Two ways

Two ways
We end up with always
A barbed wire
Or some roses.
A wily smirk
Or a little grin.
A little cautious foot
Or a plonk down the track
An open confession
Or a concealed truth
A little weak dab
Or a strong knock
when in doubt between the two
Chose the one that opens gates.
Yes. A flood ain't wise
But a drought cowardice.
We die both ways
Why not then the bolder one anyways
The rain is what we wish for not
As the fear of flood makes us bear the drought.
The fear of flood makes us bear the drought.

Movie Review: No One KIlled Jessica

After an excellent debut as a director in poignant Aamir, Rajkumar Gupta 's second flick No One Killed Jessica was bound to have expectations. No wonder, before entering the hall, I too had my own load of expectations from this movie. NOKJ accounts of the Jessica Lall murder case in 1999 and the abominable series of events that ensued, till the people and media plead for the missing justice in our judiciary and life imprisonment was handed to the alleged. The movie is actually a dramatized version of events and not leaves any stones unturned to add bollywood masala to the real case.

The first half of the movie retells the murder of Jessica Lall, a bartender, by a affluent politician's son just for refusing him a drink. This seemingly open-and-shut case morphs into injustice for Jessica despite the presence of 300 witnesses. The gritty Sabrina loses her mother in the battle for justice and almost gives up hopes from the corrupted system. Meanwhile, Rani portrayed as a cussing renowned journalist, makes a strong impact on the movie right from the first scene. Her palpable temerity and aplomb is even jaw-dropping in some scenes.She owns the second half, by spawning a series of sting operations on hostile witnesses and rejuvenating this closed case. The India Gate march in the dying moments of movie is another factual event associated with Jessica Lall case. In a nutshell, For me-the movie indeed deserves applause for sheer choice of subject. Although this moving account is very familiar in country but such a battle of truth against political advantage was worth revisiting. Newcomer, Myra, too does a good job and is shown as a girl who's not afraid to publicly swear at a guy  who eve-teases her sister Sabrina. Although her role is limited and is shown in only flashback glimpses-yet catches eye among seasoned actors.My only grievance is from Vidya Balan who fails to impress by her wan expressions and that only becomes more perceptible by Rani's imposing screen presence.Although her character of Sabrina demanded that but still she fails to deliever according to the standards she usually sets for herself..

I go for 3 and a half out of 5 for NOKJ-will surely bag some awards at end of 2011...
PS: The title of the movie first appeared on the front page of The Times of India five years back...also shown in a movie scene....and I too, have faded memories of reading it...

Strong, Livestrong and Armstrong

Armstong's Livestrong made people Strong; inspired them a lot,
After all, the 'cancer hero' had  won seven titles on the trot.

For many, he made sports more than a game.
Until one day, the gallant took the blame.

"It isn't humanely possible", he admitted he had lied.
Across the world, for millions, a hero had died.

We seek our heroes in the ones who stand out among rest,
Maybe, most of them, never went dope test!

No, No ! some outstanding athletes aren't  that strong.
The fan who makes them GOD, is equally wrong.

Asmanjas

Language is a medium. My first attempt at a poignant Hindi poem.

 कुछ हवा का रुख उल्टा था
कुछ हमारे कदम थे डगमगाए
कुछ मंजिल से ना था नाता सही
कुछ मन था बहक जाता कहीं
राहो में चलते बस चलने के लिए
मंजिल की तरफ बढ़ते थे बस बढ़ने के लिए
आज मंजिल ने मुह मोड़ा है
तो मझधार में छोड़ा है
मुड़े पीछे या आगे चले
असमंजस ने घेरा है
जाने ये नयी बात मुझे कैसे रास आएगी
जब जानी पहचानी राहे ही नयी मंजिल पर ले जायेंगी ।।
जब जानी पहचानी राहे ही नयी मंजिल पर ले जायेंगी ।।

Of the park and my groggy morning jogs

For slothful people like me, it is quite an achievement in itself to wake up early morning and jog along the perimeter of my neighbourhood park. And believe me it is an ‘ask’ for me, as I have always been a bit groggy and un-athletic, balking at even the slightest idea of running , that too in morning!!

