Hey.. Goodbye Nanba!

'Nanba' is Tam for Friend. This song, from the Tamil version of the popular Maniratnam movie 'Yuva', is about the girl's "special friend".

Sleepless I have been,

Romancing you every night

Music has become oppressive

Books have become painful

Internet does not enthuse me any more

My feeble, almost broken heart,

Thinks of you and you alone

Day in and day out

It has been a short

Albeit vigorous relationship

Between us

Though it is sad to concede

You must have got weary of me by now

How about trying someone else, Mr. Flu?

Why I love you as I love you..

I was having a long argument with P (who loves having long arguments over everything on Earth), about why everyone should love Mumbai. Ok, that is a tall claim. Not everyone can love Mumbai because, like he says, it is too crowded and too expensive!

P says that I love Mumbai only because I have good memories from there, because I have had the right set of people there. I vehemently disagree.

P says that we have a Marina for a Marine Drive, we have a substitute in Chennai for everything we have there! Again, I vehemently disagree.

And, I decide to list down why I actually love Mumbai, beyond just hanging out with friends, walking along Marine Drive and shopping till I drop down dead.

Here we go, all over again, about Mumbai Meri Jaan.

• The crowd thronging VT station and Elphinston bridge, focusing only on the train, not caring about what you are doing and where you are going ‘cos it is just too busy running on its feet.
• The city that never sleeps, literally! The sheer independence and security that Mumbai gives its dwellers at 2 in the morning – I have no more words!
• The infectious spirit. In my Manager’s words, “I land at Mumbai airport and something gets in to my blood. The adrenaline rush is faster, the mind asks for challenges. I just want to keep going, on and on, unmindful of the road blocks and the speed breakers.” He stole the words from my heart totally!
• I take a rickety cab from Lower Parel to Matunga, the meter shows 3.5. The cab wallah is old, he is wearing a pair of really old looking, dull spectacles. He flips out a card slowly from the dashboard and we check how much 3.5 is. It says Rs. 48.50. I give him a Rs. 100 note, apologetically stating, “Bhaiiya, mere paas change nahi hai”. He says, “Koi baath nahi Beti”, takes out his wallet gives me 5 ten rupee notes and a one rupee coin. I take it and turn around to leave when he says, “Ek minute beti” and fishes out a 50 paise coin.

I rest my case.

Right Ho!

A colleague of mine, C (mentioned elsewhere in this blog, for asking crazy questions and to be mentioned many more times in coming weeks for ‘adding value’ big time to our otherwise existential life in officeJ) is a major Bertie Wooster fan, to the extent of considering him a role model. In his own words, “What would you have prayed for as a school kid? Good marks at the max? I used to pray for a large inheritance so that I can just sit back and enjoy the well nourished life, very like Bertie Wooster. And of course, it would not hurt to have a Jeeves by my side. What more can one want out of life?”

He is right. He is thinking about the larger picture when he talks about the well nourished, laid back life. Somehow, that is what many of us are striving for, to run around and earn so that we can have a peaceful old age, the Jeeves factor being more of an add-on than hygiene, of course.

I digress, as usual.

I too am a big P. G. Wodehouse fan. However, when discussing Bertie Wooster with C, I realize that I am actually a major Jeeves fan though I am not sure of the ‘role model’ part. In all of P. G. Wodehouse’s works, while I have laughed my head off over the antics of Bertie Wooster, Gussie Fink Nottle and others of the clan, it is Jeeves who has always attracted me the most. Precise and in control of every situation, quoting from things unheard of by the general public, thinking miles in advance and planning and manipulating situations, knowingly and unknowingly making himself indispensable, networked enough to know the darkest secrets and latest gossips – in one word, or rather two, Jeeves rocks! Thinking back, inadvertently, I have strived to be a Jeeves in real life, trying to be in control of situations, thinking and planning to pounce miles in advance, networking big time yada yada with little or no success. I strive nevertheless.

