The Lazy God

It’s been 60 days.60 days since I have come to Orissa on my first onsite trip. Whenever a guy from my team goes to US, seniors give directions to the strip clubs and casinos; in my case they told me about some temples and lakes with a dirty smirk. At departure time my Naani-Ma stuffed a 1000 rupee note and a list into my wallet. The list had the distribution of offerings per temple. Some Gods just managed to get 10 rupees.

For all the last 60 days my Naani has been calling me at 5 a.m., yes five; my Naani, ruthless beautiful beast, bulldozing me to do ‘the’ Surya Namaskar.

4 a.m. Today:
Naani: Surya Namaskar time. Check out the God’s beautiful Sun.
Me: Na.
Naani: You are a lazy lizard, you won’t become more than a peon this way.
Me: Chalo Na.
Naani: Neither you are going to get that Krishna’s idol.
Me: Going.

Krishna’s Idol is my Naani’s last resort, for the last 25 years every discussion ends at this Gold Krishna idol which she says is lying inside the old ‘iron’ almirah. The moment she says ‘gold’ Krishna idol, I see my self driving a black accord and doing what the old lady wishes.

That idol is the reason I have soaked gallons and gallons of milk, studied at night and done everything, everything termed disgusting by a boy’s standards.

After a struggle of 15 minutes, I managed to grab a bite of God’s beautiful Sun. So true she was. The Moon was melting into the arms of the Sun. Every bit. Every bit of nature was witnessing and celebrating the play. After a while when the Sun sniffed off the stars and the moon, it stood clear, as an axle of this universe. Mesmerizing and hypnotizing each drop of blood on this planet. So beautiful it was. The God’s Sun.

The hypnotic eyes were cleared with Naani’s SMS.
“Now go to temple lazy lizard or loose the idol.”
The lizard was looking for his slippers with in a second. And the slippers hit the roads with in minutes. I swear to that idol, it was not the reason I moved my feet, I just wanted to see the Sun’s play.

Within minutes I had started to walk, I sensed, rather heard a herd, a herd of dogs following me with a joy. It seemed they had been waiting for their leader for ages. I was fine with it, as soon as they did not get the bite of my red pyjamas.

Dogs, humans, trees and fat people all seemed to be tied with the same string. Everyone seemed happy, may be the Sun gave them a reason to be. A lie told everyday to them that everything will be alright today. Just because they ‘think’ night has gone.The scene was nothing less than the “The Morning walk” essay I wrote in 3rd standard. I did not know that it was worth more than just 10 marks.

As if it was not enough for me, I saw some girls strolling on the grass, bare feet.
’Ah’, I just got a reason to ignore everything, everything and the God’s Sun was too giggling and touching the girls’ feet through the dew drops. I just wished that I were that dew drop. All the dogs following me changed the course and headed towards that scene. Dogs.

I had lost the leadership and ‘my’ girls to those dogs, so, the temple seemed the only asylum.As soon as I reached the temple I was dazed to witness a queue that could gulp the Indian Ocean with just one burp. Hunderds, they looked like lakhs, devotees were waiting for the glimpse of their God. I too, dived into that Ocean.

That queue was not less than the internet, auntie behind me was discussing about “Wake Up Sid” ‘s reviews. And a huge monster ahead of me was discussing IPL. And within 30 minutes I had covered China’s foreign policy to MTN deal to Kahani Ghar Ghar ki. Then.

Then something happened that I was dreaded of.

The noodles I ate in the dinner had decided an emergency exit. All the negotiations failed. All peace treaties failed. All cold wars failed. I had to come to my knees. I asked aunite to reserve the place in my queue and went in search of a toilet or a bush.God had some adventure in store for me, toilet was nowhere to my rescue and I had to buy a newspaper and I covered my body with the ‘healthiest’ bush at the back side of the temple.

I surrendered to those noodles and started reading the newspaper.
The Sun’s rays made little beautiful palettes on the paper while I looked for the most disgusting and stupid news, just to show its real place. A page said “A Political party wants job quota for mumbaikars”. I didn’t have a toilet paper.