But against the status quo, I am waking up early morning this summer if not at the crack of dawn and trying to grease my rusty bones which have not been engaged in any active physical activity since my class 10^th days (I am 21 years, mind you!).So it is a welcome induction into my otherwise passive daily routine. And it’s not that I have never been to my park before. It’s just that I have never been this consistent in the past. Perhaps motivation is the best fuel for any activity!

This post, however, was cropped up in my mind not because of my grogginess but because of the world I see in that park during my half an hour jog. The park at around 6 p.m. is an iridescent sight to put in a word. A refreshing air of enthusiasm pervades in the park that can bring a spring in the stride of the laziest. To begin with, there are a few steadfast brisk walkers who are regular as clockwork. Perhaps these have eked out precious time from their hectic schedules to devote it to few minutes of walk. They usually vanish in thin air in about 15 minutes. Then, there are noisy boisterous bunch of children and adolescents, relishing their summer break with morning cricket dose. Not to forget few aunties walking peculiarly yet briskly, blabbering along, looking so determined as if they are here to stay till eve but generally fizzle out when I confront them after minutes. Another set of walkers are the middle aged chubby men, flaunting a paunch, running to end the scourge of obesity! There are fresh faces who chip in everyday and add to the novelty of the motley crew.

For the last two categories, I have kept the people from which I draw inspiration to jog! No, I am not talking of Usain Bolts of park but about the septuagenarian looking men and even older, persevering to carry all agile-suited tasks-exercising, laughing, gasping for breaths, and again recurring to exercising and heartily laughter. There is no panache and flair in the way they do this, some even look weird. But it’s the courage and determination to be healthy which awes me. I wonder if I’ll be able to convince myself to even come to the park 50 years down the line, let alone exercising. Despite their laughter being drowned in the exasperating din of children, they stand out as the real SUPERSTARS of this morning for me! Another set of elderly people scattered through the park, stand lonely at one side of the park and imitate the exercizes done by the central group of elderly ones. Perhaps, they have a fear of interacting with the group or think that others might mock at their not-so-supple exercizing abilities. Whatever the case-everyday these people come alone, stand or sit in a reclusive corner and imitate the exercizes( to some extent) and go away. The scene almost draws pity from me. May be that's what lack of gregariousness can do to people!

I am not sure till how long I’ll have a rendezvous with this park and its changing faces. But I am sure that this ‘park’ experience is ethereal and has made an indelible mark on my bland ways and days...

The two sides of power cut

Image source:  4tvhyd.com

Almost every speech of an aspiring politician in India mentions the promise of electricity supply service, accentuating the erratic power supply problem in our country. The cuts however are mostly for an hour each day and habitually people don't complain for such limited power outages. Last week, the little devil however turned into a hideous monster, showing its extreme nature.

The week saw two power outages back-to-back  that blacked out almost half of the nation and even made it to the front page of  UK and US leading daily .Normal life slipped out of gear as people were stranded at railway stations, metro platforms; the roads got clogged with traffic and states came to a standstill. Several water treatment plants were shut down. Technically speaking, the entire Northern grid had collapsed due to one or more states drawing more power than they were entitled to, on July 30 and 31. Naturally, this is an excuse of a lax power department. There are load dispatch centers (LDCs) which are supposed to look after evading exactly this situation. When the power demand exceeds supply, the power is usually cut-off for a limited period  For this, circuit-breakers are used which cut-off the supply, which obviously didn't happen on  two consecutive days. This is sheer carelessness on part of the people responsible for overseeing this process. The blame-game will start as Shinde saab sits for long meetings for digging in the problem. The deficit naturally can't be fixed up with a magic wand but surely we need a fail-safe circuit-breaker system that checks overloading and takes measures. Perhaps more power plants need approvals to bring down the deficit ! No doubt, politics and technology both share the bib of culprit.

At the very rudimentary level, we Indians are extravagantly consuming electricity in summers with unfettered usage of Air conditioners and other high power-drawing appliances. In a power-deficient country, this deep-rooted habit hits us back in summers.

On the lighter side of power cut, the 10-hour power cut gives families usually engrossed in facebooking and televisions to sit together and spend some precious time together, away from the virtual world. Children on these days go out to play real football instead of eye-gluing FIFA . Ah !The hard-working laptop also gets some time off. On second thoughts, power cuts aren't unbearable if we think of how the poor section of our country have grown used to such misery and how the Indian farmer thinks of nothing besides work when he toils away on a sweltering day.

