Some Lines to Remember

Life's too short to wake up in the morning with regrets. Love the people who treat you right. Forget about the ones who don't.
Never tell your problems to any one except the one who loves you , because 20% people don’t care and other 80% people are glad that you have problems!
Mistakes are embarrassing when they happen , But years later you have collection of mistakes called EXPERIENCE , which leads you SUCCESS.
Faith by David Whyth
I want to write about faith about the way the moon rises over cold snow,
night after night faithful even as it fades from fullness
slowly becoming that last curving
and impossible silver of light before the final darkness
but I have no faith myself
I refuse to give in the smallest entry
Let this then, my small poem, like a new moon, slender and barely open,
be the first prayer that opens me to faith
Meaning of Life by John Gardner:
Meaning is not something you stumble across like an answer to a riddle or the prize in a treasure hunt. Meaning is something that you build into your life. You build it out of your own past, out of your affections and loyalties, out of the experience of humankind as it is passed on to you, out of your own talent and understanding, out of things you believe in, out of the things and people you love, out of the values for which you are willing to sacrifice something. The ingredients are there. You are the only one who can put them together into that pattern that will be your life. Let it be a life that has dignity and meaning for you. If it does, then the particular balance of success and failure is of less account

Religion vs. Faith

Religion is so keen to help educate the children of this world, they know that between the ages of five and fifteen, people develop the beliefs and philosophies that will accompany them all through life. And these influences that we come across under at this age will invariably shape our faith to "some extent". So in a way religion and faith go hand in hand. I have learnt to stop for a minute and remember the Almighty before anything that is painted orange or red under a tree, I may continue doing that till my last breath. I am in a habit of tying a sacred thread around my wrists, to ward off all evil spirits, I earnestly look to change that thread, whenever it is worn out. And I never question - why am I doing this? what is the essence of this? what will I gain from it? Is it religion or is it faith?
In one of my evening outings to know my infamous neighbourhood a little better, I walked into the lanes and bylanes of Jakasandra...it was largely dilapidated, there were small makeshift huts on both sides of the roads, half naked children playing at glee, the speeding two wheelers stopping diligently for the flock of hen to cross the lane, a herd of cows looked at me as if they had seen something strange, one of them was so displeased by my sight that it came running after me (thankfully it was tied-up)...it seemed to me that I was walking in some place which was a little better than a village, in no way could I make myself believe that I was in Bangalore, the Silicon Valley of India. After 15 to 20 mins of my aimless but interesting stroll, I came across a big playground and I observed that there was a temple at one corner..my curiosity got the better of me, in addition my quest to know the Dravidian Gods, i decided to cross over.
I entered the temple from the backside, the courtyard was kind of neat and freshly painted, I glanced through the various shapes of deities carved on the temple wall. Soon I was at the entrance of the temple, which was quite crowded with people concentrating hard to make their prayers heard. I noticed a stone bench at some distance where I could pull out my sneakers. I approached the area, a pungent smell welcomed me. There was a concrete pedestal at the middle and there were some 4 -5 odd shapped rock slabs placed vertically above the pedestal. Each stone was garlanded and smeared with vermillion. People were offering a mixture of curd and rice to each of the rocks and bathing them with lemon juice & curd, the whole pedestal had become a slippery mess, people falling over it and a combination of that rice, curd & lemon juice emitted a foul smell that I could not even stand there for few minutes. I also noticed some dirty cows and oxen standing nearby. I pulled my sneakers and hurried into the temple..my escape from that stink.
Honestly, I could not make much sense of what was happening around, neither could I precisely understand, which God was this temple dedicated to (perhaps some form of Parvati), all the customs & rituals seemed completely alien to me. Each person folded his hands offering his reverence, then all of a sudden started vigourously slapping himself, and after this was done, he would rapidly circle around standing at that position. I must admit, I could not offer a word of prayer, I was so involved observing the people and the Gods...not happy with myself, I stepped out of the temple.
I had to walk towards that stinking place...but what I saw left me dumbfounded, I could not believe my eyes..the pedestal did not have a single two legged human being, it was occupied by four -legged creatures - cows, oxen, goats and stray dogs who merrily licked the stone slabs and the pedestal. And there were some roadside pigs also competing their way to the pedestal. "What on the earth was this?" I tried asking some people, who hardly understood what i said. All I could gather that this is what they believe in! I felt disgusted and seriously felt sorry for the Gods.

