Situation Going South Down South

How did it ever come to this? How? This is the perennial question in the minds of every Bangalorean and Chennaite. Have we stooped to such levels that the two states engaged in the Indian version of the ‘Destruction Derby’ to see who can cause more damage?

The answer is a sad yes. The two states which not a year ago showcased humanity and cooperation beyond levels during the Chennai floods are now engaged in a hate war so poisonous that I now wonder is this really what we all are underneath.

This is not a post to go into the details of which state should receive more water rightfully and whether the Supreme Court decision is right or wrong. I am not the judge of that nor will I ever be.

What I wanted to do was to highlight a few thoughts in my head which I felt I should share with you all

Stop the hatred towards languages

Both states were built solidly on a foundation of respect and tolerance towards people from different walks of life. Everyone was accepted warmly and given maximum support to live your life. The Cauvery issue, a feud which has meandered on for decades, is one that suddenly shatters this way of life and instills hatred among the people from both states.

Each state has their point of view and neither can be discounted. Like an argument between two friends, both will stand their ground claiming they are right. This is precisely that. The two friends in question are the respective governments. While it is important for citizens to have a view and be concerned about how the verdict will affect their daily lives, it is totally unacceptable for people to spread hatred and take matters into their own hands.

The Kaveri problem is your problem too. You cannot go "why are "these" people fighting" and sit around as if it doesn't affect you. It does.

— vadakkus (@vadakkus) September 12, 2016

I request you to view the thread posted by the above twitter user. He sums up it brilliantly.

One need only look at the Facebook and Instagram accounts for numerous Karnataka and Tamil Nadu based troll accounts to know the message of hate and animosity that was being propagated.

There were numerous incidents of Kannadigas in TN and vice versa being targeted for merely talking the language they know. Some of these people are just honest people looking to go about their daily lives without disrupting anyone and they were mercilessly targeted for something the governments failed to do. Just what good does this do. Will beating up a Tamilian or a Kannadiga suddenly ensure that the verdict becomes favourable for both sides? Mind you, these are the same people who flocked to theatres when a Kannadiga turned Tamil super star released his move in July. These are the same people who were proud of the fact that a Kannada actor featured in a Tamil movie. That is what this relation is about. Respect and not hatred.

While these fringe elements engaged in the very act of ruining lives, there were numerous videos online which showed how the people from each state ensured that their friends from Karnataka or Tamil Nadu were safe and showed just how much respect existed between the two entities.

What was worse is when news channels attempted to reach out to the people in Bangalore to warn them about the dangers in different areas, all the people could think about was which language the reporter was reporting in.

Take a look at this live video posted by a reporter from Asianet Newsable (https://www.facebook.com/AsianetNewsable/videos/1200910476645555/)

To all those who asked the reporter to speak in Kannada, imagine if this was a reporter in Chennai and your friends/relatives are stuck there and she only speaks in Tamil, won’t you be restless because you don’t understand what she is saying? Won’t anxiety take over and wish that she spoke in a language you know? That’s precisely what she was doing. All they needed to do was be supportive or shut up. Some even had the cheek to write colourful comments such as ‘Cute Girl’, ‘Love you’ in the comments below.

Language isn’t the issue here.If that be the case then we would cease to be a country and the very fabric of diversity that holds this nation together would disappear.

You are neither Batman nor the Avengers to take matters into your own hands

The video of the 22-year old engineering student being beaten up by fringe elements in Bangalore was spread, quite frankly in an irresponsible manner, across the country. What people saw was the act and not the context behind it. Yes, you cannot physically assault a person because of what they wrote on social media. By that logic, half the comedians in the country would be the recipients of a Bruce Lee style beating and their videos posted on online portals.

There is a legal system in place in this country for precisely this reason. Fraught with corruption and loopholes it may be, but it is still a system to be adhered to. The fear of the legal system is the only reason why anarchy doesn’t rule the roost. The boy who posted the inappropriate comments on social media could have been reported to the police. It is upto them on how they punish him. Instead a bunch of goons go all Batman on him and administer a beating which sickened me personally. 8 grown men beating a boy and a video made of the same. And yet when a famous RJ in Bangalore tried pointing out that violence was never the solution, all he got was hostility in return. With people questioning his loyalty to the city to downright abuse, very few saw the larger point he was trying to make.

Can you imagine what the parents of the boy would have gone through? The same goes for the man in Tamil Nadu who was beaten. For all they know, he could have been the sole breadwinner. He might have a family that depends on his work.

