Travels and Travails

Warning

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 09:30:00 +0000

The movie Red Cliff is in Chinese.

Please check if your theater is showing English subtitles.

Weekend

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Sun, 22 Mar 2009 18:20:00 +0000

It's 7:30 and the weather is cool and balmy and with that smell that says darkness is nigh. Unfortunately, I am stuck in my office, working on some deliverables for the next day.

I remember my college weekend nights - many of them would be spent outside, on one of the many lawns scattered throughout the campus with friends, talking about stuff I don't even remember now. In the summers, we would pray for a breeze, and then, sometimes our prayers would be answered, and a light whiff of dust and flower scented gentle wind would flow - it'd seep through our sweat-drenched shirts and trousers and fill it with coolness and life and we would all shut up and just savour it.

I remember the nights spent at home - I think I spent most of them in the company of a book. I would start at 9:30 and go on till 11. I look at that image - me, curled up in my rajai and reading and smile.

Life is never idyllic - I might probably look back at this time now and say - it used to be great and how I had many friends, and travelled a lot, had the time to write a blog and ate so much :) - but the point is not that.

What I am trying to say is that all the hard-work and midnight oil burnt is more to minimise the sadness in one's life, than provide it happiness. It is important to know that the things that really give us pleasure come fleetingly, unasked for and go away as quickly.

So, we need to always have that space in our minds, and that ability to relax and enjoy when they come.

So, even though I have to work this evening - next Friday evening is going will be better. I'll go with some friends to the neighborhood park, take some good wine and (hopefully) watch the sun rise. That's a plan.

The Tipping Point

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Thu, 19 Mar 2009 10:40:00 +0000

Reporter - How do you feel about the manner in which your paper has been received?

JB - Well, to tell you the truth, I am a bit surprised by the rather extreme reactions it has generated. And I think the most popular interpretation of the paper - and I hope you understand what I mean - has been a tad surprising. My conclusion has been restricted to saying that there is an inverse correlation of the GDP growth of a country and the inversion of the population pyramid. And I have restricted this study to a period of the last 20 years - which I have made pains to explain - can not be extrapolated as a general trend.

Reporter - But you must have had some idea of how it would be seen particularly by the Youth parties, right?

JB - Well, what can I say? I didn't even know about these parties at all - I just came to know about them last month when they invited me to speak at their gathering.

Reporter - And did you go?

JB - No, of course, not. I am not an ageist.

Reporter - But doesn't the main message your paper give consistent with their philosophy

JB - Please let me make this clear - it was an academic study to see the variation in the growth rate and how it can be attributed to the population growth rate of a country. It has taken me and my team two years to come up with this and there are several useful conclusions to it. Examples of how countries who have structured their pension plans better, have increased their retirement ages have done better. And there are several recommendations that can help a country shape its policies.

Reporter - But you do know that they are using your paper and your image to promote their messages.

JB - Yes, and let me use this opportunity to categorically say that I strongly condemn their philosophy, their messages and their hate campaign. My father is 70 years old, alive and kicking and in my view, a very important and useful member of the society.

Reporter - I am sorry to keep coming back to this. But, their interpretation, as far fetched as it is, doesn't it have a kernel of truth, a logical connection to what you have written.

JB - Please. I don't want to talk about this any further. I would be really happy if you could restrict your questions to academic matters. Politics has never been of any interest to me, and I have no relation or connection to these murderers masquerading as a political party. I am sorry, but this interview is at an end.

Her Story

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 08:47:00 +0000

(A different narrative - part of the Retirement Plan)

I married very late. Growing up, I was fairly shy with girls and somehow nobody really took my fancy for longer than a while. I didn't really know what I was looking for, and after a while I gave up trying.

It'd be inaccurate to say I fell in love with her the first time we met. But yes the glance did linger. I had gone to give a lecture at the university she was teaching in. We had exchanged mails when she invited me - and I had accepted. The lecture didn't go very well, I was distracted. For some reason, I kept wanting to look on my side where she was sitting - more out of curiosity, to tell the truth. And yes, I did notice that she didn't have a ring.

We went out for dinner that night - I was nervous and earnest. But the conversation was easy and she smiled a lot. A week later, I kissed her. At 40, I fell in love for the first time.

For 20 years, I kissed her lips and smiled at everyone. Those were the best years of my life. Most of all, what stay with me are the Sunday afternoons. The afternoon sun would keep the room bright and warm, and I would sit in my armchair reading. She would always sit across to me, correcting her papers. From time to time, we would look up at each other and smile. That's the memory I want to die with.

She wanted to live with me. As the clock ticked and she clung on to me, I came to realise what she couldn't do, and what I had to do to her. Did I flinch? Not perceptibly, but I would have gladly destroyed half the world than push the needle into her.

Coming of age

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Sun, 15 Mar 2009 17:35:00 +0000

The group of Indian friends that I have here are all older than me. I am 24 and they are all between 25 and 29. A few things are common between all of them - well-educated, good jobs, all pretty successful in the conventional sense, and yes, all single and desperate to get married.

A lot of our conversations focus around marriage. I sit quietly, uncomfortable.

A few days ago, I received a weird mail - a girl had accidentally mailed the marriage bio-data of her sister to my address. I forwarded it to some friends for a few laughs. I was scared for a bit - it could be real one day, and not so far in the future. But I didn't fret too much about it. It'll happen and I'll take it as it comes.

I feel so much older these days. Last night, I and a friend had planned to go on a pub-crawl. I went to his place - we had dinner, and at 9:15, we looked at each other and decided to call it day. We had a couple of beers at the apartment, talked and then went to sleep.

When I was 21, I had a lot of time, but didn't have the money to go to fancy places. Now I just get tired so easily. I don't think there was ever a good balance between these two things.

I have also gotten very quiet. I fly into fewer rages, and yes, am less passionate about more things. It's just very sedate these days.

Don't know whether this is just a passing phase or a final maturing. I still hope to fall madly in love, and find the passion of my life, and do something that leaves a permanent legacy.

The only thing is, I would be fine even if these things didn't happen.