And when the indispensable thing which we have grown used to, parts away even for a day, we come to know its importance Perhaps, the Government is not having the right people in the power sector. Perhaps, our  plants are inefficient and few. Perhaps, the technology is outdated .Perhaps, all of us are responsible in our own little ways. Whatever be the case, this issue will be subdued until the next big outage.

And you, while reading this article must have forgot plugging off your charger even when your battery was fully charged long before! ;)

Amritsar : Travelogue

A casual glance at the streets, the people and the anachronistic ambience won’t tell you the tale of sordid bloodshed this city once went through.  Amritsar, despite having a torrid history that spurred the nation’s independence, has been unharmed and unaffected. The air here still whiffs of spirituality and peace, like it has for years. This speaks volumes of the greatness of the city that despite such troubled history, thousands of devotees throng Amritsar daily in search of peace. What, then, could have been the magnet that attracts the world towards itself? We found those answers and a lot more in a first-hand experience in the one of the most amazing cities in India!

The board outside read Amritsar Junction in three languages including the native Punjabi. A cool breeze welcomed four of us. We knew something special awaited us for the next two days. We didn’t know what but one thing was clear to all of us. The objective: To soak in as much of Amritsar as we can in the next 48 hours. With loads of expectations, we headed to the city. The two old rickshaws that took us from the station to the temple reminded of the old rickshaws of Delhi. They had a subtle resemblance. Our first major concern was getting a good enough room to get things started. A good clean room that washes away the tiredness of the day! Skepticism lingered heavily if we could get such a room quickly for best money. After a failed attempt to bag in a room in The Golden temple itself, we found a relief in the form of Baba Deep Singh Niwas lodging. The Dharamshala seemed a newly constructed one and surprisingly less crowded. In one hour, we got our room and it met the low expectations we had for it. If anything, it exceeded! Clean washroom and floor, plus a mini-balcony having a panoramic city view –all that for mere 100 bucks a day. What more can you ask for? By 10:45 we left for a visit at the Golden Temple. A quick gorging of nearby delicious kulchas and  5 Rupee coke from the factory outlet-could it have started any better for the rumbling stomach? We made our way to the Temple. After a long queue, we got the sacred opportunity to pay obeisance to Him. It was followed by langar and idle sitting around the sarovar vicinity. A feeling that provided immense peaceful vibes –away from the rigmarole of our daily lives, away from the running crowd. It was something beyond words-something heavenly and priceless. Every moment dipped in spiritual cleansing. It had the aura that seemed to purge sins of ages. People had faith written all over their face as they dipped in Sarovar water. Enlightening and soothing –this was the place, I realized, that could make a thief a hermit. Such was the power it possessed. One could pass his lifetime here, just sitting and soaking in some soul food. But we had to leave. We were not like those lucky ones who worked here in His service. We were petty travellers bounded by a time frame. We had to make most of it. We rushed our way to negotiate with cab drivers for Wagah Border trip. A relatively modest charging cab driver took us to Durgiana mata mandir and finally to the border. Even after reaching fairly early, we were greeted by a long queue. We finally decided not to be a part of it-a decision that could have backfired.


Just as the small gate opened, the deluge of crowd shoved each other to get in and grab a good view of the ceremony. We somehow rushed and managed a relatively good place to grab the proceedings. A man ensured the crowd pumped up for some patriotic shrieks , while BSF jawans marched on the way, like they did every evening. The sweltering sun on our heads looked a little menace in that patriotic environment. You feel like a Hindustani sitting right there, an integral part of your nation. An amazing experience it was, that can be only partly and vicariously enjoyed if told and best when experienced. We felt a little more patriotic hormones being evoked on stepping out of the place. After a little rest at our Niwas, we headed to Brothers’ Dhaba-a place known  for its food here since 1912. But to our disaapointment, it lacked the traditional feel we expected Amritsari food to have. It was a restaurant  now and sadly commercialized. After the gorging, we headed back to the Golden Temple to catch the night view of the wonder. And it was more stunning than we had seen in the pictures. A beauty that stood in waters-the gold accentuated its sheen and the waters reflected a blurry image. The crowd now a little less and the view that any camera would be proud of. This was something that made Amritsar trip worth.  A picturesque Golden Temple against a night sky with slow Sangeet in the background –what else do you call Picture Perfect. We sat there for hours just admiring the view and soaking in as much as we can. Any thought of returning to normalcy after 2 days would make us to absorb more of the present. It was divinely beautiful. With tired bodies, we dragged back to our niwas and woke up a little late next morning. Hunger bugs were satiated with same morning Kulchas-this time they tasted better somehow to me. The relentless butter reflected the open hearted  food culture of Punjab. Truly, eating here is a bliss. We asked for a good Lassi place-that we had not found one yet. A 1500 m walk to Ahuja Lassi wala was worth the effort.