I was completely mesmerized by the God’s Sun, and all the experiences I just had.
I started the back journey to the queue. As I was walking down the street, my eyes fell on a slum behind the temple. A lady with half torn sari was begging in front of her shabby accommodation. A little kid, may be around 3 was lying in front of her. And not surprisingly the kid was not in good state with some open wounds on his stomach. The mother seemed to use those to gain people’s attention to raise something for their stomach. They seemed indifferent to everything they faced and everything they were doing. While all this was happening the God’s Sun was shining through the child’s wounds and with each Sun’s touch the wound become more red and deeper. But the child was silent, not bothered by anything , So was his mother. And I could not see a single glimpse of tear in the eyes of the mother. Even with some coins falling in her bowl now and then, they seemed indifferent, just fulfilling their obligation.

Silently, I joined the queue. Now the discussions about U.N.’s Kashmir policy was on full bloom. I decided to remain silent. That was the only thing I could have done at that moment I guess. I had just witnessed the darkness of the Sun. Meanwhile the queue moved faster than the thoughts in my mind, and here I was inside the temple, witnessing the God. The God, as my Naani says is the creator of the beautiful Sun, the beautiful earth and the beautiful Ma. And I was standing with the 100 rupee note that Naani-Ma has allocated to this God.
May be I could have given that note to that mother sitting behind the God’s back. That note would not have made much difference to that mother’s soul, but by giving this to God, my Naani’s fear for God could have subsided atleast. So, I pushed that note into the donation box, ate the prasaada and got flown with the queue.

On the way back to my hotel, neither did I enjoy the grass hoper girls, dogs or the Sun.
I was completely devastated with what I had just witnessed.

Naani Ma, I know God has created this beautiful world but I just saw that didn’t complement what you have always said. I am not troubled by the ragged piece of cloth holding the dignity of that mother, neither I am perturbed by the open wounds of that child nor with their sheer poverty.

As all holy books say, I know it is because of their ‘Karmas’. I know they deserve this, with all the deeds they ‘may’ have done in their last life. But atleast they deserve a lie to be told, a lie like you tell me every time about that Gold Krishna’s idol which ignites my soul. A lie in the form of a story that you tell me before i sleep, that i will become like robin hood one day. A lie , A dream , a will you imbibe in me every time I come to you that life will be more beautiful and happier.

Naani, I don't ask your God to give that mother food, i don't ask him to heal that child's wounds. Just ask him to give a tear in the mother's eyes at the sight of his childs wounds, just ask him to make the child cry when he's hurt. Ask your God not to induce that much pain in human's life that he forgets to cry.

Your God has created this beautiful world but has forgot to tell his humans a lie, a dream and a desire.Just ask you highness to turn around and tell his humans a lie that everything will be fine one day. Naani-Ma ,I know i am lazy, so is your God.

~A Merc Ride~

Cat is over and Ahuja has immersed himself in Vodka.Smirnoff,Neat with 3 ice cubes is his diet on weekends.And for me his bakwaas dotcom and management ideas.

Saturday,11:00 P.M., 3 Large gin,7 Vodka shots.

"I am developing a website www.ebra.com. Online bra bechenge, Fir tera bhai mercedes, S-Class, S-CLASS, me vodka piyega." - Ahuja said while making rounds of smoke puffs in the air. "Feedback?"

"Bhai,Am not the venture capatalist this time.Ghar pe kya bolenge"- me while thinking why not SunJava checks character certificate of such guys before giving Java certifications.

Ahuja - "I know what certification shit thing you must be thinking of, we ll see who rides the mercerdes S - Class, S - C.L.A.S.S. before. Ye bata 6th standard me second terminals me first kon aya tha?".

Me - "We ll See".

Lights Switched Off.

I think Vodka and dream of riding mercedes share same portion in Ahuja's Brain.They kick off at the same time.Anyways Ahuja had second rank in 6th standard.

Sunday. 3:00 P.M.

To escape from stupid dotcom ideas i thought, taking shelter in a book store was a safe bet.And while I was browsing through the fiction section, i felt a touch on my left leg and heard "Excuse Me". I swear to my second hand bike i had never,never felt such a soft touch in my whole life. "Sure"- was my prompt reply.
I turned around my back to see the host. A lady was reading snippets from Salman Rushdie while rack browsing.And as i was staring,staring her ,her book fell off her hands. As she moved to pick up the book her look converged in to my ever staring eyes, she said - " I think you have not excused me yet".