Jeeves is a character I can never tire of unlike many other novels and characters. For instance, when I read dear Agatha Christie’s murder mysteries back to back, I get bored of the murders and the thrills and the evergreen game of suspecting the most non – obvious suspect. Beyond a point, even enjoying the smart moves of the indomitable Poirot and the petite old Miss. Marple becomes a weary exercise. However, I can read on and on about anything that involves P. G. Wodehouse’s Jeeves and still crave for more. My nearest term goal is to stack up the Wodehouse collection in my small in – house library, stand back and give a satisfied smile.

And, yes, I have been very nostalgic about my books today, all that I have been reading since the age of seven, ‘cos I was poring over them and arranging them in my book case through out last evening. The touch, feel and smell of books! What an enriching way to spend an entire evening!

The Lov(n)ely Road

It was a never ending road, noiseless, devoid even of the occasional bark of the dog and the buzz of the bees.

It was a never ending road, pitch black and plunged in darkness, having escaped the clutches of the silvery moon light and the many twinkling stars.

It was a never ending road, bound by no fence or wall, slave to no tree’s roots and falling leaves.

It was a never ending road, uninhibited by the scorching heat and the freezing cold likewise.

It was a never ending road, with no way back to the start, with only one way ahead, and that, towards the never ending end.

It was a never ending road, out of the world, peaceful, lovely and lonely too!

ECR and me, with not much in between

If there is still something left that ties me to Chennai, other than school of course, it would be ECR (East Coast Road, Chennai). And, it has little to do with partying and the Fisherman’s cove or even just hanging out with friends, for that matter. ECR, to me, has always been a family thing.

The drive on ECR* with that totally beautiful, clear, deep blue sea on the left embraced lovingly by the light sky blue sky (!) with a couple of clouds adorning the spectacle, the wind gushing past hurriedly while still taking time off to my caress my hair, with a treasure trove of Rahman-Maniratnam combo songs going on loop in the car giving company while a brilliantly orangish red ball of fire sets now slowly, now rapidly, on the right! My, my! What a sight!

Being a sea person more than a hills person (not that I am adventurous when in / on / with either, only the ‘sitting back and enjoying’ thingy), the sea has always left me in a trance. Just that, finally, I am out of that fleeting stupor in which the coast revolved around Marine Drive and Goa! They are nice in their own way, but..

The Bay of Bengal is the most beautiful thing on earth!

I still vividly recollect those weekend trips to Prarthana theater, Muttukadu, Kovalam, Mahabalipuram, Pondicherry and Cuddalore! The destination only incidental, the journey on the ECR was always the subject matter of the trip!

It has been almost a decade since then, and I thought I had forgotten ECR, like how I seem to have forgotten the clean roads of Singapore and the biting cold of Kodaikanal (never gone anywhere colder than that yet L)! Yesterday, on a 90 km journey, ECR taught me how grossly wrong I have been all these years! And, no, I was not down memory lane on a nostalgic trip looking back at the fond memories! I was just enjoying ECR like we had never been away from each other for ten odd years, like how when you meet your best friend from school after many years, there is no ‘loss of words’ phenomenon, you just start talking with absolutely no disconnect in sight.

However, unlike other days, this time around, the destination was as much a subject matter as the journey, maybe even more important for a change. I finally, finally managed to go to my first live concert of the King of Music! It was an ARR night! And what a night it was!! Right from Khalbali (Rang De Basanti) to Dil Se Re (Dil Se) to Thamizha Thamizha (Roja) to Fiqrana (Blue), it was such a steal and such a steal with all my favorite songs (as if Rahman had heard my prayers J) that I just could not have asked for more!

The crowd went a little berserk, standing up, standing on chairs, standing on the poled fences, to catch a better glimpse of Him. I too went berserk, much to my Mom’s shock and amusement. Now my friends do I fully understand the total kick in going to a live show and jumping and cheering around with people more fanatic than me as opposed to sitting on my cosy couch in a suave living room and gobbling down shows with just chips and Fanta for company.

