But, is it nothing to know when you are dying, when you are about to take leave of this world, of its joys and sorrows, when the past of your life is unfurled before you, when eternity opens wide its portals, is it nothing to know at that last awful,supreme moment of your lives, that you have not lived in vain, that you have lived for the benefit of others, that you have lived to help in the cause of your country's regeneration?

-Surendranath Banerjea

Saturday, November 13, 2010

The Reality

It was around 19.15. And the bus was screeching to halt near the Mysore bank. My train was at 21.40,that was if IST meant Indian Standard Time and not Indian Stretchable Time.

Gone were the days when I could cover 50km in an hour. Gone were the days of 5th gear and 60kmph. And a safe margin of 2hrs had to be ensured if you were to be prompt somewhere. Vehicles in Bangalore were meant to be driven in 1st or 2nd gear,rest of them were all state of the art fantasies never to be used in real life. There would be a traffic signal in every furlong and if you are lucky enough,the signal turns red just as you approach the junction. You anticipate all that, and you start the journey well in advance only to find all the lucky stars shining in favor of you to turn everything green. Go Green,be that's to save earth or to see heaven! Hence you reach your destination well in advance only to find that you have the time to attend a 10km Marathon and still make it to your train.

This was one such day.And i looked at myself and told,"How lucky you are,now that you can sit and count the stars for the 2.5hrs".

If not for the Rava Dosa at Adigas,which I so ardently crave for the entire week,I may not get down at Mysore Bank and walk upto 2km to the railway station. But yes, the Dosa is worth the hassle.

The way upto the railway station is interesting. I should not perhaps call it interesting if i should be anything but a sadist,but you get the whiff of the real world.The real real world. The prostitutes,who line up near the posts en-route Majestic, under the bridge, in the subway, in the bus stand,wherever you turn to,in the kind of attire that imposes the fancy line,'one cleavage two tits', with their care-taker pimps taking care of which XY talks to them. The street vendors who sell anything ranging from cheap watches to local perfumes. The handicapped beggars who were forcibly handicapped to be marketed for sympathy. The porters who carry more than what they can only to trip every now and then. Kids who wipe the dirt off the hotel rooms at an age when they have to be dirtying their uniforms in the school.The local food stalls which remind you that 'it's the money that inculcates the sense of hygiene'.The people who sleep anywhere on the streets, the platforms,with the stray dogs.The Hijaras who come begging and robbing.

It all reminds me of the blessings i'm bestowed upon.The warm embrace of the family. The luxurious affection of friends. The cron job that refills my account every month end. The hot running water. The 3 meals a day. The books. What not. What more can i ask Him after seeing all these people,who go to any extent to make their ends meet? I may not be loving my job, but i love the fact that i have a job which keeps me away from begging or robbing or stripping to make a living.

Khuda Hafiz

Friday, September 17, 2010


Play me Tribes of Babel as Baiju does..

Write me erotica with politics and history and sarcasm as Tejpal does..

Sing me Uyire as Hariharan does..

Narrate the winter as, "It came down in little white fluffs; you felt that a gigantic hand had punched a gigantic cotton wool sack open, letting down flurries of cotton shreds.
The streets were not covered,but the tops of the naked branches were white with it- a white that showed more beautiful because the limbs of the trees were in comparison stark black."- Naipaul..

Speak eloquently as Anand Mahindra does..

Talk endlessly about anything,
about anything under the sun including the sun,
about VVV-Veda Vatsyayana Voltaire,
about Freud and Pamuk,
about Balamurali and Niladri Kumar,
about Sainath and Kiran Bedi,
about the Brits and the Mughals..

Do any of these..and gimme the orgasmic pleasure..the goosebumps..

Others - are just ordinary!!

Khuda Hafiz

Thursday, September 9, 2010

How long will we remain silent?

How long can we feign ignorance and show our backs to them? Don't they have equal rights to at least food as we do??

Khuda Hafiz

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Jai Hind *Choking with frustration and petulance*!!

Down the lane of history,at a midnight,63yrs back,not an Indian might have slept a wink.The moment his long-awaited,long-struggled-for dream comes true would not have allowed him to drown in the oblivion of slumber. To have a leader among his peers who he fought the Victorians shoulders at par with ,take Oath of Allegiance to a state which just took birth,would beyond doubt have given him goosebumps. The hope of a better tomorrow without having to be the foot-board of the White would have given him solace. The prospect of becoming an inevitable part of the system of governance in his country would have given him pride. More than all,the accomplishment of his swaraj andolan would have made him feel triumphant.