In the reponse i was ready with my cheap 100 watt smile and red color on my cheeks.
I don't know how that 100 watt smile lead us to a coffee shop and movie hall. While waiting for her car, she said i think your bike should take a break today. Let her rest and me do the rest for you.
I was still and still.I bet i never gave that much time to even an IIT question. Meanwhile a soft engine voice melted in my ear.i heard it right and clear.Merc-S CLASS it was. And i had no doubts in my mind now.Ahuja was about to loose a bet and his arrogance to me.Woh.
34.54 seconds more and i was inside her, the car.My butts had never touched a better leather ever.First time in my life i looked smart in the side mirror.The noice of the engine was a voice, the seat's roughness was the girls hands,the smell was a liquor for me.I had never seen my body melting so fast and steady.It seeemed Virgin Mary was taking me to heaven to clean all my sins.
Now i knew why Ahuja calls its - s - c..l..a..s..s. The world seemed different from inside.

I needed some earthly substance in my stomach to realize i am still alive. So we were in her house to have something.Something to eat. i think now it was Smita's turn.She started acted strangely.She was sharpening her teeth and i thought i went there to eat something. i didn't know i was the dinner.

She placed her hand on my knee and i got the clue about the script. I still had an option in front of me.i thought i could not, should not do it or may be.
I was still and still again.

Meanwhile a ring tone breaks the silence.Smita picks up the call and a tear rolls down her left cheek.

I thought she got the smell of my socks."I am sorry" - i said,"they are my friends not mine".
But that was not the good time for cheap humour. She slightly moved away from me.Some discussions and i left the place with a light heart and a clear head.

Ahuja called me 45 times that night in a try to get the slice of masala story.
I surfed the net and stuffed his mind with some russian story with mercedes S-class in it.Toasts,belly dance and Hukka at Mocca's on occasion of Merc Ride.

During a toast, i thought about the discussions with Smita.She has a perfect life.A perfect home.A perfect job.Perfect parents.A perfect kid but also a broken promise.
A promise that her husband has not kept alive.A promise to be true.To be with her all her life.Not a single moment of her life goes without a question to herself that why he lied to her soul.And to become soiled was the best answer she could give to herself.

That night it was her son, Rohan's call. Rohan's voice was enough to save Smita's innocence.The innocence that she delibrately tried to stain just to escape from the questions she always had.

Meanwhile music at mocca's was ruining my feet.Ahuja was mad with belly dancers and his Vodka. I wish I had the courage to say him that S-Class is not that good.Not good enough to discount the reality of life.And no such pleasure exists in this cosmos that can compensate for a wounded soul.They might have invented an artificial heart, i wish such thing exists for a human soul too.

"Bhai Come back home, we are billionaires,zabardast Idea". i just received an SMS from ahuja.

We will ride a Merc for sure but not without a genuine soul,2600 cc laughs and sunidhi,Ahuja's so called gf.Lets go.

~Made in China~

" - Dad Says - Nothing less than Black Label or drink mosquito repelent " - Sudipta's words or his Dad's.

Some facts about Sudipta:

1. Sudipta is "A" 23 year old boy.
2. Sudipta has a Big Dad ; literally too.

I am holding a drink at Sudipta's birthday or 23 years , 9 months far from the day when his Dad conceptualized him.

With each golden drop is drenched by my keen throat, Sudipta's thoughts accrue in my mind.It pays to be just an observer sometimes, i guess.
He has everything what a guy can aim for. An Accord, an IIT
degree, 3 girls.
Sudipta is filled with hundreds of stories of his achievements and affairs and is game to spray that all on us. His last night story, his college medal, his gifted car, his flirt, his promotions, his frankfurt vacation,his dad.

For every dirty car ride, For every girl he slept with, For every wrong he did, he has a single excuse "And the Life Moves On"!

Droplets of whisky might have evaporated from my throat but the impressions of Supdipa were still fresh in my mind. M Sure 89.32% people must have taken back home Sudipta's impression, accent and cell number. Cell number for business, tashan or just a coffee. (Misnomer it is; If its a coffee it can not be just,Its always well thought).Irony.

