Futile fluttering of tired textbooks!Music to my ears!

Nothing Like You

2011-09-25T04:14:00.000+05:30

Nothing Like You

The skies are clear,

And the day was bright,

Seated at the pier,

In the dimming daylight,

I brave the chill,

And the nippy breeze,

A few moments until,

I begin to freeze,

The mass of water,

Is a constant reminder,

Of distances that separate,

And the bonds that matter,

The ball of fire begins to set,

Only to rise over my native land,

Witnessed by the fisherman's net,

And the golden glistening sand,

He tries to hide a joyful tear,

And smiles from the heavens blue,

And whispers in my motherland's ear,

"The world is beautiful but there's nothing like you...."

-Hardik Kothare

The Entire Story of a Tired Nation

2011-07-15T23:54:00.000+05:30

We are tired of evenings that start with frantic phone calls from anxious relatives and friends. We are tired of turning on our television sets and drowning ourselves in a sea of shock, horror and fury. We are tired of being numbed by what we see. We are tired of keeping a track of rising death tolls. We are tired of news channels stoking passions and spreading rumours.We are tired of being clay pigeons at a shooting range. We are tired of being transformed from human beings to mangled pieces of blood and flesh.

We are tired of being vulnerable.We are tired of knowing that we are vulnerable. We are tired of being reminded that we are vulnerable. We are tired of knowing that we will remain vulnerable. We don't want to be widowed wives and orphaned children. We are tired of knowing that our lives are no longer precious. We are tired of knowing that there is nobody who can protect us. We are tired of knowing that we are not being protected by those who must protect us. We are tired of seeing gory images in newspapers. We are tired of watching news reporters asking questions like, "Kaisa lag raha hai?" and "Kaisa mahsoos hua?". We are pained to watch grieving relatives being tortured by everyone. We are tired of Shobhaa De and Rahul Bose representing Mumbaikars in times of adversity. We are tired of immature politicians making insensitive statements. We are tired of being assured that 'the perpetrators shall be punished'. Tell this to the little boy who lost his mother...tell this to the elderly father who still waits for his son to return.....define JUSTICE.

We are tired of being shepherded like sheep. We are tired of being shepherded by inefficient shepherds. We have the right to govern ourselves. We are yet to find the right way to govern ourselves. We are tired of emergency meetings and probationary committees. We are tired of ministers who play musical chairs. We are tired of being reminded that we are turning into a banana republic (or are we there already?). We are tired of people who plan candle marches and wear white to show 'solidarity'. We are tired of knowing the fact that most of these candle light marchers have never voted. We are tired of the terms 'Spirit of Mumbai' and 'Resilience'. Arre ghanta resilience! Do we have an option? Who'll feed our families? In a city that runs to survive, do you expect people to show up at work to 'teach the terrorists a lesson'? We are tired of terrorism. We are tired of the word 'terrorism'. We are tired of realising that it could have been you, me, your loved ones, anyone you know...... We shudder at the thought of that possibility. We are tired of shuddering.

We are tired of being assumed as morons. We are tired of intelligence failure. We wonder who is more intelligent then......

We are tired of ranting. We are tired of ranting like this: http://hardikkothare.blogspot.com/2008/11/tolerance-limit-has-been-crossed.html

We know that we would have to rant again. We are tired of being a soft state. We are tired of being tolerant. We are tired of knowing that being intolerant is considered 'anti-national' and 'anti-father-of-the-nation'. We are tired of anachronistic concepts like 'ahimsa' when it comes to retaliation. We are tired of paying taxes to ensure maximum comfort for convicted murderers who waged war against our nation. We are tired of knowing that the dead shall not be avenged because we are too 'non-violent' to seek revenge. We are tired of offering our second cheek. We are tired of porous borders. We are tired of watching metal detectors being used as toys. We are tired of a fattu foreign policy which is as amorphous and abstract as anything can be.

We are tired of 2 post-blast weeks of inconclusive debates. We are tired of knowing that nobody would care a damn after 2 weeks. We are tired of being tired. I am tired to know that this is not the end. And I would be required to rant again.....I am tired of not knowing when....And I am proud to say that although the nation is tired of asking questions which do not have answers, the nation will never get tired of itself....we are tired of consoling ourselves but we are not tired of saying JAI HIND....and I find comfort in this fact.

(In memory of every single person who had the honour of dying for our motherland....especially those who lost their lives in the serial train blasts that ripped Mumbai 5 years ago on this day of Guru Pournima....)

Solace

2011-07-05T10:19:00.000+05:30

Solace

When the wait turns long,

And right appears wrong,

I seek solace in words,

When hope seems hopeless,

And time seems seamless,

I seek solace in words,

When spirits aren't high,

And the unwanted is nigh,

I seek solace in words,

When I want her to know,

That it is indeed so,

I seek solace in words,

When eyes aren't dry,

And it's time to say goodbye,

I seek solace in words.

When dreams come true,

And things are no longer blue,

I know I am seeking solace in words.

-Hardik Kothare

The Sole Warrior

2011-06-29T13:37:00.000+05:30

The Sole Warrior

Stranded alone,

On a lonely isle,

When fate decides,

To beguile,

Phantom allies,

By my side,

Nowhere to run,

No place to hide,

Because it is my battle to fight,

And my battle to win!

A rusty sword,

Lies by my feet,

Which craves for victory,

And vengeance sweet,

The clock is ticking,

And I'm pushed to the wall,

I won't surrender myself,

To my enemy's gall,

Because it is MY battle to fight,

And MY battle to win!

-Hardik Kothare

To take a 'Dig' at...Redefined

2011-06-13T13:50:00.000+05:30

There are times when you ought to speak out. There are times when silence saves your skin. But there are some who believe that the ability to voice a distasteful and inconsiderate opinion (even when nobody cares for their opinion) is a virtue. Diggy Loose Cannon is one such believer and he was more than ready to talk to us.

Me: Thanks for talking to us!

Diggy: Always a pleasure to use my cannon....

Me: Er....

Diggy: I know...I know....Let's hunt for a better word....Ah! Yes! Rainwater drain? Words gush out of my mouth because there are just too many words that I know. And they need to go somewhere, don't they?

Me: Right! Do you have an explanation for why the media gives so much importance to your comments?

Diggy: Everybody follows the Hunk!

Me:?

Diggy: That's my Twitter handle.

Me: Oh! That's a royal handle. Suits your royal lineage, your majesty!

Diggy: I don't like to talk about my royal blood. And don't call me 'your majesty'. My loyalty lies with 'Her Majesty' and I am always ready to serve Her and the Prince. *Burp* Talking of serving, the leftovers they served at 10 Janpath this morning were delicious. We all line up for our daily ration of leftover breakfast. Although I have to say that the breakfast was a bit salty. But I am quite sure that it is all an RSS conspiracy. Someone from the RSS has planted a cook, who is an agent of the BJP too. It must be his doing.

Me: And why would the RSS do that?

Diggy: It is an old habit. They love to add more salt to people's breakfasts and promote anarchy in the nation.

Me: Sir, your outspokenness has not only made you notorious but has also made you the butt of several jokes. What do you have to say about it?

Diggy: I consider it to be my honour. It is always great to get a chance to follow the footsteps of Arjun Singh. I intend to be like him...to be hated by people who don't matter and to be under the impression that I am being loved by some people for being hated by some people. There are two ways to achieve political immortality. Being hated for eternity is the easiest way.

Me: What are your short term political goals?

Diggy: To be a well established mentor. Mentors hold the real keys to power. Arjun (the original one) could not have fought without Lord Krishna as his mentor cum chauffeur ( I must remember to flagellate myself for thinking of the Mahabharata....looks like the VHP has secretly started to brainwash me), Chandragupta Maurya became the Emperor but Chanakya attained greater satisfaction....

Me: But who entrusted you with this responsibility.

Diggy: Responsibility? There's nothing responsible in coaching others to start making irresponsible statements. It is an art. And I am ready to fight those who oppose this form of art.

Me: So why do you oppose the art of dancing?

Diggy: I don't like people who dance to the tunes of patriotic songs. Dancing to Italian pop music is a different issue. Anyone who dances to Her Majesty's tune deserves applause. The rest deserve criticism. And moreover Rajghat is the private property of the Congress party. Others shouldn't hold protests at Rajghat.

Me: Not even Anna Hazare?

Diggy: It is all an RSS conspiracy.

Me: Hmm. So you think corruption is a non-issue?

Diggy: Of course. Nothing of that sort exists. It is an RSS conspiracy.

Me: And what about the black money stashed abroad?

Diggy: How racist of you! 'Black' money? Why black? Why is black always bad? Moreover, our currency carries the image of Mahatma Gandhi who was the inspiration behind the global fight against apartheid. Stop calling it Black Money. It is an RSS conspiracy to call it black.

Me: Why are you so obsessed with the RSS?

Diggy: To tell you the truth, I hate their khaki half pants.

Me: And?

Diggy: Half-pants are so obscene! What moral right do they have to talk of morality? By the way, could you please wrap up the interview. I have a Doctor's appointment.

Me: Oh I am so sorry! Are you not feeling well?

Diggy: Nothing serious. Just a bout of verbal diarrhoea which has been exacerbated by the arrival of the monsoon.

Me: Did you talk to Baba Ramdev? He might suggest some Asanas to help improve your immunity.

Diggy: I don't talk to thugs.

Me: Neither do I. But today is an exception.

Diggy: Hmm. But he is a fraud. His tamasha is not at all convincing. Also, he is behind the saffronisation of medicine. It is an RSS conspiracy. And he owns an island in Scotland!

Me: So?

Diggy: Men wear skirts in Scotland!

Me: They are called kilts, sir.

Diggy: Whatever! They are skirts. And it is all obscene. More obscene than the language I use. It is an RSS conspiracy. They wear half-pants and make others wear skirts! Even this Baba thingy escaped wearing clothes meant for females!

Me: Ever heard of incoherence?

Diggy: Obviously. I suffer from 'verbal' diarrhoea.

Me: Hmm. I am seeing the symptoms.

Diggy: Symptoms? What symptoms? Are you a doctor? A spy? RSS agent! Yes, you are an RSS Agent. Get out of my house!

Me: Sir?

Diggy: It is a conspiracy! I should call Her Majesty.

Me: Calm down! I am not an agent.

Diggy: And why should I trust you?

Me: I must take your leave. Thanks for the interview.

Diggy: Hmm. About time. Rahul Baba would be arriving any time now. Why is he late? It is all an RSS conspiracy!

Conferred Epithet

2011-05-31T18:12:00.001+05:30

We were born to categorise...we were born to classify....we were born to stereotype. Not just the cackle of gossip-mongering females at an Indian wedding, we all love to fit people and places in mental containers labelled with epithets that best describe their qualities. Languages have Transferred Epithets. Real life has Conferred Epithets.

We all have our own set of containers. A person who searches for the map of Ireland while gazing at passing clouds would be a 'dreamy thinker' for you; but the same person would be 'screw dheela' for someone else. A 'dhaapnya' could either be a lifetime member of the 'bookworm' category or the Honorary Chairman of the 'socially awkward' group. Some containers can even be subsets. A 'khadoos' could also be a 'bhookad' at the same time (as demonstrated by Stanley ka Dabba).

I, for one, love to coin elaborate epithets. I can identify people who are proud of their photographs in which they are 'pinching' the tip of Taj Mahal's dome. I have seen people who love to mimic the clickety click and rattling of railway rakes. I know people who survive on the bland Hindi movies from the 1990s. I can distinguish between houses that smell of cumin seeds and those that smell of baby powder. We all have 'boring' days and 'exciting' days. The colour of the setting sun, the temperature at noon, the cloud cover and other factors make it possible for us to categorise days into millions of categories. For instance, today is a 'lazy but full of expectations' day for me.

I have always associated people with flora and fauna. Hence, my childhood was rife with 'bulky brinjals', 'cashewnuts', 'coffee beans', 'lanky storks' and 'tiny ants' (not to mention an entire battalion of meek mice). I have been on the receiving end of this method of classification. A friend called me a 'bottle gourd' in college and I haven't stopped imagining why.

These epithets help us plan our approach towards others. You cannot offend a 'brainless bull' and failure is imminent if you try to woo a 'haughty princess'. You cannot be friends with a 'vain peacock' and you shouldn't be friends with a 'loyal dog'. Stereotyping is considered to be inappropriate but only 'blatant deniers' would believe in its non-existence. Like everything else, the act of classifying falls into multiple classes; fun, meaningless and irreplaceable.

Surrounded by Life

2011-05-17T13:43:00.000+05:30

Surrounded by Life

I've heard a young bird tweet,

Wanting to fly and greet,

The morning sun,

I've seen the sun's rays fall,

Atop the Neem tree tall,

Sweet hues of green,

I've heard the pattering rain,

Tapping the window pane,

Fragrant wet soil,

I've seen the frothing waves,

Explored the darkest caves,

Nature's glory,

I've felt a moonlight beam,

Light up my cherished dream,

Breath of new hope,

Winds hum over sandy dunes,

Much like a flautist's tunes,

Through eternity,

As I do trudge along,

I hear the pleasant song,

Of life around me!

-Hardik Kothare

Poetic Justice

2011-05-02T13:57:00.003+05:30

"A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new; when an age ends; and when the soul of a nation long suppressed finds utterance."
-Jawaharlal Nehru

It is funny how this guy has left us quotes which can be used pertinently in every situation, regardless of the era. The soul of our world and of a nation in particular has just attained the right to celebrate. Some may equate this day to V-E day or V-J day, some may equate this day to the 4th of July and some may even revel in the sweetness of vengeance. Of course, it is all justified. It is never an easy task to slay Frankenstein's monster. Those of us who love games like Age of Empires do know how it feels when an individual trained by you is 'converted' and forced to fight against you. I know how they must have felt when the person they had trained to fight against Soviet forces, decided to declare war against his former 'Supari' givers.

He had vowed to destroy infidels. He had the audacity to send flying petards to destroy the enemy's 'wonder'. And that was when he signed his death certificate, in advance. In his defence (or defense, if you please), he was just another frustrated engineer. Life was so cruel to him that he had lost his sense of rightfulness (KT laga hoga). We all know what happened next. He trained tens and thousands of brainwashed maniacs to destroy whatever is 'unacceptable'.

Little did he know that it is easy to train a few followers but it is tough to fight one's fate. He was destined to die. Everyone is. But he was destined to die without achievements (killing innocent human beings does not count as an achievement). What a waste of life!

So, now we have got rid of the most hated person on this planet (good riddance! phew!). We can all have an extended weekend and mull over whatever happened over the last 3 decades. Is the death of one person going to help us in the fight against 'all that is evil'? Can we get rid of the school of thought that has made us suffer? We got rid of Osama bin Laden but is the world ever going to turn its attention to the thorny tree called Pakistan which is laden with terrorists instead of fruits? Are we, as a nation, going to raise this point with the Western Powers? For years this shady neighbour of ours has fooled the world. For years they have claimed that Osama is not in Pakistan (just like they have always claimed that Dawood was never in Karachi). A big fat corrupt and failed nation with liars and criminals at the helm is still the 'most valuable ally' of the West. Now is the opportune time for us to say, "Told you so!". But are we going to do that?

We are a nation with a rubber stamp Head of the State and a rubber stamp Head of the Government at the same time. We have a Government which shies away from executing criminals who have been legally tried according to the Constitution. We have a Government which doesn't even have the guts to welcome today's happy news. We have just 'expressed grave concern' because he was found in Pakistan. Every other nation has used the words 'great news', 'relief', 'milestone' , 'victory' , 'break-through' and 'welcome news'. But we continue to be 'politically correct'...or rather 'electorally correct'. I am saddened by the fact that our bunch of eunuchs in New Delhi won't make the most out of this situation. Here comes a chance knocking at our door...a chance for us to step on the global stage with a solid determination to crush terrorism. But do we have the courage to do so? We are the same nation that spends crores of rupees to keep death row terrorists hale and hearty in our jails. I won't even think of the possibility of our government destroying terrorist camps in PoK (which is our land according to the same government).

Tolerance is tolerable only to a certain extent. Beyond that, tolerance turns into cowardice. Non-violence becomes a liability. And we are reduced to a country of cowards (not because we, the people, lack courage...but because the people, who are responsible, lack willingness).

However, it is a moment to savour, a moment to remember. The day we woke up in a world sans 1 evil mind.They deserve the victory. Especially because they are aware that they had to go through such turbulent times because of their own 'creation', a modern day Frankenstein's monster. We have sent 1 to hell. Thousands remain....but I believe in poetic justice.

Chappals, Charlatans and Dravidian Drama

2011-04-28T14:43:00.001+05:30

   If there's one man-made object that is associated with the entire gamut of human emotions, it's the Chappal. Chappals rule! Literally! They sat on the throne of Ayodhya when Lord Ram was in exile. If you are a saint from Maharashtra, you know that people love to carry your chappals from one town to another with utmost reverence. And is there anything that beats a Kolhapuri chappal when it comes to comfort for the feet? I could trade my Reeboks for a pair of Kolhapur's best leather. Now this hallowed object of comfort, when in the hands of someone other than the owner, is supposed to symbolise absolute subservience. It's one of the favourite practices of a die-hard sycophant. A few changes here and there in the grip and a sense of revenge and fury within, converts this act of subservience into a demonstration of utmost hatred. It's the biggest insult, if you are supposed to be target practice for a Kolhapuri in flight. And  if you have launched the attack, your 15 minutes of fame start now.

   So what do you need to do to invite such a reaction from a random frustrated failed lawyer/ journalist/ whosoever? You could start a war in the Middle East. Or you could try to fool people during a press conference. You could even try being responsible for a multicrore scam. The latest victim has created a record of some sorts. He started his political career with some chappal throwing (target: Morarji Desai's motorcade) and ended his political career at the other end of the flung Chappal. A Chappal thrown at you means the following things: some people hate you, your acts have pained people and you are at a peak when it comes to grabbing eyeballs. I still don't believe how the same Chappals are objects of worship when they are at their rightful place!

   But in our India, anything and everything can be worshipped. Leather footwear is one of the better objects of worship. You can grow your hair a la Malinga, wear a saffron coloured full length female nightgown and give a stage performance like a sadak chhaap magician and voila! You get hundreds of followers who have problems hiding their black money! Funny how only the rich get attracted to such Dhongi Babas (if you are offended, let me have the pleasure of further offending you.....he was a Dhongi Baba and I don't give a shit if your feelings are hurt!). It was a nice machine that accepted black money. Baba is happy and devotees are happy!

   But what hurts me most is the sight of my God worshipping him and shedding tears at the funeral. He might be a 'devotee' and that is his personal choice. But it is painful to know that I am a devotee of the devotee of a quack who demanded sexual favours and promised 'spiritual healing' in return. And I am absolutely shocked to know that the con artist was wrapped in the tricolour before he was buried! That's a national insult! How can you possibly walk away scot-free after doing that! It meant that the entire nation paid respect to him. His 'devotees' would argue by saying that he did a lot of 'charity' work in the field of education and health care. Charity? Money attained by illegal means and money that does not exist on paper cannot be used for charity! And if you earn several thousands of crores and give away a few crores, you are still in profit. People fooled by simple conjuring tricks deserve no respect. Especially when conjured watches carry 'Made in Switzerland' tags. And if you can produce gold out of thin air, poverty should have been an unknown term. He could have provided people with food supply and gold supply for the rest of their lives! Alas! A corrupt nation has a corrupt outlook. And the corrupt are sacred!

   Talking of corruption, we just love THAT family down south, don't we? So much drama, emotion, family feuds, complications and even sautans! The perfect recipe to become the favourite TV family. Fictional soap opera families don't come close to competing. The last time I checked, the dude with the funny glares had more wives than the number of scams he was involved in. We don't need Subramanian Swamy to tell us that the family is involved in the 2G scam. Apart from their funny foreign names like Stalin and unpronounceable names like Kanimozhi and Azhagiri, they are famous for their "Duh! Who cares?" attitude. Guilt is an absolute non-issue. And according to some people, M.K. Karunanidhi has more issues than those visible on the political stage. Baap re! So many! No wonder they could distribute the workload during the 'Paise Le Lo, Spectrum De Do' episode. Just hope the judicial system is not 'Dayalu' enough this time.

   India has so many Corleone families! The Pawars in Maharashtra, Karunanidhi and Co. in Tamil Nadu and countless others. We could have a series of bestsellers. And if those works of art turn out to be duds, we could always resort to producing gold chains out of thin air, cross-dressing and growing an Afro. The shortest route to Nirvana in public eyes.

The Bridge

2011-04-07T22:22:00.001+05:30

The Bridge

A rumbling torrent gushes beneath,

I stand at the edge to see,

Was it safer on the other side?

The bank with the mighty tree?

The flowers beckon from beyond the bridge,

Egging me on to cross,

The lush grass on the distant coast,

Might be softer than the shores of moss,

Trapped am I on this long long bridge,

As the water of life flows,

My feet won't move a step forward,

Until the wind of reason blows,

So appealing is the sight yonder,

Will I get more than a slice?

Would I get to be the happiest man,

In this world that seems so nice?

-Hardik Kothare

Of Fixtures and Fixers

2011-03-15T12:04:00.000+05:30

"Bhaisahab, jara khisko na please!", came a fervent plea from a lanky, thin man who was hoping to bag the coveted fourth seat to spend the next hour squirming and tutting. A local train's fourth seat holds a unique honour of being a source of comfort and distress at the same time. The jovial and rotund man, who was being addressed, gladly obliged, gave up the possession of a couple of inches of 'resting place' and immersed himself into his carefully folded newspaper.

Mr. Lanky peeped into the inky recesses of the tabloid to glean something from the lengthy sermons preached by the self-anointed 'wizards' of cricket (there are at least 1 billion of those in India alone).A former Pakistani fast bowler, who heavily depends on a ghost writer, was lambasting some current members of the team for their poor performance. Mr. Rotund gave a loud snort and exclaimed, "Saala fixer!". At least 5 dozen eyeballs turned towards Mr. Rotund. If you are unfamiliar with the ways of a Mumbai Local, you ought to know that nobody gives a damn to who is sitting beside you or opposite you until you start discussing politics or cricket. And the only time when so many heads are turned in the same direction is when the train enters a station and passes the point where women are waiting to board the ladies' coach. That is how eve teasers in Mumbai differ from those in Delhi. In Delhi, they shoot their victims. In Mumbai, they shoot with their eyeballs (ankhiyon se goli maarein...so true).

Anyway, coming back to Mr. Rotund, he had used a word that enthralls millions of avid cricket debaters. Fixing! Mr. Rotund, with his paan-stained teeth and the mischievious gleam in his eyes, could have very well been a fixer by vocation. "Ha! Do they still think all these World Cup matches are being played sportingly?", said Mr. Rotund. He apparently knew something that the others didn't. All the 'standees' settled themselves on whichever shoulder was nearest and waited expectantly for the classified information. Mr. Lanky showed increasing signs of discomfort as he nudged and wiggled to settle himself for the session.

Mr. Rotund proceeded after another sarcastic laugh, " Sab paise ka khel hai. Look at these Akmals! Dramebaaz! The older one drops everything that is flung at him and the younger one feigns an injury to protect his elder sibling. And this isn't the first time! They could have tried something new this time. It's a known fact that Pakistani cricket can't survive without betting and vice versa. And it's not limited to Pakistani cricket! How else do you think their English counterparts earn their bread and butter (and tea)? And it's not limited to cricket either! Everything is fixed. Everything is decided. Right from which scam is to be next exposed by the media to which dictator is to be toppled by a 'popular' uprising. Global economy, global politics, global sports and everything else that can be printed in a newspaper is predetermined."

Some of the listeners gasped while the others yawned. Conspiracy theories are not appreciated universally. Mr. Lanky looked perturbed. He was torn between disbelief and curiosity. Mr. Rotund continued, "There are marathon meetings to determine the exact number of scams to be exposed in a month. The current monthly target is n which would be n++ in the next month and so on. The number of babus and ministers to be incriminated is directly proportional to the number of zeros in the total money missing. If someone pleads guilty, his descendants are promised 1 Lok Sabha seat and 2 Assembly seats. If someone pleads not guilty, he or she is promised a gubernatorial position. There is also an annual award to felicitate the Distractor of the Year. DotY is the person who excels at distracting the nation's attention from pressing matters to trivial matters. A Parliament Session requires much more planning than a cricket match when it comes to 'fixing'. Firstly, there are more players involved. Secondly, there are no balls involved (pun intended). And thirdly, there are no rules. Whenever there's a major event scheduled, there's some fixing that surrounds the fixture. That's life!"

This sinister talk continued even as the crowd dwindled. Some alighted, some shifted places. Mr. Rotund got up, adjusted his belt and proceeded to disembark. Mr. Lanky wiped the sweat off his brow,fished for the iPhone in his pocket,dialled a number and waited for someone to answer....."Pappu! Aaj chhota waala Akmal khelega! 1 catch aur 1 stumping!"

The Rainbow in Sepia

2011-03-05T20:57:00.000+05:30

The Rainbow in Sepia

How proud we are of bygone days,

Of clouded memories and sepia rays,

When the world was still a wonderful place,

And innocence stared one in the face,

The streets led us to unknown lands,

And rainbows were more than coloured bands,

I stand alone inside a timeless story,

As the book of life weeps for past glory.

-Hardik Kothare

Le jour de joie!

2011-02-18T01:12:00.000+05:30

   19th of February! A holiday for millions to commemorate the birth anniversary of a great visionary, a brave warrior, a just king and the greatest proponent of secularism! It's a day observed with great pomp and celebration in Maharashtra. Sometimes even when the state's coffers cannot afford all the pomp and revelry associated with it. Personally, it is a day of celebrations for me. Not only in memory of Maharashtra's deity but also because it happens to be a dear cousin's birthday.

   But 19th February 2011 is a day of additional celebrations! It's the day on which I would be observing two quadrennial celebrations too! The first one is quite obvious! WORLD CUPPPPP! We wait for 4 years for this extravagant show of willow bats and leather balls (forgive the double entendre...I never meant it). Cricket has returned home! The place where a billion plus people are ready to forget their routine, don every shade of blue, paint the tricolour on their cheeks and roar Indiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Indiaaaaaa! The country is united only on two occasions- War and a Cricket Match. It is only then that we forget all our differences and support our soldiers (on a battlefield or a cricket field) and cheer them on to smack the enemy or the cricket ball back to where either belong (beyond the boundary). Thousands will rise in stadia to sing impromptu renditions of the National Anthem and to see God take guard. They say it would be our beloved Tendlya's last World Cup. Millions would turn out on the streets of Mumbai (a la Tahrir square) to stop him from retiring. I, like everyone else, would want him to play forever. Let's leave the decision to him.

   The second quadrennial celebration was a complete surprise for me. I never knew that 19th February is my blog's anniversary! I just happened to come across this fact a month ago. It has been 4 years since I first occupied space on the blogosphere! Can't believe it! 4 reasons to celebrate!

   Hoping to see fireworks in the form of runs by Sachin Tendulkar at Dhaka! A solemn bow to the memory of an ideal ruler. A happy blogoversary to my blog! And a very very happy 24th to Aditya (Bro, that's a multiple of 4! With 4 at units place too!)! Have a great birthday!

   I'll end the post with a few lines for Team India. I never thought I would quote Jawaharlal Nehru on this occasion.

   "The appointed day has come - the day appointed by destiny - and India stands forth again, after long slumber and struggle, awake, vital, free and independent. The past clings on to us still in some measure and we have to do much before we redeem the pledges we have so often taken. Yet the turning point is past, and history begins anew for us, the history which we shall live and act and others will write about."
-Jawaharlal Nehru,15th August 1947

   Bajake chutki, dhul chatade...De Ghumake!

The Dream in Polychrome

2011-02-10T00:50:00.000+05:30

The Dream in Polychrome

I wish I had a house of logs,

Beneath a snowy peak,

So that I could sit beside a brook,

And to my inner self speak,

The wind would whoosh up every day,

From the deep valleys below,

The sun would gild the rocky crown,

A masterpiece on snow!

I wish I had,

A shack by the beach,

Where waves and sand,

Are within reach,

Hours would I spend,

Gazing at the sea,

And marvel at the mystery,

Of infinity,

I wish I had a tree house tall,

Perched aloft in mid air,

Where one can hear the hornbill call,

And the sighs of a rainforest,

Where light would fight,

To reach the ground,

A soothing patter,

Raindrops' sound,

Or a single tent,

Amidst a sea of dunes,

Strains from the oasis,

A Bedouin's tunes,

Curled up shivering,

In the desert night,

I would bow before,

Nature's might,

And epiphany awakes me,

From the dream in polychrome,

All I want is,

The world to be my home!

-Hardik Kothare

Yours Gullibly

2011-02-09T18:27:00.000+05:30

The subject of the soliloquy that follows is an example of synecdoche representing a sizeable chunk of modern Indian society.

As a human being, I refuse to stimulate my grey matter and think when I receive processed information from other human beings around me. I am gullible enough to trust their cerebral prowess. I am aware of the existence of mob psychology; yet I am naive enough to register every news as a fact instead of checking for the possibility of a rumour. I see God wherever I am told He is. I offer flowers of a particular colour because I am told that it is his 'favourite colour'. I stick to a vegetarian diet on some days of the week because I am told that God curses those who 'kill' on those days. Every other day is fine for me. I do not consider meat to be unhealthy. It is unfit for consumption on certain days because I have been asked to believe. I fail to question the logic behind this. A man once asked me, "If you think it is impure, why do you consume meat at all? If you think it is not impure, why can't you eat it everyday?" I simply point towards the almanac, join my hands and bow.

I believe in miracles. I believe in those who perform them. Even when they have a publicity network to spread the word of miraculous cures. I think eclipses are evil. I know there are no dragons or demons involved. Yet I think they are evil. I am told so. I have heard it is a beautiful sight. Speaking of which, I think every fair skinned person is beautiful. Especially, those westerners. They are all so beautiful! Why else would all of them work in movies? You know what? Everything that lies beyond the seas is nice. We suck at everything.