We witnessed 63 Independence days. Every year we witnessed a new resolution,a new promise,a better tomorrow.
We travelled a long way. Like a bird without its wings flanking both the sides were we,without the erstwhile East and West Pakistan. The communal riots that followed partitioning independence was not just traumatic,but left us amazingly resilient. We became a republic. Developed ourselves into the largest democracy in the world where we are governed by ourselves! We secured a strong framework of secularism which allowed a Muslim President and Hindu Prime Minister and Christian Defense Minister shoulder the responsibilities without communal feelings. We guilelessly practiced non-intervention,yet duly showing the empathy to the needy,thus helping the East Pak transform into Bangladesh and the Lankans get rid of their villain although loosing a PM as a scapegoat!

Now we are surging ahead in our way to be a Global Power,which no international cop can ignore,rightly as Nostradamus predicted. Yet,have we accomplished what we ought to have when compared to the other colonies of the 50s and 60s like China and Singapore. Are we any close to what Japan is,taking into account the crushing dilapidation that it endured.

We still have dirty roads,filthy streets,poverty and squalor,corruption and nepotism. Inefficient roads and under-productive electric grids. We have over a 110crore population,which would have made us claim ourselves to be the greatest exporter of human resource,yet making a Yankee call us a chop shop. We have Nobel laureates who brought us back nothing. We have great IITians and IIMians who left nothing but husk in pursuit of money and power abroad. We still uphold secularism,only to include a new clause of caste in the coming census. We still uphold equality only to widen the range of reservations in the educational instis. Have we accomplished what we aimed at??

In the backdrop of 63rd Independence Day and the hangover that Mr.Kelley's feedback on his visit to India left on me,i would like to post a conversation with a friend. Consider it an interview of an aspirant civil servant Y by a wannabe journalist X.Consider it the frustration and anxiety of the newer generation who would soon be given the wheel of administration. Consider it any shit,but give it a thought. Isn't the glass more than half empty??

To begin with,i would like to quote the travelogue of a westerner who has travelled across the globe and happened to sweep across India twice. In that he criticizes mercilessly,though ostensibly with a pinch of bonhomie,dirt and filth that India bears. The inefficient rail-road services,the rickety buses,the pollution,the useless electric grids which consumes more electricity than it produces,.and more than all,the don't care attitude of the Indians.

He also gives innuendos on the natural and intellectual endowments that India has,yet rendered useless.The many Nobel laureates who brought back nothing.

As an aspirant civil servant,tell me,what are your ideas to tackle these issues. I know nothing can be solved overnight. But in your reign you at least ought to take one small step!

The criticism is acknowledged. An all India solution doesn't exist. It doesn't because of the proverbial diversity. I can take one or two examples. If i were to be handed the superintendence of a district in Bihar, i will make it a point to study the ground realities. In this hypothetical case, i am most likely to encounter a lawless, illiterate, reactionary, sensitive and under developed area.

1. Get in touch with the religious leaders, the local political personalities, the powerful landlords and other powerful people. A personal rapport can do lot more than a formal contact. Get to know the local dynamics. Who can be trusted and who cannot be. What are their concerns and commitments. What are they capable of doing. Who can be played against whom.

2. Use of media to force the hands of bureaucrats and people alike. Like making media report a khap panchayat's brutality which will force political forces to compel district magistrate to take strong action. Meanwhile the collector remains a helpless executor of the will of political class.

3. Develop a small army  of loyal bureaucrats.

4. Close coordination with police. Now, all these form the prerequisite build up of forces that are necessary. The steps are to follow.

1. Literacy. Here, massive investments from state and union governments cannot be expected. Nothing will change that way. Tweak local support and sentiments. Manage support from the local landlord by naming a new adult coaching centre in memory of his late mother or father. Make the religious and political busy bodies commit themselves for campaigning and for putting their personal weight behind the project. The collector should be able to quote Mark and Mathew while joining the Christians for Sunday mass and on being asked to say a few words by the vicar of the parish. He should be able to help some from his district to be on the government list of people who are sponsored for annual pilgrimage to mecca. He can derive huge local support from all these and perhaps make use of it, in making poor parents send their wards. He can talk to children in the local school and make them aware of a world beyond the narrow confines of a village. Let him tell them about the super 30, the coaching to become a chartered accountant , a lawyer , a journalist. Let the children come forward for college education. He can write letters of recommendation, can help them choose colleges after exams, help them get passports quickly for studies abroad. It takes just one generation of successful students to change situation. This is about studies.