I absorbed his number too. As i scrub his business card and roam on deserted roads of Chandni Chowk to get a ball point pen. A 10 year old boy carrying bucket full of pens screamed in my ears."Painnnn".

Me:"What?".
Penwala : Red,Blue,Green Painnnnn. After showing me the glittering pens in his hands.
Me:"Saale its PEN".Kitne ka hai?
Penwala: "2 rupaye". "2 Rupaye"

My eyes glowed and i felt an adrenaline rush in my whole body after hearing the price and glitter of that pen.I can feel the excitement on the tips of my toes.Wooh!

"Its Chinese, Use it untill it gels well with you or throw it in the dustbin.And the life moves on. But uncle don't buy chinese condoms.My father is still paying the price for the same." - little penwala.

I handed over a 2 rupee note to him and placed that glittering red machine in my pocket with elegance.
On my way back to home, Sudipta's "Life Moves on theory" was still juggling in my head.
As i try to write something for the blog with the new bought chinese machine,a rough stuffed feet came in my view of writing. It was Ramanujam's.
Ramanujam, a driver by profession, is my cook's eldest son.His dad left home while he was 4.It was Ganesh chaturhi. 20 such Ganesh Chaturthis have passed and his dad never came back to give them a shade. Still he is standing tall with the responsibility of 4 sisters, an ailing mother and village land loan. A talk with Ramanujam is rains of management knowledge for me.How he manages his finances, how he puts right amount at right voids. Amazing it is.

The only thing he wants from life is a day on which he can live for himself.Only thing.
The uncertainity and insecurity is not enough to fade away the big smile on his face when we discuss the future.The past means being proud for himself and not pity or pain.
May be pain gives you that strength and belief in yourself.
As i try to write down a number on paper while talking to Ramanujam, the glittery red machine surrenders. I threw it in the dustbin as that little guy instructed. "And Life moves on."

Ramanujam sits beside me with hundreds of hopes for his sisters' education and a huge contentment.Contentment. The reason for it can't be adjudged.Specially when he doesn't own an IIT degree, an Accord, girl(s) or "a" Big dad. This stuff give us high.Isn't it.

I asked Ramanujam about the stem of his contentment.

"Its been 20 years i have been constantly struggling with the life.20 whole years i have waited for the day for myself.Each day has brought sense of responsibility and sacrifices with it. Every moment unfolded Unpredictability and challenge for me. Crafting 4 lives with my amateur hands has been tough but always gave me a high.I wish these lives never miss their Dad's shade. Ameen".

As Rama starts repairing my 8 year old cooler, my eyes got stuck at the "Made in China" red pen lying in the dustbin. Isn't it, we have changed the way we measure things and people. We measure people on basis of what we want and not what is good.People have become like chinese stuff. They are shakky but are saleable. Hundreds of Sudipta's are selling themselves in this world with loose ethics and stupid theories. And Ramanujam fighting each moment in other's battle is standing alone. Craving for a human hand.Human heart.
Sudipta dada, you need millions of dollars stuffed into your boots, hundreds of girls hanging onto your balls, big degrees in your pants, dad's big finger in your nose to define you.But Ramanujam just needs three words.Survivor,True,Human.
Sudipta might be having world full of things and assets;Rama has got less. Struggle,Moments of highs,Brotherly hug,Restless nights,Tears of humiliation.Ma's hope.
But what he has got is true.

No matter how much we ponder upon these measurements, we all will continue to imbibe the stuff what we want. We will keeping buying millions of Sudipta's for our lives. daily and every moment. I wish in 1000 years a day comes when we start measuring people with humanity,truth and substance; And not look for a brand like "Made in China" for humans too.

~ i am a Prostitute ~

For the enormous sale of CAT forms, IIM people should be thankful to the crooked IT managers who dwell on the blood of IT goats.

Two days here was enough to fling the Glossy picture of IT industry.If you think i am cribbing.Yes you are right.I am.
And i wish i could use the punjabi abuses with free will here and there in my blog.
Neways as a result of our motivating managers, me and my "Nymphomaniac" friend Ahuja(name changed intentionaly from Anupam Bansal) planned to start the preparation for CAT.

Weekend Group study was planned. Ahuja was supposed to come to my place in the early morning.