The vandalizing of Woodlands hotel in Chennai, the stoning of trucks in Bangalore, the destruction of cars, bikes and not to mention 40 buses. Mind you, the owner of the buses lost assets running into crores. How is this going to solve the situation? Starting a fire to warm yourself in the cold is logical and solves a genuine problem. Destroying public property in the aim that this would reverse the decision is foolhardy and downright stupid. The people involved in this were a mix of anti-social elements, who are in hibernation for a better part of the year, and then resurface in the first sign of unrest, students, and professionals. Is this what both cities are made of? Two of India’s finest cities brimming with innovation, talent and the epicenter of education and knowledge in India reduced to a bunch of squabbling entities hell bent on destroying lives.

Farmers from both states, the ones who are directly impacted by this verdict have been shunted aside, and instead more attention in the media and other channels is given to the activities of these anti-social elements. Police men in Bangalore and Chennai had the added burden of safeguarding Tamilians and Kannadigas whilst maintaining order during the St. Mary’s feast and Bakrid festivities. If these so called crusaders of justice really had the best interests of the state at heart, they would not want to cause inconvenience to its people. Instead their only aim is to disrupt the peace in both states for gains that are more oriented towards ensuring politicians keep their vote base over the welfare of people.

Yes, there are problems no doubt. Yes it is a cause for protest. But not at the cost of causing fear amongst the public. Not at the cost of damaging public property. And certainly not at the cost of law and order in the state.

“Nothing gives one person so much advantage over another as to always remain cool and unruffled under all circumstances” – Thomas Jefferson. It is upto us to decide which person retains their cool and who doesn’t. Mind you, people depend on it!

 

 

Punned and Jabbed in Ludhiana – Part 3

So we arrive at the finale to this wonderful journey after my journey to Ludhiana and the Ring Ceremony afterwards.

Act 3: The Wedding

The morning of the wedding was arguably a lazy one. The frivolities of the previous evening had taken a toll and the weather did not help matters. It was breakfast hour at the hotel where we were staying and missing it would mean stepping out of the hotel and commencing the hunt for chow.

The hotel restaurant was just outside our room and judging by the empty look of the place at 10 am, either we were the last to arrive for breakfast or the first to do so. Past experience told us that it was the former.

The food was again of the highest quality as I feasted on some of the best Poori Chhole I have ever had. After a filling breakfast we returned to the noble act of lazing till around 1 pm when the bride called us for a chat. We hadn’t had a chance to talk to her since our action packed 1st day.

Life is full of surprises and we were privy to one the moment we went to meet the bride.

 

Bride: Good that you are ready. Go have breakfast. It’s set up in the hall here.

Me: Breakfast? At 1 pm?

Bangalore Friend: Breakfast? We already had breakfast

Bride: WHAAAT! Breakfast is starting now. Where did you guys eat? Outside?

Bangalore Friend: No. Inside the hotel only. At the restaurant.

Only when the bride reacted that way we realised that we had feasted on a breakfast not intended for us at all.

Bride: I don’t know what you guys did. But you go have breakfast now.

 

We graciously turned down the offer. That’s what gentlemen do. Plus, lunch was surely around the corner and there was no way we would fill ourselves with more sandwiches and Poori Chhole when the alternative was Naan and Paneer.

Post 3 hours of a lot of catching up, it was lunchtime in Ludhiana. We successfully located the right lunch hall and it was again empty. This time we were sure that we weren’t the last ones. This notion came to us after years of practice and reading the environment.

Plus the subtle hint given by the buffet-in-charge who bellowed ‘Lunch buffet is now open’

We were told that we would have to be at the wedding hall by 7 pm and a cab would be there to drive us there. (Screw you Google Maps)

A heavy breakfast followed by an even heavier breakfast inevitably leads to a well deserved nap.

Eventually, Zero Hour arrived. Now I had a dilemma on what I would wear for the wedding. I had bought a kurta for this occasion and the aptly named Nehru jacket along with it. I had totally not anticipated the harshness of the weather. Turns out that the Nehru jacket lived up to the reputation of the person it was named after, by looking good on the outside but serving no practical purpose in that situation.

My Bangalore friend was well prepared. Blazer, sweater and jeans. By the time he was ready, he was more likely to pass for a student in Dehradun and Ooty boarding schools. My Hyderabad friend was one step ahead than the both of us. He had armed himself with sporting thermals on the inside and he wore his kurta like a boss. So in decreasing order of how screwed we were to be in terms of coping with the weather,

Me (LOLZ…Tu gaya re) > Bangalore Friend (Hmmm….Just Pass) > Hyderabad Friend (Jahanpanah..Tussi great ho!!)

Air Force dude had managed to get himself a free pass from his base to attend the wedding and he said he would meet us there.

Our cab arrived and we were driven a good 10-12 kms away from our hotel. So walking to the venue was clearly not an option like before:-P

As we approached the venue, I noticed plenty of lights in the sky. I mean literally Bat Signal-esque. At first, the comedian (or traces of it) in me speculated that they could be landing guidance lights for my Air Force friend, who maybe to impress the chicitas, land up at the venue in a Mig 21 or a helicopter. You never know. This is India.