God or any scripture or any religion may not be able to explain what was happening there..as I briskly walked away, my mind was full of questions. Does religion preach us to do all this? Why is it that our blind faith gets the better of us and God becomes obscure? I am an ardent follower of the Vedanta way of life, Ramakrishna in his preachings has always mentioned, if you are not in alignment, never question about anything related to faith, but I could not stop myself..is this blind faith or is this religion..Isn't the place where you worship, a place of cleanliness? Did those people actually know what God stood for? Is God really pleased and happy in such a manner? Or is it blind faith that is imbibed in us as a child..do this and God will be happy?

Fresh Egoist Soul?

HAH!!...how true is Dilbert most of the time, esp. his sardonic humour on consultants, people from management, and this time the IITias...innumberable times at work, I have heard this from fresh passouts "I am an young IITian and hence better than you"... infinite number of times I hear from recruiters, "oh, an IITian - an intelligent and matured soul"...I did have the "honour" of working with some "intelligent, matured souls of India" who took immense pride to be alma-mater of one of the IITs in India, even if they are a master's in Geology, and now sitting in IT industry and "pretending" to understand the different facets of business.

It is definitely a matter of pride to be a part of India's cream engineering institute, it does take a lot of pain to get there, esp. given the amount of reservations that our government has introduced into the Indian education system. Also as years pass-by, people appearing for this entrance exams are innumerable but the number of seats never increased proportionately. This year 3.2 lakh aspirant candidates competed for six thousand graduate engg. seats for 7 IITs...the competition is tough and if you crack it, the joy is unbound.

But why this superiority complex, why this audacity to prove that nothing can ever be better than them, why this intense pleasure in scorning down at everybody around, it is a puzzle for me. Seems some type of a self delusion! Does India's cream institute teach students to nurture this? Perhaps not, never! Education brings humbleness, the least education teaches you is tolerance!

After quite an introspection, after observing people, parents, peers, I feel it is the society to blame at large, the aura that we create in the mind of a small child, the expectation that we rise in an innocent heart to excel and reach the best..and after he qualifies, the adulation that is given to him by his family and friends by the mere mention "mera beta/beti IIT mei par raha hain", all of a sudden the child is treated with much more admiration, respect, and seated at a pedestal much above the rest. And if you are from a small town from Bihar or UP, the very mention can qualify you for a magnanimous sum of dowry....and perhaps the birth to this feeling of "supreme"!
It is not that I shun IITians, some of my closest friends are from IITs, people from my immediate and distant family members constitute a part of this alma-mater, my professional and personal mentors belong of this group. I have met many, who are oblivious of this supreme feeling, but here I write to bring out the general feeling among the pupils who are fresh products of IITs.
It pains me when I see them, such an im-matured pudding headed behaviour from a young turks of one of the cream institutes of India! IITians have succeeded, conquered the world, have reached to different heights, by really working hard, proving their merits and by the sweat of their brow. Hard work and right education can make a man successful! Rise, see beyond, life is self realization, a few certificates, donot make you a man! The society adulations are time being, there is much more to learn beyond the text books...be humane! AMEN!!!

Hilarious / objectionable?!

Some quotes make you laugh to your heart's content..they go with a statutory warnings as on cigar cases...readers should be in a mood NOT to take them seriously! It largely depends on your mood, how you take them, but to some extent they are realities?!
Lovely female shapes are terrible complicators of the difficulties and dangers of this earthly life, especially for their owners ~ George du Maurier
If you think your boss is stupid, remember: you wouldn't have a job if he was any smarter ~ John Gotti
Wedding rings: the world’s smallest handcuffs. ~Unknown
Love at first sight that happenned to me, was Life's most delicious revenge on a self-opinionated fool.~Charles Boyer
Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die. ~Unknown
In Order to get the handsome prince, you have to kiss a lot of toads. ~Unknown