We headed to Jallianwala Bagh after that thirst-quenching mission. A massacre place that set off the revolution at enormous pace ending at Indian freedom. A 20 minute movie at the very place along with the museum paintings spoke how a butcher called General Dyre ripped apart humanity. It is difficult to imagine that a place you are standing on was once veiled with blood of innocents. Jallianwala Bagh stands tall next to the Golden Temple, reminding the world how humanity died one black day in 1919. We went back to the Temple for the probable final time and sat by. A foreigner made us understand what the maze on the floor and the ceiling of the main golden structure signify. And it was good to learn that from someone not living here. It showed how deeply Amritsar had connected with the world. After the evening started to take over, we went in search of Kesar Dhaba like ravenous lions in a forest. A shopkeeper ensured it won’t disappoint .And after a little walking, we realized he was true. This was the last piece of puzzle we were searching for-a perfect traditional dinner at dhaba with lassi. Kesar ka dhaba was 96 years old bistro that was still innocently a dhaba and preserved its legacy amidst rapid urbanization. After a delightful eat-out, we went back to the station to say good-bye to a trip that was amazingly soothing to the soul and amazingly satiating to the stomach.

 We departed with a lot of memories and a peaceful soul. But we aren’t dejected to leave as we know this place will call us another day when the mundane and dull life needs an escape. And we hope that amidst all the development human society is making, this place remains untouched and anachronistic, as it has.

1984: A book review

Image source:  http://thefederalist-gary.blogspot.in
THE BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU

"Who controls the past controls the future, who controls the present controls the past".

Not many of you might know that famous television shows ‘The Big Brother’ and its Indian version ‘Big Boss’ are vaguely conceptualized on the theme of this novel. There are two ways you can read 1984-First, to read it word by word as a spectator to the novel or second, to live it through the eyes of the narrator, Winston Smith. George Orwell’s 1984 is a gripping satire, a warning for human society and sheer storytelling brilliance. If  Nazis' history has shades of barbarism,then the extreme nature of totalitarian regime can be absolutely chilling.1984 is all about imagining existence of such a world .

(Spoiler alert for this paragraph; not much revealed though)

A mystical figure, ‘The Big Brother’ is believed to be keeping track of each of your activity. The past is mutable. A totalitarian party exists, which can choose to rewrite the history the way it wants. The history, to put in simple words, has been arrested. Any sort of evidence that might prove the party weak is altered, and any wrong prediction altered.  A thought rebellion is criminal and it is caught by the telescreen that watches you all the time.People are vaporized from society not for committing any crime, but based on their eccentric thought process which might have made them to commit a crime against the party in future. They don’t die, they will never have existed.. The party believes that killing people in the open will glorify the victim and shame them. So, they don't punish the heretic overtly but annihilate them from all records of past and future. The system is moulded to safeguard the infallibility of the party. War is a continuous process yet people are indifferent to it. “In the eyes of the party there were no distinctions between the thought and the deed”.

In such savage conditions, what happens to a man called Winston Smith, who nurtures a thoughtcrime: a rebellion against Party in his own mind by falling in love, is central to the story.

The lines
"Under the spreading chestnut tree
I sold you and you sold me—"
are somehow gut-wrenching and  apt.

Also At one point of time, Winston contemplates while writing-

“How could you communicate with the future? It was impossible. Either the future would resemble the present in which case it would not listen to him, or it would be different from it, and his predicament would be meaningless."