Fair skinned people! Sigh! I have tried buying the new 'fairness cream'. It is supposed to change the colour of your skin in just 14 days! Isn't that wonderful? I am gullible enough to believe everything that's shown on TV. You can shed 10 kilos of weight in a month (without exercise/diet/pills). You can have bright white clothes that shine if you are willing to pay Rs. 5. The new digestive biscuits are very healthy. They provide 15% of a person's daily dietary fibre requirements! I tend to overlook the fact that you need to eat the entire pack to meet the 15% requirement.

I have complete faith in the media. I do as I am told by them. When they say I should fear the outbreak of a newly discovered virus, I cower and panic and start wearing face masks. When they say the Government is at fault, I pronounce conviction in the courts within me. When they say the Government is doing a great job, I am in love with the Prime Minister. I am not aware of the phenomenon called lobbying. I need some Radia female to introduce me to the nuances of modern day politics.

I believe movie stars have been sent by God to entertain us. They have the last word when it comes to every imaginable issue. They have the right to judge, comment and condemn. They can be on committees irrespective of their academic qualifications. I have been granted the right to honk horns, halt beyond the zebra crossing and cut lanes without signalling. I have heard movie stars have the right to run over people too. Lucky guys!

Eloquence in English is a necessity. Not because it would enable me to express my thoughts lucidly. But because I will be accepted by the society. I will have a stamp of approval. I won't be ridiculed. Usage of my mother tongue is strictly taboo. Ha, those who still know how to read the native script are dinosaurs. I hate the languages of my land. Does it matter that I can't string words into a proper sentence in English? I am forced to believe that knowledge of the lingua franca of the world will help me prosper. I don't know what lingua franca is.

I am proud of being gullible. I can be controlled. I am easy to win over. And I love being a cog in the global machine. I am told that's how one can lead a happy life. And I fell for that.

Yours Gullibly,

What's my name? Oh yeah, right!

Pune-Mumbai: A 'joy ride'!

2011-02-01T19:37:00.004+05:30

"Chala, Poona Poona Poona Poona! Poona ka? Poona?" Hunting for passengers is a challenging job for those who hunt and an irritating experience for those who don't wish to be hunted either because they have already booked tickets or because they don't wish to travel. The busy Mumbai-Pune (or Pune-Mumbai) route has always been a raconteur's favourite what with the sheer volume and frequency associated with the passengers. The moment you reach Dadar T.T. by bus, taxi or train, you are surrounded by a pack of these aforementioned hunters. They don't care whether you have just returned from Pune. Sometimes I wonder whether they receive any replies in the affirmative. The word Poona is replaced by Dadar if you are at the other end of the expressway.

I found myself enunciating a strong negation when I was asked whether I was interested in reaching Dadar within 2 hours. There was a single seat left in some car which ferried people like sheep. There was still some time before my bus arrived. I managed to find a seat and dared to sit in spite of the reek of boiling hot mustard oil from the pakoda stand next to the bus stop. Miss Snob next to me had a fake British accent. She was busy narrating an interesting episode of her life to a friend / colleague / yet another snob. I was hoping to be seated farthest from her in the bus. Fortunately, she was supposed to board an altogether different bus. She wasn't aware of its time of arrival and departure. Her askewed sense of time was puzzling. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of her watch in order to find out whether her watch was set at IST or GMT. GMT would have explained her phony accent. Did she have Eel Pie for lunch? Ok...enough of Brit jokes.

My bus arrived late. No surprises there. And I found myself seated next to a suave young entrepreneur dressed in casuals wielding a Blackberry. Man, I wish they stopped flaunting their devices! *We wear cool suits, we wear shiny shoes...We're the Blackberry Boys! We're the Blackberry Boys*, I hummed as I settled next to him ready for 3 hours of intense chatter pertaining to finance, stock markets and their kindred. Half an hour into the journey, I realised he was nothing close to being a Blackberry Boy. He flung the choiciest of slang swear words at the driver for maintaining a snail's pace on the expressway. Innovative swear words draw words of praise even from the most saintly people you know. It is a form of art. And every form of art deserves appreciation. Blackberry Boy's gaze never left the lady in front of us who was reading a book that talked about Women and the hype surrounding Methods of Losing Weight. I am sure Blackberry Boy was regretting not wearing his shiny shoes.

But the highlight of the journey was Mr. Sarkaari Officer. He was not a co-passenger (thankfully). He had just come to bid adieu to his sister (who,quite naturally, as rightly guessed, was a passenger). His Sarkaari attitude compelled him to give a word of advice or two to the driver before uttering the last words of farewell. He expected the driver to pay special attention to his sister and ensure that she alighted at the right stop. The driver (like all other MSRTC drivers who drive air-conditioned mammoths for the State Government) was in no mood to listen and he let loose a few cannonballs of unparliamentary words which would have put Blackberry Boy to shame. He had targeted Sarkaari Officer's sister too. Sarkaari Officer had had his share of public spats and knew that the only way to protect his dignity was to exercise his authority, flex a few muscles and threaten to pull strings in some Ministry. Driver Kaka was clever enough to sense the hollowness in all the threats and proceeded to start the bus and resume the journey (with some extra baggage in the form of Mr. Sarkaari Officer). Sarkaari Officer had his cellphone out of his pocket and was doing a wonderful job of pretending to search for an important number. At the same time his hand grabbed the driver's throat. Normally, you would expect the driver to lunge forward and retaliate. Driver Kaka simply shifted from 1st gear to 2nd gear.

The driver was not ready to stop the bus. Sarkaari guy was not ready to stop his One Act Play complete with props (read cellphone). And like a true Indian sister, Behenji (Sarkaari Officer's sister who was the Draupadi of this Mahabharat) intervened. Driver Kaka was insistent that he had not used any foul language against Behenji. He was honest enough to admit that he had used a few special words against Sarkaari Officer. I admired his honesty in the times of predicament. Meanwhile, S.O's hand had left the driver's throat and was now on the steering wheel, pushing it away from himself. Every passenger in the bus screamed because now their lives were in the careless and angry hands of some Sarkaari Officer (what's new with that?). Pleas and requests were of no use. The bus swayed and one of the wheels rammed into the divider. After the screeching of the brakes subsided, Behenji apologised on Driver Kaka's behalf. Finally, the duo relented. Driver Kaka opened the door and Sarkaari Officer disembarked with a smirk of victory and the parting words 'Ja, ja, baghun ghein tula!'

Driver Kaka was consoled by the lady with the book (Blackberry Boy's eye candy). She had a nice explanation. "Shaayad unko koi tension hoga. Aur gussa aap ke saamne nikaal diya. Jaane do."

You always get action packed entertainment when you want some during a journey. And if you don't get any, you always have the Blackberry Boys jingle to entertain yourself. It is not tough to turn a journey into a joy ride (literally in this case)!

The Oak Lined Path

2011-01-21T11:28:00.000+05:30

   I stood still but the path did not. The path moved ahead through the thick fog further into the forest of tall silver oak trees. The trees were like thin shadows leaping towards the sky, their tops lost inside the chilly fog. The freezing breeze left me numb. Numb enough to feel lost and contemplate over the mockery called life.

   People have called life funny. I think life makes fun of you. Every individual has just two important events in one's life- birth and death. And it isn't funny to know that no human being is in a position to remember either event. Life is like this particular foggy path. Equally lonely and equally hard to perceive the path ahead. Yet, there this unfathomable urge to move on. There is a desire for company. At every stage of life I have always wanted someone to share my knowledge and feelings with. I am aware of the futility of this need. But the need is mutual. Everyone lives a lonely life.

   The silver strands of hair covering my temple are brushed aside by a mighty gust of chilly wind. It was reassuring. I have now decided to appreciate the beauty of everything that is good in life. Only then does life attain meaning. The fog was clearing and I could spot the full moon staring at me. That was reassuring too. My eyes twinkled with childlike joy at the sight. Some stars twinkled back with friendly winks. I resumed my walk down the path. Numbness was now a natural state. I could hear some rustling in the bushes lining the path. Twice I turned and glanced at the bushes and expected to spot a startled rabbit or a slithery snake. There was nothing in sight. Expectations? Ha! When I was younger, I had been told that life will make you cry before you understand what life is. Never in my life had that happened. That doesn't mean I had failed to understand. I believe a person has no reason to weep if he understands life. I ensured that everyone around me smiled and laughed and life laughed along; not with derision.

   Life didn't make me cry. But now as I approach the end of this path, life will well up with tears. I will make life cry. My life will miss me.

Forth Forever

2011-01-12T22:32:00.002+05:30

Forth Forever

Helmsman, row forth,

'Til the waves die,

As travel we must,

Unless our camp is nigh,

The sun has gone beyond to rest,

Behind the mighty cliffs to the west,

And through the gorge we must pass,

Afloat over the watery mass,

Row forth, row forth,

Travel we must,

To quench mankind's wanderlust.

-Hardik Kothare

Unwanted

2011-01-03T19:04:00.000+05:30

   He lived alone on the market street which experienced daily surges and ebbs just like the sea. Lost in the clamour and din of an Indian bazaar, he stared around to spot anything that could console his soul. Abandoned as an infant, he was unaware of the warmth of a mother's hug and a father's pat. He grew up from a toddler to a boy only because nature offers no alternative.

   Technically, he was not alone on the street. There were other urchins of his age. There were some vendors who had converted their stalls into make-shift residences. There were dogs barking eternally. And of course there were the sahebs and madams who visited the bazaar during daytime in search of bargains. He had no rapport with any living being. The dogs didn't prefer him because he didn't have any food to offer. The other urchins didn't bother to ask him to join when they played with sticks and rubber tyres. The vendors threw a fruit or two at him; not out of sympathy but because the fruits were destined to decay anyway. The shoppers expected him to tug at their clothes and tag along, asking for alms, but he didn't do any of these things. If you thought people living on streets were social pariahs, here was an example of a person considered an outcast by social pariahs.

   The market would be abuzz during the festive season. Fresh vegetables, flowers and fruits flew off the shelves, except there were no shelves in those rickety stalls. The gang of urchins would often plan a mission to gather free food and share it amongst themselves. They wouldn't invite him to participate in the escapades because they thought he wasn't 'fun enough' and that he would squeal if they were to be caught and that would reduce the chances of any further missions. They even scoffed at his inability to win at the tyre-turning game.

   His eyes spoke of deprivation. He further went into a shell after he was accused of stealing a cucumber by a burly vendor with a scary moustache. He wasn't taken seriously. His acts were treated with derision and his existence was unwanted. Some called him a loner, some called him anti-social and some called him insane. All against his will.

   The fact was that he yearned for friends and family. He yearned for interaction. He wanted to play with the other orphans. But nobody ever gave him a chance. They were too busy mocking him. At times the mocking went overboard and that was extremely repulsive for him. It added to his inhibitions further taking him away from 'main-stream market street society'. Who wants to be with such people?

   He stopped paying attention to those who didn't care for him. He was happier to be with the stars and the birds. He hummed along with the engines of cars that passed through the street. He taught himself to write numbers and add them at the grocer's stall. He realised that life is not in the streets. Life is beyond a struggle. He began carving things out of discarded vegetables. He didn't chase the trucks that brought supplies to the market but he could imitate the horn of a truck.

   His was an isolated life, devoid of human touch. He was still staring around for something friendly and familiar. He lived. For him, acceptance was a bare necessity.

Dear Nameless

2010-12-29T18:49:00.000+05:30

Dear Nameless,

   Since when do I know you? Since when have I acknowledged your existence? I know for sure that I have tried to fit in quite a few people into your outline while searching for your perfect rendition. I have failed. I have laughed when I have failed voluntarily. I have cried when I have failed involuntarily. I am sure I have made others laugh and cry too. I look back and wonder why I haven't found you. I look ahead and wonder when your name shall replace Nameless. Many have found you in their lives and have rejoiced their finding. Many have thought they have found you and have repented.

   Are you the same for everyone? Does everybody find what they are looking for in you? Not in this imperfect world. I am sure. You are a muse when unknown. You remain a muse when revealed. You are the inspiration for poetry. You are the easel for the canvas of life and also the colours on the canvas. You are the viewfinder of a photographer's life. You are the quill of an author. You are the rhythm of life. And....you are...unreachable.

   Do you hear the call of my soul? If yes, is it painful? I know it is. I feel it. What is more painful? The call or the wait? I know you don't have the answer. It is me who is calling. It is me who is waiting. You would know if you were me. If you know, you are the outline. The question remains whether I fit an outline.

   And then I will laugh. You will laugh. And fate will shed tears of happiness.

Yours lovingly,
Anonymous

Woes of a Letter: The Life of W

2010-12-27T23:25:00.000+05:30

This is an article that I wrote as a Guest Writer for a friend's 2nd blogoversary. Each writer was supposed to choose a letter from the alphabet and write something accordingly (e.g. A for, B for, C for). I chose W and my post was titled W for Woe. Incidentally, this happens to be my 150th blog post. Another reason to celebrate during the festive season. Happy New Year!

W for Woe

When I was given the opportunity to write as a guest writer and to choose the alphabet of my choice, I knew this was a chance to prove to the world that all letters are equal. In our pseudo-egalitarian society, much importance is given to the bourgeois vowels and the snobbish S,C,M,R and other frequently recurring consonants. Poor W receives treatment similar to that given to the downtrodden X,Y and Z. I wonder why people underestimate W when it has the supreme authority to ask questions like Why, When, What, Where, etc. W is not far behind a vowel even when you spell vowel. But it seems W was born to be looked down upon. It lives with a borrowed name too. 'Double U!'

W has the unique honour of being the first letter in great words like Woman, World, Water and even the word Word! Yet W for Witch is more popular. W has given us William Shakespeare, William Wallace, Walt Disney, Warner Brothers, Wright Brothers, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Watt, Winston Churchill, Washington and much more. But we don't stop associating W with the World Wars. W gave us Wikileaks and Wikipedia! W is thus the primary source of information, classified or otherwise.

Wisdom! Another great human attribute! W has a role to play there. Even then W is Wicked, Wily and a Wh*** (although it is just a silent spectator in the last one). S gets Saturday and Sunday! But W gets boring midweek Wednesday. W finds itself on the wrong side of (the word) LAW. We have S for sunshine, smile, strong and sensible. But we have W for wither and weak.

W is WooHoo and Whoopee (not Whoopi Goldberg)! W is also WTF! W is something as good an invention as a Wheel. But W is also as scary as Wife and Windows Vista! There's even something called George 'W.' Bush which changed the world's attitude towards leadership. For the health conscious, W stands for the fear of Weight and Waistline. W has no place in restaurants, bistros and cafes because W belongs to washrooms. W gave us the Westminster Parliamentary system but W also gave us the Well of the Lok Sabha a.k.a. the mosh pit of Indian democracy. W is white! W is wine! But W is Wacky too! W is Wimbledon! Yet W is Worthless!

The woeful life of W has its few moments of glory. But it spends most of its life fighting over custody of words with V. W may not be the most Wanted letter. W may be Weird to hang out with. W may be Waspish. But the party doesn't get Wild without W!

Winds of Change

2010-12-27T23:19:00.002+05:30

Winds of Change

When wars wreck our wondrous world,

And the wheel of life stops whirling,

Wisdom waits to be unfurled,

And winds of change start blowing.......

-Hardik Kothare

Thought Synapse: A Synopsis

2010-12-22T01:03:00.000+05:30

   The light from the old Sodium Vapour lamp descended onto the platform like liquid gold spilling out of a container filled to the brim. That's how an average boring fiction writer would begin a below average whodunit. This description of a deserted railway platform is seldom witnessed in Mumbai in real life. Liquid gold,normally, won't have any place to overflow. Not when platforms are full to the brim with solid humans.

   In conventional fiction, there's always a person lurking in the shadows.The sight of his silhouette is either a source of anxiety or curiosity. The lit end of his cigarette confirms that his intents are malicious. It's funny when the human mind begins to relate two unrelated situations merely because of prior connections between the two. Why else would a highly dramatic description like the one in the opening lines scream 'poor quality fiction'? And why else would a shadow with a lit cigarette mean evil? There's plenty of stuff that goes unsaid because of man's ability to draw conclusions from unsaid words. Human thoughts are never independent. Two thoughts are bridged by tiny strands of common references. You may call it a synapse between two thoughts. Thus, we are lucky to be gifted with the talent to recognise. Memory games, mnemonics are the by-products of this beautiful process of relating one memory to another.

   Most parts of India don't receive snowfall even when winter is at its merciless best.However, for most of us Christmas means snow and a decorated Christmas tree laden with snow. Is it because we want a White Christmas? Or is it because we are exposed to a White Christmas by the western media? If the latter is the sole reason, it is surprising how easy it is to influence the human mind and make it build a connection between two thoughts irrespective of whether it wants to or not. This has helped companies sell their products (both good and bad) to a vulnerable consumer community. A barrage of jingles, slogans and catch lines trains the human mind to accept products which have 'easy-to-remember' advertisements. How many of you don't feel hungry after someone says 'Bas 2 minute'? How many of you cannot complete 'Thanda matlab....'?

   The global economy runs because the Human Nervous System runs. Yet our brains refuse to recognise the strong connections between the two. Economics doesn't always remind you of Neurology.

The Longing Lark

2010-12-04T15:44:00.000+05:30

The Longing Lark

I badly ache for a word from thee,

Just when the sky calls out for me,

I struggle within to make a choice,

The sky is good but you are twice as nice.

Relentlessly over you I muse,

Express anguish over nature's ruse,

When I long for a cheerful bloom,

She has cast instead a wintry gloom,

Yet one day when summer sings,

I'll revive my flightless wings,

And take off from the tallest tree,

To say hello to destiny.

-Hardik Kothare

Global Blushing and its effects

2010-12-03T11:50:00.000+05:30

   Carbon footprints are not passe but 'Cable footprints' of diplomats around the world are definitely in demand. The immediate effect is some serious global blushing where everyone seems to have gone into either denial mode or patch-up mode. Soaring temperatures have been observed. Just like good old global warming.

   Meandering through gaffes and faux pas, Governments all around the globe and their diplomatic missions, embassies, consulates and everyone else inadvertently left out of the list by me, have busied themselves in damage control. For a lay observer, the situation is paisa vasool entertainment.

   In Hardik Kothare and the Fear of the Unknown (set in the years 2006-2010), when he was a student at Hogwash School of Engineering and Technology (and he was The Boy Who Lived through a million submissions while fighting against Lord Norton's Theorem), the protagonist read similar 'leaks' about his institute in local media. Those leaks led to severe blushing and passionate defending by everyone affiliated to Hogwash. So he knows what it feels when your entire system has been exposed and laid bare.

   I wish Mr. Tharoor had won the UN Secretary General election. His communication tapped by intelligence would have been spicier than Ban Ki-Moon's, what with the IPL Kochi Team, Sunanda Pushkar, etc. We Indians always knew of our current Government's reluctance to tackle Pakistan sternly. WikiLeaks' revelation comes as a confirmation. Just like we had those confirmatory tests (CT) in chemistry practicals. India's indifference and neutrality on the diplomatic stage was the perfect stand during the Cold War era. Our foreign policy was hailed by every member of the NAM. But is the policy valid in today's world? Surely not. The Government begs to differ. No wonder we are accused of being a 'self-appointed frontrunner for a permanent UNSC seat'.

     The world now knows that China is fed up of the tantrums thrown by its 'unwanted child'. Look how China is changing its Cold War era stance. Just like a mature nation ready to arrive on the world stage. Chinese readiness to support Korean reunification is definitely one of the major revelations of the year.

   The West's favourite whipping boy, Iran, enjoys much attention by the cables. The Middle East has no faith in Iran and perceives it as a threat. With vivid metaphors like Hitler and snake, the Arab states have surely found a nice way to drag medieval rivalries to the 21st century.

   I am a big fan of Israel's bluntness when it comes to foreign relations. They don't have different policies for different states. They follow the exact opposite of Nehruvian diplomacy; what can be described best in Hindi as 'aar ya paar'. They don't give a shit to who thinks alike or who doesn't. They don't care whether they have ruffled feathers or have provoked an enemy. They don't care even if the entire world gangs up against them. Other nations have been embarrassed because the leaked cables highlight the fact that their actual opinions differ from their outwardly approach to issues. Israel has nothing to hide. Who doesn't know that they don't hesitate to destroy nuclear facilities in hostile states? Who doesn't know that they hate their enemies? Israel's revelations are no revelations. And they won't give a shit to the 'revelations'.

   Playboy Berlusconi seems to be a disappointment up until now. I was expecting more candid remarks about his lifestyle. Looking forward to some intimate details of his life...er...political life I mean. India has always wondered why the US cozies up to Pakistan when it is evident that Pakistan is a rogue state. How could the west not fear Pakistan with its unstable government, humbug democracy, leaders with 'rotten heads', repeated cries of 'Wolf!' against India, bold and brainless military and proximity to fundamentalists? The truth has tumbled out. Pakistan is a global nightmare. India is glad to hear that.

   If you think 'Mafia Wars' on Facebook is fun, just imagine what it would be to be the Russian Government? If accusations against Russia are true, life in Moscow must be as good as Turi Giuliano's life. If not, I will stick to the principles of Omerta.

   It is ironic that the chief financier of militant groups is one of the closest allies of the West. But we know that Black Gold speaks louder than gold in any other form. The world's cravings for petroleum can be satiated by pardoning the siphoning of some money to rivals. How can one Kingdom accuse Pakistan's President of being corrupt, perceive Iran as a threat, provide military bases to superpowers and raise funds for non-state actors to fight against the same military? If you have Oil and God in your country, you can manage stuff and end up happy.

   Hypocrisy seems to be a must-have quality for the Middle East. An enemy's enemy is also an enemy. Iran hates Israel. The Arab states hate Israel. The Arab states also hate Iran. Fit all of them into one equation and you are a genius. The Arabs love India. The Arabs love Pakistan. The Arabs love to live a life of contradiction. Everything is fine as long as the moolah is flowing.

   Prince Andrew says the UK has the best geography teachers in the world. Obviously. How else could they rule most of the world!

   With leaders around the world being tagged as 'paranoid', 'inept', emperor with no clothes', rarely creative', 'Hitler', 'liar', 'ineffective', 'flabby old chap', 'Batman and Robin', 'rotten head' and 'Devil', you would feel the urge to go back to school. Those were the days when you could hear similar language used in classrooms by immature students against each other. Nobody can beat their prowess in the field. The World is a classroom complete with nerds, bullies, sycophants, dunces and opportunists. And the Class Monitor has suddenly revealed the transcripts of an everyday conversation in the classroom to the Class Teacher. What next? Maybe a class fight during the recess. The third recess.

The Eternal Traveller

2010-11-25T12:00:00.002+05:30

The Eternal Traveller

I have said my goodbyes to the souls I know,

I won't see them on the morrow,

Whistling the tune of a dolorous song,

I head to where I don't belong.

-Hardik Kothare

The Grass Blade's Song

2010-11-22T12:47:00.000+05:30

The Grass Blade's Song

And there's this blade of grass that weathers,

The sun, the frost, the hail,

Hooves of history and bugles of change,

Have threatened its poor life,

Stood it has within striking range,

Amidst sadness and global strife,

Veins on the blade so loudly speak,

Of times bygone and dead,

Its lore unknown has tried to sneak,

Into every book ever read,

Alone it stands to face the world,

It knows how to survive,

Despite challenges flung and hurled,

In groups and lots of five,

There are trees in the fields,

So big, so mighty and strong,

Beneath the dark green canopy's shield,

One can hear the grass blade's song,

And there's this blade of grass that weathers,

The sun,the frost,the hail.....

-Hardik Kothare

Down the drain and back

2010-11-21T16:57:00.000+05:30

   It's a morning ritual that clashes with better chores like reading the newspaper or signing in to Facebook or going back to sleep. You stare at the mirror. And a crazy person with swollen eyes, disshevelled hair and an itchy stubble stares back at you. There's froth in your mouth, 3/4th of your tootbrush sticking out and a familiar 'taste' of Colgate. Why is it morning already?

   Nothing different happened today. It was the same old routine. I turned on the faucet and observed the water swirling down into the washbasin drain. Only this time, I was swirling down too. The image in the mirror yawned and went back to sleep.

   In Hollywood movies, being caught in a vortex involves two things- screaming and yelling. I did neither. Who gets a ride down into the drain everyday? Why waste time panicking? And as expected, I landed with a thud, dripping wet. I cast a perfunctory glance around for Basilisks and kindred. There was no earthworm in sight.

   Was this the future? I didn't want it to be. That would have been mainstream fiction. There's no room left in that genre. And what's so exciting about the future anyway? Is there anything the human mind cannot predict? The country will be lashed by heavy rains in the month of November. Seen that. The BCCI will refuse to send a team to the 2110 Asian Games because of prior commitments (The Sharadchandraraoji Pawar Test Championship Trophy), paving the highway to victory for the Chinese team. China will beat United Korea in a Super Over. The 1-1 format of the game will have damaged the 5-5 version which would have damaged the 10-10 format which in turn would have damaged the 20-20 game.

   There would be a new Chief Minister in the state of Terra Sonia. A top ranked Master of Boot-licking from the Janpath Academy of Sycophancy. China would reiterate its claim over Poland and the Czech Republic. The commies would maintain that these states are an integral part of the People's Republic because of territorial contiguity since 2056.

   Half the world would be mourning the passing away of Mr. Third World Boy, the 102nd child of Brangelina (adopted in 2024). 6 billion viewers would be glued to their TV sets following the live coverage of the funeral. Rest of the 60 billion people won't be able to witness the memorial service because Maharashtra faces 24 hour loadshedding. Queen Elizabeth the Second (yeah the same one......her reign remains) will demand an end to all attempts at austerity because her pet dogs won't have anything else but scones for their afternoon tea.

   But nothing of that sort flashed before me. Figments of imagination are figments of imagination even in dreams. If there's something I can do without the possibility of an error, it is sitting still and not doing anything. You can't beat me when I am doing that. And sit I did. If you ask me what I saw around me, I am not in a position to reply. That is because there was nothing around me. Primarily because I did nothing to see whether there was anything around me. If you ask me whether I heard anything, I won't be in a position to reply because I had asked my ears to sit still and not do anything. If you ask me whether I could taste anything, I would say yes. I tasted Colgate. The toothbrush was still there, remember? And I couldn't possibly ask the toothbrush to leap out of my mouth because I exercised no control over it.

   When you go down a drain (not that I always do), you expect the putridity of miasma to take over everything. You expect slime. You expect algae. You expect stuff. I don't. I had no expectations from the drain. I do not maintain diplomatic relations with the drain. Hence I couldn't even summon my High Commissioner to the Empire of the Swamps.

   What I needed to do was sit still and not move and do nothing. In a Hollywood movie, one needs to accomplish something to win a ticket back to the present e.g. undoing the wrong, patching up relations, winning back a job. But I didn't want it to be a Hollywood flick. Life stinks (like drains) if it is stuck in the mundane.

   I didn't have a moment of realisation or a sense of achievement. And yet I was back in the bathroom. Staring at the mirror. My mirror image winked at me. I yawned and went back to sleep.

Route No. 42

2010-11-21T10:35:00.001+05:30

Dedicated to all the Hitchhiker's Guide fans out there. Now you know who the 4th worst poetry writer in the world is. Fighting it out with the Vogons for 3rd place.

Route No. 42

Stranger on the misty road,

A name that goes with a face,

And yet as the years pass,

The name is hard to place,

You sat with him,

Under a tree,

En route to God knows where,

You had a chat,

And shared a morsel,

And the last few drops of water,

And then you walked,

On different paths,

Never to meet again,

At every crossroad,

You had a new companion,

To share a few moments of life,

As you go along,

You wonder,

'Where on Earth' have they gone,

The length of the journey,

Is an unknown variable,

We all take the road to death,

The purpose of the journey,

Is lost at the beginning,

Yet we walk along,

Every leg of the aimless commute,

Is adorned with baubles of mystery,

You can halt and admire them,

Or you can move ahead,

Out of curiosity,

It is all left to you.

-Hardik Kothare

Letter to a Traitor

2010-10-28T00:28:00.002+05:30

An open letter to Arundhati Roy. Your emphasis on the importance of freedom of speech egged me on to let you know what the average Indian thinks of you.

Not so dear Ms. Roy,

Over the past few years, I have wondered why you have loved to associate yourself with everyone on the edge of a controversy. And today, as you are continuing your attempts to 'be the saviour', I am convinced that you are nothing but an attention seeking writer grappling with writer's block.

Video clips and photographs of you with people who are in the midst of a blazing issue are now a common sight. Do you harbour a wish to be India's Aung San Suu Kyi? Do you wish to be viewed as an activist trying to fight for democracy? If yes, I am sorry to say, you are on the wrong path. Your thoughts, statements and actions are diametrically opposite to what Aung San Suu Kyi stands for. She is a symbol of hope, peace and democracy. And you shake hands with people who are merchants of violence, hatred and militancy. The kind of people you share the stage with are opponents of democracy and have always called for poll boycotts. I won't name them because their names don't deserve a place on toilet paper, let alone my blog.

You pity the nation that 'silences writers'. I feel sorry for the nation that gave birth to such a traitor. India deserves better daughters. If you are so fed up of the nation you are a part of, why don't you ask the Government to revoke your citizenship? Why do you continue to be a citizen of this great nation that the rest of us are proud of? You are free to migrate to another nation and carry out anti-national activities. Or do you feel spewing venom is also one of your fundamental rights? If yes, you do exercise your right like it were your duty. If you think we are bhookhe-nange, try eradicating our bhookhapan and nangapan instead of poking your nose into political issues. You think Naxalites are poor Gandhians? Try telling this to the victims of their acts of violence. Try telling this to the people who have lost their loved ones in trains blown up and derailed by Maoists. Do you even know Gandhi's full name? How could you even think of associating militants with non-violence?