Turns out that the lights were indeed part of the wedding spectacle and we arrived at the venue. What I saw really caught me out of breath. It was a wedding setting like no other. Agreed, the entrance looked a lot like what I would see in an Indiana Jones movie or from the Mummy franchise.

             A Dramatic Entrance quite literally

There was a stage for the couple to sit, a havan and also a dance floor (duh! Punjab bro). What captivated me more was the building behind all this which served as the dinner area.

Imagine if I told you this place could be a dinner area than a national monument

This was exactly what it was.

 

 

The temperature there was easily below 10 deg celsius. So we had to use some James Bond level skills to find a table in the vicinity of portable room heaters which were spread across the verandah. With the dexterity of a person who reserves a seat on a town bus with the time-tested handkerchief mechanism, we found ourselves a table next to a heater.

The food needless to say was lavish. The non-veg eating contingent in my group was a tad disappointed as there were to be no non-veg dishes on the menu on the wedding day. When I say tad, I really mean,

Soon it was time for the baraat. So this is the part where the groom arrives to the wedding and is usually accompanied by a lot lot lot lot lot and a whole lot more of dancing. The groom, post his dancing, joined the bride on the stage and a photo shoot was on the cards, something on the lines of reception ceremonies down here in the south.

In the midst of all these events, we even managed to ask too many questions to an extremely irritated drone cameraman who looked like he was on the verge of flying that drone right into our faces the next time we asked too many questions.

Food done. Baraat done. Dancing time. It was an outdoor version of the Ring Ceremony dance night. Only this time, I found out the DJ’s name. <drum roll> His name was DJ Nite Rockers. I leave it at that.

There was more note throwing and collection of the same. There were more of the cryptic Punjabi songs I heard the previous day. This went on till about 12 am after which I began to wonder when exactly does the wedding take place because so far whatever I witnessed was one humongous party. So when exactly does the 7 rounds around the fire and related activities take place?

So my Hyderabad friend who is originally from Bhopal explained that weddings typically take place around 3 am to 4 am. Needless to say that was a surprise. What was more concerning was the weather. The temperature dropped from bat shit cold to holy crap a snowstorm levels in no time.

Finally at around 3 am is when the business end of the wedding took place. Needless to say it was very very cold and there were roughly 30 people around the bride and groom all wrapped up in thick blankets and room heaters running on full blast. 2 days of non stop celebrations finally led to this!

If you ever do get a chance to attend a Punjabi wedding, take it with both hands. It is truly an experience!

 

 

Punned and Jabbed in Ludhiana – Part 2

To know just how we got here, here you go

Act 2: The Ring Ceremony

We were to be accommodated in a hotel called the Grand Marion in Ludhiana. A few things were going through my mind as we entered Ludhiana.

1. Jokes about Honey Singh do not fly here in Punjab. This region along with Haryana was his target group and I was doubly sure that any humour on the Yo Yo man would ensure that I would be dangled on a string and used as a yo yo myself by these heftily built Punjabis.
2. Wondering why nearly 2 out of every 3 cars in Punjab was white in colour. I know these guys love their dairy products, but this was taking that love to a whole new level.

We located the hotel and saw that it was on the other side of a 4 lane road separated by a divider. My friend and I were ready to move our luggage from the vehicle and walk across. My Hyderabad friend decided against it and asked the driver to make the long journey of 0.0000002 km till the hotel entrance. Reason? He wanted to make a grand entry. (rolling of the eyes moment)

Our Michael Schumacher cab driver promptly disposed of us at the entrance and moved on to terrorise the roads of Ludhiana.

We had time for a quick shower and a change of clothes before we were told to make our way to another hotel for the ring ceremony.

A quick check on Google Maps informed us that the hotel was around 1 km away. Our attempts to get a cab through Uber or Ola yielded us nothing. Autos were nowhere to be found. So we decided that now would be the best time for a nice evening walk. So Google Maps indicated that we were to walk straight to the end of the road till a junction where we would have to turn right and the hotel would be there.

Being devout followers of Google-nama, we duly complied. After we took the right turn, we realised something was terribly wrong.  We expected to find a brightly lit 5 star hotel complete with a traditional Punjabi band playing at the entrance. What we instead found was something on the lines of the below image

This is what we found at the location Google pointed us to

So after much confusion and cursing of Google Maps which included the solemn ‘I will never trust Google Maps again’ oath (similar to the ‘I will never drink again’ promise on the morning of a hangover), we found that the hotel was in the exact opposite direction.

After another marathon walk, we finally reached the hotel. We were a good half hour late for the ceremony, but in India, we know that ‘Be there at 8 pm sharp’ is a direct translation to ‘You are mad as a hatter if you think this event will start at 8 pm’

Turns out that the ceremony was due to start in another 20 minutes by which time we had done a reconnaissance of the area.