Playstation, coffee maker, cosmopolitan, marlboro, kingfisher were given shelter inside the almirah.So that ahuja'a 360 degree rotating eyes don't catch their reflecting lights' wavelenghts and desturb our concentration.

At last ahuja with 7.3 kgs of books and dirty smile arrived.Study started.


Ahuja: Hard Disk me kuch masala hai kya?
Me: Na.Padhle saale.IT se bahar nikalna hai isbaar.
Ahuja: Fresh mind ke baad padhai jhakaas hoti hai.Tu clip start kar, mai probability kara dunga tujhe kasam se.mere manager ki kasam.
Me:Practicals are any time better than theory.What say?
Ahuja: *Blushes*
Me: BC. Not two of us.Lets hit the GB road.

I didn't wait for his reply.I knew the answer.Btw he shook his head like a Typical man.

Ahuja stared at clouds while sipping the coffee.I am dead sure he was doing rehearsals. We gathered information for the next business transaction.We were hooked to wikipedia for hours.We cramed each and every stats and figure(Posture in this case) possible. I hope you can guess the search strings fed to wiki.

Now we were confident.

True engineers we are. Just two hours of cramming can raise an engineer from the coffin.

We had enough Gyan for the battel ahead.Now it was time to gather the artillery.
Ahuja found out a secluded chemist shop.

Chemist : What?
Ahuja: Vo..
Chemis: Kya?
Ahuj:Uncle vo..
Chemi: Size?
Ahu:"It Varies"
Chem: Dotted? Flavour? Durable?
Ah: *Fuming* *exits*

Ahuja: "Saale Subway waale bhi itni option nahi poochte yar.I swear to dog, If i had body like hayden i would have punctured his ribs and eaten his intenstines.S-O-B."

We were not able to gather the safeguards.Then we thought this is the only battle where your opponents shields make you safe.

Atlast We stepped onto the Red light Area.the Scene was mesmerising.It was nothing less than the Ram's vanwaas return to Ayodhya.

The soil softened to contain our feet.The clouds melted to let the moonlight embrace our souls.The air was still to let us hear the heart beats.
Whole of the human race seemed busy in our reception. Celestial music filled our ears.It seemed like Indra Dev's Board meeting.

With Divine mood I dont know how my holy feet entered a jumbled building at the corner.I was standing at the last step of the stairs with Ahuja behind me.
Suddenly a Fat Dark lady appeared like a ogre in front of us.

"Kon Chhahiye" - that creature.
"nythng..Bas aap nahi chahiye" - Ahuja.

We selected the subjects and entered the chambers.

The girl with me was Vaishali.I could sense a sea of difference in her and mine vigour.
She was sitting compromisingly and quietly in front of me.Her eyes had already surrendered to me.

She tried to initiate some conversation, but may be my twitchy mind had already unsettled.
My thrill was mislaid by the setting there.Not that there was something stained.But i was able to relate it with the world where i had come from.

Her eyes were enough to break down my vigour.May be they were asking for some explanations from me.May be.it seemed these few minutes were enough for her eyes to convey her saga to me.

I stood at the window to run off from the mirror i just saw.There I saw a little girl reading a book and trying to form some shapes on the sand floor with her pristine fingure.

I could not resist myself to ask Vaishali about her.
"She is Sugandi,my daughter"- She said while seeing her with caution.

I want her to become a significant being one day.Wish she carries world full of knowledge with in her and bring change in this society for good.

I was befuddled to hear such a hope from her.
"May be your world wont allow this hope to nurture." - i said in a low voice.

"Yesterday, was her school admission interview.Her mother's profession is the only thing that kept her away from the world of light".

I was feeling naked for the first time in my life.

Its not her world that keeps Sugandi away from the life that she deserves.We, our world is keeping her away.

I don't find a reason why we carry the misconception about our noble career and our noble life.
Everyone in our world is selling himself with an eye to buy someone.

If licking of your fur for money is prostitution , soul licking for money is too. Most of us carry the plastic face of gratification inspite of loathe we carry against our jobs and lives.


If I can't love what i do and can't do what i love means i am letting any one to lick my soul with an ease.And i simply need a synthetic face to carry a smile. Atleast Vaishali doesnt need such a face.
I am selling my soul for money.Isn't it? I am a prostitute if not worse.

