‘I’ this… ‘I’ that…

This is something that I do not prefer to – talking about myself. Reasons: I don’t think anybody would want to know about me in the first place. Secondly, I find nothing to tell about myself.

I literally go mute when someone asks me, “Tell about yourself”. The campus interviews invariably started on this note. I have seen people who would wear a mile long smile on their faces when they hear these words. They would start from their grand parents, cover all their friends, family members, relatives, pets, neighbours, enemies, favourite movie stars, sportspersons, crushes, subjects and lecturers they hate the most, what they had for breakfast, why they scolded the beggar kid who followed them for half a mile and end with what they were doing just before they entered the interview hall. Now, that is what I would call eloquence. When the interviewer uttered those all-important-words, I mumbled some random thing for less than a minute. The interviewer flashed a dejected is-that-all-you-have-done-in-your-life look at me. Luckily, I underwent that horrible experience just once.

Now I am to do what I am bad at. Chitra tagged me!!! I can’t believe someone would think about tagging me. Me! Of all those in the blogosphere, me! This also makes me do another thing I am not good at – writing about specified topics. Writing about random things is different. But, when I get topics to write about, I remember the nightmarish experiences that I went through in exams, struggling to answer the questions. Never mind. Let me try this.

I am thinking about: Nothing. Actually, I try to avoid thinking as much as possible. Thinking is sooooo tiring. One of my great asset is to stay quiet with blank mind for hours (ofcourse awake).

I said: “Don’t throw stones at the dog. It looks crazy”. As always, my friend didn’t listen to me. We were chased by the crazy dog till an anonymous braveheart took pity on us and drove it away.

I want to: win a Olympic gold. Watched by the whole world, acknowledging the cheer from the stadium, going on a victory lap, singing along the National Anthem with teary eyes – that is some dream. As the olympic committee doesn’t consider AOE, I should invent a new sport to make my dream come true.

I wish: everybody a good day.

I regret: giving 10 rupees to that begger. He went straight to the TASMAC store. He wasn’t a teeny weeny bit bothered about me standing there traumatized.

I hear: well. The problem is only with my eyes. My auditory system is pretty fine.

I am: I. Hahahah... Inder.

I dance: with 20 right legs. Hail Dharam paaji. To all those who think that they are Hrithik Roshans and Prabhu Devas: “Kutte, kameene, chunn-chunn ke maroonga”.

I sing: and that would be the end of the world.

I cry: when I chop onions and chillies and when my friend makes me listen to every single thing that happened to him that day.

I am not: an alien. At least, I believe I am not.

I am with my hands: a legspinner who can turn the ball consistently by 3 dergees, one who can type at the rate of 15 characters per minute provided I am allowed to look at the keyboard.

I write: crap, more crap, lot more crap and only crap.

I confuse: everyone who talks to me.

I need: help. And that too from a specialist shrink. That is what my mom thinks.

I tag: whoever don't mind to be tagged.

I eagerly searched for this. As I couldn’t find it, I add it to the list.

I see: not the dead, but who will be dead one day. Kya dialogue maara... Hahahah :P

60th day of its kind

Along the pond near the bus stop, a mom was running behind her year old kid. The kid was amazingly swift for his/her age. I guess the kid keeps her on her toes all the time. That would explain the supreme fitness of the mom. Their dog was acting weird. He was busy barking and slapping at the pond water. May be, he was trying to fight his own reflection in the water.

We walked to the Indian Embassy. The embassy was pretty crowded. Around 150 people from all parts of India had assembled at there. They in a variety of Indian and western attires – Three piece suit, Business Formals, Business Casuals, Jeans and T-Shirt, Saree, Salwar Kameez, heavy winter-wear, Sherwaani, Kurta-Pazama. The weather was pleasant – damp and cloudy but no rain. The crowd was engaged in a chirpy murmur. Most of them were greeting familiar and unfamiliar people with wide smiles. An irritated kid was questioning his dad “What am I supposed to do?”. A bored lady was expressing her doubt to her friend “Am I wasting my time?”. Few kids were merrily running around crashing on the knees of those around them. I almost missed Mahendra Kapoor soulfully rendering his classic ‘Mere Desh Ki Dharti’ in the air. A couple of smartly dressed cops were watching the crowd with a lot of amazement.