2. Law and order. Have the communal forces under control. Introduce novel schemes like community policing. Make people aware of mechanism for quick disposal of cases.ADMINISTRATION-  Establish computerization of district courts and usage of novel communication methods. . Call centre for registering complaints and sms to know status of an application. Tie up with postal department for issual of government certificates and approvals quickly to the needy. Popularization of right to information act. Usage of civil service clout to get government schemes in his district. For example, a request to include his district among those where unique identity project will be experimented. A speedy disposal of requests for loan waiver guaranteed by union government.

To improve infrastructure nobody has to unleash anything revolutionary. Ensure that quality is maintained while building roads under prime minister's rural roads programme. Perhaps a little bit of activism will help. It will be beneficial if the collector can successfully vouch for world bank funds coming in state's way. But, the horrible infrastructure is not the result of inactivity but that of gross impropriety and corruption. Then an active collector can do a lot of things. Banks are ordered to open rural branches and provide loans for agriculture and education. Telecom operators are ordered to maintain sufficient cell phone towers and maintenance facilities. Both never do that. They have redundant branches in Delhi and useless collection of towers in new mumbai. All that has to be done is enforce the regulation. Make them do what they are obliged to.

If civil servants can remain uncorrupted, all these and more are nothing but routine jobs.the men and women who have managed to traverse the corridors of LBSNAA are capable of pulling off any feat. It is a sad reality that 50 batches of amazing talent have gone waste.

I understand and acknowledge. But taking into account the beastly population which still ardently practice honor killing and female infanticide,I'm afraid if the implementation of the suggestions is light years ahead!

A huge leap forward might be impractical.but a lot of that is down to earth and practical. Look at kerala. It is possible to convert one district in north India into something that has features of one in kerala. Kerala is not Singapore. Need not be. Do what Bhaskaran Nair, Jacob Thomas, Padmakumar, Babupaul did in kerala. They didn't make it like helsinki. But, they implemented national education programme, got some districts cent percent literate, reduced chances of communal disharmony. Helped achieve targets of medical coverage, universalised vaccination programmes. Et al. What we see as the human resource rich kerala is the baby of giants of men like them. Would you dare deny the stupendous success that is kerala? Kerala is eons away from being singapore. But, kerala is possible. And if kerala can be replicated in 200 districts in the north, we will enter a whole new era.

If the mental asylum that was kerala can boast of progressiveness in human welfare, distance of the order of astronomical units can be scaled.

"Use of media to force the hands of bureaucrats and people alike. Like making media report a khap panchayat's brutality which will force political forces to compel district magistrate to take strong action. Meanwhile the collector remains a helpless executor of the will of political class."

This was your point. How far is media capable of ensuring law and order,say in today's case,curbing the honor killing?

We have laws that addresses such needs of criminal justice system. Implementation is found lacking. A police superintendent or district collector has his hands tied because political masters want to cater to demands of such systems and people for tactical gains. However, this tacit support has to remain outside the purview of cosmopolitan middle class, judiciary and concerned authorities at central level. They cannot support these measurers legally. They thrive on lack of awareness and lack of spread of information. If such news hit national media, they can't go against national human rights commission, the supreme court or a directive from union home ministry. They will the district authorities to take action and action they take against the accused can't be subverted because of the vigilance of media. They won't be able to sack the district authorities. They can't stop supreme court from  de recognizing those who bend the laws for narrow gains. It will act as a watch dog. For in a parliamentary democracy with an independent judiciary, public opinion is essential for survival of political class.

** The conversation continues,veers,and gets totally attenuated. But the fire is still alive,ready to be flared up. What shall we do about it? Can we hope of a better India while we are alive or is that left for our great-grand children to witness??

Khuda Hafiz

Sunday, August 1, 2010

A continuation..

Reflections on India by Sean Paul Kelley.. It was pretty much of an interesting read in ZB's.. A westerner ranting and raving on how bad India is.. How vile Indians are.. Well,i could do nothing but agree with 95% of what he told.. Of roads,of electric grids,of dirt,of filth,of bureaucracy,of corruption.. The rest 5% accounts to the exaggeration.. The long queue in the railway station which made him wait for 30min was nothing but an overstatement.. Pro'ly he found no one to teach him how to book tickets online.. Well,poor soul,.had one heck of a hardship coming to India..

It reminded me of Slumdog Millionare which sweeped the academy awards.. We then berated on how manipulative and critical westerners are.. We still do that.. But jokes apart,is there anything we can do about it? Is there anything we can contribute by staying back to work in India and not oozing out its resources leaving the husk to pursue financial heights?