My long time dream is fulfilled now; I will go happy and all grinning to the grave!

P.S. Almost the whole of Tamil Nadu was at the venue yesterday. I was nowhere near the Mozart of Madras, the God of Music, to catch a full length, clear picture of him alone, forget taking a picture with him. And no, no autograph either. That is my next and only dream for this lifetime ;) But even otherwise, I will still go happy and grinning to my grave!

* I know it should be ‘the ECR’, but ECR in itself is a brand, a proper noun J

Letter Writing: A Case Study

Last post, we saw the different forms of communication prevalent in our forefathers’ times. Now, let us go back further in time to understand the predominant form of communication in the prehistoric era of the 20^th century.

Perhaps, that is how history would introduce the concept of a ‘Letter’ to its students five hundred years from now.

When was the last time any of us wrote or received a letter? Letter, as in, handwritten (however bad the handwriting may be) and delivered either through India Post or in person? Except for the occasional note attached to a gift, it has been ages since I received a nice handwritten personal letter. And of course, more than ages since I wrote one too.

I still remember the time I used to write to this pen friend of mine. It was during secondary school. She was technically not a pen pen friend if you know what I mean. A friend of mine had moved to a different city and we used to correspond through letters. E-mails were not popular options those days; we were still programming (read playing) with Logo on a now ancient black and white computer. Her friend in the new school somehow got introduced through mail to me and so we started corresponding too. I vividly recall the expectation with which I would await each letter of hers and the happiness with which I would write to her. Aah well, it died down due to some reasons. But, that is for another day!

One of the most memorable gifts I received for a birthday was a very smartly masqueraded, apparently alarming letter trying to profess love finally ending with a ‘Happy Birthday’. My reaction changed from speechless shock to undying laughter for the rest of the evening. Anyway, that is again a story for another day totally!

Many are the stories of the letter. These are some I remember off hand now. And I still have a file (hard bound) containing many of these letters, reminded of which, I think it is time to go through them today and relive old memories.

Today, we have only e-mail and chat history to go back to. But, what is scarier is we are very quickly migrating to Facebook and Twitter. The quick fix solution of updating statuses on Twitter* instead of sitting and writing a mail, even an electronic one at that, has become the trend of the day.

This post will be antique material in five years’ time. Already, ‘letters’ sound slightly dated.

Anyway, let me stop being so cribby about the whole thing and tell you about how we got around the problem of the ‘dying art of letter writing’.

Rashmi got married, very vividly recounted here. We, some very arbit almost 12 people (some did not participate to their full potential, so am not going to count them completely :D), started a thread to discuss operational issues like when we should reach the venue etc. Sometime down the line, the mail thread reached a count of 50 and we realized we had been mailing random stuff very similar to spamming on BR (our internal messaging system at IIMB). And, then, we thought we should take the thread to perhaps 1000 and print the same and give a hardbound copy to Rashmi to read and enjoy!?! We did not reach 1000. We ended at 263 odd. And, being an extremely environment friendly group, we translated the mails in to pdf, wrote it on a CD and gave it to Rashmi as a wedding gift. Last heard, Rashmi’s husband very patiently read through the entire set of mails and thanked us for the same. Some novel ways to keep the art of letter writing going!! What do you say? J

* – It would be extremely unceremonious on my part to not acknowledge that the minute this post is published, the link would be up as a status message on both Facebook and Twitter

Apple's Juice and Other Stories

Conversation on IM between Friend (F1) and Me (I)

F1: Hey where did you abscond suddenly? Connectivity issues?

I: No, I had to be away on something urgently for a bit

F1: Like what?

I: Like I needed a tissue urgently ‘cos something had dripped.

F1: Like what? Tea? Or something more honorable, like coffee?

(Targeted at my intense hatred for coffee which is considered the elixir of life by many of my friends)

I: Apple Juice

F1: Ohh! (suddenly sounding impressed and all that) How did you get it? Got it from home?