Just as flies and scavengers get attracted to rotting carcasses, you are attracted to controversial situations. Does that make you feel like a revolutionary? I am glad it satisfies your communist ego. But let not your quest for satisfaction meddle with grave issues like Kashmir. Being a writer does not make you an authority on Internal Affairs, External Affairs and Diplomacy. If it does, better try your hand at UPSC. Your knowledge of History seems to be skewed just like that of your comrades all over the world. I don't need to tell you that sedition and treason is not tolerated anywhere in the world. A country may be free, democratic and liberal but a country's sovereignty and self respect cannot be challenged by a nobody like you. If you hate India and everything in India, why don't you just turn into a suicide bomber and blow yourself up on an empty street? You will get rid of your association with India and India will get rid of you.

Your thoughts about India's integrity and about Kashmir highlight your lack of political awareness. I pity the state of immaturity your brain is struggling in. Your hunger for publicity has forced you to stoop to a level where you seek the help of secessionist thoughts. India is a union of various princely states and provinces. You say Kashmir was never an integral part of India. Didn't your history teach you that there never was anything called India before the British started governing us? So how can you define India? Post-independence India has seen 500+ kingdoms, dependencies and provinces come together to form a nation, a nation which has essentially been a federation of a multitude of cultures. So when you speak about Kashmir, do you also mean to say that none of the states that constitute India are an integral part of India because they weren't so in the past?

Your entire tamasha has a flavour of antithesis about it. When you fight for justice you join hands with the proponents of lawlessness. You approve the thoughts of people who have exploited generations of Kashmiris and have stripped them of their right to employment and education. Their efforts to keep tensions high have led to Kashmiri youth wielding stones instead of degrees and diplomas. If 'calls for freedom' were to be legitimised, India would break asunder into millions of pieces. I think you will then start lobbying for an Arundhatiland or Arundhati Pradesh then.

If you do want to get noticed there are better means. You could try appearing on reality shows which play hosts to other cheap and shady characters. You could even return to opposing development projects and other plans. But beware! If you try to play with the sentiments of a nation, you would be torn apart by millions of angry pens and keyboards. And you would be left with lesser than you started with. If common sense does prevail, you would go back to writing books. Leave Kashmir to the experts. You have already got what you have always wanted. Cheap publicity and media attention. I wonder whether you have a book in the pipeline and all this is a marketing gimmick for its promotion. A day will come when you will be shown your place. I am quite confident. India will stop paying attention to your hysterical antics. You have already lost your ability to think coherently and logically. It is only a few months before you are declared mentally unsound, both legally and medically. Then you could spend your time 'listening to grasshoppers '.

We might be bhookhe. We might even be nange, as you put it. But when it comes to kicking some separatist arse, we forget that we are bhookhe and nange. The Government may not charge you with sedition. But the people of this nation have realised that you are interested in treason. And that Ms. Roy, is enough. Because we are a democracy. And democracy works irrespective of nonentities like you.

Yours disrespectfully,

Hardik Kothare

Just Another Indian

पुराने सवाल पुराने जवाब

2010-10-21T11:50:00.003+05:30

पुराने सवाल पुराने जवाब

यह ख्वाब मेरा पुराना है,

गवाह गुज़रा ज़माना है,

तारों को तोड़ लाना है,

चाँद के सैर पर जाना है |

चाँद तारें अभी दूर हैं,

उड़ान थोड़ी मुश्किल है,

पंखों में बल ज़रूर है,

किंतु वह अगली मंज़िल है |

वर्तमान में वसुधा भी है जन्नत,

वर्षा की है माया न्यारी,

पूरी हुई हर मन्नत,

झूम उठी दुनिया सारी |

आसमान ने बुलाया है,

देखो मेघदूत आया है,

धरती पर उसकी छाया है,

सुरज ने इंद्रधनुष बनाया है |

देख लिया सुंदर नज़ारा,

याद आया फिर वही ख्वाब,

नभ में टिमटिमाता तारा,

वही पुराने सवाल वही पुराने जवाब |

-हार्दिक कोठारे

'Powerless' in Maharashtra

2010-10-21T11:42:00.004+05:30

'Powerless' in Maharashtra

The wick was still,

And so was the flame,

With time to kill,

They started a game,

Of lighting candles,

Throughout the night,

The flames tall and yellow,

And burning bright,

There formed a pool,

Of molten wax,

In turn to cool,

Into solid back,

Then there was soot,

The candles' life was ending,

They were left to moot,

The plight of load shedding.

-Hardik Kothare

A Full Moon Night

2010-10-21T11:37:00.003+05:30

A Full Moon Night

As I stand down here,

Miles away,

In the concrete maze,

Called Bombay,

I gaze at thee,

As you float above,

With a smile serene,

I wonder how!

A milky face,

And crater marks,

The halo and haze,

Amidst a sea of dark,

I feel a touch,

A drop of dew,

If I were told,

If I only knew,

It was a sign,

Not rain or dew,

Of another soul,

With her eyes on you.

-Hardik Kothare

Atheism versus Rationality

2010-10-21T11:34:00.000+05:30

Atheists often use the shield of rationality to protect themselves in any debate on religion and philosophy. They believe that not believing is a part of their being rational in their approach towards life. Some atheists even manage to align themselves under the aegis of a religion and claim that their school of thought is how religion is actually meant to be- Godless. However, their denial of the existence of any superior spiritual being does not necessarily mean that the theory of God is hollow and irrational. Atheists refuse to believe that an unknown factor plays a role in the shaping up of life. This is just another boorish manifestation of man’s false impression of omniscience. The unknown factor could be physics, the forces of nature, electrons or chemicals. Do atheists not believe in science too? Don’t they seem to be trapped in the web of contradiction?

Theism does not always mean worship of an anthromorphic God. God could be temperature, pressure, density, mass, force, lightening, tree, animal or bird. God could just be another name for Mother Nature. God could be any other force beyond human control. These phenomena can be easily proved by man and his science. But the purpose of the existence of such phenomena cannot be explained. Neither can the purpose of man’s existence be explained. Common man has always been in awe of this absence of explanation. This led him to define God and he became a theist. All this happened very well within the four walls of rationality. So are all theists irrational? One has to agree that a large number of believers do venture into the fields of irrationality. But there are innumerable believers who refuse to be victims of fallacy. So, atheism is not synonymous to rationality. Atheists are not the only rational beings alive. Most of them (just like most of theists) do not satisfy the definition of being rational. Sometimes, atheism is just another religion which has followers because it has cult status. Sometimes it is just an easy escape route for people who don’t want to think about absurdities like philosophy. People who have never questioned their thoughts and beliefs are easy victims of both theism and atheism.

I believe the world cannot be divided into atheists and believers. There is a third category of people who refuse to accept blind faith and at the same time refuse to believe in human supremacy. They do not fall prey to blind faith because they are aware of the futility of the same. But they also love to spend time to mull over issues which have a deeper meaning. These rational thinkers are agnostics when it comes to anthromorphism of divinity and are believers when asked about the role of our environment in our lives. It is time we acknowledge the existence of such a class of people who have been forcefully thrown into the two warring camps of believers and non-believers in the chronicles of history because we humans don’t like the middle path. However, neutral territory is always a welcome relief when the times get tough. Remember Switzerland?

'Sparrowy' Instincts Part 3

2010-10-06T10:58:00.001+05:30

Mrs. Sparrow emerged; not alone, but with a frail looking figure in tow. There were no prizes to guess that it was one of the birdlings (or the only surviving one).

It was time for the first flying tutorial. With blinking eyes and a hint of trepidation, the baby hopped alongside its mother. The first dive into uncharted air was a mediocre one but by no means was it disheartening for the duo. Failure to launch was the first step towards the glorious flight of life.

I am not aware of the exact time that passed before the young one could successfully put its wings to test. Nor do I recollect when and how it had crossed the boundaries of sight and plunged into the ocean of possibilities.

"I could see the treetops. I could see an army of round, flat objects mounted on terraces and pointing towards the sky. I could see the entire expanse of the deep blue sky above, ahead and behind me. I sensed the power that I wielded. As I steeply banked towards the left, the sun blinded me with its bright arms of heat and light. The palm fronds were glistening because they had been thoroughly washed by the early morning showers. In the morning, I didn't cower when the cold drops of rain interrupted my attempt to fly. I now look back once at my nest as I disappear into the clouds of the future."

The newspaper arrived as it did everyday. But I sorely missed the cacophony accompanying it. It had been a week since the family of sparrows had left. I had searched the heavens, the trees and even lifted the lid of the nest. They were nowhere in sight. I turned to the sports page with a wish in my mind... a wish to see another family of sparrows seeking shelter... but not seeking refuge.

'Sparrowy' Instincts - Part 2

2010-09-28T10:56:00.001+05:30

The sky turned from blue to golden to pink to scarlet and then to a magnificent hue of deep violet. The southern horizon heralded a change of seasons. The skies of the south were a shade of inky black, unlike the lighter northern skies. A distant rumbling was followed by a heavy gust of soothing breeze which provided a respite from the daylong heat. The happy couple came back from wherever they were to the centre of their lives. Their tiny lives revolved around a clay artefact in one of my windows. And my life was inadvertently weaved with theirs. Their return was marked by some noisy chattering as if they were a human couple bickering over a domestic issue. “You should have done this” ...

“It is always about me, isn’t it?”...

“Oh yes, it is! How many times should I tell you?”....

“Oh, yeah? Then let’s see you doing it next time!” ....

....and so on.

They took turns to enter the nest and none of them spent a long time within it. Their brief visits were interspersed with a few spatterings of bird-talk.

How fascinating is the enigma of bird-talk! How one wishes to own a babel fish while listening to one sparrow communicating with another! I have come across my soulmate and the language of my thoughts, English; my mothertongue and the ever caring, Marathi; the language of the society and the lingua franca, Hindi; the opulent and musical, Sanskrit; the harsh and disciplined, German; the frosty enunciations of Russian; the artistic and charming, French; the vivacious and tongue-pleasing, Italian; the lispy and sunny, Spanish; the poetic and flowing, Urdu; the guttural and influential, Arabic and the mystic and Japanese with its words which are impossible to translate because of their proximity to the human soul. But I have yearned to learn the nuances of bird-tweets. There is no dictionary or book which can help man understand the mysteries of nature. How I wish I were a bird only to learn their approach towards life!

The rain had come in full force. It had brought a wave of relief for man and beast alike. For the parents in my window, the rain was a test of their capability and endurance. It was the first rainy season for their little ones. Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow had the job to shield the babies from a newly introduced natural phenomenon. The bright flashes of lightning and the whipping cracks that follow are a scary experience for anyone who has never seen a thunderstorm. Unfortunately, man has influenced the lives of the sparrows more than nature has. The window grill vibrated every time the external unit for the compressor of the air conditioner was turned on. The dull humming for us must be a vexing drone for them. Yet, they never complained when the compressor was turned on. They had adapted to their surroundings. The air conditioner was a part of their surroundings. And they had accepted the fact. But here was the deafening thunder which was not a regular activity.

Rain drops hailed from the heavens and were battering the windows. Every day could not be sunny and bright. Sunny days would not have been welcome were it not for the rainy days. Two tiny figures continued their vigilance in the window. They cleaned their wet feathers with an acrobatic motion of their beaks. This act made them appear plumper than usual. The wet feathers didn’t dampen their sense of responsibility. They just hoped to find the next meal...for the kids.

'Sparrowy' Instincts - Part 1

2010-09-25T13:54:00.001+05:30

The bird flew elegantly, from the window sill to the bottommost frond of the palm tree in front of the window. The flight was not a long one; but it was graceful to say the least. The path traced a parabola, of the x²= 4ay type. If the sight of the flight was graceful, the sound accompanying it was nothing close to being graceful. It was a shrill, periodic chirping that conveyed only one meaning- danger!

I personified danger; danger to the young ones of the happy couple of sparrows that was nesting in my window. We had got quite used to this phenomenon of nesting in our window. It has been more than a decade since sparrows started laying eggs in an old flowerpot placed on the protective grill of our living room window. The pot possesses strategic qualities for the rearing of young birds. Firstly, the pot is protected from the elements of nature by a small slab of stone placed atop it. Secondly, the pot has a small opening just under its rim, enough for an adult sparrow to enter the space within the pot. Thirdly, the first couple which sought shelter in the pot has built a cosy nest with the help of straws and all sorts of fibre. This nest has an entrance shaped in the form of a question mark, if seen from a bird’s eye view. Thus, the interiors of the nest are not exposed directly to the exterior. Whatever lies within the confines of the four walls of straw, is safe from the eyes of lurking predators. For the past ten years, couples have come and gone; generations of sparrows have been raised with the help of our benevolent flowerpot.

But this particular male sparrow still doubted my intentions. It let out a piercing alarm call whenever I approached the window. Gaining his trust was a daunting task and my male ego forbade me from taking the first step towards conciliation. My relationship with the birds of my neighbourhood was rather peculiar. The parakeets on the Persian Lilac in front of my bedroom window were a delightful sight. The Sunbirds were an amusing bunch as they squabbled with their window reflections. The Bulbuls perched on the hibiscus shrubs enlivened the atmosphere with their sweet tweets. The Racket Tailed Drongos, the Magpie Robins and I held long sessions where we taunted each other. The cackle of a mynah was enough to perturb me. Crows cawed once in a while to remind me of their presence. Pea-brained pigeons struggled to enter the house through the box-grilled windows and fluttered with terror while trying to find a way out. And the sparrows were a constant presence. They were as much part of the family as their abode, the flowerpot.

The current tenants were a hackneyed couple. I called them Mr. Sparrow and Mrs. Sparrow. If there’s one feature that truly separates the sparrows from the rest, it is the ability to guess their gender by a mere observation of their plume. But the dull coloured female with its fragile beak is aggressive as the darker and robust male. The current Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow were a tad bit hostile.

Mr. Sparrow was still observing me from the palm tree. I resolutely refused to glance at him twice and continued to read the newspaper. The rustling of my newspaper was a challenge for Mr. Sparrow. He tried to drown it out by the loud, intermittent chirping. He was trying to warn his offspring inside the nest. I peered inside the aperture and I spotted a milky white ovoid with muddy freckles. I had no idea whether it had hatched or not, because only a small part of it was visible; but the alarm calls suggested that there had been an increase in the sparrow population of my household.

I was not tempted to lift the stone slab to justify my observation. The very notion of discovering featherless young birds with their yellow beaks wide open, clamouring for food repulses me. It has got to do with that time when my sister had indeed, quite inquisitively, lifted the lid to have a look at those ‘cute little babies’. It was better to shift my location than bear with the chirping. No sooner did I shift to another couch than Mr. Sparrow returned to his outpost to resume his duty.

His task was an arduous one. He had to silence the young ones in case a predator dared to approach the nest. A particular signal was the ‘danger’ call. There was an ‘all clear’ siren too. Any motion on the predator’s part sent Mr. Sparrow in a frenzied fit of tweeting. The frequency of tweets reached a crescendo if the alleged ‘danger’ was moving faster than the standard accepted speed. There was a particular call to indicate that my eyes were set on the nest. I enjoyed staring at him or the nest just for the sake of irking him. I must admit that he did his job very well. Even the tiniest of glances towards him from the corner of my eye sent him panicking into a flurry of feathers. One moment I was reading the newspaper and all was tranquil. The next, I planned to steal a glance without any physical movement and the chirping reached its climax and I witnessed the parabolic flight again.

Mrs. Sparrow was a friendly looking creature, but only until I was five feet away from her. Her virtual perimeter could not be breached for any reason whatsoever. Her maternal instincts were very much visible. Every mother feeds and protects her children in the animal kingdom. Motherly duties are always at the top of their agenda. However, the paternal instincts exhibited by Mr. Sparrow really touched my soul. He was ready to spread his wings and shelter his kids from natural and man-made fury. He dared to climb the infinite skies and swoop down into the grasses to hunt for food. He had a noble air around him. His fatherly demeanour must have been reassuring for the ‘sparrowlings’. They had every reason to look up to him.

Both mother and father took turns to hunt for the single grain of rice, cooked or uncooked, or the unlucky worm in the garden. One of them guarded the citadel as the other embarked on long hunts. The hunts usually ended with a microscopic morsel of food. But this morsel was hard-earned. Not scavenged or stolen or begged, but fought for. The desire to nourish the next generation, the aspiration to see them take their first flight to glory egged them on. Darwin’s theory insists on survival of the fittest. Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow ensured that their sons and daughters were fit enough for survival.

Nightmares can kill !

2010-09-21T12:33:00.000+05:30

Nightmares can kill !

The day is getting darker,
And the wolf is baying too,
Prayers won't matter,
My nightmare's coming true.

The lonely lamp goes out,
And the leaves rustle not,
I can say without a doubt,
Now it's time to rot !

Then comes a startling shock,
A steady ringing shrill,
Painful cries of an alarm clock,
Nightmares can kill !

-Hardik Kothare

Just another scribble

2010-08-31T11:30:00.002+05:30

A multicoloured eraser chasing a thin shaky line. A steely grey line etched on a four lined notebook by a toddler sticking out his tongue to enhance the efforts. A familiar scene around the world. The toddler doesn't appreciate abstract concepts like the alphabet or words. Neither does it know that he or she is being offered a tool by the elders. A tool to express one's thoughts. A tool to reproduce abstractness in a structured format. A very useful lesson is being taught early in the child's life. A lesson which goes unheeded for most of the world; but relished by a select few.

As the child advances from one class to another, more words are introduced bringing along an entire basket of ideas and notions. A mental image of each word is produced when the child reads the word. Our brains start associating words with pictures and the words are accepted without any reasoning or questioning. Only a few wonder why a particular sound or a combination of alphabets is linked to an object.

The same person discovers that there is more than one way to describe a particular object. Moreover, it can be written in different ways too. The more inquisitive go ahead and discover that A,B,C,D,....,Z are not the only options available. They have α,β,γ,δ,.....,ω and ا, ب and क, ख, ग, घ........

Some have a strong desire to interpret thoughts in the form of sentences. Some go ahead and convert thoughts into paragraphs...some write books. It is a method to blow off some steam...a method to convey ideas, a method to indicate pleasure, a method to inquire......For some it's just a way of life. Human intellect has made it possible for us to use signs and symbols or even strings of them to represent living beings, geographical features, feelings and even phenomena. You just have to be able to interpret those particular symbols peculiar to a script. If you can read that script, a billion emotions and ideas can pass from one human being to another without any sound being made or gesticulations. If you can't distinguish one letter from another, it's just another scribble for you. As enigmatic as cave paintings by men from the stone age.

Language evolves in a systematic manner. Sounds to words to sentences to script to literature. This might not be true with all the languages. But this is the pattern followed by most of them. And the reason for this uniformity is the need to communicate. Man tries to improve his art of communication. To streamline thoughts and to articulate matter, man strives to make the process of communication easier.

Mankind used coal, chalk, graphite, ink. Nowadays, hardly anybody uses these. You just press a key and a symbol appears. You don't have to take the efforts of lifting a device and pressing it on a surface. But has it reduced the effectiveness that existed? Thoughts still continue to bloom from a writer's mind. Issues are still discussed. It's not how you write that matters. What matters is just the fact that you try to write. It can be just another scribble...........

Union Territory- An obsolete concept

2010-08-29T23:08:00.005+05:30

May 1498- The shores of Calicut (Kozhikode) witnessed an event that would change the future of an entire race of people. The land of the spices saw a man from across the seas alighting and bringing with him centuries of turmoil. Europe had witnessed a strange phenomenon called Renaissance....and India was to experience the exact opposite. It is hard to believe that it all started even before Babar came to India. Thus began the systematic plundering of an ancient civilisation. Economically, socially, politically and more importantly, emotionally.

The Portuguese were the first to recognise India's potential as a trade depot; a massive depot complete with human resources. Then followed the Dutch, the Danes, the French and the British. Most of them hesitated to establish a full fledged colony because the Maratha navy held sway over the seas surrounding India, the western coast in particular. The well developed and trained navy was enough to scare the mighty European navies. But all glorious thing must come to an end. The shrewdest of the lot, the Brits, found a way to establish their presence with the help of deceit, treachery and some amazing politics. They reduced the presence of other European powers to close to zilch. The Portuguese and the French still had some hold over a considerable tract of land. They had cunningly divided the pie called India. Colonialism is full of examples where the European superpowers traded land like we traded cards that used to accompany chewing gums when we were young. The islands of erstwhile Bombay passed from the Portuguese to the British in the form of dowry! Who would have imagined that less than 300 years later it would be the financial capital of India!

This give and take of land left some pockets of trading posts and their hinterland in the control of European empires.

1947- A new nation was carved out of a land devoid of any identity. This land was never a seamless bit of fabric. It was a conglomerate of scores and scores of small kingdoms and British provinces and protectorates. India never existed before 1947. But the desire to exist went back to the 18th century. There has always been a single ruler enjoying control over the major part of the subcontinent. The task to unite everyone under the Union of India was the single greatest feat in the history of modern India. It required a strong willed and principled man like Sardar Patel to do it. He was the only person who could have managed it. And then arose a new quandary. British India was free (but deeply wounded because it was split right in the middle...in a savage manner). What about the rest of the country?

1954 and 1961- What about French India? What about Portuguese India? The Danes and the Dutch had lost their possessions in India way back in the 19th century. India was incomplete. The dream of Akhand Bharat had been shattered because of the partition. The only soothing balm that existed was the possibility of the merger of Dadra and Nagar Haveli, Daman and Diu, Goa and Pondicherry. The French were quick to give up. Portugal was adamant. India had to resort to a quick little 'war'; shocking the world because it had violated its own principle of non-aggression and non-violence.

These territories had a special history. They had a lot in common with the rest of India but still they had their own identity. This forced the Government of India to defer their merger with other states and maintain their unique identity. Along with the islands of India, they became Union Territories. Indian land governed directly by the Central Government. But after 63 years of Indian independence do we need territories controlled by the Union Government? Is it an unnecessary duty which the government is forced to perform? Does it agree with the federal structure of India? Are differences from history still valid? Or is it a failure of the government to carry out their merger with larger states? Goa became a state in 1987. Why not the rest of them?

The Andaman and Nicobar islands have been a part of British India as a penitentiary. They loved to choose such secluded places to imprison criminals. Australia, Andaman and Nicobar islands.....the motive was to ensure complete seclusion. The Andamans became known for their notoriety as 'hell on earth' as the British Raj started sending political prisoners to the islands. In the meanwhile, everyone forgot about the tribals who have stayed there for thousands of years. The islands played a major role in World War II when the Japs won this piece of Indian territory from the Brits along with the help of the brave Azad Hind Sena. 'Shahid' and 'Swarajya' were beautiful names given by Netaji. But tables turned and the islands returned to British India. After independence, there were plans to 'rehabilitate' Anglo-Indians on the island. But the islands became a part of free India as a Union Territory. Administration of 572 islands with 500+ of them uninhabited was a daunting task. It was justified to have a centrally governed territory. But has it helped the islands?

60 years later, it has a Lieutenant-Governor reporting to the President of India and a single Member of Parliament in the Lok Sabha. There is no legislative assembly for the citizens to voice their opinions. With all the history and geography of the islands, it could easily topple Phuket,Sumatra, Mauritius and other tourist destinations in attracting tourists. But are we tapping the potential? The Indian Ocean Tsunami of 2004 (how lucky we are to have an entire ocean named after our country...a unique feat indeed..hehe) left the islands in a state of mourning, disarray and havoc. The navy and other wings of the armed forces did a great job. But what about all those major and minor grievances that could not be tackled from New Delhi? Port Blair has to run to New Delhi for assistance. Would it have been any different if the islands were to be a state instead of a Union Territory? We all know the answer is yes. There is absolutely no reason why the Andaman and Nicobar islands haven't been granted statehood? Difficult to manage things? Erm...don't u think a state would be better off managing itself than depending on central aid? Distance from the mainland? Uh...ever heard of Alaska and Hawaii? The islands don't even have a history of non-British colonial rule except the brief period of partial Japanese control. Or are there some egos that could be ruffled? What are we waiting for? Another disaster?

The case of Chandigarh is rather interesting. Capital city to two states and a Union Territory . Funny case. It is the cleanest city in India, the city with the highest per capita income and one of the most beautiful cities in terms of planning and architecture. But does it deserve the status of a Union Territory? It became a Union Territory because it serves as a capital to two states. Administration of the territory is the responsibility of the Home Ministry. There are so many authorities involved. But they are doing a fair job and the need for merger of the city with the two states would cause more damage than repair. It is an exception. But the question of its status might cause problems if certain ideas are not tackled now. Metropolitan areas like the Chandigarh Capital Region ought to have a revamped administrative system tailored to the needs of the area and also of the states of Punjab and Haryana. Development of Chandigarh might not always mean development of the two states. Things might be different 20 years down the line.

Wedged between two of the most industrialised states of India lies Dadra and Nagar Haveli. It has witnessed quite a lot. It was a Portuguese colony and then an independent entity from 1954 to 1961. It has been a Union Territory of India since 1961. The reason for it to be a Union Territory was its special past. A past with Portuguese colonialism instead of British colonialism. But what about 2010? The people there have completely merged with mainstream (Anglicised?) India. Is there any need to have a special system of governance for Dadra and Nagar Haveli because they were ruled by another European power? Isn't it ideal to merge its territories with the states of Maharashtra and Gujarat?

Same is the case with Daman and Diu. This territory saw an Indian invasion in 1961 (an act which left Portugal furious...hehe...that 'war' must have been one of the smallest conflicts between two countries placed on different continents). It has its Portuguese flavour like Goa does. But the new generations learn the official languages- Marathi,Gujarati and English. Merger with Gujarat is very much possible. But alas there are certain concepts like 'Dry State' which have to be tackled before even thinking of doing something like that. Daman and Diu remains a haven for people from Gujarat who want some relief from prohibition. Money, my friend, matters a lot...everywhere. Daman is far away from Diu, Dadra is not close to Nagar Haveli...there can be no argument of 'ease in administration'.

Lakshadweep, the smallest Union Territory, has a rich history of trade with the Arabs. It is a beautiful place but it too has a sole representative in the Loksabha like the Andaman and Nicobar islands. It surely does need a lot more democracy. Tourism plays a vital role in the territory's economy. Statehood might provide a lot.

Puducherry! Now comes the Union Territory which has become the most obsolete in spite of semi-statehood. It has its own legislature but the territories are four different enclaves lying on the east and west coast of India. These enclaves are surrounded by different states. An enclave surrounded by Andhra Pradesh, an enclave surrounded by Kerala...what possibly unites them? French culture and influence. The French language continues to be one of the official languages of the state. Such uniqueness in culture needs to be preserved. That is the reason why Pondicherry became a Union Territory. But isn't it funny that the four enclaves are represented by just one member of parliament in the Loksabha? The poor guy must be spending most of his time hopping from the Kerala coast to the Andhra coast and to the enclave surrounded by Tamil Nadu just to meet a few hundred people from his constituency. Shouldn't the enclaves be merged with the larger states with some provisions to maintain the French effect on culture? After all we must learn to prioritise administration over colonial nostalgia.

The National Capital Territory of Delhi is probably the most important of all these union territories. The National Capital Region's contribution to Indian economy is tremendous. But the administrative front is in a state of chaos. Civic administration is managed by a Municipal Corporation. It has a legislature and a Chief Minister. Yet it is federally administered. A bunch of authorities vying to develop the city. This is what we do to one of the most ancient cities of India? We have to be proud that we manage to survive irrespective of the confusion in the capital of the nation. I sincerely hope the authorities don't bicker over jurisdiction. It is the common man who suffers.

And we are still talking about awarding Union Territory status to more regions across the nation? Haven't we seen enough to learn? Why don't we learn from our sufferings? It is a fact and we have to accept it. Things have to be changed. Thought must be given to refurbishing the system. Granting statehood to some and merging the others with larger states might relieve the central government of a huge burden of administering these territories. The idea of Union Territory must make way for new ideas. We haven't embraced the concept of a Metropolitan region. It is in this direction that we must think. We must develop huge metropolitan squares around existing megacities. All this must be done within the confines of the state.

We are a federation of states and Union Territories are the by-products of colonialism. It is time to amend the constitution for development. It is time to give a thought to our system. It is time to accept that change is necessary and administrative problems must be resolved. We are not the India of 1947. We live in a new India...where people need representation. Why should there be a single representative from Union Territories in the 'House of the People'? Aren't the citizens of Union Territories being denied a fair chance to voice their opinions? Delimitation of electoral constituencies must be carried out in every decade and not after every 25 years.

We are not an imperialist nation. And we don't need territories administered by people sitting in the capital. Equal rights to all Indians. A dream that needs to transform into reality.......

Inside the cocoon

2010-08-21T11:38:00.003+05:30

I kept staring as the steam from the cup wafted towards me. The condensed droplets fogged my spectacles; blurring my vision for a moment. But I continued staring because the blurred vision didn't muddle my thoughts.

The picture was pretty clear now. Clearer than before. Things were meant to change. A sudden reel of events from the past played before me. Each frame seemed different. Change in perspective means a change in decisions and change in decisions means a lot of change. Destiny had played its role as a catalyst; or rather like a puppeteer. The strings were invisible and the artist was hidden but the show was on. The wrong turns were suddenly right and the markings on the board were purely fictional.

The sun had not yet set. There was still time for the sunset. The waves were still lashing the beach. It would be another hour before they would begin to reflect the crimson hue. Everything around me was in a state of motion. Bustling with newly acquired energy. I was the lone stranger. Isolated by a wall of confusion. Time and space had ceased to exist within. I could have sworn that time was correcting itself. Delving into the past to rectify the future. But the wall couldn't stop the sun's rays from falling on me. The bead of sweat on my forehead would still glisten. Just as it always did. Nothing will be snatched from me. I am still breathing...breathing fire...the fogging and defogging proves that. The sun never sets permanently.....

Homo sapiens sapiens vs The Anopheles-Aedes Axis

2010-08-19T11:55:00.003+05:30

It's a war that has been raging ever since stupid Pandora opened her box. But the enemy was unknown until Sir Ronald Ross and company highlighted the facts for us. The battlefields lie scattered across the tropical zone of Planet Earth. From the marshy Sundarbans to the mighty jungles of the Amazon basin, from the impoverished equatorial Africa to the congested metropolitan areas of developing nations, battalions of the genus Anopheles have been implementing guerilla warfare against the self-proclaimed superior species of the planet. Armed with the latest cutting-edge technology plasmodia and with ever increasing and mutating stockpiles, there are no signs of armistice. The world faces the threat of plasmodial holocaust. The Anopheles clan have also signed a co-operation treaty with the Aedes Aegypti who have opened up a second front against mankind, as promised.