We rave of brain drain. But why do we have that? It's true that India still cannot afford the invaluable Indian brains.. But apart from that,there's definitely one thing India can provide,.recognition.. When we still have appointments based on caste and creed in this 21st century,and deny the most eligible candidates based on anachronisms,how can we justify ourselves in blaming the non-resident Indians,in being non-resident??

Frankly speaking, I'm frustrated,.and at the same time confused.. Which is the way ahead? Is there any way we can contribute to a better India? Is there any way we can shape an India which is beyond the dirty reproach of the westerners?

Khuda Hafiz

Saturday, July 24, 2010

The T!

I'd always wanted to be born a boy.. At least,being born a girl in India,that too Kerala,that too in a pretty much orthodox family,i'd more than once wished if only i were born a boy! (I used 'born a boy' only as a gag to those pricks who would come up with suggestions on Gender Reassignment Surgery!)..

Every time i found a boy having a nightout with friends,or a trip to Goa/Pondi or a bike tour, i whined on why the hell was i born a girl,.why couldn't my parents be one of those supporting a female infanticide(of course,that was a bit exaggerated!)..Another of those endless things i missed was a booze party,.of course not to booze myself,but to see how this liquid helped people overcome all the inhibitions,to see how people transform into someone totally strange,to some kind of a blissful existence at least for a lull!,.I'd even asked my dad once to find me a groom who would drink,and believe me when i say that he gave me one such sarcasm filled guffaw which i would never forget in a lifetime!! :D

But now,I'm highly grateful to God that i was born a girl in it's fullest sense and not as someone who can be termed neither or either!!Everytime i walk around a busy street in Blore,i get to meet the heavily built,yet deceivingly beautiful,people,who,even though they wish to be called so,are not women..People,who have not a definite gender,or a clear identity or existence.. People who are looked upon with utter aversion by every goddamn person.. People who wouldn't be hired,neither can they be self employed,thus being rendered helpless and left to choose among begging/looting for their existence.. People who wouldn't be admitted in any school or college,thus contributing themselves to the illiterate shits of India who hamper the growth of India into a super-power..

I'm highly grateful to God that i was born with a proper XX,due to which my parents are not a tad ashamed to bring me up and not abandon me in my infancy!I'm grateful to God that i have a home,and a loving family,and a proper education which didn't eventually leave me jobless,and not fend for myself when i didn't know the chromosomal difference between a male and a female!

Without an identity,they have no say in running the democratic process.. Without a vote,none of the political mavericks are interested in their issues,not that they are interested in ours..

Till date i'm not sure if LGB is a reality or fantasy like in dostana as i've never once come across one of the kind.. But not in the case of 'T'.. If i were to say,transgenders definitely need a better consideration than making them part of the LGBT resolution... Their problem is not one of dignity for their 'needs',but of existence,identity and survival..And an amendment in an article wouldn't help them be a part of our nation,.the attitude of the society of which you and i are a part,should change.. And it's high time we stop reservations based on cast,creed or religion,but devote in giving a helping hand to those who are in real need of it!

A nation remains handicapped so long as it ignores a,howsoever diminutive,part of it's citizens.. And so long as it ignores their needs,it's growth will only be a fallacy..

Khuda Hafiz

Sunday, July 18, 2010

A Chronicle of Fantasies..

Fantasy stories have never been my choice.. Not when i was a kid,not when i grew up.. It was never tom n jerry or scoobee doo which entertained me when i was a kid,but the *dishyum dishyum* movies which i watched with my grandpa.. It was not the handsome-prince-crosses-seven-seas-for-the-princess stories that mom narrated,but mahabharata and ramayana.. Hence i was honed,to turn my back to fantasies..

When i was in school,there was a girl who told me of a lady who was turning tides throughout the globe,.and that was J.K.Rowling..She wrote one book,then the other,then another,..it went on until she became one of the biggest aristocrats in the world..What i could never understand was how/why people enjoyed such fantasies which didn't quite appeal to their sanity.. The 2hrs i spent in Hyd IMAX watching HP5,the one n only HP which i had to watch,was a torture to me,for,i rotated my head 360 degrees only to find everyone gaping with awe at the movie,the script,and the 3D!!

J.R.R.Tolkien was in no way inferior to Rowling,for he made every single guy speak in laudative tone about his Lord of the Rings.. If HP suffered from the wrath of muffling of the sumptousness when compared to the book,LOTR was bloody brilliant.. The 12hours that guys stayed hooked to the pc just to watch all the 3 movies at a stretch was inconcievable.

Next in the list was Stephnie Mayer,who presented every girl with the dreams of a vampire-sweetheart who could rescue them at the need of the hour.. I hoped she would stop with Twilight,but again,she was in no way different..