The last quote reminds me of one of the most hilarious poems that I have read till now titled " A Stupid Village Girl" written by someone I do not know, it was a fwded to me in an email by a friend some years back and I preserved it:
The Stupid Village Girl
I sat on the rocks drying my body, When out of the secluded watery retreat, Came a creation of heavenly rhapsody Floating towards me on her soft lotus feet.
I had not known when she came Or where her garments should be;
All I knew was that a beauteous dame Had sprung a surprise on me.
I could not route an escape For I could find no path to flee.
So I sat there stoned in ugly, As naked as God made me.
Her beauty indeed was immense! This adorable coveted prize, Now, unaware of my presence Offered herself to my eyes.
But oh! Her glance fell on me And I could hear her skip a beat.
But then she waited thoughtfully, When I expected a hasty retreat.
God knows what spell was cast that night
Which could explain her tomfoolery
For she sprang at me as a wolf might
And kissed my mouth in a hurry.
Before I could fathom What had happened to me, I jumped in to the bosom Of the lake, most hastily.
I had left her in a swirl, I had left her looking agog, For she was a stupid village girl...
And I, an ugly croaking frog.

Blood is Red

The moon had risen on the eastern sky, the sun had set for the day, twilight was making its presence felt. I looked up, pre-monsoon clouds were looming over the skyline of Bangalore. I had no intentions of getting drenched, I urgently looked for an auto rick to transport me home, which was hardly 3kms away. Finally after quite a "jatto-jehat", one of them agreed and suprising with no arguements. I thought for a minute, "what a good guy"! But that thought just lasted for a min, not a second more or a second less, the rick meter showed figures of 30 bucks (ideally it should show 14,)...my immediate reaction was to alert the auto rick driver, who cooly retorted, "madam double rate lagega". I was irritated by his coolness and more so he had manipulated the meter, which is not lawful. Within minutes, there was an altercation..and I threatened him to report to the traffic police..nothing affected him and to my shock he taunted back at me "Yeh karnataka hain, North India nahi hain", I was puzzled, how on the earth was Karnataka related to his meter rates. He continued in his usual notorious style, "you guys from North come here, earn loads of money, use of our facilities, our infrastructure, why can't you pay double the rate? This is land of Kannadas not North Indians". This was enough to piss me off beyond control, but I didnot know what to tell him..I was fuming, fretting, and there were fumes blowing out my ears. I am an obstinate soul, and I ensured that I payed only his legitimate, not even a single anna more...only to hear more foul language from him.
A couple of days back I read on IBNLIVE, about Raj Thackery and his men's "creative idea" of getting attention - "Buy mangoes only from Maharashtrian fruit vendors. The bhaiyyas have taken over the mango trade in the city, while our Marathi people are suffering". From taxis to vada pavs and now mangoes, (I think he wants to hold on to Alphonsos, knowing thats its "the Bhaiyas" who produce the largest quantities of mangoes in the world) Thackarey wants to claim himself to be a crusader of Maharastrain people and culture. A self-proclaimed protector, who wants the usurp the throne from his more dangerous fascist uncle...an idealogy that did bring fame to Bal Thackery, good fame or bad, who is bothered! I think his next creative idea would be "Alphonsos for Marathi Manush only, non maharastrians pay more!!!"

Perhaps the uncle and now the nephew desire to create ripples into a largely calm water body, a desire which can have dangerous consequences, and lead to a lot of bloodshed. And it did happen..an innocent worker of HAL in Nashik got killed by Thackery's party hooligans, and unfortunately for them he was a maharastrian...and it is the red blood that flows finally, the colour of blood is always red, whether it flows in a maharastrian or in a bhaiya, or whether it flows in a Hindu or a Muslim, or whether it flows in an Asian or an Anglo Saxon.
But, why blame these two Thackerys? Politicians all over the world have always believed in what the Britishers adopted as a policy, DIVIDE AND RULE! And we the comman man love to dance as puppets to rheoteric's of these so called leaders! And in a democratic set up elect them as our coveted members of Parliament. As it is called DANCE TO THE TUNE OF DEMOCRACY!
Lets stop for a while and think, is it justified? The auto wala was an uneducated man, but these uneducated men, exercise their franchise!