George Orwell as a storywriter engrosses you throughout with his lucid and thought-provoking story astonishingly written in 1949 with a foresight of the world in 1984.Thoughtcrime, doublethink, crimestop, newspeak, the thought police-Orwell’s jargons force us to think of the relevancy of his vision in some subtle ways. It’s not only engrossing, but at times frightening when you imagine your own existence in such a world!

This is a must-read book and I have no qualms on why it is rated as one of the best books ever written. 1984: A book review

Bollywood:Sensual or Gross?

Once upon a time, almost everything sensual was taboo in Indian movies. A harmless kiss was enough to ruffle the conservative feathers of censor board. End result:  movies used themes and acting prowess to make their mark. Na, not anymore. Seems no one is prudish these days. If anything, the ideas have become bolder  with each flick. The Bollywood film makers have found one success formula to bag profits- Add 50 ml a sensual non-sense item number featuring a voluptuous actress wearing a flimsy dress  to a 25 ml solution of  adult jokes chipped now and then.Mix them thoroughly and garnish with a Page3 face ! And look what you get-A non-sense story with absurd logic and glam overdose-a perfect recipe to rake in the moolah!! But gradually the sensual oomph factor has turned from sensuality to disgust and gross exposure show!


Every other movie now banks upon a cheap looking item song with repulsive lyrics that will leave you wondering what role it had in context of the story that was going on. the so called sex symbol will do a pole dance , with a few lusty men singing in chorus around here. the number implicitly and even explicitly talking sexual content! The movies are increasingly using the bold tag in a hitherto conservative country and talking about the 'forbidden fruit'! But how far can they go with this body show?

It is good till it is sensual. But when it gets gross, its something absolutely unwarranted. The likes of Taare Zameen par and Rang De Basanti also thrived in this decade of sensuality. Why then the Munnis, Sheilas and Chamelis over-riding the plot .So, why are the movie makers running out of creative ideas to keep the audience engrossed? Have the theater actors run out of steam? I guess Bollywood movies are running awry with some non-sense stuff making the buzz. But nobody is complaining. The crowd is happy with the show, the actresses with the symbol  and the directors with the money. This trend of imitating the recipe will go on and third class flicks will keep on coming. After all, old habits never die.

Few Recent Epiphanies

CHANGE: Changing , I have learnt, is more about envisaging a change rather than longing for it. A longed change is like building the terrace without the ground floor. In the dream of the beautiful terrace, many of us forget the drudgery of building some unattractive floors under it. Without this work, the vantage view of terrace will elude forever.As the adage goes (however trite it may be) No pain, No gain! Changing is not about a holistic revamp. It's about enhancemnt, moving forward. A little change can fix the entire leak. A big change might create a bigger hole!

MOVIES AND LIFE:Life, like movies, has its share of ups, downs, drama, tragedy,ecstasy and other sister emotions.But the difference surely is that life has no  fairytale endings. If it has, it is because they have been made to end that way. Ends depend on means.

THE MOMENT:No time is better than the present moment. Procrastination is like an infinite loop in C. It never ends. More often than not, it spawns new seeds of procrastinations. Phew! Now that was some sort of an observation !!

Mind the gap. Mind the shoves.

Image courtesy: THE HINDU

Seat seat everywhere.
No seat to take.
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                                                    * THE IMPACT : prologue*

"Where is Neeta's marriage next sunday?"
" Paschim Vihar, opposite Metro pillar no. 655"

This is what Delhi metro has done to Delhi in last nine years or so. It defines the way things move and also defines the way non-moving things ( Read: Neeta's venue! ) are addressed. You are flying over and creeping under the hectic roads in 'saadi-apni metro'. All you have to do is pay at most 30 bucks and you can travel across the breadth of the city! Easy on the pocket, right? But that ain't a charity. So what profit are they eking out??
Interestingly, I read once that " DMRC makes an operating profit of Rs. 0.48 per traveller". Multiply that by daily commuters and it would statistically look like a business now!


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                                                          * Characters*

THE  COUPLE: They ease the rush by staying close. Need to say more?

THE FAT GRUMPY UNCLE:  Finishing moves ----Trampling feet and shoving giant hand.