I wish our world sheds this face and lets Sugandhi answer Mother's Profession in the admission form as "Prostitute".

He Man - Master of the Universe

"You Vella Fella,why don't you rub this energy in sentence correction".

Ma again caught me reading those matrimonials this Sunday.

"Arre Yar, You ought to know whats on in the market; this will help me decide my masters major".

They say IIM/IIT/CA, age less than 30.Tall nd Handsome. etc etc

Yarr had hai; Saala Aadmi chhaiye ki Ghoda.As if REC waale to Khachar hote hai.
I dissolved into deep wondering how the Writers,journalists and painters manage to marry.Theek hai bhai Pechle janmon ke Paap hain ye sab.

The muse was purged by a big blow on my face.I opened my deep buddha like eyes to see fuming mother.This face seemed familiar; Actually by hearing IIT mumma was reminded of millions dinaars i had spent on FITJEE and crores of rubbles i got from her during 11th nd 12th class by luring of an IIT admission.

Sharma aunite has told ma that IITians bring gold bricks daily from office.
Anyways that dream ended with IIT results.There were lots of Gargs and lots of Vinays in the list.But Vinay Garg never glued in the list together.

"May be there is some printing error in the list, i guess" - i said while mounting the distance between me and my cheated Mother.

Her eyes were glued to scenes of hugs between parents and their "superkids".

Then she hugged me "Bachhe you fought well,Never Mind".I didn't have the courage to say yes.I knew,I was never in the fight.She knew it too.

I "somehow"(When i say somehow,i don't say it loosely) managed to get into an Engineering college.

Sharma Auntie again fed my ma's ears with IIM.But still she never buldozed me much for it.But still i knew she deeply wanted me to do something.Something that will take me out of the crowd.
GRE or CAT? kept me puzzled all the years,So she prayed that i meet the expectations of the Software job with this confused mind.


Coming back to this Sunday.

"I bet you if you read this stuff again i devoid you from all my credit cards you need for that GRE GMAT fuss." -Ma

" " - Me (it means nothing was said; just stupid faces i make)

Now this is the time these neighbours come to the scene.

That Sharma Auntie - " My sister-in-law's neice,and they have huge cellar business.Only daughter you know.Big business;2 cellar to naam kar denge."

Hell,They should also give condoms in dowry for their cellar.I thought a man is supposed to marry a girl.Ladki is no where in the description here.

"He is just a kid.Let him settle down in life." -Ma

"Ma i earn 30k a month.Can buy any beer in this world.Can hear costiliest headfones.I think main apne paron par khada ho gaya hoon."

"Yes its true you earn 30k.You spend 35k too and you still use my credit card"- Ma.

Every discussion ended with this statement.Sharma auntie disappeared too.I think she cared for her xyz's neice.yes, you are right xyz is sister in law here.

.......
Then while we were having the lunch.

"What kinda girl you want?" - Ma

"Lindsay Lohan"

"You look like mithun" -Ma

"Bas Chik Chik Pik Pik na kare yar.Kidhar ho?kahan ho? na kare completelty no.;
Am not answerable to anyone but me" -- i said it in Solid awaaz.

"Leave the girl; First mend your room.It Stinks.I think society people will file a litigation in high court for the trauma they go through when you are here on weekends".

"Screw the world.Junta ki Ma ki Ankh."

She was silent.

{All the people who have seen the scenes of my mother "Sir-khappaing" with me can easily make out the real meaning of her silence here.And only these people can really understand the drama and the careless attitude i always show around; baki foreign junta.i am sorry i can't dramatise it more}
-----
After Good nights and Sweet Dreams,I thought if marriage is not near,its not that too far.Some years down the line Sharma aunite will be in full blow and would glue her abc's daughter and their 1 kanal plot with me.

Eeh! the very thought scares shit out of me.yes it does.

Reason i don't know.May be i am not ready.But ready for what? May be. MAy be.Don't know.
Leave it.
Here it is.Leave it.

I have been leaving it for all my life.Escaping from responsibility.Escaping from being a man.

Being a boy is like being a Moon.Living a rented life.You glow because someone burns out.You can be loved but can't be admired.Yes,Admired.Like The Sun is.Who knows to create,to Sacrifice,to bear.Who is accountable to the lives it touches.Accountable to the world of hopes.Accountable to the universe.
Masturbating doesn't make a boy The man.Reposibility does.