French Watchmen

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Mon, 09 Mar 2009 14:41:00 +0000

The world will look up and shout, "Save us", and we'll whisper,"No. We don't work on weekends, alternate Wednesdays, before 10 and beyond 5, all bank holidays and 1 month of skiing vacation"

Retirement Plan

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 14:07:00 +0000

(Some initial thoughts on a book)

My son was retired yesterday. He didn't resist. They never do. I wish I was like everybody else.

I am used to the attic now. For the first few years I resented it, I even tried to crawl out and move about the house. But S caught me doing it once and thereafter he locked it. Slowly I got used to it. I hardly moved out, I had my books, my movies and my writing to keep me busy.

Self-sufficiency is so under-appreciated. It's so true - before I came upstairs, I had never understood the hikikomori. I thought they were weird, but I get it know. There is so much within each of us. 40 years - I have spent 40 years myself, alone, hidden, with nothing else to think about but myself, and how it all came to this.

Very few people know about this but the "retirement plan" was first talked about in 2010. It came from what was a broader macroeconomic paper looking at different ways of resurrecting the Japanese economy. It concluded that the inverted population pyramid was THE cause of the slowdown, and that they needed a retirement plan that would be economically viable. I was doing my MBA then, and it was a paper I came across then. I remember thinking there was something wrong somewhere but I couldn't put my finger onto it.

I remember many events from those days very vividly, but I still find it difficult to piece together all of it. Not that I had a lot of time to. I was working very hard. Still, I travelled quite a bit and I heard people moving from an academic discussion on the plan to more implementable ways of getting there. They only talked about it with their best friends, and were very discreet about it. But slowly and surely, the idea was gaining ground.

I think the event that took the idea over the hump was the results of the euthanasia trial that occurred in Norway in 2020. Euthanasia had been legalized in 2012, and retrospectively, they had seen applications for for euthanasia jump to as much as 60% for people over 80. The Norwegian government took lots of pains to emphasize the success of their decision, and the positive effect it was having on their economy.

People took notice. And they thought about it.

The Secure Under-Achiever

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 22:24:00 +0000

One of my favorite books is "The Outsider" by Albert Camus. For me, the most striking part about the book was how self-assured the protagonist was about his limitations - his inability to worry about his mother's death, the nonchalance with which he kills the man at the beach due to his natural instincts, how he calmly accepts the sentence meted out to him et al.

In the real world, we are almost always very affected by some sort of a world-view on our abilities, and the expectations arising from them - everybody is expected to get 90%, 95% and become the CEO of a company (well, not everybody, but, you get the point).

I tend to get very stressed when I under-perform. It is a feeling that invades my entire body and makes me want to bust my head against a wall. This has happened often enough in the past, and as much as I don't want to get stressed, the only way out has been to burn the midnight oil and toil.

However, things are changing.

Today, I had a performance evaluation, and it didn't go well. Several areas of improvement were pointed out to me. Normally, in such a case, I would get very stressed, argue with the evaluator, get in a blue funk - as I have many times before. But today, my response was different. I calmly heard him out, explained my side of the story, and (in my head) accepted that 80 times out of 100, the situation would repeat itself.

Looking back at the last 6 weeks, improving upon how I did would, in my opinion, stretch me to the seams - and as someone who is a fervent believer in the 80:20 law, it's not worth it.

So, I guess what I am trying to say is that I have now come to terms with what I can do, what I can't - keeping into account my happiness and general well-being.

This doesn't mean that my plans for world domination have in anyway lessened. Just that I wouldn't screw my life over it, and probably not chide myself for not getting there.

25

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Sun, 15 Feb 2009 19:29:00 +0000

There is this tag on Facebook about 25 random things or suchlike. Somebody tagged me recently, and since I had nothing better to do (and only need a chance to talk about myself), I made the list. But it turned out to be very personal, so I have decided to put it up here:

I grew up in a small village called Simra. I have lived in many places since, but there is no feeling like going back there. It's home.

When I was 7, I took some money from my father's wallet to buy some gum. My sisters came to know of it and told my father. I tried to pull a stunt refusing to apologise and threatening to leave the house. My father asked me to leave. I went out, circled the neighbourhood and came back crying. Thus ended my all-too-brief career as a rebel.

Blue is my favourite colour. As far as possible, I only wear light blue shirts and dark blue pants.

I hate making slides - the only part of my job I really hate.

Growing up, I had to go to a school in a town far away and it'd take 2 hours each way in a cramped bus. I used to get headaches almost everyday.

I know the entire Hanuman Chalisa by heart.

I plan to name my son Vardhman, and daughter Varsha. I know this is pretty silly.

I like what are called girlie drinks.

Growing up, there were no kids in my neighbourhood. Since it was such a small place, everybody sent their kids to study in the bigger cities. So, I grew up with books. My school library was pretty small - I think I must have read all the books twice by the time I left the place.

My biology teacher died while in labour, when I was 11. After school, the entire class went to the hospital. I saw the body. I still remember the entire thing very vividly.

Unlike most of my friends, I love South Indian food. It is very difficult for me to convince them to go out to a SI restaurant. It'd very easy for me to fall in love and marry a woman if she can make great sambar and curd rice.

I think I sing very well. If people tell me I don't, it's very difficult for me to like them.

I find it very difficult to work under people whom I don't respect intellectually.

In Class XII, in the hostel, there were three of us - we were nicknamed Cutter, Killer, Jahar. I was Jahar - apparently because my jokes could kill or something stupid like that. It was my first group. We are in three different continents now.

When growing up, there were two teachers who heavily influenced me. There was Pasang sir - my class-teacher in 5 and 6, who encouraged me to read. And Sahib Ali sir, my class teacher in 8, 9 and 10, who got me interested in Science. I owe them a lot. I have no clue where they are

When I came to Delhi to get admission in school, I didn't have my board mark-sheets, and so the school wasn't letting me in. I made an impromptu senti speech to the Principal (replete with tears and a litany of my intellectual accomplishments) and it impressed him, and I was admitted. One incident I am really very proud of.

I was robbed a few weeks back and lost my passport. Currently, I am stateless.