I'm unsure if i had missed any other mavericks who aced the field of imagination..But what stayed and still stays beyond my realm of understanding is,how people manage to enjoy the books/movies which they were sure to be challenging their lucidity.. Not that movies like transformers were believable.. But somehow,it was kind of watchable stuffs unlike the handsome-vampire-falls-in-love kinda storyline..

There would still be authors like Rowling who would keep questioning the acumen of a layman.. And there would still be people like me resisting them.. But an author becomes a prodigy,when he challenges the established norms of human imagination and transcends into weird realms.. Hats off to all those guys for their imaginative and narrative abilities!!!

Khuda Hafiz

Saturday, July 3, 2010

The Black Book

It has been about 2 months since i started reading this book.. Presented by a friend on my birthday,the reading crawls at snail's pace.. Coincidentally though,reading as well as blogging have almost come to a standstill ever since i turned 22.. Not that I'd ever been a good writer..but at least i was good at jotting down random thoughts..which is what i struggle at,now..

Anyhow,back to Black..

After My Name is Red,I'd this huge reverence to Orhan Pamuk,which was why my dear friend took all the pains of hunting down this book which was then not to be found anywhere in Bangalore.If My Name Is Red was one of those books which i enjoyed reading,which i hated putting down, The Black Book thoroughly decieved me all time.. Although the book was famous/infamous for its complexity,I'd a subdued impression of the extent of intricacy any book could hold..But it was far beyond my expectations..

The story is all about the ongoing search of Galip for his wife Ruya,who on a fine day,has disappeared,for her ex-husband or for Celal,a popular newspaper journalist who also happens to be her step-brother..Although Ruya leaves an obscure parting note,which lets out no reason on her adieu,Galip sets on an investigation primarily out of his uncontrollable and scarcely returned love,and partly due to his unabated doubt on the fidelity of his wife,rather any house-wife,.which glints in some areas like,

"In my view,an intelligent husband makes a point of forgetting every man who sends his regards to his wife. Because-well,just in case. Especially if the woman in question is a housewife. If you rule out relatives and shopkeepers,that luckless creature we call the housewife is unlikely afterall to meet any man other than her own tedious husband. So if a gentleman does take the trouble to send her his regards,it will make her think,and she has plenty of time for that too.."

As his investigation progresses,he finds that Celal has disappeared too.. And he dares to be the imposture of Celal,occupying his home,wearing his clothes,answering his phone calls,even writing his columns,only to transform almost completely into an ever envied identity..

There were occasions when the literary ace of Pamuk left me awestruck as in,

"When catastrophe strikes,there can be no happier way of facing death. So let me cry out in anguish to a distant love:My darling,my beauty,my long suffering sweet,the disaster is fast approaching;so come to me,come to me now;wherever you happen to be at this moment- a smoke filled office,a messy blue bedroom,an onion scented kitchen in a house steaming with laundry-Know that the time has come,so come to me;let us draw the curtains against the disaster pressing upon us;as darkness encroaches,let us lock ourselves in a last embrace and silently await the hour of our death."

I'm just half way through.. Although it's not an easy read,it gives a pleasure beyond words to decipher the intricacies hidden in the beautifully weaved words of Pamuk. Salutes to the literary genius!!

Khuda Hafiz

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

8035 Days!!!

Khuda Hafiz

Tuesday, April 20, 2010


'He couldn't help turning back once again..surreptitiously though..

She was hot..different from what he ever imagined in his umpteen dreams where he crawled and lay entangled with some female..
The voluptuous body,and the pink sumptuous lips and the seductive eyes that glanced at him with a coy filled cue and the long artistic fingers with the beautifully crafted nails and the long slender neck and the short hair that heaved over her shoulders which fell more on the browner side unusually for a south-indian:he couldn't help himself from being aroused..

He had this unsuppressible urge to hold her,..kiss her..unbutton her shirt and lay naked with her..Everytime he looked at her,he went 20yrs down the memory lane when Mr.Athlete weds Ms.Damsel was all that he felt people talked about..Wherever he turned to,all he heard was a 'made for each other' remark..Unlike every other love marriages which sabotaged in a few years due to problems unidentifiable,theirs was the perfect combination of elements resulting in two other impeccable creed of compounds..

Deepak's was a happy family..as happy as it could be..with a wife,educated and austere,demanding reverence from who ever got to know of her..with the two sweet boys who always topped in school not just in acads but in extra curriculars,thanks to his wife's meticulous efforts..with a job giving him all kinds of satisfaction ranging from monetary benefits to the leisure factor,that he ever looked forward to during his days of pursuing a job..