(I was in office during this conversation)

I: Hmm.. no.. well.. actually.. (Not really wanting to answer now but not having much of an option).. Juice from an apple while I was trying to bite in to it spilled out.

F1: !!!???!!! what the!!

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Mail from friend (S) on a group thread regarding another member (F2)*

So I was at Infinity Mall and suddenly what do I see - a F2-studiously-trying-to-avoid-me. What the heck - I think. Let me watch him closely to see what could be the reason behind this logic-defying-activity, then pounce on him when he least suspects it.

So I watch him like a hawk and before long detect the reason for the same. Ah - say I.

Now for moving in for the kill. So I choose my moment with care, and when he is looking his most relieved at having avoided the ordeal, I jump in front of him, and say – F2!!! He spends the next five minutes and fifty sentences saying how truly-deeply-madly surprised he is to see me there.

Then I ask him, innocently, as I am sure, I always do - Who are you with. This question clean-bowls him. He reals under the shock of it, then steadies himself and points vaguely towards Andromeda Galaxy, saying - with a colleague

I purse my lips, smile knowingly inside my head and save the discussion for another day.

* Had to be tweaked a bit so as to avoid hits on the head from party concerned but had to be included in the blog come what may, as promised :D. Though lacks context for most people reading this, am sure it would have been an independent laugh riot when you read statements like “watching him like a hawk” and “moving in for the kill”

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Telephone conversation between friend (B) and me (I)

B: Hey Kavity!

I: Hey ‘Butt’ahhh!! Am very excited about coming to B’lore!

B: Hey when are you coming?

I: This weekend

B: Thank God, man, Thank God!

I: Ohh! You in town? It’s been ages since we caught up!

B: No no, I meant ‘Thank God, am not in town’. Saves me from the pain of having to meet up with you otherwise!

I: ??!??!

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Conversation between two colleagues (C1 and C2) when they meet after a long time

C1: Hey C2! Both of us have gained weight!

C2: No, I have actually lost weight

C1: Oh! I thought you have gained weight!

C2: No. I checked it only last week. So, am pretty sure I have lost weight.

C1: You might have checked and all that. But, am very sure you have gained weight.

C2: Dude! Give me a break! Would I know better about my weight or you?

C1: No, but still..

.. and on it goes.

That was just a sample of a C1 ‘gem’! In fact, there are plans to release a book on ‘Chronicles of C1's Arbit Antics” J

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Why these four incidents are related:

1. Am arbit
2. They are really real with absolutely no exaggerations; meaning, it is a 'least efforts basis' post
3. They cover almost* all different forms of communication (OK, I sat and thought this up only after finishing the post, in order to make it sound less arbit :D)

* - I have my caveats in place; letter writing is a unique art form that deserves a post of its own!

What matters really?

What matters really?
Mulls a dear ally
Instantly I respond
Peace and absolute calm

Why oh why?
I introspect as I go by

Why does the action girl
want all the peace in the world?
Why does the fighter in me
wish to retreat so soon and let it all be?

Have I got worn down
with all the madness in “tinsel” town?
Or been caught unaware
by the terrible storm that blew me out of my lair?

Perhaps peace is that elusive object
I have desired and obtained this instant
Perhaps what really matters
varies across life’s chapters

Will there come a time when nothing really matters anymore?

(Inspired by an e mail thread between some friends including the introspective D and the philosophical J)

My Bangalore

It was half past five in the morning as I got down from the train. A whiff of realllllly cold air (by my standards) greeted me; after many, many months, I suddenly felt free from the heat, the humidity and the madness in general. It took hardly moments for the nostalgic and sentimental me to take over.

Memories of hurriedly rushing to the prepaid counter to get a rick (fondly referred to as an ‘auto’ in this part of the world) in time to get back to campus, unpack, shower and change JIT for the 8 a.m. class flooded my mind as I made my way very slowly to join the end of a serpentine queue.