I can't understand maps, I don't have a sense of direction, ergo I get lost easily. That's why I don't drive (I paid 2000 rupees for the license). While travelling, I rely on asking people for directions. It works.

I went skiing a few weeks back - go up 20 minutes, come down 2 minutes. Complete waste of time.

I want to enter politics at a certain stage.

I spent the entire morning and afternoon today watching the entire LOTR series (extended edition). I was blown away when I first saw them, but after today I admire them at a completely different level. There is a lot of depth in the series I hadn't noticed before. (This is not strictly about me but I wanted to say this anyway).

I hated Delhi and Delhiites a lot, until one day I realised I had become one of them.

There are three things my mother tells me to do every time we talk - pray regularly, brush twice a day and drink a lot of water. Somehow, I am not able to do any of these.

Something happened (and it' still too personal to talk about) when I was 15 which turned me off organized religion. I am fairly indifferent to the entire religion thing now, don't even think about it much.

I like to think I am interesting, conflicted, different, insidious - the stuff dark characters are made of. But in my heart of hearts I know I am fairly conventional, boring and nice.

Speech Defect

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Fri, 06 Feb 2009 21:37:00 +0000

I have been told on a few occasions that I tend to speak English very fast. In India, it didn't really matter - if someone didn't get me, I would switch to Hindi. Only while giving presentations would I consciously slow down, but that was not very frequent, and so, quite manageable.

Here, compounded by the accent, it became a big problem. So, I had to slow down. Now, I find myself talking (in my opinion) painfully slowly, in a weird, high pitch, emphasis on every syllable, way. It sounds really phony to me, and it really upsets me, thought nobody else seems to mind it.

I don't want to sound phony to myself, I want to be able to speak naturally, not dam the words coming out of my mouth. But I have to speak slowly to make sense to these guys, and every bit of it is painful.

One more reason why I won't settle down here.

State of Affairs

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Wed, 04 Feb 2009 19:49:00 +0000

So, I recently got Ad-Sense installed on the blog. It promised to put ads related to the content on the site.

Excitedly, I visited the site to check out the first ad. My smile faltered as soon as I saw it:

100s Pretty Ladies
They are looking for a Husband Marry a Latin Beauty Queen!

www.latinwomensite.com

Damn, these Google guys are good.

What is life worth living for?

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 15:50:00 +0000

Listening to "Chandni Raatein" in the middle of the night

Eating banana walnut ice-cream at Big Chill

Watching Monty Python

Slipping under a blanket when it is slightly cold

Going to a half-sleep on a weekend afternoon

Reading Douglas Adams

Talking to a friend after a long time

Saying hello to the cute girl at the sandwich shop every afternoon

Waiting for the weekend to begin...

Political Identity

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Sat, 24 Jan 2009 19:52:00 +0000

Over the last four years, and increasingly in the last 6 months, I have spent a lot of time in trying to analyze who I am, where I think I belong, what does everyone else see in me, what am I to myself and the world. A significant part of these thoughts have been around what my political views are. I have always followed Indian and world politics fairly closely, and in wake of the brilliant coverage of the American elections last year, ended up reading a lot of political literature too.

I have a very strong sense of identity. Whatever differentiates me with most others, brings me closer to those of my own kind. Or, to try and put simply, I tend to group myself with people with whom I have a similar differentiation. Where I was born, the colour of my skin, what I studied, my alma mater, my profession, my firm, my hobbies, my caste, my nationality and several other things, with different emphasis over time and location, have defined my identity. When I meet someone, I categorize him/her across several of these labels, and see where they match or come close to. That is how I develop a conversation, a rapport and a friendship.

For instance, when I meet someone who lets say belongs to my region of the world, that is what we bond on. When I meet someone, who has the same interests as I do, that's what we talk about. One implication of this is that most of my friendships are fairly compartmentalized and I don't spend much time celebrating diversity, but that's not the point of the post.

I have always considered myself as a liberal sort of a fellow. What people do in their own time is their own business, and as long as nobody troubles me, I don't give a shit. But this runs into conflict with my earlier sense of identity. What do I do when what I believe is my group, is under a perceived threat? How do I reconcile my tribal bonding need and my liberal value-system?

What do I do, when people of my nation, my religion are under threat for being different. Do I sit on the fence and laugh at the infantile behaviour of the extremists, or do I take cudgels on behalf of my side, even as I know that what I would end up doing would definitely be unpalatable and probably wrong.

And my answer has always been to join the fight on my side and try to win.

Ideally, one would want to know the right or wrong. The problem is, sometimes, things stand so far back in time, one doesn't really know how anything began. But that's not the real reason why I choose to take a stand. I would probably stand by my group even if they were wrong. The reason is my innate need to survive.

I don't like saying this but ethnic cleansing works. We only have to look back at the 1500s and see that in the last 500 years, in almost half the world, one group of men have annihilated another. Both the American natives and Aborigines have been removed from the face of the earth and Africa has been screwed beyond possibility of quick redemption. Yes, men can do bad things to other men, and the earlier we recognize it, the better. Some would call it paranoia but who is to say it can't happen again.

In everyday life, we are used to being safe and protected and sheltered, and fed on a diet of Page-3 newspapers and escapist cinema, forget that outside, wars go on, people kill each other, and sometimes, the bad guys end up winning.

In the comfort of one's arm-chair, a libertarian ideology is very attractive. It gives us a moral high ground - when we are safe, we can afford to have one. However, with such a mentality, if and when the barbarians come at the gates, we'll probably end up being spiked.

And I would rather fight, kill and survive than stand aside.

The other problem with the libertarian utopia is that would imagine that everybody would love everybody else, and live happily ever after. But there is no example known to me that suggests that no chink will appear in this vision - people have always become greedier, nastier and given the variation in temperaments, there will be some bastards at any point of time. What do you do then?

When I ask people whether something is black or white, and I hear, gray - it makes my blood boil. The purpose of information is to take action, and saying gray doesn't help. Decisions need to be made - and one has to take guesses in real life, and hope for the best. One of the biggest sins in this world is inaction - because of absence of 100% evidence. And, I would, any day, prefer efficiency over precision. It's like the debate I was having with someone about global warming - the other guy said, "There is still not sufficient proof that global warming is happening," and my reply to him was, "If we keep waiting for proof, there'll probably be no earth left". Survive first, ask later.