Problems started when she started being repulsive at bed..Initially all he did was blame the work pressure..He pulled on,patiently,with hopes of a new sunrise..But all the more patient he was,more offensive she became..He even started doubting his manhood..doubting her fidelity..Until he got to know of the physical changes that she was undergoing..Menopause..the inevitable phenomenon in every woman's life..

Deprivation of a meal coupled with an offer of cake plunged him into the abyss of infidelity with his newly joined private secretary..He forced himself into oblivion,.of his wife..his children..his duties towards his family..all that appeared before him was his bodily pleasures which he no more could hold on..'

Bangalore shows me new ways of life that im unaccustomed to..of infidelity..of flings..one night stands..of fragile human relationships..Aren't we losing the values and traditions that we long upheld??Reminds me of Life in Metro,in dino..
I had a colleague narrate to me an incident which happened here..a group of friends,gals and guys,who were close enough to be found always together,..be at work place or parties or hang outs or treks..among them,a guy who escapes from bachelorhood invites others for a party at his home,which was a 1bhk..A booze party which left not even a single person even remotely close to sober..The couple sleep in their bedroom and everyone else in their gang in the hall..

Partying remains the mantra of their life for the next 3 months..together they were,as always..friends forever they called themselves..Until,one girl,a spinster,in the group had a morning sickness and ended up in a doctor's bed only to be diagonosed as pregnant..None of the guys know who is responsible,and neither does the girl..Alcohol just stirred every goddamn emotions out of every one there and now all of the so called forever friends are awaiting for the child to be delievered for a DNA test to finalize which guy will have his wedding bells ringing with the girl..

Nayi Bharat Ki Nayi Kahani!!

Khuda Hafiz

Wednesday, April 14, 2010


I woke up the third time from the sleep which was already broken..I was not initially sleepy despite the clock ticking 1am..Lost in the thoughts,which veered from rejuvenating to tiring ones,eyes felt heavy and at some point in time,unknown yet,i slept..

I had weird dreams..

I was lost in a desert..With no one to talk..no one to help me out either.. I was on my my own,totally..Wherever i turned to there was nothing but the hot grit and gravel..I shouted..I ran..endlessly..until i could pull on no more..

I panted..searching for the bottle of water i thought i had kept by my bed..But no,it wasn't there..I strolled across all the rooms in the flat aimlessly and returned back to bed..

Slumber showered its blessings upon me again..

And this time what i had to endure was a train of advices..Ever since i landed in bangalore,i'd been constantly under the fears of,1)wrong place to live, 2)to board an auto 3)expenditure exceeding the income.. All the more stinchy i tried to be,i ended up spending more profligately..All my belongings,which lay astray in my room reminded me of my expenses in the past..Not that i belonged to the league of that 'spoilt kid' which bible stated..but bangalore makes me spend..either out of necessities or out of uncontrollable whims..

This time i didn't jump out of the bed..Bearable stuffs you see..All i did was stay awake,for the fear of drowning in another dream..

Somewhere along,i slept again..

And yet,i was awake..awake in the thoughts..

Was that a tremor that i felt??I tried to concentrate..No,it was not..It was my mobile sincerely informing me of the endless stream of messages..I could hang on not any more..

I closed my eyes tight..and got out of the bed..walked like a kid with the help of the walls and switch boards which showed me the way..and finally i reached where i had to..

I switched on the light.. rubbed my eyes..and let myself dissolve in His glory..The innocent smile..The radiance..The fruits and coins and gold exhibited..(flowers were not available)!..And

Yes,it was vishu..The first vishu away from home..Without those 'kaineetams' and familial visits..Simple yet humble..we celebrated it as best as we could..

Happy Vishu.

PS:I'm constantly under this doubt of who to follow..my instincts and what my mind says is right,or what others,the formless,speechless society set forth..I prefer the former..and till date,had abided by what my mind asked me to..but the pressure that the people who i love,who love me equally,put upon me,keeping the social status at stake disgusts me,depresses me..
PPS:I especially want the moron Durga to reply!!!!

Khuda Hafiz

Friday, April 2, 2010

Writer's Block!

Apr 5th..
I complete a semester of successful career in software industry..
An advice that every tom dick and harry gave generously was never to stick to this field..
Do an MBA,someone says..
When are you getting married,someone else asks..
Start teaching in a college,another someone suggests..
Write PO tests for the banks,none other than my banker dad instructs..
Right since oct 5th did i start wondering what was so very wrong with this job that every single person i meet suggests me otherwise..Did it not pay handsomely..Did it not give job satisfaction..Reverential status..
All along the roller coaster training that lasted 6 months,which witnessed my terrible ups and downs like never before,i scratched my head trying to find reasons to prove that this was not a place worth showing just the backs to..

