Mode C is as much for Calvin as it is for Chaos, as much for Cool as it is for Cold, as much for Class as it is for Crass.

Mode C is a way of life, the Calvin way of life which I am so fascinated by as to keep trying to make it my own way of life. But what exactly is Calvin's way of life, you ask...and I say that there are no clear answers to this one.

I strongly believe, however, that almost all the seriously critical fundamental concepts of life, they are just the bogies under Calvin's bed that he is afraid of. Everyhting else...Miss Wormwood, Susie, Mom and Dad, and of course above all, Hobbes...aren't they all merely the means that he uses to attack these bogies?

It is nothing, therefore, but the perspective of each of these players on the stage of Calvin's dramatic life that helps him fight these bogies and move on in his own unique way...listening to all but doing only what finally makes sense to his own individuality. This is what comes closest, I guess, to the Calvin way of leading one's life...

Monday, January 29, 2007

Tip tip barsa paani

Some good news to give you company, adding perfectly to bitter sweet memories of what could have been, a spot of bother about a dear friend and his life, complemented by drops of rain making a tingling sound on the car's bonnet, droplets condensing on the front windshield, joined with some soulful music playing at a loud volume...what else could one ask for? It has been quite some time since I bought my car but today was the first time that I was able to take it for a spin in the rain, and I simply loved it.

The heart was already gladdened by the news that Ranjana Didi is, for want of a better word, hitched. My would-be jeeju is a manager, working for CRY and does a host of other things (including writing some really nice prose) that supplement the ordinary and mundane affairs at work place. The engagement is real soon, as soon as the 5th of February, and the wedding is going to happen in frontier mail mode, as well. Most probably the third week of this month is going to see Ranjana Didi all set to enter a new life. She seems ready for it and I just hope that she makes the most of her new innings.

Also, from what I heard in the evening, Pallavi has finally managed to get her affair sorted out and that Abhishek and finally proved his commitment beyond doubt to Bua and Fufaji. What this means for Pallavi is, of course, respite from a world of worries and promise of her being able to finally achieve what she has been yearning for.

Amongst things other than the fact that the marriage keeda is fast (and rather scarily) crawling its way up to the family, things at work have not really been rolling smoothly. Holidays and promotional events, along with product sales targets do add to the pressure but are definitely no excuse for the relative underperformance that I and others of the so called IIM batch have managed so far. When will the patience run out, when will they finally realize that what they had been hoping for has not really paid off so far, at least not in the short term, seems to be anyone's guess.

For the next few days, I am going to be a little occupied with arranging for Ranjana Didi's engagement and even though that will not help my chances at work in the remotest of positive ways, it is still something I would love to do to the best of my ability and capacity.

Sunday, January 28, 2007

Overdrive

I hope that no one from my family is reading this because if they get to know that I had been driving my Alto at 142 kilometres per hour, they will be scandalized, to say the least. It definitely was a scandal, as far as I, as a driver, am concerned. Having really learned driving about four months back, it was quite a stretch, by any extent of imagination, to try and literally stand on the pedal and gleefully look at the speedometer break all previous levels.

Once Aditya and I decided to while away time on a lazy Republic Day evening by going to Greater Noida and experiencing the Express Way and its much talked-about speeds, I got thinking about what my little baby could do. The frustration of not having been able to go to India Gate and watch the proceedings of Republic Day festivities live was already on my mind, but that is another story that deserves a separate paragraph so before I get into the high speed adventures of mine, let me delve a little into what could have been.

It was while coming back from a meeting with some HNI or the other that I started discussing with Rohit, a colleague, about what fun could be had if one gets the opportunity to watch live action on the 26th of Jan. Before we could even start discussing it any further, the cabbie, who was our escort for the day, butted in with a comment of his own. He promised us two VVIP passes, each one admitting three, and the confidence with which he promised the same, raised my hopes no end. He told us that he had worked for quite a number of days at the residence of Ram Bilas Paswan, the minister, and that he was quite capable of arranging two passes or even more.

Of course, what happened after he had promised that and after he had given me his number to contact him and collect the passes is anybody's guess, and that anybody would have been right. I called him so many times that I lost the very count of it and the last time I called him was from a pub in CP, in the vicinity of which, he had promised to meet me and hand over the passes to me. The fact that it did not happen, despite two rounds of snacks and drinks between JC, Dada, and myself, just added to what was going to happen the next day.

What happened the next day was of course, what I had started illustrating when I began this post. The Express way from Noida to Greater Noida, for those who are unaware, is a driver's dream and so it turned out for me. Starting off at about 100 kmph as soon as I entered the beauty of a stretch that the road was, I soon started testing what I could do. For family member(s) who haven't yet been able to kill the urge and have gone on till here, I did look at both sides of the road before pushing the pedal real hard. Initially 125 kmph seemed all that the Maruti offering could offer, but as I literally stood on the accelerator pedal, even if it was a slope, Alto LXi (3 months and 5000 kms old) managed top speed of 142 kmph.

After all the exhilaration and all the adrenaline rush, we moved on to Dilli Haat to spend the evening, planning to look at some good roadside stores and eat some good street food. However, it was not to happen as the damn place was closed because of the 26th Jan holiday. The next destination could have been NFC (New Friends' Colony for the uninitiated) but ever since I had taken Aditya and his brother there on a rather cold and bland and lonely night, Aditya has gone dead against the very idea of that place. The next mutually agreed-upon destination turned out to be the Chinese food area next to Chanakya theatre and that proved to be quite an experience, right from driving along Shanti Path, trying to find the suddenly elusive Pakistani High Commission (or Embassy, whatever it is), to having the Chinese sizzler and soup that started from smelling bad and ended at tasting surprisingly delicious.