So I am asked - are you right-wing? And I would have to say yes. As long as there is someone ready to shoot me, I will carry a gun myself. In the legendary words of Dinkar:

Kshama shobhti us bhujang ko, jiske paas garal hai
Uska kya jo dantheen, vishrahit vineet saral hai

Liberalism is a luxury only the powerful can afford, I would rather watch my back.

Do Take ka Aadmi

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Sun, 18 Jan 2009 10:31:00 +0000

I follow all the cricket action very diligently on Cricinfo, and it was difficult to suppress a chuckle when Bangladesh got a new bowler called, Dolar Mahmud.

The Cricinfo guys had a field time with this, and there were a bunch of jokes floating about him. But after 4 matches, he was hit out of the park by Jayasuriya, and was removed from the team.

And guess, who they got in as a replacement

"Rubel Hossain"

And the jokes continued...

An Easy Man to Please

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 09:37:00 +0000

It had not been going well.

I had had to get up early, at 5 AM. It was freezing outside. I had neglected to pack stuff the night before and it was taking way too long. I knew there were regular trains to the airport, but I didn't know long it would take and how much I would have to walk carrying the luggage, which was getting heavier every minute. Since the washing machine had broken down, I had run out of fresh clothes, so I had decided to carry all my dirty laundry back home, where they could be washed/ironed peacefully, giving me a few more days to get the machine fixed when I returned. But all that meant was that my pack was really heavy.

I got out, and the chill hit me. Bad idea, this, I thought, going in the train, trying to save 40 bucks, rather than take a taxi. I also suddenly realised that I hadn't eaten anything since last afternoon, and wasn't likely to get anything for the next few hours. The snow was slippery and I had to keep watching my step to avoid falling down. So, there I was, a hungry man, trudging slowly in the chill, carrying a heavy pack, and muttering angrily to himself.

I got to the station, and after changing a couple of stations, got to the airport. By this time, my shoulder was aching, and I had a 9 hour journey in a cramped seat to look forward to. I took my boarding ticket, and sat down for the boarding to begin. I never really understand why we need to arrive 3 hours in advance for an international flight - it never takes more than 30 minutes to get through the process.

I don't usually complain about such things, but that's because I have something to do, usually, read a book. But English books here are so expensive, I could never bring myself to spend on them. Everything said and done, I couldn't help myself keep converting prices into Indian rupees, and defer all the buying to when I got home.

I started cursing myself for having paid so much for the ticket. I had ended up booking late, and the prices had zoomed by then, and now, I would also have to reschedule my return, and pay some late charges on top of that. After skimping on small stuff, to pay so much for an uncomfortable ride. It hurt.

I also started thinking about all the things I still needed to do when I returned here. Get my commune card, get my insurance papers, and yes, fix the damn machine. Here, I have to bloody get everything done. Nothing is simple, no handymen, no agents. God, I hated my life.

And then the flight started boarding. There were a couple of cute girls in front of me, and I hoped I would get a seat next to either of them. We crossed business class (those bastards!), and onto economy, and halfway through, they were still with me. I looked down at my card, it said 21A, and we stopped near 20. My heart was beating faster, but a second later, both stepped into 20, and I looked across to see a middle-aged man in 21. Grumpily, I sat down next to him, and thought to myself

"This is great. With no sleep, and no food, and an aching shoulder, I will spend the next 8 hours in a cramped seat next to a middle-aged man with mild BO, and nothing to do but read the inflight magazine".

I was, you could mildly say, in a blue funk.

And then the miracle occurred.

I heard a voice, it was a god-sent angel, in the form of the airline stewardess:

"Sir, would you mind stepping out. We have upgraded you to business class".

Suddenly, the pain disappeared. I found myself grinning stupidly.

"That sounds perfect", I grinned.

I am a very easy man to please.

Strangers on a Train

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 04:57:00 +0000

(Genre: Semi-Autobiographical Fiction, Warning: Long)

We had met earlier.

That was on the train going home. We didn't "meet" really. She came to the compartment I was sitting in, to meet a family she knew. From their conversation, I understood she came from the same town as I did, and was doing an MBA in Delhi - that was rare, and hearing that, I looked up from my book. I could see only her side profile - she looked nice. She was wearing a fairly conventional sweatshirt and jeans. In a minute, she left and I returned to my book. I didn't even know whether she had noticed me.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of some spare time will fantasize about the girls he meets. I have spent countless hours daydreaming of a life with several different girls, some whom I might have only spent an hour with. There is just too much of Bollywood in me to resist it. But coming back to the story, in this case, there was nothing to go on with, I hadn't even seen her face. So, I had to return to my book.

Three weeks later, we met again.

I was going back to Delhi, as was she. My parents had come to drop me as had hers. As it turned out, they knew each other, and our seats were in the same compartment (this is not such a coincidence actually, the business community in our small town is pretty well-integrated, and all seats from a particular station are booked in the same compartment). I didn't recognize her at first - didn't have much time to.

We were supposed to catch a connecting train to another station, where we would board our train to Delhi. Usually, it is a simple affair - we catch a train at our station, and it drops us at the other station in 30 minutes or so, with more than an hour to spare. But, on this day, due to the fog, the train at our station was delayed, and the onward train was not. So we had to take a cab.

I quickly went outside, bargained with a driver and came back to pick my luggage. By this time, like all self-respecting small town businessmen, our parents had agreed that the two of us would share a cab, to split the cost. "Pretend that you know each other so as to not arouse the driver's suspicion", her father laughed. I smiled politely, paid my respects and left. She was already on her way to the taxi.

We got in. I smiled at her, she smiled back. She was not bad to look at, darkish, well-rounded face, and big eyes. Slightly plumpish, but as Snoop Dogg would say, "I like ma woman with sum meat on 'er". Some pockmarks, but a very nice smile and an overall pleasant look. I asked her what she did - an answer I already knew. I told her what I did. She was impressed, I was glad that she was. She asked me about my job, I asked her about her studies. I had my practised lines ready, and they rolled off smoothly. We smiled a lot, and laughed a few times.