On my very first day in campus, I asked a PGP05 what he liked most about IIMB. Pat came the reply: “The Campus”. I realized the weight of those words the moment my vehicle reached campus. I walked all the way to the main entrance, through those hallowed corridors where I had taken my very first GD/PI, peering through the doors in to the library where I had searched for solace during the storms, drowning in the greenery of the grounds where the ‘Con’s were ‘Vacate’d with an elaborate ceremony.

What with change being the only permanence and all that jazz, Chai Unchai has finally closed, Athicas has shifted. The shift has done it good I should say. It has expanded, relocated to a better place even, and has become more easily accessible in general. The chai has not changed even a wee bit though. After ‘putting chai’ and declining to ‘put sandwich’, staring further more at the corridors leading off to C Block and in between all this, snatching some time to shower and change which was the agenda of that 40 minute long drive, I came back to the mess to, as I would put it, ‘absorb the mess air and revel in its ambience’.

If not for two reminder calls and some messages, I might never have got up from the place as no one likes leaving home. For, that which is irresistible, comforting and inspiring all together, is home after all.

Note 1: My Bangalore, to me, is just IIMB, everything else being sundry and secondary. That is why I do not have a tag on Bangalore in my blog, unlike the ones on Chennai and Mumbai .

Note 2: I wanted to make my 50th post all gala and grandiose. Luckily, readers have been spared of all that arbit as I did not realize that this was my 50th post till I finished writing it.

Without which it could not be!

I heard of Sine qua non for the first time in my life during under graduation when my friend M was still reeling under the pressure of the Barrons’ of the world. We used to have fun trying to pronounce the word, it sounds so rhythmical and lyrical. I soon forgot the word, like how most others would have forgotten their legerdemains and skulduggerys and genuflects as part of the post GRE recuperation phase. However, for a few days now, this word has been haunting me, for no fault of its. It is because I have been subjected to hearing a word (which I later realized is a phrase) very similar to sine qua non.

‘unokina’ is a one of its kind phrase I have never before heard elsewhere. For the uninitiated, that is not the way it is written, that is the way it is pronounced. The ‘u’ and ‘no’ are pronounced as two distinct words while ‘kin’, contrary to popular assumptions, is not pronounced like the one in kith and kin. It is a “betailed” (very similar to beheaded) version of ‘kind’. I presume that the objective of the word is to portray the phrase, ‘you know kind of’.
It is used in all circumstances, whether it does or does not fit in. "unokina we should do it this way", "We should include this factor in the business plan unokina", "I will unokina give you a call to update you on the meeting" are some examples. And, no, I am not exaggerating, these are all real life instances!

unokina has suddenly become such a part and parcel of my life these days that every time I hear it, even if it fits in to the bill perfectly, I want to burst in to peals of laughter. But, long years of penance and practice help me refrain from doing so. After all, we have come across better and funnier gems than this in school and college. No?

Sample these:
Soluvision – meaning solution; don’t even try questioning me on why anyone would want to complicate such a simple word as that, I have no answer
Fold it properly – When you are holding a convex lens in your hand and someone says this to you, you would be slightly confused; it is actually expected to portray the phrase ‘Hold it properly’. It is a different story altogether that from the moment I got to know that a physiological defect causes such a condition in people, I have been gripped with guilt for having made fun of this

Variance analysis – That is straightforward or so you think. Not when ‘Variance’ is pronounced as ‘Ver’ ‘I’ ‘Aans’ in a typical British accent. I accept defeat here. My English is too 'desi' to understand the models (pronounced as ‘ma’ followed by ‘dhal’) and variances of this world

Am not complaining though. Pronouncing words in a way different from normal and reiterating meaninglessly conjoined phrases at an alarmingly high rate of frequency are just some instances that add fun to life, make us look back at our past with fond recollections, very similar to photographs and old school magazines. But, somehow, they help us relive the past much more vividly than by going through albums, slam books, testimonials and the likes.

In some way, they are sine qua non too, that without which life could not be!