Calcutta - from Vir Sanghvi

Calcutta, or Kolkata, the city that I have hardly known..it is called the "City of Joy" many times referred as the "dying city". For me, Kolkata is a place which is an "abode of of relatives" and obviously the lovely food, the amazing Mishti Doi and those mouth watering Rasogullas & Nalen Gurer Sandesh..a place where you can just shop to your heart's contents..it is India's cheapest metropolitan. And to talk about Kolkata and not talk about fish, that is unfair, the Elish from Buri Gonga, the Koi Mach, the pabdas, the chitols.
Kolkata means the bookfairs, the theatres. It means the never ending political rallies, the irritating bandhs. It means the traffic jams, the buses, the trams. It also means the Red Flag of Communist Party of India. Beyond all this Calcutta is the abode of one of the world's greatest philosopher, Tagore, the birthplace of Swami Vivekananda, the hometown of India's visionary writers and thinkers from Bankim Chandra to Raja Ram Mohon Roy, master story-tellers like Satyajit Ray, Bimal Roy, Mrinal Sen...Kolkata is unique....as I read somewhere.. "Kolkata remains a remarkable hot-pot – one which has instigated the philosophy of Rabindranath, inspired the imagination of Satyajit Ray and channeled the existential questionings of entire generations of poets and artists. And it continues to throw up a unique spectrum of literary talent even today – ranging from the regional activism of Mahashweta Devi to the very postcolonial Amitav Ghosh, and a diasporic Jhumpa Lahiri".
I must admit that I do not have a great loyalty for the city, but this article really makes me feel good, (not that I am a Bengali) cannot explain to my readers the reason for the same. Besides the literary contribution, this article does give a vivid picture of the great city and the emotional but passionate Bengalis..
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Most modern Indian cities strive to rise above ethnicity. Tell anybody who lives in Bombay that he lives in a Maharashtrian city and (unless of course, you are speaking to Bal Thackeray) he will take immediate offence. We are cosmopolitan, he will say indigenously. Tell a Delhiwalla that his is a Punjabi city (which, in many ways, it is) and he will respond with much self-righteous nonsense about being he nation's capital, about the international composition of the city's elite etc.
And tell a Bangalorean that he lives in a Kannadiga city and you'll get lots of techno-gaff about the internet revolution and about how Bangalore is even more cosmopolitan than Bombay.
But, the only way to understand what Calcutta is about is recognize that the city is essentially Bengali. What's more, no Bengali minds you saying that. Rather, he is proud of the fact. Calcutta's strengths and weaknesses mirror those of the Bengali character. It has the drawbacks: the sudden passions, the cheerful chaos, the utter contempt for mere commerce, the fiery response to the smallest provocation. And it has the strengths (actually, I think of the drawbacks as strengths in their own way).
Calcutta embodies the Bengali love of culture; the triumph of intellectualism over greed; the complete transparency of all emotions, the disdain with which hypocrisy and insincerity are treated; the warmth of genuine humanity; and the supremacy of emotion over all other aspects of human existence.
That's why Calcutta is not for everyone. You want your cities clean and green; stick to Delhi. You want your cities, rich and impersonal; go to Bombay. You want them high-tech and full of draught beer, Banglore's your place. But if you want a city with a soul: come to Calcutta.
When I look back on the years I've spent in Calcutta - and I comeback so many times each year that I often feel I've never been away I don't remember the things that people remember about cities. When I think of London, I think of the vast open spaces of Hyde Park. When I think of New York, I think of the frenzy of Times Square. When I think of Tokyo, I think of the bright lights of Shinjiku. And when I think of Paris, I think of the Champs Elysee. But when I think of Calcutta, I never think of any one place. I don't focus on the greenery of the maidan, the beauty of the Victoria Memorial, the bustle of Burra Bazar or the splendor of the new Howrah 'Bridge'. I think of people. Because, finally, a city is more than bricks and mortars, streetlights and tarred roads. A city is the sum of its people. And who can ever forget - or replicate - the people of Calcutta?
When I first came to live here, I was told that the city would grow on me. What nobody told me was that the city would change my life It was in Calcutta that I learnt about true warmth; about simple human decency; about love and friendship; about emotions and caring; about truth and honesty. I learnt other things too. Coming from Bombay as I did, it was a revelation to live in a city where people judged each other on the things that mattered; where they recognized that being rich did not make you a better person - in fact, it might have the opposite effect. I learnt also that if life is about more than just money, it is about the things that other cities ignore; about culture, about ideas, about art, and about passion. In Bombay, a man with a relatively low income will salt some of it away for the day when he gets a stock market tip. In Calcutta, a man with exactly the same income will not know the difference between a debenture and a dividend. But he will spend his money on the things that matter. Each morning, he will read at least two newspapers and develop sharply etched views on the state of the world. Each evening, there will be fresh (ideally, fresh-water or river) fish on his table. His children will be encouraged to learn to dance or sing. His family will appreciate the power of poetry. And for him, religion and culture will be in inextricably bound together. Ah religion! Tell outsiders about the importance of Puja in Calcutta and they'll scoff. Don't be silly, they'll say. Puja is a religious festival. And Bengal has voted for the CPM since 1977. How can godless Bengal be so hung up on a religions festival? In ever know how to explain them that to a Bengali, religion consists of much more than shouting Jai Shri Ram or pulling down somebody's mosque. It has little to do with meaningless ritual or sinister political activity. The essence of Puja is that all the passions of Bengal converge emotion, culture, the love of life, the warmth of being together, the joy of celebration, the pride in artistic expression and yes, the cult of the goddess. It may be about religion. But is about much more than just worship. In which other part of India would small, not particularly well off localities, vie with each other to produce the best pandals? Where else could puja pandals go beyond religion to draw inspiration from everything else? In the years I lived in Calcutta, the pandals featured Amitabh Bachchan, Princes Diana and even Saddam Hussain! Where else would children cry with the sheer emotional power of Dashimi, upset that the Goddess had left their homes? Where else would the whole city gooseflesh when the dhakis first begin to beat their drums? Which other Indian festival - in any part of the country - is so much about food, about going from one roadside stall to another, following your nose as it trails the smells of cooking? To understand Puja, you must understand Calcutta. And to understand Calcutta, you must understand the Bengali.
It's not easy. Certainly, you can't do it till you come and live here, till you let Calcutta suffuse your being, invade your bloodstream and steal your soul. But once you have, you'll love Calcutta forever. Wherever you go, a bit of Calcutta will go with you. I know, because it's happened to me. And every Puja, I am overcome by the magic of Bengal. It's a feeling that'll never go away.