Tasty Food. Check

Double Check. Standard Punjabi Wedding rules apply

Extremely well dressed and beautiful Punjabi members of the opposite sex. Triple Check

We caught up with a few of our other batchmates who had also arrived then which included a guy who was posted at the nearby Indian Air Force base at Halwara. Let’s call him Air Force Dude for simplicity.

The sheer scale of the whole event made me realise that the wedding would be a dinosaur of an occasion. In other words,

Ring Ceremony. Prakash Jha movie budget

Wedding. Karan Johan movie budget.

The whole act of the ring ceremony was preceded by a rendition of ‘Tum hi Ho’ from Aashiqui 2 to invite the groom and bride onto the stage. After numerous photos and selfies, it was time for the 1st corner stone of the typical Punjabi wedding. Dancing.

Yes, the DJ got the whole crowd going just with his sound tests where he sampled some fancy beats. By which time, the crowd had begun their preparations for the soon-to-come dancing marathon.

Warm Up Exercises before the dancing

In a matter of 15-20 minutes, the dance floor was full of people. I must admit that I did not have the slightest clue about the songs that were being played. Nearly all had the same funky beat and I could swear the lyrics nearly sounded the same.

Oh just to give you a feel on what one of the songs was, click here and read the English translation below.

I did manage to shake a leg too with my batchmates when suddenly a guy comes to the center of the dance floor and does this.

Fresh Rs 10 notes were lying strewn about our feet. Staying true to the fact that trampling on money is considered disrespectful, I bent down to pick a note near my foot and put it onto a nearby table. Just when I was about to pick the note up is when I was interrupted by a shrill voice ‘Oyeeeeeeeee ji! Usko wahi chod dijiye’ (Oyeeeeeee ji! Leave it there)

Then Air Force Dude and my Hyderabad friend explained that the note throwing activity was considered as a good luck charm. Really? Damn they should really think about throwing Rs 500 notes that way.

After a round of dancing, I decided to take a breather. I plonked myself on to the nearest chair and was sipping on some water when a Punjabi man who was sitting nearby asked if I was from the groom or bride’s side to which I replied in Hindi that I was invited by the bride. So this man was a little tipsy after all the pre-dancing warm up exercises.

Man: “Bete. Tum kaha se ho (Where are you from?)”

Me: “Bangalore”

Man: “Aap Sawth Indian hote bhi acche Hindi bolte ho” (Screw the translation. #SmugLook)

Man: “Yaha ka khana kaisa laga. Aap to dosa aur idli jyada khaate hoge na (How did you like the food here. You usually eat a lot of idli and dosa right?)

He got the pronunciation of dosa wrong as he said ‘dough-sa’ rather than ‘dho-sa’. This was a case I had come across a lot in Bangalore itself. I have a friend from Ranchi, who after numerous corrections and consumption of dosa, has finally got the name right. I was determined to educate this man on the nuances of dosa pronunciation. (yes yes. I know its a rolling your eyes moment. But we love our dosas. End of Story)

Needless to say, he got it right after 4 attempts. And he even invited me home the next time I was in Punjab.

The clock struck 1 am and it was time for dinner. It was easily one of the best dinner spreads I have ever seen. From the most authentic of Kadai Paneers to the to-die-for dessert called Malpua, it was a feast in every sense of the word.

(The Final Act to be continued in Part 3)…..

 

Punned and Jabbed in Ludhiana – Part 1

In India, there are 2 types of weddings. There are your regular weddings and there are Punjabi weddings. I afford the latter a special category as they are ‘special’ in every sense of the word.

I had the opportunity to be a part of one such wedding. I had heard for many years from my friends from the north that the weddings there were nothing short of carnivals. Also would have to give Karan Johar credit on my knowledge of Punjabi weddings as big and pompous weddings are the central core of any of his films.

Act 1: The Journey from Bangalore to Ludhiana

Despite my late web checkin, I ended up getting a window seat on the Air Asia flight while my friend got a seat right at the back of the aircraft. Step 1 accomplished.

Step 2 was to pray that a really good looking girl sits next to me so that I can entertain some hope of striking a conversation.

Needless to say, Step 2 was a failure.

I ended up sitting next to an irate IT manager who was busy yelling at an employee moments before the steward’s announcement to switch off their mobiles.

Manager: “Have you got in touch with the candidate?”. NO? How is it so difficult for you to pick up the phone and call a damn number? I don’t know how but if you don’t close this task today, you are in big trouble”

Feels nice when you have a person making threats sitting next to you.

2.5 hours later, I landed at Delhi and caught up with a classmate of mine who had arrived from Hyderabad. We were to be picked up by a cab arranged for us.