THE FAMILY: Pappu, chhoti , munni and monu-all don't need VERSA anymore. DMRC at their service!

THE HOT CHICK: Busy on the phone or faking?

THE  MACHO MAN: He is always at the entry gate corner. And not leaves early.

THE PANICKERS: They somehow managed to not get stuck in closing doors! I bet they even didn't get the token inserted in one go?

THE SLOTHS: They can sleep any where. Shove them or kick them.

THE FRIENDS WHO LOOK REUNITED: they'll talk loud and won't mind stares. They actually thing themselves as youngistan representatives who own the whole damn metro

THE BUSINESSMAN: Making deals about reaching that station and overtly.

finally, THE 'YOU': At the centre of  the crowd, waiting for next station to arrive when the announcement says " we'r late,s orry for the inconvenience and you don't even have a 'physical metro touch' nearby to smash your face at"

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                                                               * the Pot Luck*

You are LUCKY if you make to Blue line metro itself. Amidst the swarm of people running , event his seems like an achievement that shouldn't be seen just like that

You are VERY LUCKY if you somehow find a dangling handle. You actually feel having an authoritative upper hand on the poor people who are still struggling to stand still without any support.

You are EXTREMELY LUCKY if you find the non-opening door as a respite to rest your jaded back. This way you also get to see people entering and exiting, making things less boring.

And , finally YOU ARE LUCKIEST if you find a man getting up inches away while you had no hope standing besides his seat , amongst with zillion of frustrated hands and legs.

And you are UNLUCKIEST if ...As as soon as you sit, a lady comes by and points out you have no business sitting there :P


Now you know why it is called BLUE metro.!!!

The home streets and that familiar feeling!

" Country roads take me home
  To the place I belong"

No.No.No.Mine is not a country place boasting of serene rivers and breath-taking ridges. Yet this John Denver number strikes a chord with me for the sheer pangs of nostalgia it evokes.This post goes down the MEMORY LANES and travels through vivid memories to recollect the whiff of some beaten roads  that will always be special no matter where I go. The home roads!

As I child, unlike most of the children, I relished staying indoors and making most of TV (You bet if you have watched more cartoons than me!!!), frolicking from one room to another and yes, playing and fighting with my sister. Yet I loved playing cricket and would often go to the nearby park and stand there-waiting for BADE BHAIYAs playing there to offer me to play. Still I haven't played  as much cricket in my childhoodas  many children of my block have, who thronged the park in mornings and yet saved energy to be there in evenings!

But the home streets couldn't have eluded me ever. My school being a walking distance away, my tuitions being a walking distance away, the markets being a walking distance away-I sauntered by my adolescence and late childhood through the streets of my home place. They aren't fancy Delhi places nor are these despicable shanties-they are clean medium sized roads full of vivid life, full of activity-buses, people and vendors.They are tableau of colourful life-of people briskly rushing for offfices, of noisy children, of  zooming youth. 'Deserted' and 'marooned' are appropriate antonyms..No one  has time to stop and think-it's almost 'Criminal' to do that in this hectic life!!

I  have walked so much on them that they have become an indispensible part of my life.Rushing for school everyday, chatting along with a good friend on return  from school, with another friend while returning from tuitions, going to Mandir and Gurudwara on that road ,ambling down  a small yet lively market on the busy corner of that road, for purposelessly strolling in labyrinthine and maze-like streets that interconnect the blocks   ....these have timestamped themselves so gradually that I didn't ever realize their significance till I went away!

It is a clichéd saying-" Absence makes a heart grow fonder". I realized the literal implications entailed with it when I left the streets for pursuing my graduation. On my first visit to home after going there, when I 'promenaded'  back to those streets, a kind of ecstasy embraced me-reminding of the moments that I've spent here. Till now, whenever I come here, I feel very relaxed and nostalgic.A familiar whiff and  familiar environs give a kind of security- 

a security that some things never change with time, a security that I am in the lap of the known, a security that some precious moments haven't been lost in hullabaloo,a security that convoluted life simplifies here.....a security that I am home.


These certainly are not tarmac things for me. The moments I have spent here have animated these. And why not? These have seen me grow from an introvert child to a  puerile teenager and to a much wiser grown up.

Yes,we aren't done yet. We aren't done.