I have this habit of advising people on matters concerning their careers. It is almost an addiction, a bad one since it makes me appear condescending, and I have tried to kick it several times, with sporadic success. This time, however, I waited until she asked for some advice. And then, I was short and to-the-point. Evidently, it was good, since she asked for some again on a different matter. I thought, "Wow! This girl likes to hear me speak."

We reached the station with an hour to kill. I got some moongfalis, and we continued our chit-chat. She asked me about my job; I talked about it for a while. We talked about the economy and its impact on the job market. The train arrived and we got on.

Besides us, the compartment had two elderly couples on their way back home and a middle-aged man. We settled down, and were quiet for a while. I took the opportunity to analyse her. She was nice-looking, was a good conversationist, but what I really liked, was the smile. It was full, and was completely participated in by the rest of the face. And most importantly, she showed it often enough in my company.

It was almost two and we decided to have lunch. She opened her pack, I mine and we shared our food. She confessed she didn't know how to cook, I said all I knew was dal-chawal and khichdi, adding a while later, that I could do pasta too. In this way, it continued, I don't remember half of it. We finished our lunch.

We talked of movies, I said I was really hoping to catch Ghajini and Oye Lucky Lucky Oye, she said she had seen Rab Ne... and hated it. She had always been in South Campus through grad and post-grad, so we talked of South Delhi. I said I loved going to Priya, she said she hated it. "Because it is so full of guys", she said. I disagreed, but kept my opinion to myself. She loved going to IHC and Dilli Haat, and even though I thought IHC was too pretentious and Dilli Haat too cheesy, I smiled and said I liked both the places, but had been there only a few times. That got her enthu, and she went on for a while about them.

By this time, we were both feeling sleepy, and she said she had been awake till 3 the night before searching for some papers. I got the hint, and suggested we lie down for a bit. We climbed on to our respective seats, and I said sheepishly, "Good night". She smiled.

When I got up, it was 6:30 PM. I looked at her, she was still asleep. I read for a while; and heard her get up. I didn't react, she got down and was busy for a while. After a while, she called me, "Come down". And I did.

We continued talking, among other things, about common friends in our town. Both of us had left several years back, and people whose names sounded familiar and whose faces were a blur, were brought into the conversation. We talked of our town and the changes it had undergone, and what the future heralded.

She was smart, and well-articulated. With most girls, my conversations have been very monologue-like. Either I go on and on, or am too tongue-tied to speak. With her, it was different. I waited my while to speak, she did too. I was funny, and she laughed. There were gaps in the conversation, but were broken naturally. It was comfortable.

It grew very dark. We had our dinner. After a while, the lights were switched off. The train was due to arrive in Delhi at 5 AM, and the entire train went off to sleep for the night. We tried to continue talking, but slowly became aware that we were disturbing others. Then she asked if I wanted to watch a movie; I said, "Sure". And she took out her laptop, and a pair of earphone. I browsed through her laptop, and came across South Park. I looked at her incredulously. She smiled, and said she had just started watching the series and loved it. I grinned.

We started watching Season 3. She had one earphone and I had the other. I was very aware that we were next to each other shoulder-to-shoulder, but she was comfortable, and slowly I forgot too. We laughed silently and kept watching one episode after the other, finishing the entire season. By that time, both had started feeling drowsy and the laughs had become infrequent. I suggested we go to sleep, and she agreed. "Good night, sweet dreams", I said.

I couldn't fall asleep. In all these years, I have hardly "clicked" with anyone. Most chances have been disasters, and even the few that went ahead turned out to be false alarms, eventually. I blame myself for it, sometimes the person overawed me, sometime the occasion did. But mostly, it was my own nature. Regardless of what I truly thought I was like, I came across as insensitive, creepy, dishonest, and it pained me. So, I had given up trying; resigned to let my parents find some girl for me, whose life I would probably go on to destroy.

But now I decided to retake the initiative. I would ask this girl out. I liked her, she didn't seem to despise me. I would wait for the right moment in the morning, and do it. Maybe, I could drop her to her hostel, and arrange to meet again. It could be done, why not!

And on that note, I went to sleep.

I woke up and looked outside. It was very foggy. It was 5, but the train was nowhere near Delhi. It had been delayed by a few hours. She was up too. I said "Good Morning", and we exchanged information about the train's delay. We figured we were about 4 hours late. Good, I thought, I have more than enough time to make my move. We busied ourselves for a bit, before settling down again.

She asked me what my future plans were, and I told her the truth, that I didn't have a clue, but wanted to do something good, and leave a legacy. I asked her about hers, and she said, she always wanted to run a shop, maybe get into retail now. I also said I wanted to travel a bit, and see the world. She said loved Pune and wanted to settle there.

We had refrained from discussing our personal lives as yet. I didn't have anything to say, and for some reason, was loathe to ask her about hers. I would find out eventually, anyway.

We had a bit of namkeen and biscuits. The fog was still thick but the train was making good progress, and we neared Delhi. I decided to make my move.

"How will you get to the hostel?", I asked.

"Oh! Don't worry. I'll get there", she said dismissively.

"Oh!, but I can drop you if you need me to. It's on the way", I said quickly.

"Well, I have a friend coming to pick me up", she said slowly, and smiled.

"Oh!". I got the message.

"Haven't spent 5 years in Delhi for nothing, have I?", she said and smiled.

To say I was hurt would be wrong. I hadn't invested any emotions in it yet, and the only feeling I had was the one similar to seeing Australia defeat New Zealand in a close match. Stacked against odds, to come so close and lose. That's the kind of feeling I had. I recovered quickly.

"Good", I said.

"Yeah".

The train pulled in. We exchanged good-byes and I rushed out. We didn't even exchange phone numbers or email ids.

If The Doors of Perception Were Cleansed...

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 12:56:00 +0000

A pack of six was pretty expensive, equivalent of Rs. 900. There were three of us, and we had two each. After 5 minutes, we came back to the shop - and I, in my oh-so-polite voice asked,

"By when should we start expecting an effect - nothing is really happening right now".