In the city of Mumbai, which is seeing the fiercest of all battles, the fight has infiltrated every household. Reinforcements of quinine are not helping as the heavy monsoon downpour is proving to be an advantage to the mosquitoes. They also have an added advantage of wings. They are now breeding in puddles in various playgrounds and parks of the city which were earlier famous for being breeding grounds for 'lovebirds'. Mosquito nets, coils and repellents are reported to be flying off the shelves.

The war has now penetrated the blogosphere as well; be it for public awareness or for sheer mudslinging. This being an example of the latter. Mudslinging has a long history. Human beings named their opponents quite conveniently. Anopheles means USELESS (An-not opheles-profitable). We called them useless even before we knew that they were responsible for the predicament. Homo sapiens sapiens didn't hesitate to blame the air for our sufferings. We thought 'bad air' was giving us the fever, delirium and shivers. We went ahead and named the disease after bad air, Malaria (Mal-bad, aria-air).

It looks like we have a long road ahead. There's a lot left to do. We can't win this war in days or months. Decades of some smart fighting might help us. *Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack* I killed an enemy on my lap. It's like she knew I was writing about her. Yeah now I get it! The enemy is a huge army of females! No wonder they are being so obstinate. I take back my words. Centuries and millenia would not be enough to defeat them. Femme fatale.....literally!

Auld Lang Syne

2010-08-19T11:52:00.002+05:30

Auld Lang Syne

In the wide open sky,

Stars would shine,

Some close and nigh,

In a square or a line,

And now they sigh,

Memories sweet and fine,

There's no longer a constellation,

'Twas a heavenly sight,

The only consolation,

In the murky night,

Each star flickered and broke away,

From the friendly cluster,

Now on its own new way,

Towards the future....

-Hardik Kothare

Dedicated to my very own constellation of stars. Amici Aeterni and thanks thanks...

P.S. This was supposed to be posted on Friendship Day...Sorry for the delay.

Tradition or pollution?

2010-06-22T11:25:00.000+05:30

Can you please turn down the vuvuzelas? It's getting a bit irritating now. I thought I would be in the minority but I am shocked to know that I share my sentiments with millions of people all over the world. Initially, it looked (not sounded) exciting. But now it is clear. It is simply unnecessary. It has deprived the game of the oooohs and aaaahs as well as the chanting of the fans, the unofficial anthems, the 'ole ole'.

The scientific disadvantages of the darned trumpet come much later. The older generation surely couldn't tolerate the noise from the first instant. Most of them were of the opinion that there's something wrong either with the TV or with the transmission. It is really heartening to see that people are demanding a complete ban. That would be really helpful. The Vuvuzela fans argue that it is part of South African culture and the world has to accept it. Since when did the Rainbow nation, Mandela's nation, start enforcing culture? All right, banning the polluter would be harsh, but can you please 'blow your trumpets' after a goal or after a victory? It was sad to see that some South Africans could not take their lips off the vuvuzela even during the national anthems before certain matches. That was when the limit was crossed. Anything done in excess is bound to cease being attractive.

The worldwide effort to filter out the noise (I can't believe I am using that term in a context other than Electrical Engineering) needs to be encouraged. I sincerely hope that the vuvuzelas don't invade the IPL turf next year. Oh wait! Have they already done that?

The Badshah of 'Bhrashtamati'

2010-05-05T15:44:00.004+05:30

The ruckus, over who profited from the IPL circus and who did not, has subsided for all practical reasons. Mr. Twitteroor must have lost his tan now that he is out of the limelight. Mr. Love'it-the-ex-Commissioner cannot be seen chirping on TV with his pink ties on.But it surprises me (and I am sure I am not alone) that the baap of all culprits behind any kind of scam in the IPL remains unscathed. Sports Minister Gill has started the clean-up mission, which I doubt would succeed beyond a certain point. The steps being taken have been long due. Pune might finally get a Member of Parliament who will have lesser stuff to worry about. But the ICC President-elect, from the same district, has been acquitted without a trial in the court of the unusually subdued media. The amateur minister and professional wine-maker has already shrugged off all responsibility regarding price rise and drought. It's his opinion that a minister is just a man assigned with a tag so that he or she could occupy and warm a chair in an office which otherwise would remain unoccupied. Better me than anyone else. It's all great as long as the world tours are thrown in generously.

After having backstabbed dozens of fellow partymen and kindred, Mr. Power-hungry has taken pains to reach his current stature. He just loves to play games, especially the Power Play part. So many rebellions and alliances and rigged elections! I am sure I would rename his 'family fiefdom' and start calling it 'Bhrashtamati' by 2014 if they re-elect any of his family members. I pity the voters and their IQ. It's time to get over with an actual coronation. His daughter, Mrs. I-Mimic-My-Dad Even-The-Jaw, has categorically denied any connection with the auctions. It's surely not her glass of wine to be involved when 'Sugar-Daddy' (do not take it literally) is in charge. After successful attempts at sugar production, 'world class' education and brewing, the stalwart has now entered the field of cricket. He has a Midas touch and has an uncanny knack of discovering gold mines in every field, exploiting them and then disappearing with the loot without leaving a trace. He earns the most when nobody even notices and then quietly leaves via the backdoor when others are being caught and framed. And he is still at large! Carefree and confident as ever! You do get to see a lot of pinch hitting during this megascale POWER PLAY.

I reckon IPL nights would be renamed as Nationalist Cricket Parties. I wonder whether he has a special leash for his lapdog 'Gaffe Minister' Patil to prevent him from chasing the cheerleaders away. They don't qualify as bargirls, do they? Hmmm. Bade bade deshon mein aisi chhoti chhoti baatein hoti rehti hai.

महाराष्ट्राला मानाचा मुजरा

2010-05-01T00:02:00.004+05:30

महाराष्ट्राला मानाचा मुजरा

सुवर्णजयंती चा मुहूर्त,

काव्य लिहितो मी उत्स्फूर्त,

महाराजांचा वारसा लाभला,

पराक्रमाचा कळस गाठला,

संतकवी नांदले येथे,

प्रतिस्पर्धी नाही आमुचा कोठे,

सह्यकड्यांवर भगवा फडकतो,

सिंधुसागर नमन करतो,

देखणा व्याघ्र येथे गर्जतो,

अमृतवाणी आम्ही बोलतो,

राज्य आपुले प्रगत महान,

होत राहील नेहेमीच सन्मान,

संकटे येतील चालून सह्स्त्र,

तरी नाद दुमदुमेल जय महाराष्ट्र!!!

-हार्दिक कोठारे

The Unknown Labyrinth

2010-04-29T21:42:00.005+05:30

Another Attempted Acrostic

The Unknown Labyrinth

Miles inside your dusty brain,
Exists a long lost treasure,
Moments of loss and of gain,
Of happiness you could never measure,
Rainy days and sunny weeks,
Incredibly vivid and clear,
Every single 4 and 6,
Sweet joy and the occasional tear.

-Hardik Kothare

Belongingness- A need.

2010-04-01T22:19:00.001+05:30

And it came back.... The feeling that I feared would haunt me. The fear of defeat amidst 55,000 people; most of whom had stopped thinking about victory. History was against us and so were the circumstances. Half a dozen wickets down and a meagre total on the board, not what I had paid to watch. I most certainly agree that after watching Sunil Manohar Gavaskar bow down to Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar a.k.a God and after witnessing God's dazzling half century, I had stopped craving for more. But 'feeling blue' while 'wearing blue' seemed improper. Words of warning echoed in my mind, "We'll bash you people if Mumbai Indians lose when you go to D.Y.Patil. You already have a bad record of watching matches where we end up facing defeat."
"Why me?!" And to answer my prayers the Turbanator came to our rescue with God's own bat. Every ball was banished out of the field. At the same time, our blues were banished. We resorted to our 'fultoo raanti' dancing to celebrate the change of fortune. A decent total and an excellent defence made sure we pocketed the match. We had to catch the last local train to the city and that prevented us from shouting, "DC chi maarli dhinchak dhinchak" in dear old VJTI ishtyle! The stadium was jam packed by VJTIans and we could have easily relived Enthusia at the D.Y.Patil stadium.
The long walk to catch a rickshaw was interrupted by acquaintances who were as animated as we were because of the win.
The crowd was walking towards Nerul station and it seemed impossible for us to make it to the station. And that was when the VJTI brain worked! "Why don't we go to Seawoods station and board the train from there? We would be able to sit comfortably and not many would think like us!" (Yup! We are snobs and it helps!)
A costly 50 rupees ride accompanied by some senseless banter took us to Seawoods station. And I was overcome by a weird feeling of sorrow even after our team had won! The two people sitting beside me in the rickshaw were 2 dear friends who most probably won't be watching an IPL match with me in the future versions. Same was the case with that friend who stays at Nerul. We had thought that 4 years of engineering would be full of such experiences and that was indeed true. But still it felt as if something was coming to an end and 4 years were not at all enough.
We could see a train approaching the station and with the help of our blitz-like sprint, we could reach the station just in time to see that the train would terminate at Vashi. It struck me that all this was very special, something that we would share with our grandchildren in the future. We whiled away our time by indulging in our favourite pastime- a photography session.
We boarded an almost empty train and we couldn't help but laugh at those waiting at Nerul station. We had window seats and they had to squeeze into the coach. It was no surprise that every alternate person who entered the coach was a VJTIan. Greetings and pleasantries were exchanged. A complete stranger asked me whether we had bought tickets 'in bulk' and was surprised to know that we had not done so.
"Sachinn!Sachin!" and "Mumbai! Mumbai!!" was all that we could hear on our way back. The entire train sang in unison as the train entered every station. It was as if we were heralds carrying a message back to the city from the satellite town. Call it psychology, fanaticism or anything else, you won't know what it is unless you know what Mumbaikars are made up of! The connecting trains at Kurla and Wadala took half of the crowd towards the central suburbs and the western suburbs respectively. It seemed as if mighty rivers called the Harbour line, Central line and Western line had planned to carry silt in a disciplined manner. Silt which resides in every gully of the city. Silt which painted itself blue for the occasion! This makes our city fertile, this makes our city resilient, this makes our city Mumbai!
On our way back from Wadala station to Shivaji Park, my eyes strained out of the window on the right hand side. It was painful given the drowsy state I was in. But my eyes touched the place I revere. It was the place that has made me what I am! It was the place that I have to mention in every alternate sentence. VJTI......My eyes were grateful. I had thanked the institute...silently. A sense of belonging...that was the theme of the day! That was what makes me write this at 2 am in the morning. Forgive me for the lack of fluidity or coherence in the text. But words become meaningless when the emotion behind the words is strong enough to leave an imprint... A night out in Navi Mumbai has left me gasping for words, groping for stability.... We humans are insane!

Make way for happiness!

2010-03-04T21:25:00.001+05:30

When all seems lost,
And life appears cruel,
Bitter cold and chilly frost,
Your boat has a torn sail.

You curse your fate,
And shiver in the cold,
It's not too late,
Life is yet to unfold.

Things will happen,
As they are meant to be,
Worries might deepen,
Much more than the sea.

Why does everything good,
Never knock at my door?
Success has never by me stood,
Not once nor twice nor more!

Times are tough,
Is what people say,
The weather rough,
May last for more than a day.

The point of despair,
Is when the signal arrives,
Asking you to prepare,
For joy to fill your lives.

Make way for happiness,
Here comes the lucky day,
To cheer up and to bless,
And to chase gloom away.

The sudden rush,
Catches you unawares,
Your life turns lush,
Relieving you of all cares.

And then you know,
That the pain was petty,
Success may come slow,
And the wait can be shitty.

-Hardik Kothare

Have a 'Loopy' New Year! (Pun intended)

2010-01-02T11:02:00.002+05:30

Happy New Year! And it's that time of the year when people usually open their sentences with the words 'it's that time of the year when'! Recursive? Albeit not as recursive as life has turned out to be. It feels like you welcome a new year to go through all the stuff you have gone through in the previous years.
For instance, the concept of a new year's eve bash has not changed in the last 20 years and 8 months of my existence on planet Earth. Why do people 'celebrate' our journey along the 4th dimension that we call time? The Earth has just finished circumambulating the Sun. Why should we be happy? At the same time why should we be sad stating reasons like 'we have lived yet another year of our lives'? We ourselves have defined this time period called 'year' and have decided how to split it up into 12 parts. Nature doesn't ask us to be different because it is a new year! The Sun continues to rise. It is as chilly on the 1st of January as on the 31st of December. People still want a separate state and are ready to agitate for it. Soap operas still command viewership although they are being thrown newer challenges everyday by trendy, young cousins called reality shows. Shashi Tharoor still finds his new job amusing and he hasn't still imbibed the 'golden laws' of Indian politics. Obama has still not come out of the 'Oh my God! I am the new President' mode and is busy exploring newer countries to send troops to and finding out ways to be nominated for the Oscars or the Grammys, if possible (he seems to have a knack for appearing in nomination lists,doesn't he?). They won't be finishing the Mumbai Metro because it is 2010, will they? Sharad Pawar will next blame an uneven pitch for the price rise as he plans to switch roles from Agriculture Minister to God knows what! Kalmadi will reassure the Commonwealth Nations that Aal Izz Well even a day before the Games kick off at an under construction stadium. Migrants will start building shanties at railway stations quoting their right to live in any part of the country and will start demanding a separate electoral college for 'the poor hardworking inhabitants of platform number 5' because their voice cannot reach the state legislature. The media will orchestrate 'candlelight marches' in support of a guy who was robbed off 4 annas way back in 1950 demanding another probe to ensure a guaranteed story after 19 more years. In the meanwhile they'll invite his grandchildren to describe how they have suffered because their grandfather kept the 4 annas in his shirt pocket and not his wallet and have suffered discrimination in their schools because of that.
Aren't you sick of the infinite loop that we so willingly and happily are ready to follow complete with partying after one iteration? What do we celebrate? The fact that we have survived or the fact that we are helpless beings subject to monotony and have no control over our future? Doesn't the countdown till midnight and the frenzied wishing post midnight instill a sense of nauseating deja vu in you? It's the same every year. In the evening you see the fireworks at Sydney Harbour Bridge and know that soon you are going to 'usher in a new year' (one particular news channel makes sure the phrase is used) in a few hours and there will be this loud music blaring around you. You know that torrents of Ethyl Alcohol will be gushing down people's throats in Goa. Telephone networks will be jammed as people want to wish each other a Happy New Year! Why can't people realise that a mere change in the digits of the date is not enough to change our fate? But who cares! We need a reason to celebrate! We need a reason to survive! And I suggest that mankind would be better off if it celebrated new month's eve with equal fervour. So what if it looks insane? We as humans are licensed to be insane. Just remember that don't be mechanical enough to celebrate life only because it is new year's eve. Celebrate because you are clever enough to sense the subtlety of an event which marks one successful revolution of our planet.
2009 has been an amazing year for me. It's the year when my sibling got married, I ceased being a teenager and entered my 20s, I was the Debate and Literary Activities Secretary in my college Social Group, I exercised my right to vote and that too twice, I was found fit to be employed and was offered jobs for the first time! I hope 2010 has some more happy moments in store for me. So that I could celebrate the next new year's eve again mulling over why we humans 'celebrate'!

Simultaneous Linear Equivocations

2009-11-19T23:56:00.002+05:30

I still can't believe that my 'mostly political' blog was silent when Maharashtra was in election mode. But the long silence only highlights my shock and surprise. An impotent Government was voted back to power in one of the states of the most 'vibrant' democracies of the world.
10 years of non-governance almost always translates into anti-incumbency but this might not be the case in a multi-party system. I pity those so called political analysts who kept on ranting about the 'vote against Sena-BJP' when statistics provided by their channels prove otherwise.Statistics slearly prove that the Congress-NCP combine have returned to power thanks to the absence of a single alternative. The very reason why the Congress has enjoyed power at the Centre for more than 50 years. This is what happens when people want change but they want change in different forms.This is what happens when people have multiple choices.
But not much can be done, now that the damage has already occured. Maharashtra will have to face 5 more years of loadshedding, farmer suicides, inadequate infrastructure development, an exodus of industries and lethargic governance. Governance is not for the welfare of the people but for the welfare of the sugar lobby and the recently founded education lobby. Just look at these bunch of people who are going to introduce bills in the Legislative Assembly. Do they even look concerned? Do you expect things to work when the Chief Minister is busy spending tax money on a charlatan of a 'saint' who has been accused of grave criminal offences? Everyone has a right to practise religious beliefs but not at the cost of the tax payer's money! And this is the 'secular' government which this 'secular party' wants to provide. The Home Minister was a decent guy until he was overburdened during his last term and went berserk commenting on one of the worst terrorist attacks the world has ever seen. His sacking had been soothing for a hurt populace but his return to this key ministry sends out all the wrong signals. I wonder why people don't remember how they had been charged with adrenaline after last year's dreaded attacks? The Ghajini effect? Or have people forgotten all about the movie too?
Party manifestos have lost their meaning and they need to be printed on stamp paper so that the Government could be taken to task for failing to fulfill their promises. The Congress-NCP manifesto was a book of jokes! They had copied every point printed in the Sena BJP manifesto with a few tweaks here and there. The punchline was their promise to complete the Worli-Nariman Point section of the sealink in the next term and try to get rid of loadshedding! With a team of ministers who were sworn in after almost 2 weeks of melodrama and who assumed office after one week of self-applauding, a energy rich Maharashtra seems a distant dream. The ruling party seems to infuse inactivity in itself. Enough proof to prove their non-interest in working for the welfare of the people. What else do you expect from them? They have turned a land of opportunities into a land of opportunists! Election candidates are decided on the basis of winnability and not efficiency. Ministers are sworn in after double checking whether every vote bank is represented or not and whether each MLA gets a ministry of his or her choice and not the ministry for which he or she is qualified enough. Political parties squabble over various formulae viz. '99 formula, 2004 formula which decide which party gets the power house ministries. Can someone knock some sense in their brains and tell them that ministries ensure that welfare work for the people is carried out in an efficient manner and ministries are not just a car with a red beacon and fancy tea parties and nice luxurious offices Ministries are not present to be occupied by ministers but they are the channels through which a state is to be administered. The government's progress report for the last 10 years reads 'doom for Maharashtra' if there is no radical change in policy making. And do they even have a backbone to make policies without consulting their 'high command'? It's almost as good as the puppet governments in Iraq and Afghanistan. Proxy legislators for 'foreign' powers.
When will people realise that they were being fooled? After 15 more years when Maharashtra will compete with Jharkhand and Chhatisgarh (with all due respect to the states) for industries? Look at Gujarat! Modi's Gujarat! I don't mind praising him when others find him a 'political untouchable' and think it's hip to criticise him without even knowing the reason for the criticism and paying no heed to the leaps and bounds of the state towards the future! Don't we have the potential? Oh sure we do! We were the most industrialised state but I am afraid we aren't any more.
After the political storm came the actual cyclone, Phyan. The state government's unpreparedness and series of follies is condemnable. A government which doesn't even care for the people who have voted them back (which is a mistake in the first place) deserves a strong booing. Even more because of their lies before the elections. Solving this political problem is not possible when you have so many variables and so many unknowns. The equations and inequalities available cannot provide an alternative to the erroneous result in the form of a disinterested government.

Hogging the limelight

2009-08-18T19:48:00.003+05:30

Stop thinking about hogs and pigs! This post has got nothing to do with it. I am sure that most of you would follow the hog-pig-swine-flu chain. And why not? H1N1 Influenza A has hogged more than its share of limelight. But there are people who went green with envy when they realised that a mere virus who has nothing but RNA to flaunt has been the centre of attraction for an unusually long period of time. Some resorted to old tricks while some came up with innovative ones.
Mr. Stammering Tobacco-Smoker who features for the third time on my blog has to be the clear winner when it comes to snatching back what was his. He was missed terribly by all forms of media during his hiatus and he resurfaced (old habits die hard) recently. It began with 'interviews' given to TV channels where he made sure that the anchors addressed him by his newly acquired title 'Dr'. Then he announced his latest movie (which will definitely please the narcissistic side of him). Next, he caught a flight to a city on the other side of the globe to 'celebrate I-day' (people can afford to spend money to buy a ticket to New York and come back within 2 days just to participate in a carnival!). And voila! He gets stuck in a situation which is more than perfect to promote the aforementioned movie!!!! He then contacts one of the most notorious Members of Parliament who has got 'contacts' (in media, politics and who knows where). The news is leaked to members of the media who are on the lookout for news to be fed to Indians on Independence Day.
What more could the media ask for!!! A matter related to national pride and that too on Independence Day! And you thought that Ganguly had the perfect timing. You tend to forget that Mr. Stammering Tobacco-Smoker owns the team in which Ganguly plays! And the media discusses the issue and ponders over related issues like racial and religious discrimination, 'insult to a billion people',etc. Guffaw! We have got used to these histrionics. But he has achieved what he wanted. He is back in the minds of his 'fans'. Agreed that if he had been detained because he is an Indian and his name is Khan then it is a matter which deserves serious consideration. This is not the first time that an Indian has been 'insulted' at an US airport. But do we care? Millions of us still strive hard to get to the land of opportunities and live their dream. Have we ever spoken about national pride and 'swaabhimaan' when it comes to migrating to 'the States'. It is still considered hip.
The insults won't stop coming until we ask US passport holders to step aside at our airports and grill them for information. And that is not possible at least in the next two centuries. Did you know that if you state that you are a dancer or singer by profession, they make you perform at the airport before clearing you to enter the country? It must be the only country where a visa is not enough to gain entry. If he was detained on religious grounds then the USA satisfies all the conditions to be a hypocrite. The same country about a week ago criticised India for not being secular and citing certain past happenings! Is detaining a person because he belongs to some religion an act of secularism? Do they have the moral right to advocate secularism? Their policy might have helped them curb any acts of terrorism. And there might be a lesson or two to be learnt from them. However, it is best not to mull over this issue because history tells us that superpowers come and go but hegemony prevails.
The next Superman is Mr. Mowgli Minister. We all are aware of how we like to have photographs of ourselves at places/ doing things which would kindle awe in the minds of the viewer. But this mowgli is not in his teenage years and still wants to be seen with a tiger. How I wish he was mauled by the tiger! One of his henchmen seems to treat the tiger like a stray dog of his 'gully' (who are mostly named Tommy or Moti). And it surely reminded me of the scene in 'The Hangover' where they steal a tiger. I bet Mowgli and his bandar log were drunk too. The Minister will surely think twice before petting his dog given the controversy which has erupted around him.
And the crowning glory comes with one of the most infamous politicians of India (I have somehow hated him for the last decade or so). He loves opium and loves distributing it. He loves nepotism. And now he loves Jinnah! The man responsible to cut the mighty undivided India of Sardar Patel's dreams into fragments and throwing the region into irreparable conflicts. The man responsible for the deaths of a million people fleeing in fear of communal riots! A man considered a villain by every true Indian and an evil monster by any sane individual is praised by this former minister who swims in a 'Sea of Poppies'!!! Why do they just love to create controversy when none exists!!!The party was quick to distance itself from the statements but there have been infinite instances when the party could have ostracised this guy for its own betterment but has not done so. And he has the guts to criticise the Iron Man of India who united a country which existed only on British royal maps before 1947! Do these people know that a lot of brainwork is required before writing a book or do publishers print their work irrespective of whether the author is in his or her senses or not?
At the end of it you feel that the H1N1 Influenza A virus is far more innocuous than these parasites in the society who wield complete control over the masses through their 'nautanki' or 'gundagiri'! I reckon the only panacea for these parasites is Quick Gun Murugan.He can tackle them, maaaaeeendayit!

"Idli, appam, sambar khao,
Quick Gun Murugan ke goonn gaao!"

Dial M for Munni

2009-08-04T23:22:00.005+05:30

It's just another lazy day. Just like any other week day. And you have bunked a series of boring double lectures where you learn nothing but how to play 'Cross and noughts'. Yes, we in the Department of Electrical Engineering have been learning that since the 3rd semester where we draw a plane divided into four parts instead of the regular 9 parts and place crosses and noughts known as 'poles and zeros' in the engineering jargon. At times we also plan to move these crosses (that's allowed) to better places because it being shifted yields better results and the system becomes more efficient. Anyway, it's just a game for losers who lag and winners who lead (contact the abovementioned department if you don't get the joke and let me know if you do).
So, you are busy day dreaming and you hear your phone ringing. That reminds you that your ringtone has started to irritate you and you need a change of tone, only to forget it until the next person calls you. Remember those moments when your phone seems to be yards away and you need to circumnavigate the globe to reach there? It seems longer than the 'hero meets heroine sequence' in the movies of the 90s when there used to be a grand reunion music playing and the hero used to have blood trickling down his chin and besmirching his white shirt. And their long run is highlighted by the fact that their arms do a nice piston motion indicating that they are dying to fall in each others arms.
You curse the caller for calling at an hour when you are likely to be napping (which is always). Most callers who call at this time have numbers starting with the digits 02228.... (am I the only one to notice that?). You have one part of your brain asking you to just ignore the call but you very well know that your sleep has been shattered to smithereens and attending the call is the sanest option.
You finally go for the green button-
Caller (9/10 times a high pitched female. Is there a syndicate of these women to call up unknown people at 3 pm? Are they paid to do that?):Kaun?????!!!!!
You: (eyes rolled up in exasperation) Hello?
Caller:Hello?
You: Hello?
Caller:Hello?
You: Hello?
Caller:Hello?
You: Hello?
Caller:Kaun??
You:(Conforming whether you have received a call or dialled a number) Haan hello?
Caller: Kaun bol raha hai?
You: Aapke kaun chahiye?(Laying a platter of choices in front of her. So generous of you.)
Caller: Kaun? Kalua?
You: (Scratching your head with a scowl on your face.The last time someone called you, you had a better name) Nahi
Caller: Achha Raju?
You: Nahi wrong number.
Caller: Aapka number kya hai?
You:(Snort! She's asking for my number) Aapko kaunsa number chahiye?
Caller: Yeh kahan ka number hai?
You: (Alzheimer's? Amnesia?) Dekhiye, aapne galat number dial kiya hai.
Caller: Main Munni.
You: (Thank God! That was so enlightening!) Thik hai par wrong number.
Caller: Aapka number 98XXXXXXXX hai?
You: Haan number to sahi hai par aadmi galat hai.
Caller: Woh jara Bablu Bhai ko bulana
You: (Bablu?!? A family full of nicknames! Or is it?) Yaha par koi Bablu Wablu nahi hai. (You go a step further by coining a name for his twin).
Caller: Achha Tiku bol raha hai? (Either Tiku is the only person cognizant of Wablu or Tiku loves to pull Munni's leg)
You: Nahi wrong number.
Caller: Tabiyet thik nahi ka bitwa? Aawaaz ko kya hua?
You: (inadvertent clearing of throat)
Caller: Khana kha liya?
You: (That is none of your concern) wrong number!!!
The red key gets depressed.
The caller calls you again. You want to start off with an expletive you have wished to hurl at somebody for years.
You: Bola na ek baar, wrong number. Samajh mein nahi ata?
Caller: Main munni!
You: ( pata hai! What's new?) wrong number.
How I wish you could slam down the receiver like you can do on your landline!

Trrring Trrring

You: Dekhiye, main baar baar nahi kehna chahta but I have no other choice but to talk to you in a language which you don't understand just to prove that I am not the person you wish to talk to. If at all, you display the audacity to dial my number again, I am going to report you to the police!
Ani jar he samjat nasel tarihi krupa karun mala parat phone karu naka.
Caller: (Hands over the phone to her neighbour) Konn??? Konn boltey???
You: Aapan konn boltey?
Caller: Mi bolat ahe!
You: (You start counting down from 100) How wonderful!!! Ithe pan mich boltoy!
Caller: Jara Raju la deta ka phone?
You: Aho nahi deta yenaar..Raju just had a terrible fall on the building staircase and has been rushed to the hospital. His condition is very critical. Enough of this nonsense!

Same time but some other day:
Caller: Goodafternoon Sir, Main ABCD bank se bol rahi hoon.Kya aapko credit card chahiye?
You: Yes I am in dire need of a credit card. I am bored of shoplifting. Can you give me more details about your scheme?
Caller: Sure, sir! Do you work in the private sector?
You: No, I am a student who gets pocket money and it is highly likely that I might remain unemployed.
Caller: Sir, our new scheme is...
You:Can you call me in the evening? I am in the middle of a lecture right now *CUT*

And there are the phone calls to book movie tickets, to order a takeaway Chinese meal, to order grocery! Do people actually have a directory full of errors? Or is this a conspiracy against me??Have you ever tried dialling a wrong number just to experience the fun you can squeeze out of it? Why does the entire world have the time to call you when you don't even have time to master the 'phoney accent' (pun intended) you have planned to learn??? Or are we a bunch of people who just call up one another because we can? I know many people who call up to talk about anything that crops up in the mind! The worshippers of extempore!!!
Now don't respond to the 'call of the wild' and bash me up for 'calling a spade a spade'. I'll 'ring down the curtain' before you plan to do so.

P.S. Do watch 'The Truman Show' over and over. You'll end up posting something similar. I need rehab!!!

The Joy of Literature

2009-08-02T13:37:00.004+05:30

The Joy of Literature

Words prance around like deer,
It's no layman's job mere,
To weave of words a fabric,
Is art akin to magic.

Artists of literature,
Break ice or suture,
Hearts sundered by pain and grief,
Or help turn over a new leaf.

The value of a writer's pen,
Exceeds the worth of a pirate's den,
The pen can limn a fantasy,
Or disabuse of a fallacy.

It's not for a chosen few,
It takes along old and new,
Frees from the shackles of differences,
To soak in the joy of nuances.

Concise lines can convey,
Pave a way or blow away,
Every cloud of bitter sorrow,
Harbinger of a better tomorrow.