But by the time i finished the training to start the real work,divine intervention got into the play to make me understand that,software industry was like a shit-pit..no one likes it..but no one can do without it..
Not much of a clairvoyance is required to identify a software guy in the crowd,for mostly in cities like Bangalore,therez a probability that 70% of the people u bump into will be a s/w pro among which,a mallu is 90% probable to bump into another mallu ..a guy walking with a headset constantly in action and doesn't mind ignoring the balance from a street vendor would mostly zero to a s/w pro..

The salary account,that gets refilled by the end of every month,blinds you from getting out of the pit..and you toil,day in and day out,as if you would be awarded a khel ratna at the end of it,thus sacrificing whatever whims and fancies used to adorn your life and fill it with substance.. You keep murmuring to yourself the words of consolence and solace to pull on,saying it's how the flow of life is..But not until you are really crushed out of juice do you realize that it is the coffee that matters and not the make of the mug..

PS:Month end definitely does make me happy.. and I'm till date not that very frustrated about where i'm coz the kind of friends that i made during the training and the fun i had with them were not the least comparable with the 22 years of experience i had on the globe..Kudos to all of them..

PPS:I wanted to restart blogging..Thought for a while..Thought for a longer while..About what to write..or at least what to crib..But that was when i understood that i had to revisit the kinder garten to restart writing the craps again..Reminded me of  Nikolai Gogol,the Russian writer,who starved himself to death on finding that he was into a perpetual writer's block from which he had no escape(Though he would suicide a second time on finding that i dared comparing him with me!!! :D)..And hence the crap!!

Khuda Hafiz

Thursday, March 11, 2010

The Burden of Love..

THIS IS NOT MY WORK.I got it forwarded from someone..i just loved it quite a lot for the intensity of emotions in it.. And i felt like applauding the anonymous author by publishing it here..So please,no accusations of plagiarism!!

The burden of losing someone whom you love is too much to be carried with your heart for the rest of your life.

Ragging is fun. We always escaped from our seniors when we were in the first year of our graduation. Dancing infront of female seniors, hugging the trees and calculating the lengths of the buses with match sticks, yep, it was indeed great fun to get ragged. Personally I have gained many good friends too.

Now that I am in the second year, I started to rag. Screwing guys and flirting girls is the meaning of ragging in my dictionary until one fine day I saw her.

“Hey Shania... come here” I called one of the happening girl’s around. “I am getting bored... why don’t you accompany me to the canteen?” I asked her. The expressions on her face were changing. “I know that you have to catch a bus to your home town” I said. She looked at me pretending innocence and asked, “How did you know?”

“I have been to my home town many times before when I was also a junior, even though Hyderabad is my home town.” I told her. Knowing that she’s caught, she stopped giving me lame excuses.

Some prior knowledge about Shania and some lucky flukes, I pretended reading her face and ultimately I ended up holding her hands. Even as I rubbed her hand on the pretext of reading her palm, she listened to me with great interest.

I am a scorpion and henceforth the animal magnetism that draws the opposite sex towards me. I know how to handle girls. I had a very good name in my college, both academically as well as in extracurricular activities. And she knew all this. How did she? I made sure that she knew bits and pieces about me before I made the first impression. And now, Voila, I hit the bull’s eye.

One hour later, we were good friends. Shania fell for me. And I took the control.

“I will drop you at your home, Shania” I told her. She was initially reluctant before I successfully coaxed her. A hand slowly fell on my shoulder and I slightly lost control of my bike. My bike jerked a lil’ and Shania dashed to my back.

‘Grow up dear..’ I saw a guy standing infront of me and preaching. ‘Yes, sir’ I bade good bye to my conscience and I dropped her at her home.

Days passed by and then weeks. I was getting closer and closer to her. Is she gonna be the girl in my life? Should I propose her? Thousands of thoughts ran through my mind.

One fine day, she called up. “Sanju, I know I am losing myself to you. I know that you are reciprocating the same feelings to. I know you as a good friend. I know you as a great lover. Perhaps after my dad and mom, you are the one who’s most important in my life. I guess I can’t live without you. I.....” there was a pause for a minute.

All the while she was speaking, I was holding my breath to hear those three words. ‘Come on say it Shania’ I thought in my mind.
“I don’t know where this is gonna end. My parents are way too orthodox to agree for our marriage. Why don’t we end this here?” she continued.