"Oh, I takes 35-40 minutes for anything to happen"

The three of us looked at each other, shrugged and left the shop. We came to a conclusion that we had been duped, but well, there was a drizzling snow, the marketplace was very crowded and in a while, we cheered up.

N went to get some fries. I didn't have a good feeling in my stomach, so I barely had a couple. We had been walking all day, and I was tired. For my sake, we trooped to the station looking for a waiting room. We staggered into a self-service cafe and selected a strategically positioned table where the cashier couldn't see us. Amidst chitchat about what to do if they ask us to leave for not buying anything or whether it is smart to call attention by getting just one cup of coffee, I put my head down.

I don't know when it started - but I remember feeling the voices of people around me all merging together in a song. There was English, Arabic, some French, and it all blended in a musical. And then there were the images - animations, cartoon of hills, cafes, my college, beaches and more - I don't remember a tenth of it. I got up and slurred:

"Guys, it is happening"

S looked at N and shrugged, "Atleast not to us." N added, "You are just tired. Rest for a while".

I didn't care much for their skepticism, and put my head down. And man oh man, I went through something amazing - there were animated versions of people I knew - my family, my friends, all the girls I liked but couldn't tell, some people I barely knew when I was 5-6, and me in various places, transformed into a cartoon. And best of all, it was all smiling, and nice and good memories. I tried to control the thoughts and take them in particular directions but they wouldn't yield. I quickly gave up, flowing with the ebb and tide of my visions

I think it was on for half and hour, before we had to move to catch a train. And in there, I couldn't stop laughing; I laughed till my jaws ached - actually. I had quietened down by time the train stopped.

We changed a train for home, and a couple came and sat next to us. The wife was around 60, hair bleached a weird pinkish red, heavily made up and with one of the most exotic pair of glasses I had ever seen.

I now know what the word serene means. That is what I was then.

N went to sleep, but I and S got to talking to her. She was a Chinese American, with an Indonesian husband living in Europe. We talked of Obama, and the coming to power of the right-wing parties in Europe. I told her about my political views - that I was a nationalist liberal, and she asked me to explain it to her. I started, - about the issues facing India, about the terrorism menace, about the need for a more hawkish foreign policy, about historical injustices, and then I suddenly started feeling very foolish.

Was what I was talking of really making so much sense to me either - wasn't it all labels, and propaganda and my opinion v/s someone else's. And who was I to have the right to say my opinion or ideology was better than anybody else's. Did I really need to push my view on to others.

And so I stopped. Instead we started discussing cinema, and music, and she started telling us about her life and experiences. It was a very very pleasant conversation, went for the better part of an hour, and her husband sat smiling quietly. I was almost as happy as I have ever been.

I never really loosen up (and that's another thing I worry about :)). Alcohol has never really helped - it just fogs the brain and most times, I have ended up looking very silly or sick - sometimes both. But this was different - I felt as if all the rough edges had been smoothed away into an even cadence.

It went away in a few more hours.

S said, "Do you want to go back and get some more? You know you won't get them after December 1st."

But I knew I didn't want any more. I had understood what it meant to be there, and I hoped I could be there on my own.

I just smiled and shrugged, "Doesn't matter".

No Country for Young Men

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Sun, 26 Oct 2008 07:18:00 +0000

His name was Jasbeer. He was from Gurgaon.

We had gone to a Sardarji's shop to figure out the cheapest place for getting a haircut. We were chatting about the fallen bridge at the Metro construction site in Delhi when he entered. The Sardarji pointed out to him and said, "Yeh lafanga le jayega tum ko". We left for a coiffure.

I told him I had been in Gurgaon for the last two years. That got him started:

"Where in Gurgaon were you living?"

"DLF Phase V"

"That's the one near the malls, or is it DLF Phase III"

He asked me the usual stuff around girlfriends, had I had any action, how the city had changed and so on.

"Tujhe pata, hai, aane se pehle main teen mahine tak roz Convergys ke paas mein jo dhaba hai wahan jaya karta tha. Jo ladkiyan aati thi, unhe chhedta tha, nahi aati thi to doston ke saath maggi khaake wapas aa jaya karta tha. Maa bhi kuch nahi kehti thi, kehti thi bas abhi to bahar jaa hi raha hai, thodi masti kar le"

And, what happened then?

"Main study visa pe aane ke chakkar mein tha. England jaana tha mujhko. Visa pe UKraine likha tha, mujhe laga UK ja rahe hain, wahan pe raine kar ke koi shahar hoga. Woh to jab Russia mein goron ki jutiyan padi to mujhe samajh mein aaya"

He was in a Ukraine prison for a year, and then slipped over to Poland, then to Germany and Netherlands. He had spent almost a year in a Dutch prison before slipping over to here.

"Jail walon ne pahadi pe le jake chhod diya, aur kaha bhag. Maine do din tak bin kuch khaye piye do pahadiyan chad kar Ukraine paar kiya"

He was working on a construction site here, work he had seen labourers do when he rode his scooter on the Gurgaon streets. Says, he knows the in and out of construction work now, would be very useful in Gurgaon, once he is able to get back.

And when is that, I asked.

"Yaar, abhi to do saal lagenge. Kaafi karza hai sardaarji ka. Woh chukaunga aur plane ki ticket lunga. Phir jaunga. UNO/Red Cross papers ka intezaam kar dete hain"

There were tears in his eyes,

"Yaar, main 21 ka tha jab main nikla tha, ab 26 ka ho gaya hoon. Ek saal tak ghar walon se phone pe baat bhi nahi ho payi thi. Main to zyada ke chakkar mein bilkul diwaliya ho gaya. Ab bas ghar wapas jaana hai, aur aaram se apne bistar pe sona hai."