Everybody assembled at the open space adjacent to the Embassy building. The Indian National Flag was hoisted. We sung ‘Jana Gana Mana’. There was a momentary competition on who would lead the gathering to chant ‘Barath Mata Ki Jay’ and ‘Vande Mataram’. The loudest won. The President of India’s address to the nation was read out. I got a hardcopy of it. I was surprised and proud to see the reference to the Thirukkural couplet – ‘Enniya enniyangu eithuvar, enniyar thinniyar agapperin’ (A person, who is wedded with the virtue of determination to accomplish a deed, would be able to execute the same and earn glory and fame) in Mr. Kalaam’s address to the nation.

At the end of his address, the President suggests a seven-point oath to the youth of India.

1. I realize I have to set a goal in my life. To achieve the goal, I will acquire the knowledge, I will work hard, and when the problem occurs, I have to defeat the problem and succeed.
2. As a youth of my nation, I will work and work with courage to achieve success in all my tasks and enjoy the success of others.
3. I shall always keep myself, my home, my surroundings, neighbourhood and environment clean and tidy.
4. I realize righteousness in the heart leads to beauty in the character, beauty in the character brings harmony in the home, harmony in the home leads to order in the nation and order in the nation leads to peace in the world.
5. I will lead an honest life free from all corruption and will set an example for others to adopt a righteous way of life.
6. I will light the lamp of knowledge in the nation and ensure that it remains lit forever.
7. I realize, whatever work I do if I do the best, I am contributing towards realizing the vision of developed India 2020.

They are the simple things that every citizen of the country should consider as his/her duty. Some of us may already be practicing them. But the effect would be visible only when every one of us follow them. Did I say that dreamer in Mr. Kalaam is one of those I respect the most? There is no reason why we shouldn’t do our parts to make his dreams to come true. Not for the sake of Mr. Kalaam, but for our own sake. Else, may very well end up like the dog that fights with its own reflection.

JAI HIND.

Kabhi Alvidha Na Kehna

I loved it. It is three and a half hours long. So what? Three and a half hours long intense, gripping, dark, funny, flashy, emotional, bittersweet, potentially trend setting movie. Why should I complain when I get extra good minutes at the normal ticket price?

The movie has six wonderfully etched characters.

Dev Saran (Shahrukh Khan)
Dev Saran is neither the chocolate hero (Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge and many more) nor the evil villain (Baazigar, Darr, Anjaam) Shahrukh has performed earlier. Dev is a normal human. Well, not exactly normal. He is an eternally frustrated person. He becomes scornful when his flourishing career is crushed by his leg injury. His wife, Rhea, takes over the responsibility of the breadwinner of the family and she does extremely well in that role. We all know what a demon ones ego can be. He finds a fellow frustrated soul in Maya and ends up having an affair with her. Rhea throws him out of her life and house.

Rhea (Priety Zinta)
She supports her family after Dev’s accident. She puts up with Dev’s annoying sense of humour. She finds her marriage at the verge of failure and tries her best to save it. She feels letdown when she knows about Dev’s affair with Maya. She decides to part from him and raise their son all by herself. But, at last, she helps Dev and Maya to join in life. She is the rare bold woman who would do all within her reach to save her marriage but wouldn’t forgive her husband for his mistake.

Maya (Rani Mukerji)
I know a few characters like Maya. They are too idealistic for practical life. They could never be happy with their lives. Maya is the darkest character in the movie. She falls for Dev in spite of being aware that her husband, Rishi, adores her and Dev is self-destructive.

Rishi Talwar (Abhishek Bachchan)
He is undoubtedly the best character of the movie. He is the ideal husband any girl would dream about. Still he finds himself rejected by Maya. But, he accepts it graciously and moves forward in his life.

‘Sexy’ Sam (Amitabh Bachchan)
The flamboyant dad of Rishi. Amitabh gets a variety of roles to play nowadays and boy, HE ROCKS. His devil-may-care attitude fails to take him through his dear son’s crisis. When succumbs when he sees his son suffering for no fault of him.

Kamaljit Saran (Kiron Kher)
Dev’s mom. She accepts that her daughter-in-law did the right thing by splitting from her son.