I don't know how far my room and the brain will remain drainy or
how far i will be living my life loosely.
But i know the journey of a boy towards the man will start when i am accountable for what i am.

I know Ma I have not kept dozens of promises made to you.I know i havent made it to IITs or IIMs.And I am still a crowd.But i promise you a moment in your life when you will hug me for what i am and not for who i am.Then you don't have to look at parents huging their "superkids".And then you can smash that Sharma Auntie to smithereens.

AAmeen!
..

And coming back to my matrimonial adds.

My Addv. will look like :

Sex : Strictly Female by birth.
The Girl is what she wanted to become.
No Chik Chik No Pik Pik.
No Kidhar Ho , No Kahan ho.


And yes, I will be answerable to her. -Man's promise it is.

~Dry Day~

26 Jan Remindes me of the shots of DoorDarshan visuals.As Jan,Feb,March were no Cable TV months ,DD1 was the sole feast for the eyes.It was like coming back from an Europe onsite.It is the best metaphor a software engineer can think of.

Dard Darshan buldozed tons of "Mera Bharat Mahan" and "Nirodh" clips and they would feed you those clips till you mix some mosquito repelent in your milk glass.

"Mera Bharat Mahan" clips never turned my eyes(read Desh Dhrohi), forget the ears.Though Nirodh ads were thing of interest for me till 2nd Standard.Then i met my friend Rohan,most sincere teacher i ever got,who explained Life Process-1 in detail which i was supposed to study in 9th Standard.

My Neighbour Sharma said "Ye dawai hoti hai.. bade logon ke liye.."

His younger brother who seemed to have detailed answer to this question said " kash mai bhi ye dawai kha pata.. chalo theek hai.."

For years, 26th January parade was my Brunch partner.Though i never enjoyed those parades but it was better option than doing some Exercise 4.5 of mensuration.

Parade Processions changed,Artillery changed,chief guests changed,Ambassadors changed.Some things remained the same.The Flag.So as the President.Waving,Saluting and delivering cooked Speech.My Civics book said The President has exemplary powers.Can reject a Parliament bill.Can overrule a death sentence.Temporary God they Say.

The first citizen comes to scene on 26th and fills 28th newspapers.And.. Also..aa..
Either Civics book is crazy or this DD-1,i thought.Whats the President for? Guy hired for 26th i guess.
The same old brunch.The same old parade.The same old speech.The same old DD-1.The same old me.

One fine 26th January ,escaping the maths exercise 5.3 ,i manhandled the brunch plate and called on my friend DD.
Something was new in the air.Even the gobhi paranthas were tasty that day.

Avul Pakir Jainulabedin was the President of Republic of India.No pasts success.No bhashans.No bhajans.No nothing.
The man knew about a vision.A vision to transform.a vision to rebuilt.A vision to reinvent.me,we,India.
No need to mention here the kind of academic and professional excellence he owns.

He during his term rejected two Lok Sabha bills.Gave right to information act.Gave words on Open Source Softwares.Yes you heard it write.I am neither a wall street worker nor into project release phase of my project.The man shared his views about Open source softwares.And So on and So forth.Above all he fed the young eyes of india to hold faith.Belief to be an organ of a developed nation one day.

Becoming a world leader is never easy.At least you cannot be one by providing cheap labour and IT services to superior and lazy world.Now i recall the Nirodh Ads, i thank God that people had never took them too seriously.. (though i did. :|) And made ready the huge force of more than a billion people who are ready to hug the superior world and absorb their ownership of this planet.And so are our 1,329,349,388 + Hia zio + jho chio + chao moa + ... .
The manufacturing industry of China gave them an upper hand.The guys have guts to sell condoms with holes in it and toilet seats with bee hives inside it.They are good at finding the voids inside the world market and filling
those with the cheap solutions.yes literally cheap.Then these solutions create more voids to home more cheap soltuions.The Truth is this Vicious circle is unignorable.C for China .C for Cheap.
This Cheap fillers are feeding their Stock market with Silver spoon.No doubts.They are great opportunists.