Now, my Hindi is reasonable for someone who is from the South, but what happened next tested that to the hilt. I got a phone call from the cab driver whose Hindi was so fast and mixed with a Punjabi accent that the sound I heard resembled a tape recorder when put on fast forward.

My Hyderabad friend, finally managed to break the code and informed us that we were to head to the last lane of the parking lot where our cab had been waiting.

Our driver told us that it would take us at least 1 hour to get out of Delhi onto the highway to Ludhiana. Now I thought that Bangalore’s traffic situation was a mess. Delhi proved me so wrong. I clearly saw the true definition of road rage. One must be very careful when phrases such as ‘go for the kill’ are used in Delhi because clearly the drivers there drove to kill.

Our driver took all the right steps to ensure we stayed true to our 1 hour deadline to leave Delhi. He occupied the opposite lane, nearly killed 4 bikers, nearly crashed into 3 cars and ensured that he delivered a Rocky Balboa-esque pounding to the horn.

Hunger was at an all time high and our cab driver stopped at a dhaba. I really looked forward to munching at an authentic Punjabi dhaba. I had heard a lot of comments on how the dhabas back home, or rather shacks that are termed Dhabas, did not offer the authentic Dhaba experience.

I was pleasantly shocked to see that they sold dosas as well here. I was rudely shocked to see the prices next to these dosas.

Masala Dosa – Rs 180

Plain Dosa – Rs 170

The Hunger Pang that pushed me away from this atrocious menu card – Priceless

Paneer was a no brainer when you are in Punjab. The thing about when you are hungry is that you getting this overwhelming feeling that you could eat a horse when in fact you are capable of barely finishing 2 sandwiches. It was this sort of feeling that prompted me to decide that I would need 2 naan’s for lunch.

It took me a moment to realise that this was Punjab. A naan in Bangalore usually was cut into 2 pieces. In Punjab a naan cut into 2 pieces would see each piece equal 2 Bangalore standard fully uncut Naans.

My decision was vindicated when the Punjab naan duly arrived being cut into 3 pieces and with it came the best Kadai Paneer I have had the fortune of tasting.

It was at this moment, when I noticed that the table next to ours was occupied by a gang of Tamilians. They were busy deliberating on what to order for lunch and after the closing arguments, a verdict was reached.

Waiter: Sir kya chahiye?

Man: Dheen dhandhoori barota (3 tandoori parathas)

Waiter: aur?

Man: 1 Daal Magani (1 Daal Makhni)

This was what was running inside our heads when we heard this.

 

Long Flight. Check

Heavy Lunch. Check

Zzzzzzzzz till Ludhiana. Double Check…..

(to be continued……)

 

Dr APJ – Grace, Intelligence personified

I watched in shock as the ticker spat out the news,

Along with a billion disbelieving Indians searching anxiously for clues,

We wished that the rumours weren’t true,

Not everyday, does India get people like you!

 

From humble beginnings you rose to great heights,

Working through numerous days and countless nights,

Moments without your smile, there were few,

Not everyday, does India get people like you!

 

The Missile Man, you were fondly named,

You brought grace to a post that many others had shamed,

Almost everyday, the ideas for India were new,

Not everyday, does India get people like you!

 

I, along with this great nation, will weep,

For a man who told us that dreams are those that won’t let us sleep,

Dr Kalam, the tributes you deserve will not be a few,

Not everyday, does India get people like you!

 

RIP Sir, I am privileged to have lived while you brought grace and respect to the President’s post!

 

Big Firms now to hire from only the top 6 IIN’s

In light of recent developments that have plagued the advertising space in India, the top firms in the country have revised their recruitment policies after seeing the quality on hand offered by the Idea Internet Network (IIN). The directors of reputed technology and management institutes met up with CEO’s of the companies that usually line up outside the campuses during recruitment in a revolving door meeting in the conference room of a 5 star hotel near the Bangalore golf course where the CEO’s broke the sad news that they would not need them any more.

Our secret reporter who was disguised as a waiter who served the samosas during the meeting recalled the words “Sorry brothers. We can’t take students from you because you aren’t from the IIN’s” being said to the directors of the technology and management institutes by the CEO’s. This came as a shock for these directors who are so used to seeing their students being taken in by companies despite having the intellectual capacity of a drunk Rahul Gandhi.

“We don’t know how to react to this development. We were told that they would get back to us after processing our profiles. This statement is completely new to us. We are in a dilemma on how we would break this news to our students who are currently planning vacations to Europe and Ladakh even though it is only August,” a director of an institute was quoted saying.

Top job portals have been apprised of this development and have now changed their requirements accordingly. In a parallel event, connections to Idea’s cellular service has quadrupled after this news despite the protests of the existing Idea users that there is no signal available to make calls, text or upload photos on Facebook. The usual technology and management entrance exam application forms are now in extremely low demand. The Prime Minister of India has promised that he would make sure that every town in India has its own IIN.