Karan Johar is at his sensitive best. This is a story about four protagonists who are basically good at heart. They find themselves in what they fell as wrong marriages. They split and go for what they think as perfect match for them. Brilliant performance by his whole crew. Music is wonderful. ‘Mitwa’ and the theme song ‘Kabhi Alvidha Na Kehna’ are awesome.

I think that the solution suggested by Karan is the best when it comes to failure of marriages. The key is – ‘Go for what you want. If you try to sacrifice for the sake of others you would end up in spoiling everyone’s life’.

Should Rishi and Rhea have forgiven their spouses?
No. Dev and Maya do not want to live with their respective spouses wholeheartedly. They try to do it because they feel guilty of leaving them.

Should Rishi have gone back to Maya?
No. Rishi understands that Maya would never be his. He leaves Maya on her own. And he goes on to find someone for himself.

Would Dev and Maya live happily ever after?
I doubt. Dev is too egotistic. Maya is too idealistic. They may find that they can never be happy no matter who they are with.

What about Rhea?
She has just started enjoying being the mom to her son. She may one day decide to marry someone.

KANK runs full house in The Hague. I had to sit in the fourth row to watch it. My neck still hurts. It is different experience to watch an Indian movie with the crowd that does not shout/clap/whistle but laughs heartily at jokes and gasps noisily at sweet moments and groans noisily at bitter moments of the movie. The crowd let a collective gasp when Kajol appeared in a song. John Abraham received a louder gasp when he appeared in another song.

In short, I think that KANK is a wonderful movie.

Amoeba the Almighty

It was love at first sight. The moment my biology master displayed the chart of Amoeba to the class, I saw cupid appearing from behind the chart and fire a few arrows at me. I never understood why we had biology sessions right after lunch. We all used to support our faces with our hands and look at the biology master through half open eyes. And the master used to call our names when he saw our eyes fully closed. Some of my classmates boasted that they could sleep with their eyes fully open. Damn, I never managed to learn that art.

My eyes opened wide looking at the picture of Amoeba. The master went on to describe its features. The first thing that struck me was its simplicity. It is unicellular. Can anyone be simpler than being unicellular? I fell in love head over heels with that miraculous organism.

Biology practical classes were nightmarish to me. We had to draw various plants and animals in our record note. My master and I had totally different views on what I drew in my record note. When I drew garden lizard, he said that he didn’t remember asking the class to draw dinosaur. He said that my hydra looked more like a banana tree. But, when I showed him my amoeba, he could say nothing against it. For the first time, he agreed that I had drawn what I was supposed to. Yippee. My love towards Amoeba grew manifold.

Amoeba doesn’t have any particular shape and they can take any form. Now, isn’t that cool? If they have no definite shape, there cannot be Amoebae with potbelly or large–nose or skinny leg or bulging biceps. In other words, the same Amoeba can have potbelly or large–nose or skinny leg or bulging biceps, if it wishes so. Amoeba is neither pretty nor ugly. Or, it can become pretty or ugly, as it wishes. Wow!

Amoeba is not a villain figure like bacteria or virus. In fact, Amoeba eats bacteria. Isn’t the one who kills villains considered a hero? Amoeba is certainly heroic.

Amoeba multiplies by binary fission. So, there is no concept of parenthood in the world of Amoebae. An Amoeba splits to produce a brother/sister Amoeba. So, all Amoebae are brothers or sisters. Aren’t these dudes amazing? Also, the first ever Amoeba should be still alive. Or, the first ever Amoeba is still in every existing Amoeba. Wow! I love Amoebae.

Rakhi hai!!!

Raksha Bandhan is not as popular in South India as it is in the North. I don’t know why. May be, the south Indian men didn’t like being reminded by their sisters about their duties. May be, they were not too pleased about the idea of buying gifts for their sisters every year. Or, may be, the south Indian women thought that they don’t need their brothers to protect them. I really don’t know.