But they forgot to flex their minds while learning those tao-ko-wandos.(is spelling right?; their children,games,food sound same :| ).

Here we come.Bang!! We found a void inside the worlds best void finders.An average Indian like me might feel sluggish to rub off the milk moustache or to change underwear on Weekends;forget the Tae-ko-wandos(is the spelling right?).But when it comes to nerves flexibility.Bulls Eye!! We can learn Hebrew in 10 days.Civil engineers feel home at Infosys.Bollywood copies one more H-Flick. All these show our flexibilty to adapt to absorb to accept.Others' culture.Others' technology.Others' thoughts.

These BPOS and IT Muzdoors can gift India herds of young people who can buy the UCBs and NIKEs.No doubt.
But to be a Super Power,each young eye has to imbibe a vision to buy the world;not the Nikes.
And this can only be possible by channelizing the energies of this exploding janta.A visionary can do that.
Why not it be the President Of India?

So add one more to the President's TO DO list and Update your Civics books.
APJ was right on the target.But there is the law of democracy to derail anything good if it gains momentum.So it did it.Why.What.How. You all know.No point in discussing this fabric.
Epitome is.We need a leader who channelises the treasure we are holding.Who gives us a reason to live.A Dream to follow.A Faith to Imbibe.

If the leader of Billion People is used to salute army,read plastic scripts and host foreign junta.Make Rakhi Sawant One.She will take care of it in a better way.

Hope we get there soon.

And yes ..Sharma's brother is yet to taste that medicine. :|

~gOd MuSt Be BoReD~

Statutory Disclaimer: This was written in my Diary on Last Sunday 6th Jan,So if you are bored of INdia-Australia match discussions,Stop here itself,its about it. And Pls don't send any mails with Bucknour,Ponting as Subject.M Done Wid it.


God must be bored i guess or is playing some TRP games.Dats why he is sprinkling masala these days on earth.
Some article says " Harbhajan is banned for 3 tests".Reason is Racial Remarks against an Aussie.Did i hear right?.... How can he snatch "Whiters' birth right?"..Man-o-Man..I lived my life it seems.A Brown Turbaned Guy throws Racial Remarks on white skin. Sardar Harbhajan Singh has paid tribute to thousands of Brown,Black, Yellow people who just can't do more than blinking the wet eye lids when a white chamdi mistreats them.

This incident has invented a new theory of Insecurity of Superiority to me.The Crown comes with a baggage of insecurity it says.A leaf in a world takes a turn, USA's eye lids unfurl.Be it NTP,Be it H1B's, Be it Al Qeada.She is the first to shiver.
What US is in nations , Australia is in cricket.PEERLESS.
They love Quotes as "20 in a row","25 in a row".They can rip their heads apart,jump like monkeys or mudsling a Poor Sardar to Win.Yes to Win.If they Can't on Ground.They know how to,Off the Ground.

Sydney's Pitch was nothing less than NATCH BALIYE's Dance Floor,With RAkhi Sawant and Kumble in the same Boat..
In Natch Baliye too Fairer Skin Won..Aehh!! Neways whats the price of Fair and HAndsome ..I need some massage here.. :|

Mails,Newspapers,Channels are soaked with this match discussions.Those stupid mails and discussions are what we all are doing for last 60 years.Advise.Counsel.Guide.Nothing More.

I have been a secret admirer of Australia.And yes i cheer for them in a India and Australia Match.What they did is absolutely wrong.It was.
Australia knows only one word Win.Hook or by Crook .Win is the word.Someone in Australian Media said them Wild Dogs.Wow wow Wooooooo!! The Winning Dogs are always better than losing humans,i suppose.

Now Everyone around me says how i get it is more important than what i get.Is that true.Loser thing it seems to me.
It is the same world which measure you in terms of the big car you got.The bigger Flat you own.That always loved my result card more than my knowledge.Result is what they love.crave for.Ponting played for Result.So whats the problem here?

Get some milk indians.Cry,fry or what ever.After you pintch the ICC. Make it sure to imbibe that killer instinct when you stand in Perth.

And if we find Pointing's catch appeal unacceptable,Escaping from the parking Slip guy,cutting the queue,getting credit for some other ghissu team mate's work is wrong too.


Get Candid !!! or CHeer for OZ's as i Do!!