Best available medium,
To tide over any tedium,
Words work to inspire,
Ignite a ring of blazing fire.

And who says you are not a poet?
It's just that you have never met,
A pen which plays a role,
Of pouring out your heart and soul.
-Hardik Kothare

The Search for an Oasis

2009-08-02T13:33:00.002+05:30

The Search for an Oasis

Far away in unknown lands,
He awaits,
Barefoot along golden sands,
As the sun sets.

He feels the fineness slipping under,
His feet grope for grip,
They sink deeper,
He wishes instead for an ocean deep.

But now he must stay put,
Miles stretch all around,
Miles of solitude,
His breath the only sound.

He longs for an embrace,
True from the heart, a caring one,
He yearns for a smiling face,
And looks around to find none.

None at all, the world is vast,
He isn't asking for much,
He knows he won't last,
For long...He cries for a touch.

Which says 'I'm there',
A shoulder to cry on,
Away from the sickening glare,
Respite from a life forlorn.

How he wishes to hear that voice,
Loving, loyal and benign,
His dreams seem distant now,
The fragrance, the grace...divine.

For years he has prayed for someone,
That someone who will be his,
For ages he has wanted someone,
Someone he trusts and believes.

When the world distances itself,
When others are distant enough,
She will be the one who knows,
The one who understands, the one who protects.

The scarlet sinking orb,
Will plunge into oblivion,
But the void, the need to share thoughts,
Will stay on.

Because there are miles around,
Lengths he cannot travel,
And nobody can be found,
To help the mystery of his singularity unravel.
-Hardik Kothare

MARD ya NAAMARD?

2009-07-11T20:53:00.002+05:30

The Maharashtra Association of Resident Doctors seems to be a bunch of hypocrites taking the Hippocrates oath! It behoves a person from a noble profession like medicine to maintain the halo surrounding him or her just because he has the ability to cure a diseased person. And it is sad to see them stooping down and resorting to the level of the average proletariat. As a professional course student, I am ashamed to see other professionals toying with the lives of thousands of patients.
I agree that every individual must get what he deserves and he or she must fight for his or her rights. But doctors going to strike is one of the last things that should happen in the Monsoons! I know what a resident doctor suffers from and what sort of facilities they are provided with but please continue with your noble work, at least for the sake of the Hippocratic oath! If doctors start going to strikes like mill workers, the state would face harsher implications than an economic downturn. It is sad to note that medical students are turning to the profession because it offers emolument and not because of any feelings of social indebtedness. Every other profession can be a money making business, except medicine. Technology provides alternatives for other fields but not for Doctors of Medicine. I say this with due respect to doctors all around the world and only because I have seen a doctor from close quarters, my father. He is a strong adversary when it comes to discussing this issue and he strongly advocates better remuneration to resident doctors and supports their strike.
On humanitarian grounds, my heart goes out to the resident doctors and I know that others too support their cause but not their means of pleading for better amenities. Holding patients to ransom is not the solution. Resorting to activities typical of retrograde socialists does not suit doctors. It shows how people are forgetting their duties and moral obligations. Undertaking strikes is either a sign of cowardice or a blatant abuse of powers which only doctors wield. No wonder people have started questioning professionals who were unimpeachable in the days of yore. I wonder who are next in line to strike work? Bloggers?

Keeping up with old traditions

2009-07-11T20:13:00.002+05:30

This is more like a post script to my previous blog rather than a new post. As mentioned earlier, landmarks in India are the fiefdom of a single family. But now they have started naming landmarks after sycophantic pets too.
The Mumbai-Pune Expressway (yet another pet project of the Sena-BJP combo) is about to be christened and the present Maharashtra Government has once again succeeded in snatching all the credit from whatever work the former Government had undertaken. Their move is ridiculous!!! Naming the expressway after a person who is famous for nothing but sitting on the fence and leaping towards the winning side! He has his own 'achievements' but can he be a challenger to Pu.La. Deshpande's name? Pu La, who had nothing to do with politics, was one of the greatest literatteur produced in India. Not only a literatteur but also a music director, actor, director, producer, stage artist. You name any creative field and he has left his imprints in the annals of that field. A man who is one of the very few men from Maharashtra who has been apotheosised. Both Mumbai and Pune have played major roles in his life and career and his name would be the best option one could ever come up with for naming the expressway, except of course the name Mumbai-Pune expressway. Similarly, the Pune- Nashik road was to be named after the great poet, Vi.Va. Shirwadkar better known as 'Kusumagraj'. But the ruling combine has been blinded by power and the two parties are trying to appease each other for the sake of a strong pre-poll alliance.
Shame on the Government of Maharashtra for refusing to acknowledge the greatness of exemplary artists of the state! I won't be surprised if they rename our state from Maharashtra to Rajeevpradesh or Chavangad or Indiranagar or even Soniakhand!

All in the family

2009-07-04T01:19:00.002+05:30

After a long wait, the greatest attraction of Mumbai, the newly developed 'tourist destination' of Mumbai, the pride of Mumbai, the Bandra-Worli sealink was finally inaugurated and hundreds of enthusiastic Mumbaikars crowded on the seafront of Bandra, Mahim, Shivaji Park and Worli to witness the pomp, first hand. The dazzling fireworks and the enthralling laser show was enough to draw gasps of commendation from the spectators. One need not be a seer to predict that lakhs of Mumbaikars would throng on the engineering marvel to enjoy the monsoon instead of heading off to Malshej, Alibaug or places akin. And so it happened as the first toll-free week saw cars scrambling to get onto the bridge at Bandra and reach Worli after a long and patient wait in the bumper to bumper traffic.
And as expected, the Chairperson of the ruling coalition (a.k.a. prima donna, a.k.a. Desh ki bahu) was invited to inaugurate the sealink, flouting every existent and non-existent protocol. What business she had over there can only be predicted if one observes the others who were present there. Mr. King of Cricket-desperate-to-get-back-into-the fold envisaged this as a chance to prove his loyalty and proposed a name for the sealink. Now look at the scenario...
Mr. King of Cricket has played no role even in the conception of the plan
Prima Donna has got no qualifications except her surname and logically she seems to be the last person related to the sealink
Prima Donna's late husband is out of contention when you set out to count the people responsible in the construction of this infrastructural facility.
Yet, lately, we have observed that every development plan is named after the late husband or the late mother-in-law or the late grandfather-in-law. And we have got no choice but to accept the names flung at us. The Bandra-Worli sealink is its identity and that is how it is known to the average Mumbaikar. Why name it after someone because his widow is the most influential woman in India (by fluke)? Why are people obsessed with one family? Is his name even worthy to be compared with the other names in contention? Does the sealink even require a name? And if it does, please name it after someone whose personality matches that of this beautiful piece of construction adorning our city's skyline.

P.S. I just attended the naming ceremony of the new sewage line in my neighbourhood. It was named the 'Rahul Gandhi sewage way' which flows under the 'Priyanka Gandhi footpath'. Just where the 'Robert Vadra' parking lot is situated! I had to descend down the 'Sonia Gandhi' staircase of my building and then I took a right turn after the 'Rajeev Gandhi' lamp post!

'Gone too soon'

2009-06-29T14:22:00.000+05:30

It's the end of a musical era. Yes, we must accept it. It is hard to digest the fact that we won't be able to witness the inventor of the 'Moonwalk' dazzling the stage. A person loved by most and also hated by most has left behind his music to entertain generations of men and women.
I first heard the news when I was on my nocturnal Facebook visit. The Social Networking site is one of the fastest media and nothing else connects the youth across the world in a better fashion. There were unconfirmed reports of his death then. I and thousands of others who were online then refused to believe that Michael Jackson had left for his 'heavenly abode' (?). Everyone now claims that 'I was never a big fan of his' but deep inside they know that they admire his music, his dance. They revered him for being the ruler of the Pop world. Some didn't even take note of his existence until they felt the void (minute or huge) within them. That is proof enough to make Michael Jackson one of the greatest entertainers.
People hated him for his plastic surgery, for his alleged antics at the Neverland ranch, for dangling his baby outside his Berlin hotel balcony, for him being a celebrity. But who can deny his influence in the musical world? He inspired generations of singers, dancers and choreographers. Remember the 90s when western music in India started and ended with Michael Jackson? From the metros to the villages, children had a dream to dance like him. Street urchin knew his songs too. Do you like English songs? Yes I love Michael Jackson's songs- pat came the reply. A boy who could perform something close to the Moonwalk was celebrated as the best dancer in the school or in the colony. Children aspired to dance like him and made a special effort to emulate him whenever they got a chance. The 70s had ABBA,Boney M and the Beatles. But the 80s and 90s had MJ. Although our generation admires the golden 70s, we grew up listening to Michael Jackson. Irrespective of whether we could follow the lyrics of his songs or not, we envied him for his agility. Mumbai had a special relationship with him; not because of MTV but because of the Thackerays! Who could have imagined that a right wing party would welcome Michael Jackson with such pomp and splendour? His 1996 visit to Mumbai is still etched in every Mumbaikar's mind. The crowd at the airport to welcome him was later overshadowed only by the crowd which had gathered to welcome the victorious T20 team in 2007 (or probably to welcome Bill Clinton in 2000). Andheri Sports Complex was the centre of attention as people literally fought to be a part of the grand concert. Michael Jackson's visit to the Thackerays' residence was another memorable event. Remember Raj Thackeray welcoming MJ? And the famous toilet that he had to visit there? And the love letter that he had written to Mumbai with a lipstick on a mirror?
Michael Jackson as a part of Jackson 5 entered the world of music and later he just had to amaze people with his rhythm and dance moves and he became the indisputable King of Pop and ruled millions of hearts across the world. As I have mentioned before, people hesitate to be called his fans and so do I. I was not exactly a fan but I don't deny that he was a part of my growing up years. He was an icon back in the early 90s and I as a toddler loved to watch his music videos and his 'Dangerous' album was one of the most played in my household. His dancing has been an inspiration for me just as it has been for millions of urban Indians of my age. Be it the video where faces transformed as the men and women sung 'Black or White' or the Zombie scene in Thriller, every song of his has left an indelible stamp. Finally when death came to embrace him, he could not 'Beat it' but he will be remembered by everyone.
"It don't matter if you're black or white!"

Disputatious Delhiites

2009-05-09T12:49:00.007+05:30

This is a message of caution to every Delhi based blogger who has been wildly accusing Mumbaikars of not being responsible enough! Agreed that the turnout in Mumbai was lower than expected and that 26/11 should have been a reason for people to vote but please do not indulge in senseless talk by saying that you are 'ashamed of Mumbaikars' and that Mumbai does not deserve the sympathy.
Keep aside the competitive spirit reserved for the IPL. I am appalled by the so called 'tit for tat divisive mentality' that Delhiites are indulging in. The NCR needs to be renamed as the 'National Cantakerous Region'!
Please note the following points:

1. The electoral lists in Mumbai were flawed and there were lakhs of cases where names were printed twice or thrice or multiple times in different booths (my name was printed twice too).

2. In some areas, old electoral rolls were used and new voters could not vote (half of my friends faced this problem).

3. The population of Mumbai is greater than that of Delhi by about 2 million.

4. Having a 50% voter turnout in Delhi is not something one should be proud of. It is not as if 80-90% people had voted. 50% voter turnout is as dismal as 44%. And both the figures are bad and must be condemned. Since you are living in a glass house, you should be careful with your stones before hurling them at Mumbaikars.

5. People in Mumbai should definitely be ashamed of not voting and instead enjoying a four day long vacation but the language used by the critics is absolutely uncalled for and harsh. Mumbai is being treated like some place in Balochistan.
Statements like "Let us beat Mumbai by having a greater turnout" and "Shame on you Mumbai" and "Stop giving infrastructural aid to Mumbai" are pointless because we are not having a competition here as far as the elections and voter turnout are concerned, we Mumbaikars won't tolerate the collective criticism against Mumbai because 44% of us did vote. Instead one must criticise the 56% people who didn't vote over here (especially those who loved to wield candles last year) and the 50% who didn't vote in Delhi. Competitive spirit can be displayed elsewhere.

6. Tone down the outburst against Mumbai because it is quite clear that no medium is left untouched. Even journalists in Delhi are singling out Mumbai.
One blogger intoxicated by consuming some 'syrup' has questioned the naming of the team 'Mumbai Indians' as if a referendum was held during the elections for suggesting a name. It was named by Mr.Ambani and that doesn't stop us from supporting it. And no one is trying to make any point by having both Mumbai and Indians in the name. Don't you think it is an apt union? Mumbai is the financial capital of India, the largest city in India and the pride of India. It is just a symbolic name which shows how proud we Mumbaikars are to be Indians.

7. Do not question our patriotism and dedication for the nation. Why do you need to be so divisive while thinking?
We pay more than half the taxes in the entire country and much much more than what Delhi pays. But do we question why we are not getting the returns in the form of development? Why didn't we get the Metro before Delhi? NO! Because we consider Delhi to be our very own and are proud of the majestic city because it is our 'Rajdhani'!

8. If the irksome comments continue, we Mumbaikars will not take everything lying down, especially we, the ones who have voted. So stop complaining and get back to your work. Or if you are unemployed get back to eating some nice Chaat! Anyhow you need to tackle the problem of 'Delhi Belly', so you cannot afford to have some show of 'guts'. Both ways you will have to consult Dr.Sheila Dixit.

After every O for Originality comes a P for Plagiarism

2009-05-08T14:45:00.003+05:30

Plagiarism is an art. An art of thieving, an art of claiming others' thoughts to be one's own. An art in which the artist refuses to accept his or her limitations. The most artistic proponents of this art are often revered and glorified. They might run away with the booty when the source of inspiration or the original thinker is left with a mouth wide open appalled by the happenings.
Plagiarism requires just two 'virtues':
1.The art of observing, improving, imitating and following.
2. The art of being indifferent.

A plagiarist observes the source of origin and makes a mental note of all the positive aspects which can be emulated. Then as time passes, the plagiarist brings those observations into practice and starts transforming himself or herself into a behavioural clone of the person who is the father of all the thoughts.

But plagiarism can be easily spotted. If any changes are made to the original draft, they are conspicuous by the mere fact that they don't completely fit into the thought process or flow of ideas. It can be seen that the con artist has done an arduous job of thinking, sometimes translating and then posing in front of the world in the guise of a master of the art. Be it any art form, plagiarism is rampant and there is absolutely no solution to the problem because as long as people who are desperate to succeed by any means exist in this society of ours, people would aspire to better their performance and thus take the help of robbery if needed.

The only reaction to plagiarism by real artists would be the generous act of granting pardon to the wretched species which lives off others' work. These parasites are exterminated only by their own sins. Who knows whether you'll possess originality until you finish your pursuit to take the thieves to task? Oppose plagiarism till it withers off and till then Happy Creating!

Liar Liar

2009-05-07T18:45:00.003+05:30

Indulgence in mendacious activities seems to be the 'Flavour of the Month' as all forms of entertainment on TV are tainted by blatant lies being thrown at you. If you are an Indian and have access to a television set or the internet then there is no chance that you are not following the IPL or the General Elections. IPL, because...DUH!...you are an Indian! And General Elections (essentially because you are an Indian but) because the build up to the results is sometimes far more entertaining than all the glitz and glamour of IPL put together.

Hat tricks, DLF maximums, Cheerleaders, blaring music....you have all seen it last year too. But the latest to be added to the list is the now reknowned and much followed 'fake IPL blogger'! He claims to be a player in the ever languishing Kolkata Knight Riders team but I'll eat my hat off (obviously figuratively because the gastric juices in my alimentary canal will complain) if it is not one of Mr. Stammering TobaccoSmoker's futile attempts to elevate his popularity. Mr. Wedding Dancer, we are tired of your propaganda and are tired of listening to your 'intellectual' interviews. I am being quite candid about it. More than you have ever been to your PR team.

Anyway, the 'fake blogger' seems to have a knack of nicknaming players and managers (if you can call them that...I prefer calling them a bunch of people paid by a rich guy to divert some money of unknown origin). Everyone in the team has been hilariously renamed. Irrespective of whether the anecdotes have at least an iota of truth in them or not, the nicknames are worth a read and are the only 'readable' stuff on the blog. As there are attempts made to search for the rat, the rat seems to be disillusioning people by either scampering away from the truth by miles or to be fearlessly revealing a lot of facts which would embarrass quite a few people. But I would like to encourage this fellow blogger in his endeavour to regain fans (or to devalue the team's status) only because that freakin' fabulist has a fan following more than the voter turnout in South Mumbai!

That reminds me to mention the other set of deceivers who have gained prime importance on the television set during prime time! Psephologists (a.k.a. fools... remember 2004 when they predicted an NDA cleansweep?) still dare to visit news channel sets and rattle off their humbug shamelessly! They are under an impression that they are better at numbers than Ramanujan, Varahamihira, Euler, Euclid. Most of them have gone beyond all boundaries of shame to repeat whatever they had 'predicted' in 2004. They derive their own set of theorems and declare that a particular coalition will win only 1/2 of the seats in a particular state or retain all their seats. That is tolerable but when it comes to opinions and vote shares they indulge in tomfoolery like professionals.

Who would be the next PM is the question asked and answers (apparently given by the Indian people) include people whose party has not won even a single seat in the last elections! And the total percentage of all the contenders adds up to a minimum of 157%. Then they enter intricacies like women above a certain age and belonging to a particular caste and literate would be opting for a certain candidate! I am waiting for the day when they predict the voters' opinion of men aged between 50 and 60,wearing lungis and having cornflakes for breakfast after reading the Indian Express or men aged between 18-28 who have a profile on Facebook and are fans of Sachin Tendulkar but hate chewing Orbit gum. Or maybe we might have a pre-lunch or post-lunch poll analysis and theories that people who have 2 chapatis for lunch tend to vote for the BJP and those who prefer buttermilk over lassi vote for the communists and so on. Wouldn't it be fun if could clearly demarcate the choice of people staying 200 km away from the sea coast from those who stay in an airconditioned house in a plush suburb of a metropolitan city? How do they expect viewers to digest this absurd 'number crunching' as they call it? They should be charged under Penal Code 420!

Especially this 'bawa' (I am not using this word in a derogatory manner but only to avoid legal consequences) who seems to be wearing the same set of clothes everyday for the 9 pm show on a prestigious news channel which I am surprised to see is the clear frontrunner in this game of lies! He has this smirk on his face because he is aware that he is still in the sets although he deserves to be thrown out of New Delhi leave aside the set. He has no sense of reasoning and his logical abilities are shockingly poor and his arguments regarding voters' frame of mind are utterly primitive. Why do they consult this 'expert' who is an expert at surveying to find voters who prefer to go to cast their vote in jeans rather than trousers? How the hell does he predict the outcome of elections even before the votes are sealed? Does every voter come to him and divulge his or her secret? Or does he consider the new voters to be a bunch of people who follow old trends?

But I have no right to complain as I, along with everyone else, love to follow both these liars quite fervently. After all a fistful of lies are not much of a burden to the arm. He who rocks the world with his lies rules the hearts of the masses!

My Suffrage Debut

2009-05-06T18:40:00.004+05:30

30th April 2009! My finger did the talking as promised as I exercised my franchise, my right to vote for the first time! My vote was sealed in the chips of that electronic voting machine for the first time. My vote will be counted, my voice will be heard, my opinion will matter. Such is the beauty of my nation's democracy! I qualify to cast a vote only on the credentials of turning into an adult just like every other Indian! We are the largest democracy and we are witnessing one of the largest movements of history, the Great Indian General Elections and I am privileged to have played my role successfully.

I may argue that my duty was somewhat tarnished by a small blemish in the voters' list because my name appears twice in the list but the fact remains that my middle finger of my left hand now bears the indelible ink like every other voter in Maharashtra (the index finger in the case of other states). Better than not having your name in the electoral roll.I am also proud that I was a part of that enthusiastic troupe of young first time voters! I had decided to reach the polling booth at 7 am when the polls opened but unfortunately I woke up late but reached the polling centre by 8 am. Excitement and thrill was written all over my face as I lined up in the queue waiting for my turn to vote! And then came the moment of glory as I presented my voter number slip and passport to the polling officer who verified my photograph and crossed my name off the roll indicating that I had come to the polling booth to vote. Then came the turn to ink my finger (my favourite part, I have always dreamt of this moment when the indelible ink would be applied to my finger for the first time). I presented my index finger but was requested to present my middle finger since the State Election Commission had ordered all polling centres across the state to ink the middle finger to avoid confusion due to recent Zilla Parishad elections. I almost performed a jig after getting the line of ink along my nail.

Then came the main act of 'voting' where I went behind the cubicle after attempting to enter the cubicle from the blockaded side! A quick glance at the symbols and a quick pressing of the button and a satisfactory and loud beep. That was all I had to do and I exited the polling centre gleefully.

I wish more voters would have been as excited as me and my friends this time. A poor 40-45% voter turn out is dangerous for a democracy. It spoils the very essence of having an adult suffrage! Shame on you people who didn't vote although your name appeared in the list. You have committed an unpardonable offence of ruining your own future by not making your vote count. Now do not complain and crib and hold candle light vigils for the next 5 years for whatsoever reason because you have simply lost your moral rights to do that. As Mr.Advani rightly says, voting should be made compulsory! All those arguments about we being a free and liberal country are utter nonsense because we exist due to democracy and not voting is like destroying our own foundation. Innumerable men and women laid down their lives so that we could live in this free country and have fair elections. Vote in order to honour their martyrdom. The need to make voting compulsory shouldn't arise because all those peabrains must realise that voting is a holy and patriotic duty but alas our countrymen are experts when it comes to tendering illogical arguments.

May all those who didn't vote although they could have(i.e. their name was included in the list) face severe consequences. I suggest that they must not get their salary for the month. Voting day comes along with a weekend but it won't harm you if you first vote and then travel. As the famous quote from the legends of Shivaji Maharaj goes

"आधी लगीन कोन्ढाण्याचं , मग रायबाचं ."

said Tanaji Malusare who bravely sacrificed his life for his king and land before his son's wedding. There is still time to rectify things. The assembly elections in October! And Mumbai, if you still don't vote in October then it will be disgraceful, an absolute shame. Be proud of yourself and show me the ink mark on your finger in October and I'll personally congratulate you for being a true son of the soil! The voting in my constituency was 46.48% for the Loksabha elections. I am praying for an impossible 84.64% for the Vidhan Sabha.

Till then enjoy the vibrant democracy and remember to convince yourself that ' I WILL VOTE, FOR MY COUNTRY BECAUSE THE COUNTRY COMES FIRST BEFORE EVERYTHING ELSE! I WILL VOTE BECAUSE I AM EMPOWERED TO DO SO AND BECAUSE MY VOTE COUNTS. I WILL VOTE BECAUSE INDIAN DEMOCRACY IS INCOMPLETE WITHOU ME. I WILL VOTE BECAUSE I BELIEVE THAT TRUTH ALONE TRIUMPHS!'

The Pleasure of Nostalgia

2009-05-06T18:35:00.002+05:30

One's childhood days are always etched in one's memories and as one reminisces the days now embraced by history one notices that a large portion of one's memories is occupied by the golden days-one's school days. How exciting those days were when everyone around you knew you and was friendly with you, you had so many guardians in the form of teachers, you could prance around the school in the recess, new bags and water bottles were prestige issues, you tried hard to hide the fact that you had forgotten to do your homework! I still miss my school campus which used to transform into paradise in the rainy season or into an ocean when it rained a lot and flooded, I still miss the corridors where every friendly face smiled at you and greeted you, the staff room where I had to do some duty as Class Monitor and could overhear some gossip, the playground where we graduated from 'Dog and the bone' to 'Kho Kho' to 'Volleyball', the Computer lab where we used to try to do everything except the assigned work, the cheers from adjacent classrooms when holidays were announced. Those primary days when we recited tables, poetry. Those free periods when I was supposed to 'mind' the class and I did a great job threatening fellow students that if they didn't cooperate they would be reported to the class teacher. I had even devised a great strategy to keep track of the mischiefs done by my friends so that they would cooperate. The day when we started to use a pen instead of a pencil. I still remember those off the cuff remarks by teachers which have changed my life forever. And what a delight it was to be invited to the Silver Jubiled celebrations of my dearest school! That place which moulded me! That place which brought tears to my eyes when I realised that I would no longer be associated with it. Senior KG to Standard Xth is a long time. At my age everyone has spent more time in school than anywhere else, except home of course. 11 years spent there. But the school has seen more! 25! Hundreds of students have passed out of the school and you are merely one amongst those hundreds. But when your school invites you to be a part of the celebrations, to share its joy and to felicitate you, you realise that you are connected to it forever by an umbilical cord providing you with values and personality! And so as I 'went back to school' it came as a shock to me to see two new buildings added to the campus. It appeared to have transformed into something so alien! It was not the school of my memories. It felt like one of my family members had grown up into something unrecognisable. But there was still the warmth attached to it. Not all of my school teachers still teach there but the joy of meeting those who are still there and who were visiting knew no bounds. Outwardly much had changed but the inner warmth still remained intact as my teachers persuaded me to eat to my heart's content. I could see the happiness in their eyes. Hundreds of students had been taught by them but they still remember the Hardik Kothare who passed out 5 years ago. It was such a great experience to hear my name announced in the school's 25 years' report and the souvenir published on the occassion. My seniors, my juniors, my teachers! It was like a family reunion! Members of a huge joint family gathered to celebrate the coming of age of a common bond which ties us together! The visit to the school made me make a resolution. I am going to visit that place till I breathe my last because that place has made me and I am incomplete without it. I am indebted to it. To conclude I would quote a beautiful Marathi couplet aptly expressing the gist of everything:

" ही आवडते मज मनापासूनी शाळा,
लाविते लळा ही जसा माउली बाळा."

Ants, life jackets and other random thoughts...

2009-04-21T19:42:00.001+05:30

Life is cruel to everyone who doesn't want to or get to enjoy it. There's no option other than what is destined to happen. Be grateful for everything and do not harbour remorse for not getting anything. Maybe you don't deserve it and someone else does deserve it. But when that someone else is the one who reaps all the benefits you are left helpless and are forced to accuse your ill fortune. Dreams transform into lifejackets keeping you buoyant only to help you cross the ocean of life. They are the only means by which you live the life which you have always aspired for. Better luck in your next birth if you believe in rebirth. Just pray that it is something more meaningful like an ant's life.
Meaningful; because the ant is focussed on a single motive and toils hard to fulfill it. It faces hardships and sometimes drains its energy to achieve nothing in the overall sum total called life. It cannot enjoy the fruits of its hardwork but works because it is supposed to. It is unaware of the riches of life. Sugar prices may rise or fall but an ant carries the burden of a sugar crystal irrespective of the estimated value of the goods just because that is the only action which it can perform.Selfless.
It does not take birth to change much in the world. It is like a mere catalyst aiding the reaction. One who makes profit out of business is called a businessman and others are just catalysts in the economic world. Being a catalyst is just another way of living an ant's life. It is upto you to decide whether you wish to live like an ant or you wish to face the hardships of a life full of struggle and disappointments. People who choose the second path reach the zenith in their respective fields. The others are just those with an 'also ran' tag, the mediocre masses who hardly contribute in any form to the world. They are ridiculed as 'losers', an appropriate tag for those with a loser's mentality. So don't give up and don't try to be an ant if you wish to succeed. Feel lucky because you can pity the ant's situation. Be proud of yourself for having the capability of distinguishing between mediocrity and excellence.

Finalists tamed on Day 1

2009-04-19T10:42:00.001+05:30

The second edition of IPL, it seems, has a lot of surprises in store. The first day had both the finalists of the 2008 version of the game pitted against two teams which had not even qualified into the semifinals last year. Both the champions (Rajasthan Royals) and the runners up (Chennai Super Kings) went down fighting and left the cricketing world awestruck.
The Chennai Super Kings suffered from a touch of arrogance as they played against the Mumbai Indians. Dhoni and Co. had to endure the crafty gameplay of Sachin Tendulkar as he smashed an unbeaten 59. He carried the bat through the innings and led the Mumbai side with great dexterity. Abhishek Nayar's hurricane innings of 35 surprised the Chennai side and the spectators as he banished 3 balls bowled by Andrew Flintoff beyond the boundary. 167 seemed to be a meagre total total to chase but Mumbai bowlers made sure that Chennai could not reach the target. Rohan Raje's single over proved to be the only blunder. Lasith Malinga's 3/15 was a match saving figure. The presence of hard hitters like Matthew Hayden, Suresh Raina, Andrew Flintoff and Dhoni in the Chennai side didn't make much of a difference as they struggled to keep up with the steeply climbing required run rate.
The second match saw David slaying Goliath as the underestimated Bangalore side punctured the reigning champion side led by Shane Warne. Rahul Dravid hit a magnificent half century keeping Bangalore's hopes afloat. The task couldn't be simpler for Rajasthan but they were bundled up for just 58 runs as Anil Kumble ripped through the batting lineup. The defending champions were humbled as they were bowled out for a record lowest score. Wickets fell quite predictably and IPL fans across the globe were left amazed by this unbelievable match. Bangalore successfully defended a 'low total'.
Complacency took its toll and stalwarts like Tendulkar and Dravid proved their mettle on Day 1 of IPL Season 2. Trends and exit polls are surely not going to work for IPL and the excitement and anxiety involved will be maintained right upto the finals. If teams start competing and stay at par, the purpose of a league format will be satisfied.
And finally Go Mumbai Indians! We have God himself playing on our side!