“But I still love you....” she said and there was a pause for a while. Tears trickled down my cheeks. Had she told me the last phrase alone, I would have been the happiest soul in this world.

What’s the point in saying an I love you which is not gonna sustain. Whats the point in being in a relationship which is not gonna last?

And I decided to breakup with her even before I could actually reciprocate her proposal.

One year passed, and whenever our ways crossed, she gave those blank glances at me. And I just bent my head and avoided her.
One day, it was late night when I was returning home when I saw a girl show her thumb hitching a ride. ‘Shania?’ and I stopped my bike. She stepped onto my bike and asked me to drive to this certain place where there was no one.

I pulled the stand and my bike rested on it. She held me by my shirt and shouted out loud, “why are you avoiding me? Why are you looking at me as if I were an enemy? Please, I do love you, but I am frightened of my parents. I just can’t live without you” and she started crying as she held my shirt and hugged me.

A woman’s heart is too deep to be understood. But that time I felt that I saw her true feelings towards me. I knew she loved me from the depths of her heart. I saw how much she cared me.

“Don’t worry baby, I will take care of it. I will see that we get married,” I said even as I kissed her on her forehead.

They say that a guy who often prays when in a relationship is damn serious about the relationship. I prayed too often. More than often, I prayed, each and every minute. I prayed to god that she and I should get married, that too with the blessings of our parents. Little did I know that I was asking for something which would never be granted.

Two years, we were in love. I watched movies with her, I have dined with her and I have walked down the roads hand in hand with her. But more than the fact that I enjoyed her company, I was always frightened that this wouldn’t last long. I never knew when we would be separated. I never knew when this relationship would come to an end.

The only thing that I could do was pray. And I never neglected my career too. After all, if our parents agree, we should be self sufficient at least.

For a few weeks, I couldn’t contact her. One day she called me up on my mobile. She said, “I am sorry Sanju. I revealed our story to my parents. My mom was about to consume poison, when my dad and me stopped her. I love my mom so much. I don’t want to lose her. I love you too. But I am frightened that my mom may kill herself. I don’t want to build a memorial of love on the grave of my parents. Please do forget me Sanju. I am sorry” she said and cut the call.

I always anticipated such an answer. It was shocking indeed for me. All these days, I have imagined her to be my wife. I have been to places of worship along with her. I ....

And now she called me saying that she’s succumbing to her parent’s pressures?

Parents are very selective about the marriage of their kids. A sense of social status is more important to them rather than the life of their kid. At least what right do they have over some one else’s child. Isn’t my life spoiled? I am not the kinda guy who just lets things go off his head and go on with life.

She always said, “I love my parents and you” and I said “I love you more than my parents”. What could she have done if I were also to threaten her or blackmail her by saying that I would consume poison and commit suicide? She would have still stayed with her parents. It was my mistake to fall in love.

And from the very next moment I started to drink and smoke. Few habits which I detested throughout my life. A few weeks later, I came to know that she married another guy. And the burden of losing someone whom you love is too much to be carried with your heart for the rest of your life....

I closed the diary. I understood the pain which my son must have undergone when he lost the lady whom he loved. I felt a stinging pain in my heart. I have never been I love. I loved only four people. My parents and my wife and the last but not the least, my son. But after reading his diary I was in his shoes for a while. I could understand his feelings.

If he had told me about his love, I would have talked to the parents of the girl and persuaded them to get these young hearts married. But I came to know later from one of my son’s friends that he had done all that, he could. He spoke to the girl’s parents. He fell at their feet. He begged them. But of no avail.

Her parents might have had the right to spoil her life. But what right did they have to spoil that of my son? Citing some caste and social problems, they rejected his love.

“Sanju, my darling....” I closed my eyes and opened them wiping the tears from my eyes.

And I saw the past unfold infront of my eyes. The day when the nurse told me that I had a baby boy, the day when he kicked on my chest with those cute little feet of his, the day when he learnt to walk on his own, the day when I admitted him to school when he held my shirt pleading me not to leave him, the day he brought home the prize he won in his KG level drawing competitions, the day when I kissed him when he showed me the progress report, the day when he won an essay writing competition, the day when he secured an engineering seat in a reputed college and finally.....

Finally the day when he jumped from the top of the apartment unable to bear the pain and the suffering and committed suicide.
The burden of losing someone whom you love is too much to be carried with your heart for the rest of your life.

PS:I'm well aware and guilty that i deserted my blog for greater ambitions and aspirations for quite a while.Hoping to get back on the track soon.Soon means pretty soon.See you all.

Khuda Hafiz