"A moment lasts all for a second, but the memory lives on forever.”

I met Vikas on Wednesday evening, we were meeting for the first time after college days..we have been in touch thru emails, SMS, chats..but I was meeting him after a gap of a year or two less than a decade..(to my readers, Vikas was a friend from college, we were part of an extended group of friends, though i hardly remember having one to one talk with him, ever in college, and ofcource some doses of pranks.)

As we talked about professional life, common friends, batchmates, our college...my memories drifted to those two amazing years of my life.. I did my post graduation from Ghaziabad and here I met some of the most wonderful people of my life...and I dedicate this blog to them...so rightly it is said.."God gave us memories that we might have roses in December".

My college and my hostel has to go hand in hand..KA -29, an address that is embedded as golden words...days spent there have been literally crazy if I think of it today..having a watermelon party at 2am with the blasting music to shake off the sleep, staying awake the whole night and making each other understand the various nuances of Adam Smith's Theory of Demand and Supply..scare of getting ragged by seniors and the fun of ragging the juniors the very next year, consuming plates of maggi garnished with "dhaniya patta" after a full palate of "Ustadji's" dinner, looking for all the edible liquids in various hostel rooms to make the birthday drink, evening walk for the C-block's chai and spring rolls, travelling every day for two weeks in Bus No. 602 all the way from Ghaziabad to BHEL, Asiad Village, South Delhi for a HR project, the intensive pillow fight, only to be given an evil look by that horrid owner of the hostel, making a quickest possible trip to Chanakyapuri with my room-mate to see "Kamasutra", and ending up seeing "My Best Friend's Wedding", smearing each other with the colours and dancing to the tunes of Chaiya-Chaiya, the night before the Holi vacation, or quietly talking heart to heart with a friend in some corner of the hostel terrace under the star studded sky, memories are innumerable..