I too have a Rakhi sister. Only one. When she tied me Rakhi for the first time, I was like, “Wow. At least somebody thinks that I am worthy enough to be considered her brother. I have accomplished my duty in this world and I am blessed”. My mom was like, “Oh my God. Have I given birth to a skirt chaser?” I guess it is natural for any mom to doubt her son’s dignity if his classmate drops in one fine day to tie him Rakhi. My mom has got her own set of rules. She wouldn’t even allow me to refer girls younger than me as ‘Aval’ (Tamil word for ‘she’ with less respect. Elders are allowed to refer younger girls as ‘Aval’). If I say, “Come on, mom. She is my classmate and she is younger than me”, she would coolly reply, “There are certain etiquette to be followed while talking to or about women, Indu. Never use words like ‘Aval’ or ‘Adhu’ (it) while referring to a girl, even if she is younger than you are. Refer her by her name”. I can understand the ban on the word ‘Adhu’. But, why not use ‘Aval’? I never understand my mom’s etiquettes.

My Rakhi sister has a normal name with abnormal spelling. Well, it is common in Pondicherry. If you were not alert, the French literate registrars would record your newly born child’s name with bizarre spelling. Take for example, the name Gangadharan. It is spelt Keingadarane in Pondicherry. Lord Shiva would be terrorized if he comes to know about this mess made to one of his names. He may even contemplate about releasing Ganga from his head.

My Rakhi sister is the coolest. We went through campus selection program during our last year in college. For this particular company, we got through the preliminary test on aptitude. Being one of the top scorers in the preliminary test, she faced the technical and HR interview earlier than the rest of us. She then got bored of the slow proceedings and went home. The rest of us faced the interview and the results were announced late in the night. She was selected. We woke her up from deep sleep. Too much of adrenaline due to anxiety kept us awake and she was sleeping peacefully. She came back to the college sleepy eyed to sign her offer letter. We both joined that company and are still with that company.

Much later I found out that she is the cousin of one of my schoolmate. A small world this indeed is. She was among the tallest in our class. She stands a good inch taller than me. The shorter guys of our class found her height a bit intimidating. Her parents found her a really tall guy to marry. She has got a wonderful sense of humor. She is always with loads of stories to tell.

Needless to say, I am proud of my Rakhi sister. My Rakhi sister rocks!

Not just another day

“It was just another day” I would always tell myself. Just because I was born on that particular date, doesn’t make it special. Indian government is not going to declare it a holiday. Archies is not going to print and circulate greeting cards in the market for that day. Half the population is not going to go crazy on that day like they do on Valentine’s Day. And the rest of the population is not going to cry foul saying that celebrating that day squashes Indian culture. It was just another day.

Parents called me and wished me happy birthday. I said, “Ha ha… It is just another day”.

Little brother messaged me happy birthday. I replied, “Ha ha… It is just another day”.

My flat mates didn’t wish me happy birthday. Well, they didn’t know that it was my birthday. I cannot run around shouting that it is my birthday. I told myself, “It is just another day”.

My colleagues didn’t wish me happy birthday. Well, they didn’t know that it was my birthday. I cannot run around shouting that it is my birthday. I told myself, “It is just another day”.

My inbox had only the usual official mails. There was no mail with the subject ‘Happy Birthday’. My friends hadn’t wished me happy birthday. Hmmm… Aren’t they supposed to greet me on my birthday? I told myself, “Even then, it is just another day”.

The day passed. Why did it pass slower than the other days? I screamed at myself, “IT IS JUST ANOTHER FREAKING DAY”.

Why did I refresh my inbox more often than usual? Why did I have that empty feeling when I found that there were no mails from friends? Why did I repeatedly check if my mobile was charged and received signals? I asked myself, “Is it not just another day?”

Somebody in the Gmail group triggered a contentious topic. We all took sides and ferociously defended our sides. I was very much in the debate. Most importantly, I was almost singled out to defend my side and I was WINNING. I built an impenetrable castle around my side of debate and successfully shattered every one else’s defense. It was like I was standing right amongst my friends and yet those idiots didn’t remember that it was my birthday. What the hell. Isn’t it your duty to remember your friends’ birthdays? I told myself, “It doesn’t seem to be just another day”.

I felt like slightly modifying the ‘Mere khwabon ka’ song from Jism and sing as:
Mere pahachaan ka anek shakhs
Isi duniya mein hai.
Main bhi zinda hoon
Zara unko batha dein koii

It was almost the end of the day. A friend at US sent a mail saying “Happy Birthday, Indu”. Aah… Finally.

