for sale. Kids market is flourishing like never before. But the saddest part is it is awaking a dormant phenomenon, which could cause an unforeseen damage to the world & blow up an entire generation in ashes..

I don’t know who is to blame for all this; the parents, the media or the changing trends?

I think all of these hold a responsibility towards gardening and protecting the future of the Gen-Z. It has to be a combined effort. The negative rippling effects of this change have to be fielded together, with care.

When history comes alive…

If by any chance, some of our heroes of older times happen to cross the lengthy bridge of time and arrive in the present, maybe in a more contemporary look, would they be getting the same respect? What happened to Lage Raho Munnabhai when the film tried to bring alive our Rashtrapita? And what about the fancied and very in ‘gandhigiri’? It’s getting obsolete already! The film was enjoyed, gandhigiri appreciated and even followed by many. But then what?

Earlier it was Bhagat Singh, then it was Mangal Pandey, then Gandhiji and now it’s Prithviraj Chauhan (Star Plus’ show, brought to life by a flawless performance of Rajat Tokas). Media creates magic in all its forms to attract the audience. It’s the frozen history, which is time and again digged out of the graveyard, praised, admired but is then sadly buried back into the weathering pages of yesteryears.

Many heroes were made out of time. And we remember those times by the heroes it featured. ‘When gandhiji was alive’, ‘in the days of prithviraj chauhan…’ this is how we describe time. So, do the great heroes, who have redefined time, deserve to be forgotten?

If the heroes walk in today, amongst us, all they would get is disappointment. They would get notice, all right. The media would be brimming with THE NEWS. People would be happy all around. Not because our heroes are back, but because our economy is going great guns. Masses would be cashing in on the big news. News channels, film fraternity, sponsors, everyone would beeline for a single byte or for a small appearance of the old protagonists. All business! And that too will end soon. Because things are changing fast. In no TIME. Yes, the same TIME, which used to make heroes out of ordinaries. The same heroes, who are now struggling for an identity in this bizarrely mutated world. Because the people today are all hassled-for-time. They remember the heroes, not because they should but because they have to. They want to clear their entrance exams, they want to be IAS officers, they want to push their children a grade further, or they have to deliver a fabulous speech on any of these forgotten legends and win accolades. How mean have we become! Probably this is the reason why TIME has ceased churning out great INDIVIDUALS, like the ones who were endowed with great courage and strength, celebrated for their bold exploits or those who were favored by Gods…

But is it really our fault? Do we really have TIME to keep praising the great history? We HAVE TO BE mean today. We can’t carry a goody bag of commendation or wear a mask of pseudo-patriotism all the time. After all we, the people, make the nation. And individuals make a society. So INDIVIDUAL comes first, then the society and then, the nation.

But at least we can be thankful to those individuals of yesterday, which have made us the individuals of today. At least, we can stop dirtying our hands by playing corrupt politics in the name of our pristine past. And undisputedly, we do have TIME for that!

Up-close and personal with nature…

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The great Greek philosopher Aristotle has rightly said, “Nature does nothing uselessly.” And so, when it calls you for its attention, you know there is something miraculous waiting for you. The same miracle waited for me somewhere in the hills of Pachmarhi, where I recently took a temporary recluse, away from the hustle of the city.

No, am not a travel-freak. Neither do I like hitting the road all so frequently. But when it’s a place, which promises to offer a soulful connection with its surrounding sans the ever-noisy, ever-polluting ambience of the city, I am all for it.

And when I packed my bags for the 5 day trip to enchanting Pachmarhi, little did I know that this tour would be a lot more than ‘just another journey’ of a lifetime..

With some apprehension, I climbed the bus to Pachmarhi. I was apprehensive, because this was one of those few journeys, which I would be exploring alone, without my family. I’ll be all by myself. But I still wanted to drink in the enthralling nectar of adventure, which I had heard, Pachmarhi offers to its visitors.

I was hungry or rather starving, as our (mine and 240 other co-travelers’, mostly students) buses awaited the RTO clearance. I somehow managed to gorge on some Parle-G biscuits to appease my hunger. The cold breeze was making its way into the bus through the driver’s glassless window. It was getting colder inside. My shawl and jerkin came in handy. Thank gosh I surrendered to my mum’s insistence on keeping warm clothes in the hand-baggage! All this gave me some relief from cold. I patiently awaited the morning sun and dreamt of how it would look from the running bus. And somewhere in between intoxication put me to sleep.

The morning sun was deep orange and its rays soothingly welcomed us to a brand new destination of beauty and magnetism, never seen before. This was Pachmarhi, one of the most under-rated paradises on earth. I could feel the freshness in the air. It took away all the lethargy that I thought only a morning cup of tea could do! I could smell the nostalgic fresh fragrance of the wet soil, which reminded me of my nanny’s village…

We reached our hotel. Everything was fine until I stepped into my room along with twenty other girls, who pulled, pushed and yanked the door open, only to rush inside and fast forward the seemingly ‘organized’ place into a total mess. The so-called ‘hall’ soon lost its identity. ‘Well, this is how I have to spend the next five days, but let be.’ I consoled myself.