Cacophony

2009-04-17T23:05:00.004+05:30

Do you ever imagine how the populace used to stay in touch before the mobile phone became an inseparable part of our lives? Was life as smooth as it is now? How could people coordinate to decide a point of assembly? And travelling used to be so quiet!
The yelling out of numbers and addresses, the exchange of cordial greetings by the jovial lot, the intricacies of a family feud, the details of some planned celebration,the sweet nothings of lovers is now audible to an entire compartment of passengers packed like sardines. People in the vicinity are forced to assume the role of eavesdroppers against their will. There is one misconception which causes the most trouble- the louder you yell into the mouthpiece, the clearer can the person at the other end can hear! How ridiculous is that! What were telephones invented for, if yelling was the best option! There's no need of this conversion of sound energy into electromagnetic energy and into sound again! You could torture your lungs and the addressee could hear you quite clearly. There are a few people who can stick to their mobile device for hours and just nod, sigh,sprinkle a few monosyllables between two gasps. You can spend your lifetime guessing who the person at the other end is. Maybe that person is busy intriguing some other keen observer like you in a similar place. 99% of these people belong to the female gender! Not shocked,right? There are some people who have ringtones which leave you chewing your own gums (the ones which are a part of your mouth) and resisting from driving your knuckles towards the other person's jaw. In one variation of this irritant of a situation, the possessor of the phone sings along as the cursed device rings. Some people are just so friendly on the phone that you start smelling a rat. Their long drawn hellos and byes are so synthetic that your eyebrows leap up in a fit of exasperation. Ever tried dictating a phone number to somebody when talking to him on the phone? The careful repetition of every digit makes sure that everyone around you knows the number and can dial the number before being able to dial their own number. A fairly prominent group of people love to flaunt their devices by narrating an interesting story, guiding someone to their home or explaining why he could not make it to a celebration. People crane their necks to check out who this 'loudmouth' is and the 'loudspeaker' enjoys the attention. Then there are some who keep on saying 'Hello' because they can't hear the other person. I pity the poor guy whose earpiece repeats the same salutations.
Whatever is your style of using the telephone, don't you think you should mind others' tranquility and have some civic sense while speaking? A telephone is to facilitate better communication, don't let it hamper civic life. Life would be a din, a cacophony, a clatter, where human beings would be lost in a mess of technology and audio waves. Can't wait to finish the post and call my friends to let them know that I have updated my blog!

'Rallying'....for a CHANGE!

2009-04-17T22:59:00.001+05:30

The favourite pastime of a common middle class Indian family is to sit together in front of the television set and lambaste politicians. The same family loves it when the voting day is adjacent to a weekend so that a short excursion can be planned. They hardly vote and even if they vote they complain and crib for not finding a suitable candidate. Elections are always about choosing the best from the worst. But do people who never vote have the right to complain? What have they done to improve the situation? If they say that all the candidates are not worth their vote then why don't they provide the masses with another option,viz. themselves? Is it only the privilege of a select few to represent the people? Representatives in a democracy can be common men with any background ready to serve the interests of the nation as a whole. These families who love to label politicians as a corrupt and insensitive species have even stopped listening to the candidates' speeches and reading a party manifesto. Earlier in the newborn Indian democracy, political rallies were for the middle class. But now the rallies are for the poorest of the poor who can be bribed by promises. Promises of liquor, cash, tobacco,etc. These people are 'bought' in the units of trucks and thousands of such men and women enjoy an outing to city venues. A rally in the heart of Mumbai at Shivaji Park should technically be for the residents of the upmarket urban Mumbai but a glance at the crowd gathered proves otherwise. It seems that being illiterate and uneducated is a criterion for people to gain entry to any rally because intellectual voters are nowhere to be seen. Decades ago, the upper middle class of Mumbai used to make it a point to be present at Shivaji Park when the cannon named Balasaheb Thackeray thundered in his usual style. But now people run away from rallies. Their faces turn sour when they realise that a rally is to take place. Why are rallies now only for the lower strata of the society? Why can't the educated voters devote time to listen what a particular party has to say? We decided to be trend setters and path makers this time. And what better than a rally where a great orator and Prime Ministerial candidate L.K.Advani was to speak! A joint rally by the Sena-BJP combo meant that we the first time voters decided to be there before the rally started. Only 3 of us turned up is a different issue but all of us were hesitant to be present during the rally. "Look at the crowd","None of them seems to be educated and polished","All the educated people who are here have come for an evening walk and are looking forward to returning home","We are the only youngsters out here", "Should we go in or not?","Are we going to sit in there with all these people?" were some of the many statements made by us. But we had decided to attend the rally come what may! After a lot of 'Should we or Should we not' we decided to plunge into the massive sea of saffron and made our way towards the security check. After a thorough frisking, we gazed around. We had made it! We were a part of a political rally! We had made history. Two twenty year olds and one nineteen year old pursuing a Bachelor of Technology degree from an elite institute had mingled with a huge crowd of party workers clad in snow white clothes and sporting a Ray Ban and an intimidating tilak on the forehead. The Sena's Bhagwa flag fluttered all around us as remakes of the Oscar winning 'Jai Ho' blared on the loudspeakers. "Kay Ho?", the Shiv Sena geet and a few other songs were the favourites. I have to confess that the songs were a bit over the top and embarrassing. The spoof songs were funny and the ambience felt like some college cultural festival where loud music plays and the crowd enjoys it. The three of us made sure that we sat away from the crowd. We found a nice patch of lawn right in front of the house of Mr.Raj Thackeray. So we could even observe whether he was going to listen to his estranged cousin's speech or not. We were beaming at each other because we couldn't believe that we were THERE. Mentioning the fact that we attended a political rally is enough to take your social standing to a clear null but we defied all conventions, perhaps to set an example for the rest of the youth. We wanted to listen to the person whom we three want to see in the PM's chair. I implore to people of my age to start attending rallies and to thus be politically active because politics is our history, geography and future. The star attraction of the rally was the tech savvy Prime Ministerial candidate Mr. Advani. His online presence has surely worked wonders when it comes to reaching the youth. Mr. Advani blogs and that is the best part! Have you seen his website? If not please do visit it even if you don't plan to vote for his party. He is a leader who can be respected as the PM. Someone who can take decisions. So we 3 and thousands of other who want change at South Block, New Delhi waited for him to come. Till then the who's who of the Sena-BJP yuti gave emotional speeches. After about an hour after the rally started, the Guests of Honour arrived. Advani and Uddhav Thackeray were welcomed by the saffron sea. 3 screens across Shivaji Park announced the arrival along with the blowing of the Tutari and bursting of firecrackers. The points presented by the two leaders are outside the scope of this post and may be mentioned somewhere else. The audience also had a surprise package in the form of Balasaheb Thackeray's recorded speech being screened there. The rally was a nice experience for us. It just feels amazing to be a part of this great machinery called Indian democracy. I hope this dare to attend a rally successfully executed by us inspires others to take an active interest and attend rallies too. Because after all democracy is for the people and that includes you!

Here we go!

2009-03-09T22:20:00.000+05:30

The bugle has been sounded and the warriors are ready to start with the biggest showdown on Earth. It is the biggest event, one of the costliest events, an event which involves oceans of masses, an event which is planned flawlessly every 5 years in India. The great General Elections are back and as we are counting down to D Day, the fun has already started. Tie ups, Break ups, Marriage, Divorce.... It has everything to make a masala flick. Throw in a few star campaigners and I reckon nobody can spot the difference. 'Hunting dogs' make audacious forays in real life, in virtual life to hunt down potential voters, campaigners and candidates. Deals are being struck pertaining to seat sharing among allies. If no consensus is reached, divorce is quite easy thanks to an excuse called the Third Front. Parties which were separated by a wide gulf of abuses and accusations are drifting towards each other accepting that they have not been on good terms due to a 'few differences which we have managed to sort out'. Prime Ministerial hopefuls have started brushing up their arithmetic. Some have even started tutorials on how to woo the 'stubborn spinster'. Rebels are being snubbed or are being welcomed back. In short the political scenario is currently stuck in turbulence. The aircraft is surely not going to go crashing down into the deep vale beneath. The aerodynamics ensure that additional ad hoc wings can be attached for streamlining the oncoming opposition.
April 2009 is a month which holds a lot of expectations. Two megaevents clashing like two gladiators carrying a monstrosity of action. The Loksabha elections and the IPL! The 15th version of the first and the second version of the second. Both hoping to be hits this season! As parties are roping in men, money and marketing strategies from every possible opportunity, the Election Commission is gearing up for the largest show till date. The number of voters have gone up as yours truly and millions of others have registered themselves to vote. Advertisement campaigns are urging people to go out and vote and this post of mine will be screaming out vociferously! 'PLEASE VOTE BECAUSE IT IS OUR COUNTRY AND OUR VOTES COUNT! MAKE SURE THAT YOU FLAUNT THE INDELIBLE INK ON YOUR FINGER AS PROUDLY AS YOU DO YOUR DIAMOND RINGS! BELIEVE ME THE FORMER IS MORE PRECIOUS BECAUSE IT SYMBOLISES OUR FUNDAMENTAL RIGHT, IT MAKES US PROUD THAT OUR OPINION MAKES A DIFFERENCE! THE IPL SHOULD NOT BE AN EXCUSE FOR NOT VENTURING OUT TO THE POLLING BOOTH BECAUSE YOUR VOTE WILL ENSURE THAT OUR COUNTRY HAS GOT ENOUGH MONEY TO HOST INDIAN PREMIER LEAGUE SEASONS FOR YEARS TO COME! FELLOW YOUNG VOTERS, JAAGO RE AND JAGAO RE! DON'T LET THE SPIRIT OF DEMOCRACY TO FADE AWAY INTO OBLIVION. IT IS OUR RESPONSIBILITY TO BEAR THE TORCH INTO THE BRIGHTER FUTURE THAT WE HAVE. VOTING DAY IS FOR VOTING AND NOT TO 'HANG OUT' AND 'CHILL OUT'. SO KEEP YOUR EYES AND EARS OPEN BECAUSE THIS IS CANVASSING TIME AND THE TIME TO CHOOSE THE CANDIDATE OF OUR CHOICE AFTER CLEVERLY ANALYSING THE MANIFESTO OF EVERY PARTY AND HOW IT IS GOING TO AFFECT YOUR DAY TO DAY LIFE. YOUR REPRESENTATIVE TO THE LOWER HOUSE OUGHT TO REFLECT YOUR ASPIRATIONS.LET THE CANDIDATES KNOW THAT WE ARE LISTENING TO EVERY WORD THEY UTTER. HERE WE GO! WE EMBARK ON YET ANOTHER RIDE MARKED WITH ALL THE ELEMENTS OF ENTERTAINMENT.REMEMBER THAT THE NATION WILL RUN ONLY IF YOU VOTE AND NOT IF YOU RUN AWAY TO ENJOY A SHORT VACATION THIS APRIL/MAY. IT IS GOING TO BE ONE LONG SUMMER!'

Remembering a bibliophile...

2009-03-09T22:19:00.001+05:30

Mr.T.S. Shanbhag, a man who lived for books, literally. A philanthropist to the core who carved out a business empire out of a precious stone of goodwill, this Padmashree recipient, the founder of the legendary Strand Book Stall of Fort was a gem of a person. His plain statement that he didn't wish to make profit out of selling books but he just wanted books to be made available to readers are proof of the generosity in this man's heart. His customers were the Who's Who of Independent India but he remained a down to Earth person till the end. The friendly conversation he used to have with people visiting the 'treasurehouse of books' which he had, his seamless knowledge of books and their authors, his willingness to go out of the way to help were some virtues which made a STRAND visit to be looked forward to. Sadly, myself and others who frequent his bookstall won't be able to interact with this voracious reader but that won't stop us from spending holiday afternoons travelling to Fort Market and searching the bookshelves at STRAND for books, books and nothing else but books! May his soul read in peace!

Sehr Gut!

2009-03-09T22:16:00.002+05:30

Wenn Sie wollen das Beste aus Schauspiel, Regie, Drehbuch und alles andere, was zusammen mit einem Film, Valkyrie ist eine große Erfahrung! For a history buff like me, a World War flick is like a dessert ready to be devoured hungrily and Valkyrie proved to be a cake with loads of icing! Tom Cruise is at his best in this fantastic movie based on a real life story of an assassination attempt on Adolf Hitler. You are totally engrossed in the movie as it proceeds and you are reminded of German perfectionism as the story unfolds, although the movie is American.What a wonderful way of creating an atmosphere for the story!They have tried to be German in the approach to make it look German. Everything looks real and takes you back to the 1940s.
Das Dritte Reich lebt auf dem Bildschirm. Oberst Klaus von Stauffenberg der Spitze der Panzer in der Region Nord Afrika, Schutzstaffel der Offiziere, die Sommer-Resort in den bayerischen Alpen, die Sirenen schreien "Beschuss",
die HMV Grammophon Scheibe mit dem Titel "Walküre" and even the magnificent structures of good old Berlin are fascinating. I am infamous as a crazy Krautphile. Ich liebe alles, was Deutsch and it was a pleasure for me to see every detail of NAZI Germany portrayed beautifully. Even the fact that to date Germans feel that the world should know that Germany is more than Der Führer. Deutschland ist nicht nur Hitler, sondern auch many other things. As even Tom Cruise aptly puts it, the assassination attempts are an eye opener for that world which feels that every German supported the Holocaust.
Es war gar nicht der Fall ist. His own army had so many people working against him. That he survived so many attempts to be murdered is a miracle and maybe it was his destiny to be killed by himself but the brave attempt to dislodge Hitler from the supreme position was worth being adapted as a movie. The plan was ingenious. Hitler was to be trapped in a web spun by himself. The secret adversaries were to stage a coup disguised as Operation Walküre which was Hitler's plan to save Germany from going to someone else's hands. The very fact that they could take advantage of a plan supposed to ward off all possibilities of a coup d'etat proves how deep the unrest had seeped. Nazi Germany had its own share of true loyalists too who had sworn to defend their Vaterland come what may. They were ready to thwart any attack, internal or external.
The plot of the movie is slower than necessary but care has been taken to show every minute detail. That doesn't leave the viewer confused. Familiar names like Heinrich Himmler, Joseph Goebbels,General Fromm keep the history in the story alive. The advanced Telecommunication system of Nazi Germany has been shown in the movie quite frequently. In fact telecommunication plays a vital role in the plot and adds twists to the story. A female employee at the telecom office cannot bear the news,'Der Führer ist Tot' and this shows the contemporary belief in Hitler. That Hitler will save Deutschland from all enemies was a strong belief then. Tom Cruise did a wonderful job acting as an incapacitated officer, as a determined leader of a coup, as an assassin, as a family man, as a staunch Anti Hitler officer refusing to raise his hand and say Heil Hitler. Ein Meisterwerk von einem Film. Nur zwei Worte, die ausreichend sind, um den Film- Sehr Gut!

जय हो !

2009-03-09T21:56:00.000+05:30

A long pending post dedicated to the musical maestro! The man who revolutionised music in Indian movies, the man who woke India from a long sleepy era when even the juxtaposition of a few beats and meaningless words meant music, the man who reintroduced melody to India, the man who has millions of fans spread across India, the man whom I salute for his great pieces of work which entertain us in times of celebration and in times of grief, the man who can conjure an Oscar winning score any day, AR Rahman! This man has been in the limelight for many years and has kept on churning out outstanding music with every assignment. I have always extolled him fervently but every fan of his had had a slight sense of 'something missing' in the recognition that this genius has received. Awards are not everything and especially in Rahman's case it would be apt to say that he is beyond all awards and prizes. But sweet are the fruits of patience as the world has taken note of this GrandMaster in his own league. The man who gave us thousands of reasons to be happy must now be extremely happy as he bagged not one but two Academy Awards at the 81st version of the same. The awards which are considered to be the epitome of 'Acknowledgement of Arts' has truly honoured Rahman. Sadly the award that he has received is for one of the worst musical compositions ever done by The King of Indian Music. The songs in Slumdog Millionaire are as pathetic and substandard as the movie itself. It was shocking to hear the music in the movie because one always expects something much grander from Rahman. It seemed like he had composed the music just for the sake of it and everything that followed must be a surprise for him too. It was not one of his more serious efforts. In fact it was not even close to any of the other scores he has composed. The songs were very amateurish and the only reason why they were appreciated in the west was that they are something different for the audience there. For people in the west, Indian music is a guy, a girl and a bunch of extras dancing away in a perfectly choreographed manner(thanks to the portrayal by a few Pseudo Indian directors). But nevertheless, it was a great moment for Indian music because now the world is aware of what AR Rahman is capable of doing. He would be a useful tool for Hollywood as he is very proficient in the skill of blending music of different genres. We are well acquainted with his fusion of Hindustani and Carnatic music and his successful attempts to introduce western beats to classical music. A bright future lies ahead of this great Indian. May he reach greater heights and keep on entertaining us unremittingly!

An Acrostic in the name of Cyclicity

2009-02-17T21:09:00.003+05:30

It is a widely believed philosophy that life or nature is cyclic. The cycle starts with the Golden age and ends with the dark age or can be perceived to have a starting point in the dark ages. My adventures on this blog follow a similar pattern. The frequency of posting blogs is fluctuating, there are conspicuous gaps spanning across a period of weeks but activity on the blog is revived with a post on some issue or the other . I have had one hell of a break from posting but after covering a distance of 2πr, I plan to begin my third year of publishing posts with an acrostic dedication to the cyclic nature of this universe.

Sambhavaami Yuge Yuge

Intrigued by the game,

Also known as life,
Maimed are the tame,

Midst of havoc and strife,
Ousted by those men,
Revved up by blindness,
Expecting deliverance from the pain,

The deliverer's back to business,
He springs up from the masses,
And soars above the rest,
Nearly everything he passes,

Acknowledges he is the best,

Hunting every thug and crook,
Usurpers scamper and hide,
Mere prophecies from the Book,
Are proven with every stride,
No more will evil persist,

Banished from the world will it be,
Even as the pessimist,
In daylight night will see,
Nears the day when the world is purged,
Green pastures will return and it's back to square one.
- Hardik Kothare

Jor lagaa ke...

2008-12-28T18:45:00.002+05:30

Strenuous physical labour is seldom encountered during the vacations and when a physical challenge of an unimaginable extent presents itself you are left dumbstruck calculating the efforts involved. After a tiring day of analytical acrobatics not enough energy is left to push yourself back home.
But Christmas eve was different for us. As we were preparing to leave our students' activities hub, we heard a series of whistles by the watchman at the main gate of the institute. It sent a chill down our spines (maybe the snowfall in Himachal Pradesh had some role to play). Usually the watchman's whistling is a bad omen. We exchanged quick glances reassuring each other that we have not trespassed the line of law. We also checked our watches and noticed that it wasn't late too. "Arre hub waale idhar aao", came a commanding bark. Some of us volunteered to approach the guard. But the watchman was not to be satiated. He singled out every person near the hub with his lathi and beckoned us. Finally four of us relented to listen to his fervent appeals and were stunned by his words. He informed us that a water tanker which was visiting the college campus to water the football grounds for our sports fest,Enthusia, had suffered from an unexpected (?) breakdown and we were required to use our potential energy to set a mammoth of a tanker in motion. Not much energy was left within us after swatting and slaying hordes of mosquitoes in the garden near the hub. But we encouraged each other by gathering every bit of energy from every Golgi body in every cell of our body. A determined quartet marched towards the 'white elephant' stuck on the football ground. We were confident that we would be bailed out of the situation by Aditya, the only one amongst us whose muscles were close to being capable enough to move the tanker by half a metre. It would have been a strange sight! Three electrical engineers and one mechanical engineer trying to explain the gravity of the situation to the watchman! He could not digest the pessimistic shaking of our necks. He thought that it was worth giving a shot. We took positions and prepared to push. The four of us, 'the whistleblower' and one of the tanker staff. Students on either flank of the tanker and the two commanders positioned at the engine end and the tank end. The commanders had no war experience and it was evident because during the first push the two flanks were seen pushing in opposite directions. The necessary corrections were made only when the two flanks reestablished communication. The tactics decided were easy to comprehend. Push once in the forward direction and then immediately in the reverse direction for reasons unknown. My driving lessons had taught me that the best way to crank a vehicle in motion is to immediately shift into second gear when a certain velocity is attained. But like a true loyal infantryman, I obeyed the orders until I was about to faint because of the strong whiff of diesel which I had to bear (No offence meant to the good man who has lent his name, Rudolf Diesel). There were several occassions when we had to scream "Brake!Brake" to prevent the cleaner from getting under the chassis. Reinforcements arrived after about half a dozen iterations but sadly those were of no use because the Kumbhakarna did not wish to growl and wake up. We were dejected when we surrendered and retreated to the main gate, still equipped with the back pack which was sans ammunition ante bellum. We were joined by the forces from the hub which had chickened out from the mission. There was no mention of a court martial. Latest reports confirm that another tanker was called in to nudge the comatose tanker. The backup which was summoned was reported to have ruined the football ground with tyre marks. I for one will surely be sued for leaking this confidential information but I am glad to have penned down my experiences when we were 'in the line of water'.

The Horizon

2008-12-28T18:43:00.001+05:30

The Horizon

Snowy specks splattered,
Across the serene skies,
Like a soft quilt tattered,
Or lofty peaks in disguise.

Glowing halo around the moon,
Tranquil and cool rays ,
Long shadows over the dune,
Sprawling like a wide maze.

And over the labyrinth black,
Crawls a creature vicious,
Ready for an attack,
True to its nature nefarious.

The clouds above can only watch,
As the innocent desert suffers,
Invisible is the red splotch,
From the distant craters.

And when the clouds know it's their turn,
The seams threaten to burst,
The same serene skies burn,
And the clouds descend to assuage thirst.

The thirst for an end,
To meaningless deeds and insanity,
Sand dunes rise and bend,
Like a wave with ferocity.

Fury rules the sky,
And the sands below leap,
A last attempt,a last try,
To vanquish all reasons to weep.

At last the twain meet,
The earth and sky at the horizon,
Allied for a crushing defeat,
Of the obnoxious scorpion.

-Hardik Kothare

THE TOLERANCE LIMIT HAS BEEN CROSSED!!!!!!!

2008-11-28T21:05:00.004+05:30

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!!! ENOUGH OF MECHANICAL CONDEMNATIONS! ENOUGH OF POLITICAL PROMISES! WE HAVE TOLERATED ENOUGH! AND NOW WE HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO DEMAND ACTION!WE STAND UNITED! UNITY WHICH HAS PROBABLY BEEN DISPLAYED ONLY DURING THE KARGIL WAR IN RECENT TIMES! WE CANNOT BE SUBDUED NOW! WE ARE NOT DEMANDING ANSWERS BECAUSE WE DO NOT EXPECT ANYONE TO ANSWER! THEY HAVE TRIED TO SHAKE OUR NERVES AND WE HAVE BEEN SHAKEN! BUT WE DO NOT SHAKE WITH FEAR! WE SHAKE WITH FURY! WE ARE FURIOUS...NOT BECAUSE WE HAVE BEEN LET DOWN.....BUT BECAUSE WE WILL MAKE SURE THAT WE WON'T BE LET DOWN HENCEFORTH....BECAUSE WE WILL ACT IF OUR REPRESENTATIVES DON'T......OUR ARMED FORCES AND SECURITY FORCES HAVE REASSURED US THAT THE 'INDIAN MIGHT' STILL EXISTS! OUR MILITARY AND PARAMILITARY FORCES ARE OUT THERE.....FIGHTING TO PROTECT US....FIGHTING TO ENSURE THAT WE ARE SAFE....FIGHTING TO REITERATE THAT WE WON'T GIVE UP...THE NATION SALUTES OUR BRAVE MARTYRS.....CIVILIANS AND SERVICE PERSONNEL ALIKE....AND WE WILL HAVE TO ACT TO MAKE SURE THAT THEIR SACRIFICES ARE NOT IN VAIN...OFFICERS LIKE HEMANT KARKARE, ASHOK KAMTE, VIJAY SALASKAR,SANDEEP UNNIKRISHNAN LED FROM THE FRONT AND IT WOULD BE WRONG IF WE DO NOT IDOLISE THEM...THESE OFFICERS SHOULD BE OUR TRUE IDOLS INSTEAD OF CHEAP ENTERTAINERS WHO ARE READY TO DANCE AND HOP TO EARN MONEY....MUMBAI HAS FACED ORDEALS...AND WE HAVE RISEN....WE ARE THE 'RESILIENT CITY'...RESILIENT? WHY DO WE NEED TO BE RESILIENT? IS THAT RESILIENCE OR A STATE OF DENIAL? PEOPLE ARE PROUD OF RESUMING WORK AFTER A TERRORIST ATTACK....IS THAT SOMETHING TO BE PROUD OF AFTER THIS EVENT? WE ARE ALMOST ALWAYS WAITING FOR ANOTHER TERRORIST ATTACK TO TAKE PLACE...BUT HOPEFULLY THIS TIME WOULD BE DIFFERENT.....BECAUSE THIS IS NOT JUST A TERRORIST ATTACK...IT IS WAR!!! IT IS A WAR AGAINST ELEMENTS WHO HATE US....AGAINST THOSE WHO BELIEVE THAT WE ARE DIVIDED....AGAINST THOSE WHO THINK THAT WE ARE WIMPS LIKE OUR 'POLITICIANS'....IT IS TIME TO SHOW THAT WE ARE NOT COWARDS LIKE THOSE HE DARE TO ATTACK US....IT IS TIME TO ENSURE THAT WE STAND UNITED AS ONE FORCE.....AS BRAVE AS OUR ARMY, OUR NAVY, OUR AIR FORCE, OUR NSG, OUR RAF, OUR MUMBAI POLICE, OUR ATS, OUR BSF!
I AM TIRED OF TALKING ABOUT OUR 'SHAME MINISTER' WHO LOVES TO DOLL UP FOR THE CAMERA.....A HOME MINISTER IS TO PROTECT THE PEOPLE.....THE SENSE OF RESPONSIBILITY IS INVISIBLE.....A MINISTER IS NOT APPOINTED TO FILL VACANCIES...A MINISTER IS NOT APPOINTED BECAUSE HE HAS TO BE DECORATED....DO NOT CONVERT IMPORTANT POLITICAL POSITIONS INTO POSTS WHICH ARE 'AWARDED' TO PEOPLE FOR STAYING LOYAL TO THE POLITICAL PARTY....WITH DUE RESPECT TO THE WISDOM AND EXPERIENCE OF THE ELDERLY, I DO NOT HESITATE TO SAY THAT IT IS HIGH TIME TO STOP THE AGED TO BE SWORN IN AS MINISTERS....THE PRIME MINISTER'S SPEECH WAS HIGHLY PREDICTABLE....WE EXPECT THE 'VIRTUAL HEAD OF THE STATE' TO ACT AND NOT SPEAK....WE DO NOT WANT PEOPLE WHO DO NOT HOLD CONSTITUTIONAL POSTS TO 'ADDRESS THE NATION'.....IN FACT WE DO NOT WANT ANYONE TO REPRESENT US NOW.....IT IS WE THE PEOPLE WHO MUST RISE AND FIGHT BACK....
IT IS SO DISTURBING AND DEPRESSING TO SEE THE VISUALS ON TELEVISION....NEWS CHANNELS ARE NOT TURNED OFF ACROSS INDIA AS THE STORY IS BEING TRACKED BY EVERYONE....IT IS SO SADDENING TO SEE OUR BEAUTIFUL CITY FACING SUCH A CRISIS AND WRITHING IN SUCH EXCRUCIATING PAIN!
IS THERE NO SECURITY TO OUR LIVES? WE ARE NOT IN ANARCHY TO EXPECT PEOPLE TO DRAW OUT GUNS AND FIRE RANDOMLY.....AND WE WON'T LET THE SITUATION TO TURN INTO ANARCHY BECAUSE WE ARE CITIZENS OF INDIA AND NOT OF OUR NEIGHBOURING FAILED COUNTRY....THE COUNTRY WHICH HAS TIME AND AGAIN TRIED TO SHATTER OUR HOPES...OUR LARGEST CITY,THE PRIDE OF OUR NATION, VIRTUALLY UNDER SIEGE.....THE ICONIC LANDMARKS OF OUR CITY STAINED WITH MARKS OF HATRED....A BEAUTIFUL STRUCTURE BUILT BY A PATRIOT.... BURNING....THE FIRST STRUCTURE TO BE ELECTRIFIED IN THE CITY UNDER THE DARKNESS OF TERROR....I REPEAT...THIS IS NOT A TERROR ATTACK...THIS IS WAR....NOT PROXY WAR....WAR WAGED USING HIGHLY TRAINED TERRORISTS....MAYBE TRAINED BY A STATE,AN INTELLIGENCE AGENCY....WHO ELSE CAN FIGHT THE BRAVEHEARTS OF OUR ELITE NATIONAL SECURITY GUARDS FOR MORE THAN 48 HOURS? 48 HOURS SINCE IT ALL STARTED BUT IT HAS NOT YET ENDED....IT WON'T END UNTIL WE ACT...
WHAT A NIGHMARE IT IS...I AM STRUGGLING TO FIND WORDS BECAUSE MY THOUGHT PROCESS IS CLOGGED WITH EMOTIONS....ANGER, SORROW,DETERMINATION AND THE URGE TO FIGHT! A REQUEST IN PLAIN WORDS....SHIVRAJ PATIL, YOU ARE NOT WORTHY ENOUGH TO BE THE HOME MINISTER. WE WANT YOU TO RESIGN. I WISH WE HAD THE POWER TO SACK YOU. I WONDER WHETHER YOU TRULY ARE SHAMELESS ENOUGH TO WARM THE CHAIR IN THE HOME MINISTRY....YES YOU ARE.....I AM ASHAMED TO HAVE A HOME MINISTER LIKE YOU....AND I WILL MAKE SURE THAT IN THE FORTHCOMING ELECTIONS YOU WILL BE SLAPPED HARD IN THE FACE, DEMOCRATICALLY...... IN THIS COUNTRY OF INTELLECTUALS WE CONTINUE TO HAVE A SENILE HOME MINISTER WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR MY SECURITY, THE SECURITY OF MY BRETHREN, THE SECURITY OF MY NATION. 'CELEBRITIES' CLAIM THAT THIS IS NOT WAR.....THIS IS WAR! A WAR AGAINST OUR BELIEFS, OUR DEMOCRACY, OUR PRINCIPLES, OUR HERITAGE,OUR PRIDE! AND WHEN YOU KNOW WHERE THE EVIL ROOTS LIE YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO CUT THEM OFF....AND IF IT MEANS WAGING WAR ON A ROGUE STATE, GO AHEAD! WE ARE WILLING TO FIGHT. WE ARE WILLING TO HELP OUR ARMED FORCES! WE THE PEOPLE OF INDIA ARE READY TO MARCH AGAINST TERRORISM.....
THE WORLD CLAIMS THAT FOREIGN NATIONALS ARE BEING TARGETTED BUT HOW DARE THEY IGNORE THE FACT THAT HUNDREDS OF INNOCENT INDIANS HAVE BEEN KILLED TOO.....AND THIS IS NOT THE FIRST TIME THAT WE WERE AT THE RECEIVING END OF AN INSANE 'ATTACK'....I APPEAL TO THE WORLD TO TAKE NOTE OF THE BRAVERY, COURAGE AND DEDICATION OF OUR COMMANDOS! 48 HOURS AND MORE AND WE ARE NOT READY TO GIVE UP BECAUSE WE BELIEVE THAT 'TRUTH ALONE TRIUMPHS'.....THIS IS NO TIME TO ASK HOW? WHY? WHO? IT IS TIME TO ASK WHEN? WHEN ARE WE GOING TO BEGIN THE CRUSADE AGAINST EVERYONE WHO IS 'ANTI-INDIA'....ARE WE FINALLY GOING TO OPEN OUR EYES.....WILL 26/11 BE OUR 9/11? WILL WE REFRAIN FROM CRUMBLING UNDER INTERNATIONAL DIPLOMATIC PRESSURE AND GO ALL OUT AGAINST THE FORCES OF HELL? WHAT MORE DO WE NEED? HOW MUCH MORE SHOULD WE SUFFER? HOW LONG ARE WE GOING TO TOLERATE? THE ROARING ECONOMY WILL BE FORTIFIED ONLY IF WE HAVE A ROARING DEMEANOUR IN OUR AGGRESSION AGAINST PEOPLE WHO HATE OUR PROGRESS AND DEVELOPMENT, WOULDN'T IT BE BETTER IF THE BANKRUPT STATE WERE TO CHANNELISE ITS ENERGY TOWARDS REBUILDING ITS FAILED ECONOMY INSTEAD OF STRUGGLING TO SURVIVE BY REVERTING BACK TO ITS 'INDO-BASHING'. BECAUSE WE ARE NOT SOFT ENOUGH TO BE BEATEN UP INTO PULP.....WE ARE A NATION WITH BILLION BRAINS...WE WENT THROUGH THE SAME ORDEAL AS THEY WENT THROUGH AFTER 1947 BUT WE ROSE HIGHER AND WE SHONE ON OUR WAY BECAUSE WE WERE, ARE AND WILL BE A NATION WITH A CAUSE....A NATION WITH A GOAL.....AND NOT A NATION CARVED TO SATIATE THE EGO OF A BUNCH OF FANATICS....WE STAND UNITED UNDER OUR BANNER, THE TRICOLOUR....IRRESPECTIVE OF OUR DIVERSE BACKGROUNDS....WE REMAIN UNITED AS INDIANS...GUNSHOTS, GRENADES, BOMBS WILL NOT TEAR THE BEAUTIFUL FABRIC CALLED 'INDIAN NATIONALITY' WHICH HAS BEEN DECORATED BY A MIXTURE OF BEAUTIFUL PATTERNS AND HUES....
WE ARE ANGRY.....WE AWAIT ACTION...A NATION HOLDS ITS BREATH.....WE WANT TO RETALIATE.....THE TRAUMA SHOULD BE UTILISED AS A POSITIVE ENCOURAGING FACTOR.... WE DO NOT WANT TO HAVE ANOTHER NIGHTMARE.....HOW GRUESOME IT IS TO THINK THAT A BUNCH OF INSANE INDIVIDUALS IS ROAMING FREELY IN THE CITY, SHOOTING RANDOMLY, HOLDING HOSTAGES, KILLING OUR MEN,WOMEN,CHILDREN.....EVERYTHING LOOKED LIKE SOMETHING RIGHT OUT OF A HOLLYWOOD MOVIE....ONE OF THOSE VIOLENT ACTION FLICKS WHICH ALWAYS APPEAR TO BE IMPOSSIBLE...... TERRORISTS RUNNING FREELY, COMMANDOS BEING AIR DROPPED, ARMY JAWANS WITH BAZOOKAS ENTERING THE ACTION ZONE.....WAS IT MUMBAI? WAS IT OUR FINANCIAL CAPITAL? NEVER EVER HAVE WE FACED SUCH A TERRIBLE SITUATION AND HENCE IT IS HARD FOR US TO DIGEST THE TRUTH....THE CITY WAS UNDER ATTACK....THERE WAS AN EMERGENCY LIKE SITUATION AND THE CITY WAS TRYING TO BE AS NORMAL AS POSSIBLE....IS THIS NORMAL?
AND WHERE ARE THE PEOPLE WHO ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR OUR SECURITY....THOSE WHO CRAWL ON THEIR KNEES AND BEG FOR OUR VALUABLE VOTES.....IT IS TIME TO SHOW THEM THAT WE AS A BILLION PEOPLE ARE POWERFUL ENOUGH TO VOTE THEM OUT! IT WAS TOUCHING TO SEE THE PEOPLE OF OUR CITY CHEERING OUR BRAVE ARMY JAWANS WITH A ROUND OF APPLAUSE AND SHOUTS OF 'BHARAT MATA KI JAI' AND 'VANDE MATARAM'.....WE ARE NOW AWAKE AS A NATION WITH ITS BRAINS AND MIND AT THE RIGHT PLACE....I HOPE WE DON'T SLIP BACK TO A STATE OF CARELESSNESS.....WE DEMAND AND WE DESERVE JUSTICE AND WE WILL FIGHT FOR JUSTICE....IRRESPECTIVE OF WHO IS GOVERNING US WE HAVE TO ASCERTAIN THAT WE WON'T BE THREATENED AGAIN.... BECAUSE NOW IT IS OUR FIGHT, OUR REVOLUTION.....AND I HOPE THAT AFTER A COUPLE OF MONTHS WE WOULD NOT BE SHOCKED AND DISTURBED BY HEADLINES OF A FRESH ATTACK.....WE REFUSE TO BE HELD AS HOSTAGES......BECAUSE ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