"Yeh desh apne liye theek nahi hai. Apan to wahin pe achhe hain"

Trois Couleurs

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Tue, 21 Oct 2008 08:09:00 +0000

The Good

I was walking down the street looking for an electronics repair shop. The malls are probably not the best part of town to look for one but that's the only market I knew. I had been walking for the better part of an hour and my feet were beginning to drag. I was also very hungry; breakfast had been bread with jam and it was now 2 in the afternoon. I saw a waffle shop on the street to my right and decided to try one. It was only an euro and a half. The first bite burnt my upper lip, but I didn't notice - the taste was exquisite. I devoured the entire thing as quickly as my lips would allow. Then, I got up; there was a spring in my step. I did manage to find the shop eventually :)

My flatmate came home early and we decided to cook dinner (I mean he did, I mostly stood and watched). Rice was no major issue, and we cooked dal too (procured from a Punjabi shopkeeper at ridiculous prices). And then he said, "Chal tadka lagate hain". I peeled and sliced the onion and tomato and we got the spices and the entire mixture on the frying pan, smelling heavenly. It was amazing - the best dal-chawal I have ever eaten. Today, it'll be my turn - I plan to have a pretty heavy lunch :D

The Bad

We haven't gotten an internet connection at home yet. We are getting unsecured wireless from some office near our home - but it is unreliable and erratic. I went to a center of the the office-approved ISP. After waiting for an hour and a half, I was told that it'll take 6-8 weeks to get the connection. Why this delay? Due to backlog of orders, unavailability of staff etc. Till then, unsecured wireless it is!

One would imagine that in times of the credit crunch, banks would be more than willing to accept new savings a/c. But no! I can't open an account till I get a rental agreement made. What about the fact that my flatmate has the rental agreement and my office is willing to furnish a letter saying I live where I live. That'll not do. So until then, I am getting my money transferred to my friend's account.

One would have it so much easier with these things back in desh. Am really surprised by the bureaucracy - didn't expect it.

The Ugly

It is next to impossible to have savings of the kind we have in India, in the West. The ratio of expenses required to maintain a certain standard of living to salaries is very high here. E.g. - Rent is upto 30% of salaries in many cases. And of course, people can't afford domestic help. Therefore, it is completely understandable why shorter working hours are required. When a guy gets back from work, he needs to cook his food, clean his house, get repairs etc that are needed around. There is no khana bananewale bhaiya or kaamwali bai here. Also, there are no 5 Rs. paranthes, or 10 Rs. DTC bus ticket, or 150 Rs. shirt you can get here. I mean the variation in living standards is very low and there are no low cost alternatives to many things.

We got some (actually a lot) of furniture from IKEA and fixed most of it over the weekend - 2 cupboards, 2 beds, 2 tables, 2 sofas, 1 shoe-rack, and a couple of chairs. We have 3 chairs remaining, which I guess I'll do over today and tomorrow. Having not worked with my hands in a long while, it was pretty tiring. I made many errors, cut my finger once, and broke a chair. Also, tried cooking and burnt the khichdi (and ate it nevertheless).

Am having the truly authentic firangi experience, I guess :)

Update

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 07:45:00 +0000

Been away from this space for 4 months now. Didn't have much to say - little of the earlier angst is there.

Meanwhile, some cosmetic changes - I have changed the title of the blog as well as the tagline. More in reflection of my current state of being.

Hopefully, will have more to say from now on.

A list of things...

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 15:07:00 +0000

I just completed reading "The Remains of The Day". I had seen this book several times with friends and the only reason I was turned off from buying it earlier, was that one of the friends who had earlier recommended it to me, was someone whose taste I didn't much appreciate. However, a few days earlier, I came across a list somewhere (I am a big one for lists btw), one of those "100 must-read books before you die" kind and this book was right at the top. Suitably intrigued, I got and purchased it; pleasantly surprised that it was pretty light (on the wallet too).

Why do I mention this?

Because one of the lines from the book has stayed with me and I thought it over many times today: "The evening is the best part of the day". To paraphrase, the idea that a man can only do so much and rather than struggling on when incapable, one should let go, leave and learn to enjoy the autumn of one's life. This thought has made quite an impact on me and I would count it to come back to me at various points of time in the future.

Which brings me to some other thoughts/snatches/ideas from other sources which have had a impact on me, on hearing or reading which I am moved even today (even though it might have been years since I originally encountered them):

1. The Shawshank's Redemption's "Hope is a good thing" bit

2. American Beauty's "I saw my life flashing in front of me" sequence

3. V for Vendetta's speech in which he telecasts to London "...words will always retain their power..."

4. Rang De Basanti's "Luka Chhuppi" and "Khoon Chala" songs

5. Several parts of the latter half of "The Crucible" and the last bit in "The Lord of the Flies"

7. The guitar crescendoes in the middle of the songs in "November Rain" and "Wonderful Tonight"

8. And of course, many many scenes from "The Wonder Years"

There are many more, but I guess these are the ones at the top of my head.

One Long Rambling Post

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Thu, 29 May 2008 13:02:00 +0000

In the few blogposts that I have written previously, most of the time, I have written the title beforehand and then changed it, after completing the post. I don't intend to do that this time.

I indulge in a lot of self-analysis and self-criticism. I like to think that I know very well, my character strengths and deficiencies. There are several "deficiencies" I am secretly proud of. For instance, every 6 months, in my job, I get an evaluation of my strengths, weaknesses and development plan. The latest one says (in the weakness areas):

1. Improve slide-writing skills
2. Improve ability to estimate time required for different activities
3. Be proactive in reaching out to superiors in case, deliverables are not clear
4. Make well-structured spreadsheets that are user-friendly

Now, 1, 3 and 4, I am secretly proud of, and don't intend to change as long as they don't become career-threatening. I personally don't believe in spending inordinate time in making good-looking slides and excels for the benefit of others as long as I know the answer, others be damned. Also, as for 2, I believe in giving myself impossible timelines so that I can make a simple task appear challenging, which might then make it more exciting to me. As for 2, I really hate admitting that I can't get something done and therefore delay going to people as long as I can manage. And am proud of that for my independence.

The above was just an example. In personal life too, I have received feedback around several facets of my character. I don't worry about most of them too much. However, there is something that has and continues to rankle me a lot.

It is that I am very self-involved. Now, this is something I am not at all proud of. Several friends who have known me closely for a long period of time have told me that. My parents have told me that. No, I am not joking. I first came to realise it, when a few years back, my mother complaining over the phone about the fact that I never called her up, said "Beta, tu bada nirmohi hai". At that time, I laughed it off, but to tell you the truth, this statement has come back to me several times.