An email query was sent to the CEO’s of these top companies who replied to our very specific questions that they were mightily impressed with the quality of the IIN students, especially the one who built a drone to deliver eggs. We have been the sole recipient of proof of the quality of the IIN students who have come up with revolutionary theories to solving India’s problems like making Manmohan Singh talk and shutting Arnab Goswami up.

“If they can mute Arnab, then these guys can do almost anything,” said an HR at a career fair at an IIN in south India.

We are yet to receive word from the heads of the top technology and management institutions as they have mysteriously gone missing to the Swiss Alps to a period of introspection, innovation and Swiss cheese.

But for now, the future of India looks bright as the iron curtain of the top technology and management schools has been shattered and now the common man has an equal opportunity.

Disclaimer: This post was not meant to hurt or target anybody or any institution in particular. It was meant in good humour. I sincerely apologise if these words hurt anyone. 

 

 

Rahul Dravid – A helmet’s tribute to the legend

It was the last ball before lunch. I had seen most of the players at the other end depart for the pavilion. The English bowlers were on top of us and were in the mood to finish things off so that they can catch up in the nearby pub to celebrate their victory. I had a job to protect a head which had a million thoughts running inside, but a mind which was clearly able to wash the irrelevant ones away to focus on the most important emotion, to save the test for India.

I surveyed the field. I saw my team in the pavilion, some with a cup of tea in their hand, some with their head in their hands, some with a look that said ‘Rahul bhai. Save us!’ I saw Stuart Broad steaming in from his mark. I was determined more than ever to do my bit for India.

The batsman at the other end was a specialist bowler and he looked frightened at the mere sight of the nasty bowlers who were determined to either get him out or take him out. I would have to take the battering that the English bowlers threw at me to ensure that we don’t lost the final wicket. I would be dented, scratched, muddied and broken at a few places, but I will do my duty just as the man I was protecting was doing his. I had seen this situation a million times. Rahul had treated me with respect and care. He kept me tenderly when others threw it in frustration. He kissed the badge I had when we won. He would kiss it when we lose. That was how much he valued the badge.

My mind raced back to England in 2007. I had been witness to one of the great Indian overseas triumphs. I had kept Rahul safe from the bazookas that James Anderson, Stuart Broad and Ryan Sidebottom were firing to allow him to lead us to a memorable series win. I had been by his side when the world called for his head after the disaster at the World Cup in the West Indies. I was crushed to see him face all those prickly questions about commitment to the cause and tactics, while I waited on top of a soft towel in the dressing room. But like always, Rahul came out on top and let his cricket do the talking. I could read his mind telling me ‘Dear friend, I need you more than ever!’ And like how he always gave himself for the team, I willingly obliged without a second thought.

I did not care that he was under the shadow of the great Sachin Tendulkar whose helmet too got the same recognition. I did care when he was criticised for declaring when Sachin was on 194.

I did not care that he was suddenly called up for the one-day side in 2011. I did care when he played his only T20 match and showed the world what a 39-year old can do in that format.

I did not care that he was asked to keep wickets, bowl, field at forward short leg and in the boundaries. I did care when people questioned his commitment and place in the team.

I did not care when he gave away his captaincy. I did care when the captain then termed him as too old to be in the ODI team.

I did not get to witness a farewell match in India for Rahul. It would have been a fitting end to my career as well. After he decided to retire, Rahul took me aside and told me ‘Don’t worry buddy! I know what you gave for me. I won’t forget it ever’ If there was a way a helmet could show emotion, I would have wished for that then. He bled for the country. I wished I could show how much I valued the man.

I lie now in his home in Bangalore, a sole witness to the numerous battles the man faced in England, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, and so many matches in his glorious 16-year career. I lie knowing that he was the guy who had a crush on playing cricket for India, but familiarly, his crush decided to favour his beloved teammate for the glamour he brought to the table. I lie knowing that he would have taken a bullet for the team if they asked him to. I lie knowing that if India called upon him to play as a substitute, he would don his uniform and be out there on the pitch.

I retire, with the greatest honour, of being Rahul Dravid’s helmet.

 

 

 

 

 

Open Letter to Mr.Pramod Muthalik

Dear Mr. Muthalik,

Nice to know you are still around and kicking (pun intended). It is only certain times of the year that I get to hear from you and it is really heartening to know that you are still consistent in terms of usage of words to the media. I mean I do need to know that phrases like ‘hurting religious sentiment’, ‘against our culture’, ‘girl made to tie rakhi to boy’ still exist periodically or I would lose track of them. I wouldn’t want that now.