JAI HIND!!!!!!!!!!!!

Empowered!

2008-11-22T14:29:00.001+05:30

And it has happened! My name is a part of the revised electoral roll for the state of Maharashtra and I am empowered to exercise my fundamental right of voting in the general elections early next year! It is an amazing feeling to be a part of the largest democratic machinery of the world. I am now constitutionally equal to all the adults across the country. My opinions will now be heard. My vote will be counted. My vote will make a difference. Young voters will definitely have a major role to play in the elections. We constitute one of the largest electoral colleges and wooing us is going to be a tough task for the politicians because our generation is dynamic. Our generation also has the advantage of learning from mistakes made in the last 60 years. We have broader mindsets, a global outlook and belief in our potential to transform. Political parties are getting tech savvy to keep up with our generation. It would be inappropriate not to mention one of the greatest visionaries of modern day who unfortunately is no longer with us. Mr. Pramod Mahajan. His usage of technology for election campaigning ushered in a new age of canvassing in India.
I have been enlisted as a voter. I can utilise the rights provided to me by the provisions of adult suffrage. I'll make sure that I make a difference. Stand up and make sure to show off the indelible ink on your finger. I am proud to be a part of one of the greatest and most vibrant democracies. I am now a changed man because now I am EMPOWERED!

A Musical Gem!

2008-11-22T14:28:00.001+05:30

The Highest Civilian Honour 'Bharat Ratna' has been bestowed upon one of the most talented artists of our nation. This post is a salute to Pandit Bhimsen Joshi for having woven musical notes in a fabulous manner and taken Indian classical music to greater altitudes. The grand Patriarch of Hindustani music has inspired many to pursue a career in music and he earned millions of fans all over the globe. Being humble and modest, Pandit Bhimsen Joshi could make even the toughest of musical notes sound so light. His contribution to Marathi music is tremendous. Classical music at its best is what you can infer after listening to his singing. My personal favourite is the rendition 'Indrayani Kaathi' in Raag Bhairavi from the Marathi movie Gulacha Ganpati. 'Heavenly' is the only word to describe it. Pu La Deshpande's wonderful music and Panditji's perfect execution has made the song immortal.
His achievement has made us all glad and the Government of India has truly honoured this stalwart. The Government must make sure that great sons and daughters of Mother India are honoured with the Bharat Ratna at the appropriate moment. Panditji deserved this honour long back. It should also be ensured that achievers from every field are considered. The Bharat Ratna is a celebration of Indian glory and not a tool for winning over hearts to gain political mileage. This Bharat Ratna came after a long gap but I hope the next won't take that long. Once again my heartfelt wellwishes to Bharat Ratna SwarBhaskar Pandit Bhimsen Joshi!

Baksheesh a.k.a. Bribe

2008-11-19T00:31:00.002+05:30

The festive season refreshes everyone of us. But it is also that time of the year when the beast within most labourers comes alive and Diwali is converted from a festival to an excuse to rob people off some cash. It is an annual ritual to graciously award 'bonus' in kind or cash to one's employees but things have taken a rather political twist recently. The Diwali Baksheesh has been used as a weapon to extort money from people. Born in a family of self employed professionals, I was oblivious to the concept of Diwali bonuses (even Sunday is never a holiday at my place.....sad yet true). This concept gathered recognition as an easy way to show appreciation of hardwork and a generous display of compassion. The postman used to get a nice looking currency note every year. Then when I understood that other workers of the same genre have started asking for Diwali bonuses I was quick to ask "WHY?". It was evident that the pleaders were unworthy of the demands. I have witnessed house maids leaving their 'job' because they didn't get their Baksheesh 7 days before Diwali. With labour laws and 'unionism', the Domestic Workers' Association must have made it clear that the Baksheesh must be paid well in advance. One house maid was brave enough to take a casual leave of 15 days around Diwali and still ask for a Baksheesh. One was stupid enough to leave because 'she thought that she would not be paid a healthy Baksheesh'. What an excuse to grab a better paying job! People threaten to discontinue their services if not paid the right amount within the stipulated period. For their appeasement, the amount has to be paid even if it does not fit in your budgetary calculations. Once we were out of town during Diwali and the postman refused to deliver our mail for 2 months as a mark of protest. People who have 'served' you during some time of the year shamelessly queue up to ask for 'Diwali'. Baksheesh is also called as Diwali or Post or other such words related to the act. Unimaginable reactions are forced to occur when unexpected people pop the question of a bonus. You feel like asking him or her," Why should I pay you? I mean why should I be made to shell out money? What if it is Diwali? Do you feel that I have been swimming in a pool of gold coins for me to start a Gold Coin rationing shop?".This year the courier delivery guy who delivered my mobile phone bill was beaming at me as he asked for Baksheesh. I was actually scared because he was scary and could have brandished a pistol just like the terrorist who was justifiably shot on the BEST bus during Diwali. I don't think he deserves a place on my blog and hence I am careful enough to avoid using the terrorist's name and glorifying him like some illiterate leaders have done. While he asked for Baksheesh, I was in a tense mood to open the envelope and see the payable amount written in bold within the confines of the colourful envelope complete with a Diwali themed design. Now why should he be eligible to ask for bribe as I like to call the amount paid for appreciation? Just because it is Diwali? Whoa! That does not germinate a 'money bearing beanstalk' at my place. The time has come when even the boot-polish waala or the waiter at a roadside eatery will sue every customer for not paying a handsome bonus during Diwali. Workers' Unions will fight for the 'legal bribe', seek redressal for labourers' grievances and the common man will end up paying more for the ransom than saving the money or spending it to make the festive season very special for his family.
Diwali is not the time for you to spend money to make sure that others are happy and lamps in their homes are lit. It is in fact the season when you spend quality time with your family and buy stuff with the money you have saved for over one year. So people who are shameless enough to demand money should remember that the victim of the extortion also has to celebrate Diwali. Live and let live.

Sorrow of the Irretrievable

2008-11-19T00:28:00.002+05:30

Last week made me realise that being human is painful. We grow and grow and suddenly lose all the innocence and charm which we possess since the day we are born. Things which you viewed from a different perspective when your brain didn't know that there existed an angle closer to reality and harshness, suddenly become prominent or even become obscure. The sweet smell of new school bags is what you have stopped experiencing. The rain drops though still pleasurable have now become droplets of naturally distilled water. You feel sad when you know that you cannot prance around in the school corridors, visit the staffroom with bundles of notebooks or even call the walls of your school your very own! You cannot be obstinate with your demands. Your questions no longer have those genuine curiosity attached. Your likings suddenly turn into obsessions or you stop liking something altogether. You now know that when somebody praises you he or she might even despise you.
You are suddenly old enough to stop doing things and to start new things. The feeling that you are no longer in that phase of life where you did nothing but dream hurts you. It is shocking when you see that people who are almost as old as you have started taking important decisions in life, career, etc. You are about to become a graduate and are planning your post graduation course without even thinking actively about it. The day your school bade farewell to you is still fresh in your memory and now it is time to face similar situations. You admire a person you know and presto! You are as old as he or she is. School going kids start appearing younger when you have hardly stopped associating yourself with terms like uniform, Value Education and recess. And wouldn't it be shocking if it suddenly struck you that next year you wouldn't even be a teenager. You will enter the Twenties! You will be completing two decades on this planet! Your responsibilities would or wouldn't increase but your talks become graver. You are about to prepare yourself to plunge into this infinity called life.
And Children's Day made me mull over the issue. Do I qualify to celebrate Children's Day? Have I crossed the thin line? Am I not someone's child even if I am nineteen? When is the umbilical cord with childhood cut by 'the unknown paediatrician'? What defines the end of your golden years? Why is life irreversible?

A Welcome Change?

2008-11-05T15:51:00.002+05:30

Finally the long drawn and tedious process of the American Presidential elections is over and Barack Hussein Obama will be the 44th President of the USA. The world has appreciated the way he has kindled the light of hope and change in the hearts of the people who voted for him. A much deserved change in American leadership. A Democrat in the White House and a Senate and House of Representatives filled chock-a-block with Democrats. Feels great to see the Democrats back in power. Their liberal thoughts would propel their country in the future. Democrats have traditionally been pro-India. But George W. Bush proved that Republicans too can be close to Indians.These elections have been historic by breaking barriers like gender, race, etc and the world is showering congratulatory messages on a young leader and an inspiring orator. But I still believe that Hillary Clinton would have been a better President for Indo-US relations. Obama was a great option for the Americans and their internal policies but when you bring the international scenario under reckoning, an experienced leader is always a better option. But the citizens of USA have chosen to go with Obama and what a win! The large margin was expected and was not at all shocking but the manner in which the first Afro-American was elected to the Oval Office will always be a great story to narrate. The peculiar fashion of conducting elections in America has always intrigued us Indians. Though our population is larger, our electoral method is simpler and quicker. The concept of electoral colleges and popular vote can sometimes be rather unjust. The fiasco in 2000 brought out the intricate details and loopholes in their constitution. Bush managed to wriggle his way into the White House. Al Gore showed great endurance and emerged as the leader with better sportsmanship. They don't even have a uniform voting system. States conduct elections and voting system differs from county to county. The Federal nature of their administration is portrayed in their elections too. A majority in the state and you get the entire electoral college! Very much possible for a nation where two parties dominate the political canvas.
"Yes we can!" says Obama and I hope he does do it in the right manner. They take a wrong step and soon they will be hurtling towards a point of no return throwing the global economy in a permanent state of chaos. I hope he lives up to be the 'change we can believe in'. His stance as far as India is concerned has been alarming. His economic policies might cut down the outsourcing culture. His comments after India's Chandrayaan-I launch raised many eyebrows across India. Will he be another US Commander-in-Chief desperate to ensure US supremacy in world politics? His statements surely hinted in that direction. His policies seem multilateral in nature but who knows whether he will stick to his words. Earlier in the year he had said that he would not hesitate to hunt down terrorists in Pakistan and now he says that the United States of America should play an interventional role in the Kashmir issue. Mr.Obama, you ought to know that we won't accept intervention of any sort in the Kashmir issue. It has been made into a bilateral issue by Pakistan in 1947 and it does not require further meddling into. Why do we need to keep on saying that Kashmir is an integral part of our nation? It is a fact. Proof: The Instrument of Accession. Mr. Obama, we expect a lot from you. Making negative statements about the development of emerging nations like ours and interfering in our domestic matters will not make you different. You won't be the change you want to be. To be the change accept the geopolitical changes. The future is ours and we hope to share it with you. If you embrace the crouching tiger, it will do wonders but do not intimidate the tiger or the dragon.
His charismatic personality has surely appealed to the masses and is a perfect example of a bright,young leader. Hope the general elections in our nation next year see some young leaders like Obama who would promise to usher in change in the system! Why not you? Why not me?

Over the moon!

2008-10-22T23:44:00.005+05:30

Families across India decided to witness history being made and I had to rely upon a 'snoozable' alarm to do so. 6 am is way too early for someone like me to rise. But who would miss the event? It was evident that winter is approaching as it was quite pleasant especially after a series of scorching afternoons and I shivered with excitement and cold as the countdown begun. News channels including BBC World and CNN were covering every moment of the build up (BBC World was busy debating whether it was right for India to spend money on lunar missions when 'there were so many people starving'. And I thought that Medha Patkar had no competition on the international scenario!). 6.22 am and the blast off was like a dream as the PSLV rocketed upwards vanishing into the thick canopy of clouds and it was a moment of glory and triumph! India had made it to the coveted Lunar Club! The land of Aryabhatta, Bhaskaracharya and Varahamihira was finally going closer to 'Chandra'. The heavenly body which decides our lunar calendar is now only days away. The moon has as much importance in the Indian way of living as it has an effect on the tides,etc.
As I left for college, I glanced up in the skies and I saw the 3rd quarter moon radiant even when the sun was shining and the moon was glancing back at me. The radiance and glow may be because its oldest worshippers and admirers were now reaching for it. To learn, to explore, to discover and to achieve! We are reaching for the moon and I am sure that we would leave no frontiers unconquered. Nothing better than a mention of Neil Armstrong's famous words:
"That's one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind."
CONGRATULATIONS TO ISRO AND EVERY INDIAN FOR THIS GIANT LEAP IN INDIAN SPACE RESEARCH!

Prototypical Predecessors

2008-10-22T23:27:00.002+05:30

His followers came in large groups. I do not know whether they had paid the rent for the bus service to MSRTC but they were all there. Some of them who had come to listen to their leader's speech and some who were there only because the rally was in Mumbai. The centre of attraction was the birthday boy who is one of the 'dignified' alumni of our great VJTI (Is this why almost half of the buses were parked in the vicinity of the college?). I, for one, was utterly ashamed to see the 'show of might' and was devastated when I learned that this particular 'leader' was the Debate and Literary Activities Secretary of our college. In plain words he was my predecessor and held the same post as I do. Reactions were varying in nature as people suggested that this might be the beginning of my 'political career' too and that this was how the PWD minister was groomed. Some even pointed out that he owns the same mobile phone handset as I do. In short I was forced to be afraid of the theory that I would also jump from one political party to another and that I would follow his footsteps.
One fact is pretty clear. Every one of my predecessor has been unique and virtuous and I am sure most of them would shine in various fields but why was I chosen to follow HIS footsteps? All I can do now is imagine my distinguished predecessor running around for permission and signatures in the college. Was the institute as bureaucratic during his times as it is now? Or did they decide to introduce it once the concept of redtapeism was upheld by Mr. Lakhoba. Lakhoba had a T. Balu to guide him and uplift him. I do not have anyone. Or do I?

Taxifree!

2008-10-16T21:21:00.003+05:30

Long time since a strike had paralysed the city and Mr.Paralyser decided to reassure himself of his power and called for a taxi and rickshaw strike so that these yellow and black beetles stopped crawling around and choking the city's traffic and the city's lungs too.
9 am on a weekday and incurably late for college, I called up Aditya to ask him whether he was ready and was hunting for a taxi as per schedule and that was when I was reminded about the strike and was brought back to reality. Just fifteen minutes before the realisation I was busy thinking about the means of transport for going to college because of the threatening taxi strike reminder in the newspapers. But I had too many things on my mind to give much of attention to this aforethought dumb strike. "Oh! Right.....damn it!" and I called up Mr. Latecomer (guess who? the guy who loves it when his name is mentioned here.....he thinks that his name adds the much needed celebrity factor to my blog) and broke the sad news to him. So three of us who were planning to travel together boarded three different buses to reach the college for three different purposes. The traffic was fluid for a change and frankly speaking I did not miss the cabs who are an integral part of a Mumbai road. The air was as pure as an ascetic's intentions (lol!) and the weather lady appeared in my reverie showing the column of SPM microgrammes/ cubic metres details of Mumbai. Ah! Fresh air........
The roads sans 55,000 taxis were abnormally devoid of traffic snarls. Buses were not crowded too although bus stops were overflowing (I am sorry I cannot explain the phenomenon). Cars were parked at places which are normally occupied by taxis. And female drivers were beckoning their pet dogs with sweet "Come no Tuffy(sic)! What happened?" as Tuffies were busy hunting for unknown treasures. As I crossed the final road barrier, the Swatantryaveer Savarkar Marg, I couldn't help but notice a convoy of about 2 dozen cabs heading southwards, probably to meet a delegation of politicians meeting their demands(?). They bore red and white union flags and I wondered whether they will be demanding the conveyance fare and the petrol costs once they reach their meeting place. The taxis were occupied by 5 happy drivers who were out for a leisurely stroll after a much wanted holliday and a hearty meal. Although I depend on these cabs to reach places on time, I sincerely hope that the cabs are not back becuase the roads are cleaner and better with them off the road. I hope the Government declares Mumbai a 'taxifree' city along with the many 'taxfree movie' declarations. It would be a good return gift to a city which cannot become 'taxfree' becuase then we will be competing with Iceland due to lack of funds. Yes! We are proud to be the largest taxpaying city......But I crave for a 'taxifree' city!

Olfactory Ordeal

2008-10-07T20:49:00.003+05:30

Isn't it a common experience? You smell something unwanted and you just can't shrug off the thoughts of the same even when you don't want to think of it. And the mentioned smell can even be a fragrance which irritates you do to unknown reasons. Its strong and penetrative vapours just can't let you concentrate on things. At the same time the smell can also be hideously repulsive which makes your pharynx revolt and choke itself. The foul stench responsible for your pharyngeal contractions makes you cleanse your systems. It happens quite frequently in a crowded city like ours where millions are forced to pass through one huge recycling bin (read public transport). Smelling is such a wonderful sense when required but very often you feel that you could have done anything to get rid of this sense of smell because it makes you tolerate things which are beyond your tolerance level. There are several grades of stench. The first grade is when you get a 'whiff' of the lingering malodour and can ignore it. The second grade is when the semll is strikingly horrible and you decide to move away from it. The third grade is what has knocked me off my senses or loosened some screws in my grey matter. In words the state can be described as "GET A DEODORANT!". And if the concerned smell belongs to a deodorant it can be described as "STOP USING CHEAP STUFF. HAVE SOME CLASS!". It gets really awkward when the source of the smell does not know that it is the origin of all miseries and continues to be in a jolly good bright spirit and no one can dare to raise the topic. Everybody knows how much he or she perspires daily and I recommend that people must keep a tab on such things and take preventive measures. Play hard but don't smell worse. Try to change into something better and fresher while travelling back in the evenings. Every deodorant claims to have a 24 hour effect but have some sense to judge quality and stop believing those advertisements where people travelling by metro railways attract 'cool people'. Halitosis is not a rare occurence and it has its own set of remedies too. Remedies start costing from 50 paise onwards yet people fail to diagnose and cure this irritant. Nature has given us a very sensitive nose close to our oral orifice and if you can't sense halitosis you ought to be day dreaming. People also tend to come closer to you when they speak and suffer from acute halitosis at the same time. You can cut the thick fetidness with a knife. Time plays a major role and worsens the effect but what if the source itself gorges on loads of unwanted foodstuffs? Shouldn't he or she be responsible enough to chew gum or grab hold of a chlormint? Or better try spelling Trimethylaminuria. Choose the easier option and दोबारा मत पूँछना !

Feminine Divinity

2008-10-06T23:31:00.000+05:30

Any culture which respects women qualifies to be a civilisation. Followers and believers of that culture are said to have understood the essence of life and existence. Ten days of paying obeisance to the idolised form of femininity is a unique tradition but its uniqueness also lies in the fact that it is one festival which is celebrated in some form or the other throughout the nation. Every region has its own style of celebrating Navratri and it is amazing to see that this festival has not been used to instill a feeling of national integration amongst us till date. The attributes of the female kind are worshipped on each day of the festival. Motherly love, protective instinct, scholarly skills and expertise in art, prosperity are some of the many symbols of Goddesses in Hinduism. Each virtue sculpts a different form of the same feminine power and definitely deserves celebration. It is the celebration of creation and sustenance. It is the celebration of intellect and posperity. It is the celebration of the moral victory of truth over the evil. It can be seen that the reason behind these ten days of frolic is the prowess of the fairer gender. You may call it by any name. You may worship womanhood in any manner but the motive behind Navratri is to demand some well deserved respect for the motherly figure. We must be proud to carry on the traditions of respecting womanhood. Instead our society has started to promote the annihilation of the female form. It is sad to witness medieval thinking in today's educated society too. Education is incomplete unless the literate start implementing whatever they have studied. If they don't do so, it can be said that they have wasted a lot of money,time and energy in projecting themselves as sophesticated. They are hypocrites in an indirect fashion. So celebrate this festival of equality and victory to the truthful! Enjoy the Durga Puja and the garba and the bhondla or whatever is linked to this festival in your part of the country! Enjoy it because everyone of us has a Mother who is equivalent to God. मातृदेवो भव! And a very happy Vijayadashami to my readers in advance!

Vicious Vowel

2008-10-04T23:12:00.002+05:30

This unwanted front vowel has stuck to me since the day I was born. It is not a part of my surname but it is made a part of it by the most adamant specimens. The authentic pronunciation and the polluted one cannot be called homophones. The only proximity which can be stated is that in the list of vowels in English phonology.
A E I O U
Why do people dislodge the second vowel from the list by the third vowel when it comes to the ending syllable of my name? It is true that they are used to hearing a surname spelled and pronounced in that fashion but that does not mean that one's surname can be changed just because the suggested change is widely known. My surname is not tough to spell. Nor is it long enough to shorten. Nor is it anglicised out of recognition. The root of the problem lies in the last vowel. The world loves to replace the 'e' by an 'i'. That takes me miles away from my native Maharashtra to Gujarat or Rajasthan where the origins of 'the possessors of 'i' ' lie.
A person can goof up initially but even after being subjected to an earful of 'it ends with an e' they love to dot the 'i' stylishly. A person may not be blessed by a calligraphic handwriting but he or she surely loves to dot an unwanted 'i' at the end of my surname. And they look so pleased to have finished spelling my surname! They are unaware of my violent and sometimes noisy gesticulations while pointing at the vowel. Their only reply is a smile or a nod and sometimes a confused stare. "It ends with an 'e'? Strange!" is what the अमराठी always say but I expect people who themselves have मराठी surnames to have heard that there is a surname which is written like this: कोठारे ! Some of them say, "Does it matter? A fool by any other surname is a fool!" And they ignore any rectifications suggested by an irritated Hardik. After repeated pleas they raise their heads and ask me if there's anything wrong in whatever they have written or jotted down. My junior college and current professional college have vowed to spell my name with an 'i'. Must be the effect of the rebellious campus filled with raging hormones. They are obstinate enough to misprint my name wherever they wish to declare something. The list of divisional representatives in junior college, the certificates of appreciation at the same place bore the name of someone who hails from Ahmedabad or Surat or Jaipur. It was not Hardik Kothare. The limit of obstinacy was witnessed when my college refused to alter my name during the recent secretarial selection interview process. Every panel was answered by me in the same words, "It's Kothare with an 'e'." And then followed the usual interrogation.... whether I was related to a 'famous' Marathi movie director. The lists of candidates were defiled by pen marks as I refused to budge unless they corrected my name. But everything was in vain as finally the results were displayed and they lived up to their principles of disfiguring my surname. I know that my name sounds 'very Gujarati' as some of the misspellers put it. And that makes them conclude that my surname has to end with an 'i'.
'I' know that
जब तक सूरज चाँद रहेगा,
मेरे नाम में 'e' नही लगेगा! But it's a request! Please don't try to conjure spellings unless you are sure about the way it is spelt. I am irritating but for me 'I' is irritating.

Labor(ious)atory?