Our ‘dhanno’ (our jeeps), waited for us, outside the hotel building. There were two people to guide us through our journey. Our excitement made us hurriedly rush into our respective jeeps and we headed straight to ‘handi-khoh’, a valley named after an Englishman ‘Handi’ who committed suicide here. It was jittery to look deep into it. This was how our garrulous jeep-driver described it. And how right he was! It was frighteningly deeper than what we had imagined! The sight was fierce but, nevertheless, exciting.

We moved on with hearts full of exhilaration to our next destination, Chauragarh, which was a whopping TWO AND A HALF HOUR CLIMB! And mind you, the way to Chauragarh is extremely zig-zag and bouldery. And over 1200 stairs have been constructed to reach the blissful seat of Lord Shiva. Our legs became stiff and numb by the time we reached the place where a life size idol of Shiva bhagwan was enshrined. The sight of this beautiful statue made us forget the pain and the numbness for some time and the ecstasy of climbing such a huge distance helped in reaching back to our jeeps.

But seeing our leg-weary condition, the two guides suggested calling it a day. Coz they knew better that the rest of the destinations called for bigger action and sprightliness.

Usually am very fussy about making my bed tidy before I hit the sack, but that day I was too tired to bother about all that stuff. All I wanted to do was to sleep like a log. The condition of the room was pathetic. Given the fact there were twenty girls staying in one ‘hall’, what else can you imagine? But I didn’t care a damn. Before I could think any further I was already deep into the land of Nod.

We woke up to start the day afresh and my legs surprisingly had become sturdy enough for another escapade walk in the woods.

The second day was less tiring than the first one and we enjoyed our stay tremendously at Apsara Vihar. This beautiful bathing pool offers an unforgettable joy to its guests. Water continuously falls upon a small ‘kund’ creating magic. We clicked as many pictures of this awesome fall as we could and left some memory space of our cams for the next tourist spot.

I can never fail to remember the beauteous scene of the sun immersing in the sky, just like a new born falling asleep in her mother’s lap. We know the baby will get up again the next morning to light up the face of mankind. This was the sunset point. No matter how tired we were, nobody wanted to miss the chance to be in dialogue with the Sun God, when it was innocently cool. I bet, once you are atop you desire to stay there forever.

The night was musical with the tabla and harmoniums playing some old classical numbers. The musicians accompanied us throughout the course of the trip. The music was the icing on the cake and was greatly rejuvenating.

Next day we scarily hit the ‘reech ki gufa’. We were warned not to make any noise there as it could alert the wild animals residing in the jungle. But hey! Girls have got to do what girls have got to do, right? And when there are 250 of them, even the roaring of a lion is belittled. But thankfully, we didn’t face any of the savage beasts of the jungle. And cheerfully we went on with our joyride of exploration.

Before coming back to the hotel, we had two ravishing waterfalls waiting for us. Both were spectacular. Though the arduous roads consumed a lot of body glucose, we still were flabbergasted to see the beauty of these falls. Bee-fall is about 150 feet high and Dutches fall has its own charisma. Visiting the two waterfalls was truly a spiritual experience.

The last day observed a bundle of mystery unfolded as we visited the Pandav Gufa. Pandavas are said to have spent their days of exile in these caves. It was intriguing to know the detailed history of this place as explained by the usher. We also spent some time in the laboriously built Pandav Garden there and enjoyed the splendor of the place.

Pachmarhi Jheel was my personal favorite. In contrast to the hastiness of our caravan, the Jheel appeared placid and undisturbed. It’s a fabulous spot. The scintillating rays of the sun falling on its surface made it appear like a bed of diamonds. Back home, I knew my sis, chacha, mum n dad might be missing me. I missed them too. And I wished they were there with me at the time when I was rejoicing in the tranquility of this stunning creation of God.

Well, sadly the trip was over. Jheel was the last spot of our trip but it will always be the first destination of the memory ride, whenever there’ll be a mention of God, beauty or nature.

It is only after visiting, relishing and falling in love with Pachmarhi, that you realize that it is truly, yet another paradise on earth.

On our way back home, we halted at Hoshangabad, on the banks of Narmada. As buses couldn’t make their way to the narrow streets, we had to walk through a busy market and it was a pretty long distance, given the already worn out condition of our shoes. We walked past people who would comment – ‘ye koi naari mukti morcha hai kya?’, ‘Kidhar se aaye ho behenji?’. God knows how I managed to walk like that. Except for the morning walks in quiet streets or joggers’ parks, I am not used to walking like that, in the middle of such busy streets, people staring at you n all. But I did. There was no choice. But in the end I enjoyed my stay at Hoshangabad, Narmada kinare.

All in all, the trip was an unforgettable experience. Sometimes you just want to sit and marvel at the beauty of God’s creations. That is exactly what I did in Pachmarhi. It only reinforced my faith in that Supreme Being and His Godliness, which together cast a spell on your existence through these magical creations.