And as expected you are in the news again to protest against the ‘Kiss of Love’ campaign that Bangalore has successfully clamped down upon to an extent. I mean how could someone even dare to think of violating our culture that you and your army of enforcers have successfully upheld by staying invisible for a better part of the year. It is simply shocking. These youngsters need to be taught a lesson now right?

You were right to ask those two young women, who violated ‘Indian culture’ on television (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_1utvsx1fI&t=23m23s), about ‘What have their parents taught them?’ You were totally right to question them. How is that Indian culture? How can they do such a thing when the parents of those who work for you teach their kids to bribe government officials, treat women like disposable pens, urinate on walls, transformers and trees, spit on the roads, throw garbage on the roads or into the neighbours house or onto other people or into the land of an innocent village, and hurl abuses at people when they don’t get their way. That is truly Indian culture.

Your enforcers are truly in line with our value system. India has always believed in beating up and abusing women in Mangalore, forcing people to tie rakhis, protest without reason and yell on television programs (Just an FYI, Arnab Goswami is the eternal title holder of ‘Senseless loudmouth on Television’. So you are taking on a mammoth). Hell, I would want to write to Narendra Modi to confer the Padma Shree on you. I have not seen one citizen take such an active role in keeping our culture intact. It is truly remarkable. I sir, would like to offer my salutations. Thank you for upholding our culture.

Oops, I think I have a bad stomach. I think I will need to take a dump. My guess is that I swallowed something very bad. Oh, wait a minute. I think it is you, Mr Muthalik, who is the problem that is currently plaguing my stomach. So I think I need to reject you from my system.

Yours Sincerely,

The Wonderful City of Bangalore.

P.S – We have more culture than any of you cowards. Fight for something rational!!

 

 

 

 

Being Human – Are we slowly giving up to machines?

Yes, you are probably staring into a laptop, smartphone, tablet or any contraption that gives you access to my page. You probably have heard this line in the beginning of every post on the internet, that ‘we live in a digitized world’. It is probably safe to say that after the wheel, the next big revolution has well and truly been the Internet. It is a one size fits all service, be it the old or the young, the rich or the poor, the jobless one (cue me) or the workaholic.

But I asked myself this a lot of times whenever I put down my novel and reached for my phone to swipe the screen to see what my friends have commented, ranted, taunted, checked in etc on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat and other such ‘social networking’ sites, ‘Are we beginning to succumb to these gadgets and lose sight of the simple things that made life so amazing?’

I believe that the answer is sadly a ‘Yes’. We truly are on that path where we see the internet lording over every aspect of our lives. Today, there isn’t an app that doesn’t exist for providing solutions to problems. Be it from paying your bills, mobile recharge (this I agree is a true god send) to feeling safe while travelling home alone (don’t know how this serves a practical purpose).

But I do question the app’s ability to replicate that feeling of getting wet in the mud on the playground while playing football in the rain. That feeling you get when you step outside your house and catch up with your friends for a drink or a cup of coffee (real coffee, not that version which is more chocolate and ice cream than coffee bean). That exhilarating feeling when you rummage through a thick stack of books at a book store and find that elusive book to complete your collection. The feeling of sheer delight when you run around the streets to find that all elusive piece of apparel (boyfriends will surely not agree to this as the amount of exercise they have in this regard qualifies them for the Olympic walking event) These moments are priceless. These have been replaced by mobile gaming (apparently to allow for people to be entertained in an injury free environment), social networking (allegedly more FB friends, the more closer you are to seeing God) and e-books (reduces space consumption at home and increases the number of books you can carry) and e-commerce respectively

These articles in a way make my point.

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/Plugged-in-parivars-redefine-concept-of-family-time/articleshow/33978731.cms

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/bengaluru/Mobile-mothers-make-kids-feel-neglected/articleshow/27927266.cms

It’s not just apps that are probably taking away the very aspect of our lives that made it real and not on a screen. I question the need for these gadgets to be introduced into a child’s life at a very early stage, as early as school. What people claim is smart learning is in fact slowly introducing that child to a world of possible future addiction to a gadget.

This boom regarding Internet of Things where each device is capable of being controlled by a phone or tablet reminds me somewhat of James Cameron’s prophetic Terminator franchisee where the machines take over humankind. It may soon see a situation where we do not even make the effort of switching on a tube light when the smartphone next to your bed can do the same.

While there are phenomenal developments being made to solve a lot of issues through technology and to ensure that we are always close no matter how far (thank you Metallica for this line:-P) , their flip side can have an adverse effect on the way we as the Gen Next of the country treat the experiences that shaped our parents into such resilient, loving and confident individuals.

I happened to read about this disorder to define a vast majority of us today. Termed FOMO, it stands for Fear of Missing Out. It is considered a disorder where one gets a feeling of insecurity that he/she is missing out on the constantly changing world, whether the knowledge is of relevance or not. In my opinion, should we tread down this path of over-dependence on gadgets, we may have to face the situation of FOHMO, the Fear of Having Missed Out, on possibly some of the most wonderful things that made life meaningful for our parents and the generations before them.