Today,  as I look back, they seem as if college happened yesterday..all those wonderful people whom I met, are spread across the globe, some still continue to be my source of strength, that a friendship can offer, many who are lost in the crowd, some I may meet again, many I may never...I wish I could re-live every moment of those marvellous days!

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Purano Sei Diner Kotha Bhulbi Ki Re Hai, O Sei Chokher Dekha Praner Kotha Se Ki Bhola Jai..

Aay Ar Ekti Bar Aayre Shokha Praner Majhe Aay,Mora Shukher Dhuker Kotha Kobo Pran Jurabe Tai..

Mora Bhorer belaa Phul Tulechi Dulechi Dolai, Bajiye Basi Gaan Geyechi Bokuler Tolai..

Hai Majhe Holo Charachai Gelem Ke Kothai, Abar Dekha Jodi Holo Shokha Praner Majhe Aay..

Purano Sei Diner Kotha Bhulbi Ki Re Hai...

Tagore

One life to love!

Jane Eyre

I am back to blogger.com after a day's gap, yest was a busy day, also not a very good day..right now a little pepped up, its almost midnight, and Kolkata Knight Riders won a great match against Delhi DareDevils @ Saurav Dada's hometown, Eden! And what a spell from Shoaibh Akhtar, devastating 4-11 in 3 overs!!
I had completed downloading the movie Jane Eyre on Sunday from the Internet, saw the movie in bits and pieces spread across Sunday night and monday evening. I must admit that Jane Eyre is not my favourite classic novel of that era..I have always been a great fan of Charles Dickens, David Copperfield and Great Expectations are books that I simply adore.
The movie was good and it compelled me to read the book all over again..for these types of movies, I have always preferred the book over the movie..trust me it was an amazing read..
I read the abridged version of Jane Eyre first when I was in Class Vth as a part of my regular curriculum. I tried again reading the full version of Jane Eyre when I was in Class VIIIth. I didnot understand much, I again picked up the book when I graduated from school. This is the time that I got some essense of the wonderful literature, in bits and pieces. As I grew older..perhaps my thoughts matured, I started reading these classics and some shakespeares all over again. It made much more sense and seemed much more meaningful to me than reading them at school and gobbling down lines for passing exams.
I guess with age you learn to appreciate a lot of things, which in childhood are just passing topics. Also, I have often wondered how can I appreciate literature, when I need to mug it, to pass an exam and get grades..literature is realization of the author and I need to suck it deep within as a part of me.
I read some chapters of Jane Eyre again, yest and today...it was the same book but giving deeper realizations to me...how true, how well written, how well articulated...I wish, I could spend my life appreciating creations, be it of Mother Earth or be of earthly men and women...
I want to record all those lines that I loved reading, I hope to memorize them, all of them touch my heart deep within me, gives me a very strange feeling of joy and sorrow, relief and pain, longingness and solitude...
Chapter 14:
A memory without blot or contamination must be an exquisite treasure — an inexhaustible source of pure refreshment: is it not?
Chapter 20:
A wanderer's repose or a sinner's reformation should never depend on a fellow-creature. Men and women die; philosophers falter in their wisdom, and Christians in goodness: if any one you know has suffered and erred, let him look higher than his equals for strength to amend, and solace to heal.
Chapter 12:
Women are supposed to be very calm generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties, and a field for their efforts as much as their brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint, too absolute a stagnation, precisely as men would suffer; and it is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, to playing on the piano and embroidering bags. It is thoughtless to condemn them, or laugh at them, if they seek to do more or learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex.
Chapter 37:
Sacrifice! What do I sacrifice? Famine for food, expectation for content. To be privileged to put my arms round what I value--to press my lips to what I love--to repose on what I trust: is that to make a sacrifice? If so, then certainly I delight in sacrifice
Charlotte Bronte