Then the mails flowed. Some blamed their own poor memory. Some said they had remembered about my birthday a few days ago but somehow forgot it on the all-important day. Some even complained that I should have reminded them of my birthday. Come on, buddy. I don’t run around singing “Happy birthday to me”. Whatever, It certainly was not just another day.

Real men don’t...

Bavaria campaigned for its beer based on the concept ‘real men’. It said that the real men, apart from doing and not doing certain things, drank Bavaria beer. Bavaria’s promotional clip was quite good.

During promotional campaigns, the promoters target the cinema hall goers. We too got few gifts at Pathe. A flat mate got an Axe click (the Ben Affleckwala mechanical counter). We got a couple of packs of Ice Age 2 playing cards. And, for this particular Bavaria campaign, we got some T-shirts with cool captions. The captions are:

Real men don’t wear tie
I wear tie for my monthly application status meetings. It is fine on cooler days. But, wearing tie is a pain in summer. My flat mates wear tie to office everyday. Poor guys.

Real men don’t shave
I guess Abhishek Bachchan religiously follows this motto. Haha… Shaving is something I hate the most. I hate it because I am scared of it. I end up cutting my face while shaving.

Real men don’t dance
I too think so. Hail Dharam paaji and Sunny paaji. I believe that legs are meant to be used to run away from mad street dogs, to open doors when your hands are full with grocery bags and to kick hmmm… football. But, dancing… Ewww.

Main sportsman banna chahta hoon !!!

Confession time. I am no athlete anymore. I have long ago evolved into the state where I prefer watching my favourite sports on TV to playing them in person. I am no gymnast. It has been years since I touched the floor without bending my knees. Stamina has gone extinct in me. If I run, by the beginning of third minute I could feel that my heartbeat makes a deafening noise and I start suspecting that froth would come out of my mouth and my heart would slip out via my mouth. I love my cola, chips and ice creams.

Even at schools and colleges, I was not much into sports. I used to play cricket. Predominantly tennis ball cricket. I realized that three stumps made too large a target to cover with the thin cricket bat. So I decided to make use of my discovery - to become a bowler and evade the thin defense to hit the large target. Then I found that I couldn’t generate much pace with the ball. I called myself a spinner. I decided to become a leg spinner when I found that bowling off-spin is quite painful for fingers. When I bowled my leg-spinners, the batsmen were sometimes surprised when the ball actually spun. They were surprised like hell when the ball spun like an off-break on a few occasions. Well, I too was equally surprised. I then started calling myself a leg-spinner with a lot of varieties. If you ask my friends, they would tell you that I was a bloody chucker. Please ignore them.

I hated fielding. Well, I was no Jonty Rhodes. I have this strong suspicion that I have invisible holes in my hands. Somehow I kept dropping the catches that came my way. My captain even started placing another fielder right next to me. The batsmen would look at me with a lot of hope and my team would look at me with distrust when the ball was hit in my direction. My team used to go on wild celebration on the few occasions when I somehow managed to hold on to the catches.

I played tennis for a brief period. I used to lose to everybody in the club. I never showed partiality in that matter. Be it a kid half my height and a third of my age or be it a senior citizen who was seriously thinking about getting a wheel chair for himself. I made them all winners.

Recently I got back to sports. Well, I should keep the alarming increase in my weight under control, shouldn’t I? In this process, I tried out some sports for the first time in my life.

I don’t trust the skating board. I am not ready to break my bones or scratch my skin. I said to myself that I am into losing some weight and skating would not serve that purpose. I am not into adventures.

Then there is volleyball. I think I need to practice a bit to get my fingering correct to get the overhand pass without slapping the ball and making a hell lot of noise in that process. Also the underarm pass is a bit painful.

I think football would serve my purpose just perfect. I get to run miles and kick the hell out of that damned ball. It is fun along with good workout. I found that my left leg isn’t very keen to obey my commands. Ha ha. I will teach my left leg a lesson or two. I should practice kicking with my left foot.

I love badminton. I think I have a flair for this sport. I see that a lot of others couldn’t play backhanded. Yippee! I can pretty well play backhand shots. May be it is because of my tennis experience. My flatmate said that he once dislocated his arm while playing badminton. What the hell. Badminton should be played like badminton, buddy. Not like boxing. Did I say I love badminton?