2008-09-27T01:49:00.003+05:30

When in school a laboratory is always 'something different'. A break from the classroom and a chance to have some fun. My first practical session in standard fifth was a wonderful start and I should have guessed that in the future a laboratory would be a bloggable topic. I still remember how we had shaken hands with the artificial skeleton hanging from his 'stand'. We were thrilled to touch fake bones. As years passed by the skeleton became a guinea pig for students to experiment with newly gathered stuff. The skeleton started posing as famous 'wrestlers' in a wrestling-maniac world. He then proceeded to make obscene gestures thanks to the juxtaposition and breaking of certain bones *cough* the fingers *cough*. All the dead chameleons and snakes and tapeworms initiated my decision to close my doors to a medical profession. Optics experiments and the mixing and dissolving of various salts (mostly done by teachers) were highlighted with oooooooooohs by us students. I vividly remember (and I am sure most of my classmates do too) the loud exclamation when we saw Phenolphthalein turning a solution pink in a neutralisation experiment. Due to our Tom and Jerry watching sessions we were afraid that the whole thing might blow up and we would have our very own version of Dr.Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
Junior College was unadulterated fun. The Physics lab was a place where we could brush our manipulative skills and we used to make sure that our results matched the expected ones. The paper rider was at times compelled to fall off the tightened wire instead of resonating it with the help of a tuning fork. Young's Modulus was the most dreaded experiment where one was sure that the readings were error-ridden. Chemistry laboratory was a place where your wallet became lighter and lighter as the year passed. We were forced to buy a chemistry kit which rusted as soon as it got a chance to rust. Platinum loops were dismembered in acid filled test tubes by every member of our class. Half of the class would be on the verge of fainting due to obnoxious ammonia and chlorine fumes. Radical tests were conducted in the form of a co-operative mass movement. Thermometers and beakers suffered from cracks and poor innocent students were burdened with hefty fines quite regularly. Nobody's journal was completely flawless as we struggled hard to cover our journals using brown paper. Our lab coats had a wonderful lattice work design, courtesy: laceration by acids.
Computer Science laboratory was a wonderful experience. Input to the brain was zero and output was zero too. There was no question of a logical AND gate because either the professor or the students were switched off during each session. Programming was a delightful feeling as we experienced the power of creation and we reassured ourselves by saying that by the time we graduate, these programmes are going to turn obsolete. Visual Basic was one thing with which we could be at ease because it used Graphical User Interface, a feature which is normally used by everyone of us, day in day out. Assembly Level Programming lab was a mechanical experience. In short, we didn't know what was happening in our Comp Sci lab until we entered the grand VJTI!
First Year Bachelor of Technology was a repetition of standard eleventh! A bunch of Physics and Chemistry lecturers made us fill in journals (read booklets). There was a graver doom looming upon us by the name of workshop where we were threatened by fire, wood and metal! One wrong step and it could spell disaster. It was great fun working as daily wages labourers but it was tough time tackling the workshop supervisors. They were a bunch of rude, sleep deprived and jealous alcoholics ready to stoop down to foul language to soothe their egos. They deserved to be thrown into furnaces as hot as the earth's core or to be threatened using hacksaws and chisels. Unfortunately, none of us was brave (or violent) enough to do so.
Second Year Bachelor of Technology opened newer windows as we saw a weekly dose of hectic machines' practicals. Other engineers would find the motive behind the practicals as completely hollow. Supplying electricity to motors and rotating them and noting down readings by permutation and combination is anything but enjoyable! To top it all we had strange demonstrators and lecturers in charge of our lab. It would be better if I don't talk much about it. Would save me the refreshing of a lot of unpleasant memories. Other laboratories gave us the much needed confidence that you don't need to slog in a lab. Finding a good place to sit and chatter with your friends was the primary objective of certain laboratory sessions. That was when we started getting immune to scoldings, warnings and threats ranging from awarding of 'C' grade to complaints to the Head of the Department (snort! you would have to organise a search party to search for him during college hours).
Fifth semester and now we know the intricacies of the art of living in laboratories. Cathode Ray Oscilloscopes act as television sets and we idiots sit in front of the new idiot box of our lives. We love the display and colleagues rack their brains while guessing whether the CROs have touch screen technology. Bread boards make me sick and soon I'll stop consuming bread for the nourishment of my physically and mentally exhausted form. Connecting wires are meant to be wound on fingers and red, black patterns adorn every finger in the lab. We make sure that when an OP-AMP is busted, the entire bread board becomes useless. M.Tech students who are supposed to supervise try to get friendly with us by inquiring about our past and plans for future. They compare their syllabus to our autonomous one. Some of our classmates have even gone to the extent of clicking photographs with the friendly guy with a variety of poses and sometimes even posing as guests at a masquerade party. Laboratories with a number of exits are a boon to society because they enable us to escape temporarily and come back with a Vada Pav in hand. Our Signal Processing lab is a gleeful session where we are asked to execute functions to get signals while our professor and his gang of girls surf the net or log into orkut to catch up with their friends who are sitting in a lab two storeys below the lab. We have tried hard to escape from the lab without letting the authorities know but a wave of guilt overcame us when we saw our professor reading technical papers on various websites. We proceeded to rename an already executed programme and then sat there hoping that they would turn on the air conditioner during our next turn. Laboratory sessions are useless and writing journals is worse. But then we also learn much out of it. These sessions embolden the cowardly and encourage the bravehearts to adopt a more 'practical' approach towards life.

A wonderful Wednesday on a typical Tuesday!

2008-09-27T01:24:00.002+05:30

23rd of September was a Tuesday. A day of the week when a certain famous cellular service provider offers a movie ticket free on a ticket bought by their customer. And who wouldn't like to avail of this scheme? A Wednesday was the movie which was selected from the long list of 'pending movies'. This happened after a complete week of wisecracking by Mihir. "Wednesday....Tuesday...when exactly do u want to plan? You tell me that there's a plan for Tuesday whereas it is a Sunday today and the movie is A Wednesday?"
So the sheen had worn off the joke and after a lot of persuasion by me, four of us went to theatre cum restaurant cum low budget shopping mall only to realise that the cursed cellular service provider had decided that since a group of idiots from VJTI have started to take advantage of their scheme andsince they realised that they are losing sacks of money , they had called off the 'heavenly scheme'. We were running late although Mihir was not accompanying us. And the following 2 hours were 100% quality entertainment wrapped in an exquisitely performed and directed masterpiece. One of the best movies ever produced in Indian cinema, A Wednesday deserves to be sent to the Oscars along with Taare Zameen Par. It is another signal that Indian cinema has been blessed recently and movies are being churned out with intellectual fans in mind and not to sell cheap insane drama. The best part of the movie is that it is completely positive as far as the approach is concerned. The topic touched is sensitive but care has been taken to stop the movie from being cliched. An amazing set of actors and a non-conventional setup of the story! There is no glorification of evil and at the same time social values are given much importance. The storyline appeals to every sensitive citizen. The police force has not been criticised but has been shown as a formidable force to reckon with. A much needed change in our movies. The extensive use of technology (including a few major blunders....we as engineers are bound to go into the details) in the story is refreshing. It was surprising to see a young Anglophone Chief Minister. When it comes to the portrayal of the city, a completely different angle of perspective was chosen. The direction has its flaws but those are pardoned by the movie-goers as senseless comedy, a necessary garnishing material. The twists and turns with the amazing end to the story make the movie a must see for every person, may he or she be a movie buff or not.

Life: Inclusive of all Exclusions

2008-09-20T19:51:00.002+05:30

One tries hard to exclude something unlikeable from his life but no one likes it when he is being excluded from something. Throughout our lives (long or short does not matter) we have faced exclusions at multiple stages. Some of them really hurt you where it hurts the most. Some you neglect because of their unimportance. None of my readers can deny having come across such occasions. At times you plan something and there are unwanted people who are present unabashed of being gatecrashers. You want to exclude them. There are certain occasions when a presence would only complicate the problem instead of simplifying. You tend to exclude the presence by ensuring that he or she is not aware of the plan. Inferiority complex and paranoia are large contributors to the act of exclusion. You know that someone is better than you at doing something and hence the rest of you exclude the expert. Children are excluded from important discussions. The frail at heart are excluded from being told bad news. Fear of being punished makes siblings exclude parents from knowledge of something. Secrets are not told to people who cannot be reticent. Cheerful, talkative individuals are excluded from matters of confidentiality. People who are better known as irritants are kept miles away. Toddler psychology takes over a person's thinking when he or she has imaginary boundaries drawn in his mind as far the extent of his or her 'group' is concerned. A newcomer is ridiculed and not welcomed. It is one of the harshest methods of exclusion. Exclusion can be unintentional due to repetition of events. A paranoid specimen may unilaterally infer that he is being excluded on purpose. There are certain people who deserve exclusion but are not excluded by people because they are the chieftains of their groups and can exercise veto power for exclusion of others. Some exclude themselves voluntarily. These people live in a shell and refuse to interact socially. They are content with what they have in life. Socially boycotted people are a quite common lot of people in the world. The toughest form of exclusion is when friends whom you trust more than your lives turn against you and indulge in backbiting. They portray bonhomie but nurture ill feelings. They appreciate your virtues when you are present but they love to gossip about you when you leave and that is when you realise that things which you thought pleased or entertained your friends in fact irritate them to despair. Life is not easily available but at the same time it is not overpriced. It comes with no MRP inclusive of all exclusions, a predefined date of manufacture and date of expiry, the ingredients are pleasant experiences and people and if you want to complain or seek redressal of grievances you have nowhere to write to because life is a big screenplay where you are the director. Although there are other people influencing you, you finally decide how to react to them!

And the world came tumbling after!

2008-09-20T18:49:00.002+05:30

Now some indiscernible character sitting up there ( nobody knows where exactly) decides that its time to play bulls and bears. He says, "Let the prices of gold be as unstable as the Pakistani Government. Let the markets all over the globe crash and may Dubya be blessed to think of another 'invasion' to assure unaffordable oil prices. " The moment the motion is passed in those legislative halls which are tough to locate, some insurance firm decides to call it a day and the CEO runs away with the entire booty and the news spreads like wild fire that the company is now bankrupt. One bankruptcy leads to another and half of the financial concerns are on the verge of plunging into the deep chasms of oblivion and cries of 'MAY DAY! MAY DAY!' rent the skies as we face a 'sudden financial crisis'. The firms have their web spread all over the world and their bankruptcy results in unemployment in almost all the nations. Millions of people leave their office cubicles with their family photos, packets of chips and anything and everything they had stored in their desks. Countries like India -where a placement in a company whose name is as western sounding as possible is considered to be God's gift- face a surprise situation because most of the recently graduated people lose their jobs. Job portals earn money like a Vada Pav stall in front of a railway station. Lesser known countries like Papua New Guinea and Zambia benefit from this collapse in global markets because they are ready to welcome a batch of Indian migrants hunting for odd jobs like rubber-tapping and tea-plantation managing. Mugabe has a loud laugh because now he can proudly say that his is not the only country which is going to be bankrupt in the near future and then he resumes planning a 100 billion currency note. BPOs and Call Centres across India agree to sign contracts with Lijjat Papad and Nirma Washing Powder because their employers in the USA cannot afford to pumps millions of dollars for substandard teleservice. Reserve Banks and Central Banks and Government Treasuries then add a couple of billion dollars in their reserves (why don't they do that regularly....would prevent the periodic much ado about nothing). Dimitri Medvedev realises that it's time for a small family vacation in Russkiland and closes stock markets for a week as thousands of Russians head towards Verkhoyansk for a midsummer party. BBC World enjoys a lot because they have always derived pleasure out of showing malnourished children in the Third World countries and now they can even show people scampering for loaves of bread in flood-hit areas where people can't spell RECESSION. So the moral of the story is that if one person sneezes in Uncle Sam's homeland, the world catches a cold. Interdependence of economies and the price of dollar...blah blah
If it's we who have invented currency, why can't we control the economy? Who causes this instability? There are reasons. I agree. But shouldn't we decide that we have had enough of inflation and recession and related nouns. I request the global financial controller in his chamber in the unknown legislative house to declare that the position is stable. He must also declare that every nation has now got 1000 Wood 1000 Food 1000 Gold and 1000 Stone to start with and may the lumberjacks cry 'TIMBER......'. I think I must limit my Age of Empires playing time. What say?

Of Idol Worship and idling away

2008-09-20T13:34:00.002+05:30

We as a billion people constitute one of the largest group of idol worshippers. No, this has got nothing to do with religious beliefs and ideologies. Idol worship in India is as rampant as wine-tasting in France. Each and every one of us is an ardent fan of at least one member of the elite group of 'celebrities'. Now these celebrities are of many types:
1. People who owe their fame to their lineage.
2. People who know and have experienced that notoriety/negative publicity= fame.
3. People who buy media houses in order to make a celebrity out of themselves.
4. Self-anointed celebrities whose names are etched in the public memory because their names appear in the guest list of page 3 parties.
5. And the last group consists of people who don't want to be but are celebrities.
Members of each category have fans which fall in different categories:
1. Imbecile dolts who are ready to 'sacrifice' their lives for the celebrity.
2. People who pray only when their 'star' is hospitalised.
3. People who queue up in front of celebrity residences to catch a glimpse of their life-hero waving at a bunch of unemployed underqualified men.
4. Steady fans who works as honorary public relations officers.
5. Nerdy fans who can rattle off the star's achievements complete with statistics (careerwise).
6. Pseudo fans who want to stay in the mainstream and not revolt against a majority of friends.
7. Fans who proudly tell the celebrities that they are their 'biggest fans' only when they meet them.
So who exactly is a celebrity? The definition of celebrity is highly flexible because a child falling inside a borewell is reason enough to be labelled a superstar. Some celebrities are shooting stars who fall from glory due to one misdeed and then defy nature's laws by rising to celebrity staus owing to a reality show or short-term mass memory.
We may have an army of celebrities living in our city yet there are people whiling away their time in front of every bungalow gate. Look at the strength of our jobless human resources! Looking upto someone only because he is mentioned in everyday's gossip media is like underestimating oneself. An ideal idol is one who deserves to be an idol and who doesn't ask people to elevate him to idol status. An ideal idol is also one who is rich in values and not one who swims in moolah. There are so many figures to be idolised but even the educated populace is more concerned about immoral artists who dance vulgarly in movies. A passing thought fit enough to be mentioned here is:
" Don't idolise a person after an impulse of fame because it can be a flash in the pan.Fame and money needn't always be earned by sweating and toiling. If you do so, you are responsible for his or her 'letting the country down'. Instead know the person who is your hero and make sure that he or she is the person you would want to be and still be aware that equalling his or her stature would be next to impossible. "

300...Prepare for Glory!

2008-09-15T17:45:00.004+05:30

There are three kinds of blogs.
1) Yawn!Hardly visited and clinically dead.
2) Struggling to stay alive
3)Thriving.
The last case can be achieved only if you have a huge fan following and if you can write any crap and expect reactions and comments. The very reason one writes such a kind of blog is for political mileage or self-brand promotion. A necessary criterion for your blog to fall in this category is that your wife should be wagging her tongue at the wrong moment at the wrong time and provide illogical reasons for speaking in the national language! You should also be backed by a joint police a.k.a politically incorrect commissioner who doesn't hesitate to declare his political views in front of the media while wearing a uniform. The officer who is being alluded to is notorious for his mafia-speak and I have personally heard him comment like a civilian on national television at least 3 times prior to the recent happenings. I won't comment further unless asked to because the chapter is closed.
The first case is for people who love to work hard and hence rarely find time to blog.
I have successfully managed to stay in the second category and now I rejoice because my profile has now been viewed 300 times! Most of those views point at me and people whom I have forced to read my posts. 78 posts and 300 views. Not great but not bad at the same time! I find any stimulus to be encouraging! So prepare for more of my posts....

Socha nahi to socho abhi!

2008-09-15T17:01:00.001+05:30

This post is dedicated to all those fellow countrymen who have lost their lives in all the terrorist attacks which have taken place in our country's history. May their souls attain salvation.

Tensile strength: A measure of the ability of material to resist a force that tends to pull it apart. It is expressed as the minimum tensile stress (force per unit area) needed to split the material apart.
Usage in a sentence: The tensile strength of the Indian citizens can never be stretched up to the hilt.

Isn't it enough? How long are we going to tolerate violence and show off our worthless virtues of tolerance and non-violence? Are those responsible worth it? How long are we going to digest the news of bomb blasts and then wait for more serial blasts to take place? How long are we going to witness our Home Minister (who seems to be dozing off between two terrorist attacks...he doesn't seem to have any other work) come in public and condemn blasts only to hibernate and reappear after another city is attacked? Offer him compulsory retirement complete with combs, shirts, white shoes, et al. If we don't act now, terrorist attacks are going to be a commonplace event just like breakfast. The Government must be under a misconception that we have a short term memory for terrorist attacks too just as we do have a short term memory for scams, scandals and other unforgivable mistakes committed by a Government. Which part of the country hasn't faced a ghastly attack? A bunch of mentally disturbed and pathetically brainwashed people are waging a phantasmal 'war' and the rest of us silently embrace death and disruption only to stick to our 'peaceful principles'. It's frustrating to be just a bystander when innocent families are getting torn asunder for inexplicable reasons. It's time for the citizens to be given more powers pertaining to law and order. It's an appeal to the Government to involve us citizens in this 'war against terror'. We can be of some use. Obviously, we possess more capability than Mr. Home Condemner.
http://hardikkothare.blogspot.com/2008/05/shame-minister.html

We know who is responsible. We know where the culprits are. The only roadblock is a major lack of political will which translates into lack of social responsibility. If we know that our neighbour is responsible isn't it ethical to hold them by their collar and reprimand them in a manner other than diplomatic pressure? If they have the guts to allow insurgents to cross over and if they have the guts to gobble up our territory, do we lack the courage to destroy terrorist training camps on that side of the LOC? Diplomats cite reasons like 'international pressure', 'maintenance of political stance' but is our 'global image' important than the safety of our citizens? Strike the iron when it's hot! 'Big Brother' too has evidence of ISI involvement in terrorist activities. Why are we fearing sanctions? And there's no question of challenging another nation's sovereignty because we will be targeting rogues in territory which we claim to be and is definitely an integral part of our country. An unstable neighbouring country has always spelled 'danger' for us. But we cannot allow them to destabilise our country. We can't sit like an impotent nation. There are things to be learnt from Israel. When they know that they are right and the opponent has committed a mistake, they don't hesitate. The opponent may be a group of militants or a host of troops from nations allied against them. And here we have been suffering for decades. Do you want to wake up tomorrow to read the newspaper which contains nothing but bomb blasts, bloodshed and casualties? The aforementioned minister promises to deliver justice every time and then disappears for reasons unknown to us. Can he ever deliver justice? He is the guy who wants to pardon the mastermind behind the attack on a hallowed site of our democracy, the Parliament!
How long are we going to tolerate these whimsical acts on part of a bunch of asinine terrorists? How long do those terrorists think we are going to get scared to move around? Do they think we are going to stoop in order to fulfill their demands? We won't but then how much power do we have in our hands? Once our elected representatives (including those ministers who have failed to get a public nod of acceptance in Loksabha elections) decide to bow down we have to bow down too! After all we are a democratic nation! And India's democracy, unfortunately, is synonymous to blind vote-ocracy! But do not get discouraged! You can do your duty by contributing whenever required.
The Indian media is one irresponsible group. Whenever there are investigations going on they feel that it's their duty to break related news. Don't they realise that matters which are highly sensitive or are required to be confidential must not be broadcast. They dog every step of the police force and convey news like 'a balloon vendor is being investigated' and 'the police have reached Chembur'. Can't everything be revealed once the case is solved? Are you working for the general public or for the terrorists? You are not alerting the common man but instead you are helping the terrorists' cause by keeping them well aware of the proceedings. Stop acting like Soap-Opera chhaap entertainment channels and grow up! Please don't help spread rumours and superstitions!

Elephantine Euphoria!

2008-09-11T21:42:00.001+05:30

गणपती बाप्पा मोरया !

Along with empyreal showers Maharashtra gets drenched in a different kind of downpour every year. An exhilarating shower of exuberance, glee and overwhelming excitement. After the completion of an annual cycle of festivities, Ganeshotsav is back to be enjoyed thoroughly. That time of the year when Mumbai and other cities are infused with a different kind of joy. Markets are abuzz with activities and the environment is generally pleasant due to the earnest efforts to prepare for 10 days of celebrations.
The Elephant God visits households to cheer up the sorrowful and to share his joy with the ever-cheerful. 10 days of sheer enjoyment for foodies like me who can gorge on an assortment of delicacies. Families and friends who otherwise don't meet you come to visit. Melodious 'verses of praise' are chanted in homes and the saccharine aroma of modaks leaves you craving for more and more food. The deity of knowledge and arts is one big cheerful presence who is more of a friend to his devotees. He is dear to old and young alike. The purpose of this festival is for social bonding and generally for the upliftment of spirits of the masses. But it is painful to see that the festival has been transformed into a 'headache'. Lord Ganpati himself must be frustrated after seeing the nullification of emotions involved in the festivities and unwarranted recognition to the commercial aspect of the same. Certain idols are losing their aura because they are being 'credited' to be holier than other idols. Crores of people line up for a darshan. The idol itself is burdened with an unwanted weight of gold. Plans are being made to change the layout of the city's infrastructure for the betterment of certain idols. Would the God of Compassion be pleased by this? The utterly disgraceful manner in which the idols are immersed must be hurting Lord Ganesh. Does the Lord want Mother Nature to be polluted by hazardous material? Does he want everyone to be troubled by harsh music which is 'played for him'?
Hats off to Mayor Shubha Raul for her ingenious initiative to construct an artificial pond for immersion in her official premises! She has thrown open the gates of her residence for the general public to immerse household Ganpati idols. Never before have I seen a people's mayor or Janta's neta like her! She is truly striving hard to implement certain ideas and she doesn't mind facing the wrath of her party too. She was present near the immersion tank with her family and was mingling with the visitors and inviting them to come to the Mayoral Bungalow for immersion every year henceforth. She has even promised to recycle the Plaster of Paris idols. Bravo Mrs.Raul! We need leaders like you!
So as we prepare to bid adieu to the God of literature, music, dance and language and the Lord who always stays close to our heart, tears well up in a sea of devotees. There's only one chant, a single request

पुढच्या वर्षी लवकर या!

Rise O'countrymen!

2008-08-21T16:47:00.002+05:30

Yet another venture on the abstract path of poetry. If Kapil Sibal can publish his poetry in the form of a book, I can do it on my blog . After all, I too write my posts on my mobile phone. This poem(?) was written by me before India took some of the recent giant strides to become the 'flavour of every month in the year'.

Rise O'Countrymen!
Protected by the Himalaya,
lies my beloved motherland,
land of epic Ramayana,
land of sun and sand.

A nation proud of its culture,
so rich and varied,
every city and structure,
nurtures the Indian seed!

We look into the past,
and a flame of hope rises,
let's raise the country's mast,
tiding over all crises.

March forth,O countrymen,
let the revolution begin.
Conquer the world and speak then,
the world will be listening!

Why art thou silent,
O cleverest of all,
rise and be confident,
among the developed stand tall !

Are we ashamed of our nationality,
shame on us if so,
our country's writhing in poverty,
why to foreign lands do you go?

Your country's beckoning,
we are very eager to see her developing,
you serve other lands after Indian learning,
why quoth, for better earning?

Then why do you earn your degrees,
in our own India,
I pray to you on my knees,
come back and use your every idea .

What have you done for India,
so that you demand voting rights,
selfish beings you truly are,
how will you help the country reach heights?

India's bad condition is due to the government,
is all that you can say,
why do you comment,
when it's we who toil and pay.

It's time to realise,what you are,
you are wise,O residents of lands far,
Remember Lord Rama's words,
Mother and Motherland are dearer to me than heaven,
why do you traverse, oceans and seas seven.

You know Aristotle and Pythagoras,
wake up and know your nation,
know Aryabhatta and Kalidas,
the Vedas and Buddha's Lesson.

John F. Kennedy has said the gist of my poetry,
'Ask not what the country has done for you,
ask what you can do for the country!'

A day will come,when the dawn will break,
travellers will return home,
for the country's sake.
Innumerable countrymen, laid their lives so that,
we'll live in peace and progress when,
we're free to express our thought.

Is their sacrifice in vain,
that you forget the debt,
the least you can do men and women,
is shed tears of respect.

O where would you have been,
if your country were not free,
not enough of India have you seen,
remember the brave hearts and their deeds of glory.

I hope for the best,
I'll do my duty,
up to you is the rest,
remember India's beauty.

-Hardik Kothare

'Bolt'ing away to a double gold!

2008-08-20T20:57:00.002+05:30

A bolt from the blue Caribbean Sea......As fast as a lightning bolt......Usain Bolt thundered towards the finishing line in the 100m and 200m sprint finals equalling Carl Lewis' feat. Usain Bolt is a visual treat to any viewer irrespective of nationality. This was evident after the world saw 90,000 spectator egging on Usain as he quite easily snatched two golds leaving the other competitors metres behind him. It would be a boring cliche if I say that the yellow-clad Jamaican resembled a cheetah. Michael Phelps might be the greatest Olympian ever as of now but it is definitely the athletic events which attract the most of attention in any Olympiad. It doesn't feel like the Olympic Games unless you see the 100 m sprint,the Long Jump, the Pole Vault or the Javelin Throw. Tyson Gay and Asafa Powell were predicted to be tough competitors but Bolt has left no doubt that he is the fastest man on earth! During his last few strides in the 100 m finals, Bolt had already started celebrating and had slowed down. It means that all that he wanted was the glory of winning a Gold medal and he didn't care about his world record. He could have bettered his record had he started celebrating after he had crossed the finishing line. Usain Bolt has definitely created his space in the hearts of millions of people. It was our privilege to have witnessed the sprints of such a great athlete!
The Beijing Olympic Games have broken the medal jinx for India. A medal won and a medal booked on the same day! What a day at Beijing! An Indian wrestler has proved the values of our ancient wrestling traditions. Khashaba Jadhav had done it in Helsinki and now another wrestler has made our tricolour proud! Indian Olympic Sports have come of age as we now have our first individual gold medallist and have won more than 2 medals at any Olympiad.1952 Helsinki seems like ages ago. Our pugilists showed off their mettle as they threatened to barge into the semifinals of 3 weight-categories of boxing. We expected every one of them to do well but we had to face 2 disappointments. We cannot say that they have let us down. The positive side is that they have amassed tremendous experience. Akhil Kumar,Jitender Kumar,Saina Nehwal, Lee-Hesh, Yogeshwar Dutt.....so may of them missed the podium by a whisker...It is definitely a good omen.We must take it positively.2012 in London promises better prospects for the Indian contingent. My heartiest congratulations to Sushil Kumar and Vijender! We are proud of you!

Lantern

2008-08-16T23:16:00.002+05:30

He loved the festive season. He looked forward to the Diwali break at school. The scent of joy and celebration was in the air and it was contagious. Three weeks of vacationing and what's better than the joyous Festival of Lights.

The first thing he always did when he reached home after the last day of exams was that he prepared a list of firecrackers which he wanted for Diwali. He handed over the list to his father who observed that the list grew noisier every year. All the families in his colony used to start preparing to welcome Diwali. Elaborate decorations were planned. Walls were painted afresh. Gardens were trimmed. Cobwebs were dusted. Families went out for shopping. They bought clothes and gifts and oil lamps and colour for Rangoli. Kitchens across the colony started exuding a distinctly sweet aroma. An array of sweets was filled in containers and tins. Some to be exchanged with neighbours, some for the guests. Some still needed a finishing touch of frying or immersion in sugar syrup. Who doesn't know the typical smell of heated ghee wafting around ad nauseam!

But the chore which was very appealing to him and his friends was the craft of creating a paper lantern out of junk stored on lofts in the bedrooms. Those sticks plucked from broomsticks, the paper thin enough to be transparent rather than translucent. He loved to see his friends through the paper because that meant that his friends had orange or yellow faces. Once he had spilled oil on the paper and had cried all throughout the night because his mother refused to give him money to buy more kite paper.

This year he had demanded multicoloured rockets, the craze of the season. His mother had objected stating that it was inappropriate for his age to ask for dangerous firecrackers. But his father had relented because he had felt that refusing to buy the rockets would disappoint his son and spoil his holiday mood.

Four days were left for the first day of Diwali and his father had brought home bags full of gifts. Gifts for near and dear ones. Gifts for neighbours, relatives. Dry fruit boxes which were distributed in his father's company now rested on the coffee table. But all this meant nothing to him. He peered through the bags and sniffed for the pungent smell of chemicals. The smell which always reminded him of those noisy and illuminated nights. His face showed that he was dejected after he went through the contents of the last bag. "I couldn't get those today, son. I already had about a dozen bags to carry today. I promise you'll get the firecrackers tomorrow, lad."

The next day he couldn't concentrate while cutting paper for the lantern. The skeleton of the lantern was almost ready and it was larger than its predecessor. He had vowed to hang the biggest and the brightest lantern ever and he was close to redeeming his juvenile pledge. He had wanted to skip lunch but like every other mother his mother too had a watchful eye on what he ate and when he ate. He was forcefully made to eat 2 chapatis and a serving of rice. He gobbled up his lunch once his mother entered the kitchen to fry some more sweets. He had that desperation which always shows up on a child's face when he or she has some pleasingly exciting work to finish. He scrambled back to where he had left his unfinished lantern.

The orange and yellow triangles and the red fringes looked attractive. He observed his piece of craft with admiring eyes. In the evening, he showed his accomplishment to his parents who admired his skills and talent. His mother rewarded him by giving him a tasting sample of his favourite sweet delicacy. His father handed him the firecrackers which he had promised. They were enough to last after Diwali. His father offered his help to hang the lantern at the place where it was put up for display annually at this time of the year. The bulb which was enclosed by the lantern was replaced because the old one's filament had burnt off.

Two days left for Diwali and lanterns adorned every household. But his lantern was by far the biggest and brightest and everyone patted his back for the masterpiece produced by him. To honour his talent, his lantern was hung at the central place of the colony. His little heart brimmed with pride at his own handiwork. His parents were back from the market with garlands of low power bulbs to be woven in and out of the iron box-grilled windows. He begged for permission to light the first lot of his firecrackers. He pleaded stating the fact that all his friends were going to do the same. He was cautioned not to light the rockets without the supervision of a responsible adult.

After the nod of approval, he sprinted out with his bag of crackers, incense sticks and a matchbox. The central place was abuzz with activity as children had gathered with an assortment of crackers. He planned to light the rockets to start with. But he was afraid that the rockets would hit his precious lantern and rob him off his well deserved praise. So he decided to lower his lantern and keep it safe back at his home.

The rockets zoomed high into the night sky and the children screamed with delight. He controlled his desire to light another box of rockets and decided to call it a day and return home. But his friends decided to explode a few bombs. He was tempted by the offer and agreed to stay for a while. This was when he was caught unawares by a bomb which was at a handshaking distance. The noise shattered him and his legs suffered minor burns and he lost his consciousness.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he did was ask his mother to let him know whether the lantern still shone brightly. He was lying on a hospital bed but his mind wandered off to the lantern which was displayed proudly outside his home. Little did he know that his mother had the same feelings at the same time. The only difference was that she cared for her child and he cared for his brainchild and handiwork. But the objects which were cared for were both lanterns. The child's lantern was the traditional handicraft on display whereas the mother's lantern was her only son.

Both of them were symbols of celebration, the celebration of life. Both grew larger as the years passed. Both of them emitted the radiance of happiness and both filled their surroundings with their charming warm light and heat. And both of them were dear to their creators!