India's Diversity

I was having lunch with some of my colleagues a a year back. I was working at that time for Persistent Systems and was based out of Pune, the cultural capital of the undoubtedly rich Maharastrian heritage. Group of people with whom I had lunch consisted of people from various states of India. It was the month of March most probably and a holiday fell in the middle of the week. It was GUDI PARWA - the maharastrian new year..my need to know about the people and its culture, I asked a maharastrian friend..what exactly do they do for the day! She said, this day marks the homecoming of Rama from exile! I looked back at her, thinking there is something wrong...hello Lord Ram comes back from exile during Diwali and that falls in the month of Oct - Nov. She confidently replied..no Ram comes back in March! Other North Indians in the group went..why is Diwali celebrated..she goes it is because Krishna came back to dwaraka with sixteen thousand women, whom he freed after defeating the demon king Narakasur. This was a shock, I didnot believe her or any of the maharastrian friends endorsing her statements. I had mugged up for my essay on "Deepawali" since I was Class I, "amavasya ke raat, bhagwaan ram ayodhya wapas aye the, unki wapas aane ki khushi mei ayodhya wasiyo ne ghee ke diye jalaye the etc etc" and I got full marks for that too. I checked on the net, and yeah some sites did endorse this statement! If you are in Bombay or in any city in Maharastra during Diwali, get ready to be jolted out of your bed by the ear deafening crackers at 4 am in the mrng on the diwali day, yes diwali in traditional maharastrian families is celebrated bang in the mrng! I heard Chennai also celebrates it in the mrng! And on the same day, if you are in Delhi, rest assured you will get sleep only after 2am at night, as Diwali in Northern India is celebrated at night! Same in Kolkata, and irony is all Indians are celebrating the most important Hindu festival - Deepawali!!! THIS IS INDIA...my land, my people, my country!...yes its MINE, though every 10 kms I go, there is a different culture, a different language, a different cusine, a different attire...Diversity thy name is India! I have just moved to Bangalore, said to be a cosmopolitan, but moment you get out of those malls and big brand shops, come down to roads, you realize you do not know the language, the food is strangely different, the people look so different, their attire (esp. the half lungis as my mom says) makes you ask...are you in India? I felt the same, when I moved from Delhi to Pune some six years back...is this my country? As our history says..life north of vindyachal and life south to vindyachal was never the same from times immemorial..there was and there is a distinct difference between the North and South of India..one of my keralite ex-colleagues used to describe me as some one from the top floor (N.India :D). Its very difficult to adjust to different cities in india, esp. when you are on the move after every three to four years, you are moving within the same country but still you feel you are a stranger...Every city in this world has its own character, but in India every city has its own history, own language, own food, own attire! Perhaps North and South can never meet, they are poles apart..but still they together join hands to form my motherland INDIA! But yeah I cannot omit change in accent in calling out my name, in Allahabad it was slow but insistent Ritu, in Delhi it was rude and curt Ritu, in Pune it drastically changed to Rutu and now in blr I am Ruthu! the "T" has to go with a "H" for proper nouns in Rajnikanth's land!! :))

Mother's Day Special

When I was 13, my maternal grandmother (nani) came to stay with us. We were in Calcutta at that time, and my mashi brought her from my mama's house. Since then, there has been a constant discussion in our extended family, close friends and all concerned people about why is she with us, when she has two very very able sons? In an Indian family, esp. when I was young, it was a matter of concern of nanis coming and staying in her son-in-law's house. My young head didnot have much questions, though I was not sure what to talk to her, I had never much interacted with her..also I didnot follow her Bengali dialect (she spoke "bangal", and I knew only "kaam chalao" Bengali)
As I grew up and I understood the whole equation, I understood how tormented my nani was, how heart broken she was when she came to stay with us, how pathetically helpless she was to be ill-treated by the sons whom she loved the most! When later few years back, when I chatted with one of my mama's son, he says all that happened because of money constraints, i felt like giving him a wham on his face, but then I controlled myself, I donot know what I do and how I behave in the future, may be this wham that I want to give to him, destiny gives me one! Man is perhaps just a puppet!!!
Its sad, children desert their parents for greener pastuers, wanting to escape the liability, considering them as interference..forgeting that they are the biggest assets of a parent! I am not married as yet, I donot have a mother-in-law , but I have often wondered, how a new bride can create the differences and break a well settled everlasting mother-son relationship, never got a justifed answer to it as yet. Its obviosuly a different issue, if the MIL is a vampire, but those cases are rare, I guess :D
I lost my dad in 2004 and since then mom and me have come more closer, she has a great conribution to what I am today, more so she has stood behind me and believed in me, trusted me in what I did. She has stood rock solid for me till now and I hope she does for many more years! But I guess most mothers in the world are like that... they help us to grow, prosper, and reach great heights..
On the day of Mother's Day, I salute just not my mother, but all the mothers of this world and thank God that He gave a child such a wonderful gift! I am reminded of a famous song of Kenny Rogers, an amazing story of a mother...
............
When daddy left and destitution came upon our family
Not one neighbour volunteered to give a helpin' hand
So let 'em gossip all they want, she loved us and she raised us
The proof is standin' here, a full grown man