In 8 odd years when I have been away, I never felt the need to call my parents up, unless I needed something. It is not as if I have something against them. My parents and I have a good understanding and a friendly relationship. We banter and we quarrel and behave like a normal small family (on a side note - now that both my elder sisters are married, I am equal party in all the decisions that are made in the family and since my parents generally end up disagreeing, my vote decides the matter). But I don't ever feel like talking to them - I mean, the thought never comes to my head.

The same goes for my sisters. I don't call them up, I find talking to them a bore. Similarly, I am not in touch with my friends through any of my own efforts. I scrap only when scrapped, and even then, sometimes, not.

I have had strong friendships and my share of personal relationships. When I am with people, I am passionate, worried, happy about/for them. But when I am away, there is no internal voice that tells me to be in touch, talk to someone and want to know what is going in his/her life.

Earlier I would imagine that it was all about finding the right person, and then you would learn to care, and be with that person. But I have realised that it doesn't hold true for me.

Now this worries me, and not a little bit. If I am so insular, what is going to happen to me. Relationships are quid pro quo and without my quid, I won't get any quo. But despite the worry, I can't bring myself to care for people. I mean, I love helping out people. I have the habit of taking people under my tutelage, making them my projects, mentoring them and seeing that they achieve the best. But do I really care for them, I don't think so. Even if those guys were replaced by someone else, it'd be the same.

Therefore, the question is, if one is a self-involved bastard and knows it and wants to change it, but can't bring himself to do something that doesn't come naturally to him, what would one do. Frankly, I don't know.

A few days back, one of my superiors was telling me the benefits of being an "insecure overachiever". I agreed with him, and got what he was talking about. It is "only the paranoid survive" theme. I used to be (and guess still am) insecure, and I don't take too much happiness in whatever I achieve/win. But in the last couple of years, there were several times when I took steps to chill out, you know, enjoy the journey, not the destination etc., but somewhere down the line, I realised that was not me. And I got back to being an insecure fighter.

I mean, I know (even though I hope against it) that I have modest skills and will need to go out of my skin to becoming anything of consequence, and pinning my hopes of happiness on success rather than personal life is a strategy that will fail, I can't bring myself to change. It's almost pathological.

Well, that's my rant. And I take some satisfaction from the fact that I have managed to maintain the title as it is.

Cathatfished's Tag

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Thu, 24 Apr 2008 15:50:00 +0000

So, it takes a tag for me to finally post something. Well, no such thing as a tag to revive this blog. Guess will start saying a few things from time-to-time. So here goes,

Last movie seen in a theatre?
Krazzy 4. Am not too proud of it.

What book are you reading?
Just started "The Irresistible Inheritance of Wilberforce" - Paul Torday. His first book, Salmon Fishing in the Yemen was amazingly funny. Just finished India after Gandhi.

Favourite board game?
Business

Favorite Magazine:
The Economist, Brunch too

Favorite Smells:
Kerosene :D
Heeng
The wind before rain

Favorite Sound:
Good music floating in the air. Not too loud, so that I can sing to it.

Worst Feeling In The World:
There is this bad feeling I get in the stomach/chest when I realise something is not going right and I can't do a lot about it.

What Is The First Thing You Think Of When You Wake?
What's the time?

Favorite Fast Food Place:
Subways
Haldirams

Future Child’s Name:
Girl - Varsha
Boy - Vardhaman

Finish This Statement. “If I Had A Lot Of Money I’d…”
Become powerful. Try to change the world...In that order.

Do You Drive Fast?
Don't know how to drive. Bicycles, well I crashed a lot, so soon gave up.

Do You Sleep With A Stuffed Animal?
Nopes.

Storms-Cool Or Scary?
Cool. Really cool.

Do You Eat The Stems On Broccoli?
Yup

If You Could Dye Your Hair Any Color, What Would Be Your Choice?
Brownish black

Name All The Different Cities/Towns You Have Lived In.
Simra, Kurseong, Delhi, Gurgaon

Favorite Sports To Watch:
Cricket, Age of Empires

One Nice Thing About The Person Who Sent This To You:
Hmm, that she tagged me. No, but seriously, would love to know her better.

What’s Under Your Bed?
Nothing.

Would You Like To Be Born As Yourself Again?
Yes

Morning Person Or Night Owl?
More night owl than morning person.

Over Easy Or Sunny Side Up?
Neither. Vegetarian.

Favorite Place To Relax
The sofa, with a good book

Favorite Pie:
Apple

Favorite Ice Cream Flavor:
Black currant.

I tag Atish. Don't really known whether he still visits this place or not though.

Litany

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 19:25:00 +0000

Why am I here?

Where am I going?

Where did we all come from, ab initio?

Our existence is a bit like radiation, starting from one source, and radiating outwards, covering greater and greater area, intersecting with more and more similar radiating curves, affecting them, but dimming further and further in intensity until we slowly fade away, memories dull and we forget where we came from and where we started out for - or is that merely an illusion - the goal - and all we are doing is following a pre-defined path.

In college, I used to think, one day I would rule the world. As impractical as it sounds, I don't want the dream to die away - it has fired me time and again and kept me from falling into an abyss. But 1.5 years of professional life have blunted me, fattened me, made me lazy. The bluster is still there, but the intensity is going away. Political correctness, easy money, compromises have all made my spirit but a ghost of what it was.

Sometimes, I think it is better to be dead than be this way.

Life in a Metro

noreply@blogger.com (Wanderer) — Fri, 01 Feb 2008 13:52:00 +0000

Due to some personal work, I have had a chance to take the metro almost every second day. A couple of observations:

1. A vast majority of the travellers are females. Understandably so, because they belong to the same economic strata where the males travel in scooters/bikes and small cars. But the sheer number does strike you (and you don't really mind).

2. The quietness in the station and within the trains. I mean, even people travelling together are not talking too much. Maybe, because the general ambience (the cleanliness and order) is too unnatural (otherworldly?), too forbidding to make people comfortable talking.