Disclaimer: The above opinions are not meant to hurt anyone in anyway. If they have, I offer my most sincere apologies.

Now if you do happen to like this post, please be kind to share the post through the very social mediums I have ranted against 😛

 

Diwali – A Season of Masti and Myths

On the onset, let me wish you all a very belated Diwali. I hope that the festival stands to bring you happiness and success in your endeavours. Like many others, I chose to reduce the amount of crackers I burst during Diwali this year. 4 atom bombs in the early hours of 22nd October 2014 ensured that I earned the wrath of everyone who was asleep in my colony.

This brings me to the idea behind this post. I came across numerous billboards, banners, social media posts and videos asking us to celebrate a cracker less Diwali or to use the more acceptable term ‘A Green Diwali’.

I for one, support this notion of reducing the number of crackers we burst. But I chose to critique myself on the fact that I get this sudden urge towards not polluting the environment only during Diwali. I, like many others, love crackers and the lights that come with it. It is truly a joyous occasion when we burst crackers with the family. It makes for a good holiday season. But I, like many others, choose to go all Captain Planet during Diwali.

Diwali is a happy occasion

But what I fail to grasp is that how we conveniently choose to pollute the environment in the non-Diwali part of the year. One need only travel in Bangalore during the rush hours of 7 30 am to 8 pm (yes these are our rush hours!! There is no respite for anyone at anytime) to know the amount of cars and bikes that occupy every inch of whatever is left of the road.

This despite the government’s efforts towards providing excellent public transport services in the form of the BMTC. Autos are in a league of their own owing to their strange fetish of the driver to avoid using the meter installed in their vehicles. As for the Bangalore Metro, well, the less said about it the better.

A novelty in every Bangalore autorickshaw

 

Companies and the government alike encourage car pooling to reduce the number of vehicles on the road to ensure a smoother ride for everyone that commutes. If you must know, there are sites like CarPooling.in, RidIndigo.com that are online portals to allow for us to choose the closest carpool. Schools offer pick up and drop services to its kids and yet we see parents commuting from abnormally large distances to drop off their wards even when the safety standards are ensured in the school buses.

Yes, time is precious and travelling by your own vehicles offers convenience in addition to not being dependant on other factors. But think of this, isn’t this pollution? Aren’t we not contributing to the pollution we seek to avoid during Diwali? Is it really not possible that we can choose to use public transport at least twice a week to reduce our share of polluting our cities? The answer is a No. We don’t because, at those moments, we care less about polluting the environment and more about making that important meeting or the first class at college/school or that all important date we have with that drop dead gorgeous girl.

But hey, when Diwali arrives, we are in anti-pollution crusader mode where every cracker that is burst is stared at with derision. The anti-pollution talk is one among many such gems that rears its head during Diwali. The other brilliant one which I have heard a lot is ‘the crackers are made by small children who expose themselves to dangerous chemicals everyday’

This I feel is the height of hypocrisy. We have absolutely no qualms of hiring a child to clean our houses, do our dishes and take care of our gardens or when children are employed in construction work or in hotels. How is it that during Diwali, we choose to become Caped Crusaders to fight against the downright pathetic tradition of child labour? I once had a neighbour who had hired a child to do all their daily chores, but lacked the courtesy to provide this child with a bathroom to use in the house or at the least a good pair of clothes to wear. Why isn’t such attitude derided or looked down upon? I do not see ad campaigns directed at removing child labour from restaurants, construction and residences.

This is an awfully big rant, but just think of it. The crackers we buy are the only source of income to those who are employed in the cracker factories. We get ticked off when we do not get that Diwali bonus that was promised at work or that holiday which was supposed to have been announced. But for these men, women and children at the cracker factories, our purchases are the only way that they will be able to send their children to school or buy a box of sweets for the family. Isn’t that what the festival is all about? Giving happiness to every person in the society.

Yet, our selfish and downright ludicrous tendency to ignore the environment and child labour during the non-Diwali parts of the year is what that makes me, like many others, a guilty party. If we, as responsible citizens, can choose to do our bit by using public transport or carpooling or spread awareness about child labour in the society as viral as the ‘Green Diwali’ campaigns, we actually make lives better. We reduce pollution to a large extent. We reduce the traffic on the roads. We send the kids under child labour to school. We give the families of those working in cracker factories their yearly ‘bonus’ and hell, we get a feel good that we have actually made a difference to other people’s lives.

Thanks for your time and patience. I hope we can make the difference we all wish to see

Disclaimer: This was not meant to hurt anyone’s sentiments. If you feel that they have, I extend my most sincere apologies. This was something I felt very strongly about and I felt I should blog about it.