Last summer Mama passed away and left the ones who loved her
Each and every one was more than grateful for their birth
Each Sunday she receives a fresh bouquet of fourteen roses
And a card that says The greatest Mum on earth

Oh, the path was deep and wide from footsteps leading to our cabin
Above the door there burned a scarlet lamp
And late at night a hand would knock and there would stand a stranger
Yes, I'm the son of Hickory Holler's tramp!
...................

My First Blog

This is my first blog, have been reading a lot of blogs recently, of friends, of people un-known, on various topics ranging politics and history to business, economics and travel (my fav subjects). I wanted to start blogging much earlier, the hesitation of what to write haunted me. Can I really write what I feel deep within me, will it be not too much of revelation abt myself in the public domain..all these have been in my mind from some time. Also not to forget these days I have a lot of time, for myself, doing practically nothing..work life is dull and no movement (i am not used to doing nothing at work), personal life is stagnant..so reading a lot, seeing a lot of movies on TV and online...so I do have ample time to spare..Today I gave up my faltering and decided to pen down, thinking that if I can create something called Diary of Myself...
I am reminded of the first chapter of David Copperfield, where he starts to write about his childhood, his memories abt himself, in my blogs I intend to write something abt myself, my childhood..from time to time, the various changes that I have gone thru...the different ups and downs..how beautiful life has been till now!
Well to begin with, who am I? A particle of energy as philosophy defines, trying to write my first blog? Perhaps yes, one particle from the billions of particles that are on this mother earth or Universe, doing million different things right now at this moment.
I was born in Allahabad, a nice small town in the state of Uttar Pradesh. Often sitting in bangalore I think about it, wish Allahabad was prosperous and had many opportunites as cities in Deccan Plateau have..I would have never left and come here to this alien land which is also a part of my country but culturally so very different. I spent a lot of my childhood in the holy town of Allahabad, but my schooling was geographically spread..Jaipur, Delhi, Dhaka, Calcutta and then 10th & 12th from Allahabad. I have studied in 8 different schools..i graduated from Allahabad university with Science, a subject that I have not at all pursued after my graduation, I did study topics like thermodynamics and theory of relativity and those complicated theroms of mathematics and those loathsome formulaes of chemical compounds...but ask me to prove a Pythagoras theorm right now I will draw a blank slate! I still donot now why is it taught in every Indian school at a young age of of 15 years how to make iron from iron ore and all various chemical reactions of coke, when only people working in blast furnace actually need to know.
Well, I am also a Bengali, a probashi Bong, a Baidya Bong (supposedly a matter of great pride), who knows how to manage talking in "kaam chalao" Bong...who has not read a Tagore or sarat chatterji in the bengali language, who somehow has not been able to tolerate those philosophical rabindra sangeet more than 5 mins..or those kazi nazruls or shyama sangeets have hardly made any sense..my best of friends say I am a Pseudo Bong, not that I am proud of it, but it hardly matters..I have met many bongs in my life, who are born & brought up in kolkata and have not read or appreciated a Tagore ever. And what shocks me - these guys turn around and laugh at me and scorn my knowledge...atleast I have read all the possible premchands in his language.
I have completed almost 8 and half years of work life, which I have enjoyed a lot, and loved them..its a different matter that right now for the last four months, I am hating it. I had wonderful colleagues, amazing bosses, and challenging projects, which made me go places and learn so many things..

Well need to go now, my stomach is grinding, reminding me that it needs some doses of carbohydrates and protiens..(chemistry again ?? aggghh in mumma bhai's language.."chemical locha hain sala")
Will get back again...