The weekend has been a long one and as normally happens on such long and unplanned weekends, the rest of the days were not really remarkable, except, of course, a movie and some hopefully positive event at the family end, about the both of which, I will try to talk in further posts.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Gurubhai Gurubhai aavya che...

tha nahi hai...mera naam Gurukant Desai tha...hai...aur aage bhi rahega

 

 

As Mani Ratnam's Guru carries his swagger to the microphone and smirks at hearing of competition's efforts at undermining him, the audience does not know whether to empathize with him for the background that he has risen from, or to protest the absolute lack of respect the rich industrialist has shown for the law of the land.

 

Despite the dropped (once-too-often) hints of the movie's story being based on the life of Dhirubhai Ambani and of course, the several sequences of the movie mirroring memorable instances of the life of Reliance's founder, there is still quite a lot of originality of idea. Mani Ratnam makes sure that he does not fall prey to the biographical conundrum, but at the same time, he makes optimum use of the sheer magnetism of Dhirubhai's story.

 

From the protagonist venturing out to Turkey, learning new ideas and getting his self-confidence going, to his coming back and setting up his own business and earning for himself, the story of Guru is a journey across people who ditched him, people he ditched in return, and of course, the several innovative ideas that are used in both the processes. But to limit the scope of this movie to just that would be injustice to the little nuances that the director and the actor are able to bring to the story, refining it beyond just another dramatic rendition of an interesting sequence of events.

 

Abhishek Bachchan, Aishwarya Rai, Madhavan, Vidya Balan, the indomitable Mithunda and of course, the talented support cast have made the life and times of Gurukant Desai stand out, almost to perfection. Most of the actors, Abhishek clearly towering above the others, have given a unique twist to the characters they play, infusing life into them and making sure that the viewer is clearly able to see the mental makeup of each of them.

 

Aishwarya is not just looking drop dead gorgeous (perhaps more than any of her previous performances, if that is humanly possible) but also manages to bring the right expressions on her face at the right time, and that, I am sure would be a welcome change for fanatics like me. Madhavan manages to portray a sincere and intelligent image, just right for the character he portrays, never trying to overshadow the chief protagonists of the movie and yet managing to make his presence felt.

 

And then there is Abhishek, the dynamite of this package. If Amitabh is to be believed, his performance has actually brought him to tears. Even if you can not be so superlative, you will nevertheless realize that this one has been one of Abhishek's (or any other actor's, for that matter) lifetime performances. Before moving on to the technical aspects of the movie, one must mention the one and only Mithunda, who keeps showing now and again why he is rated as one of the better actors  of the Indian movie industry and why he has all these acting awards in his kitty. From the mentor that he is to the young Guru, to the person who encourages his muse to take on the successful Gurubhai, to the aged guardian of an unwell Guru, he manages the transitions with characteristic ease and elan.

 

What does one say about the director of such a movie, except perhaps salute his genius and marvel at his knack of identifying the audience's nerve and hitting on it like no one has ever done before? Mani Ratnam, with this movie, has moved on from a mere story teller to someone who is much wiser to the needs of the industry. And industry it is that he is working in, which is apparent from the various interviews Mani gave to the media as a part of the movie's publicity. Clearly mentioning that the movie is not a biography and yet discussing the story's stark similarities to Dhirubhai's life (right to the episode of bribing a highly placed minister), Mani has proved his intellect beyond doubt.

 

Audiences across the country have enjoyed watching this movie and once they are done with drawing the parallels between Dhirubhai, Reliance, and the movie's story, they have praised the director/actors no end. The movie's credits notwithstanding, the important thing that has come to the forefront from this movie is the very idea that people have been talking about it. In addition to being a good omen for the fortunes of this movie and its stakeholders, it also augurs well for the Indian movie industry which can now consider another door open as far as finding ideas for making movies are concerned.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

Adieu to my childhood, adieu to the child in me

As I left for the railway station, Pappumama's words kept ringing in my head (however melodramatic the ringing idea may seem), "kewal itna kahenge ki jis hak se nana nani ke samay aate the, usi hak se aate rehna" (all I will say is that keep coming with the same feeling of right as you used to during Nana-Nani's times). Will it ever be the same, I kept asking myself and despite the assurances I gave to a crying pappumama, I could not bring myself to believe that it will ever be anything close to what it was.

What it was, had been my childhood, the entirety of it. From the age of 4 when things had just started registering themselves till the age of 16 when I was just about ready to spread my wings and soar into the sky, my life was centered around Nana and Nani, or should I be saying that their lives were centered around me? The simplest and most complex of my wishes were commands for the two, who had taken up the responsibility of raising me, their grandson.

With Buxar not providing the best of facilities and institutions in terms of education, they (and of course Maa and Papa) believed that I would have a better chance at succeeding in life if I get a good start. And what a start it turned out to be! Right from making sure that I get the best of schooling to trying to inculcate the best of traits in me, Nana and Nani had not left any stone unturned. If I have reached any stage in life, I owe most, if not all of it to Nana and Nani.

When Nana passed away three years ago, I was working at Infy and it was about the time when I had started writing this blog. I still remember what I wrote here and the condition in which I was when I wrote it. It was the first death that I had seen up close and that too, of someone who was probably the dearest to me. All the same, things soon changed from the feeling of utter loss that I had started to feel to the absolute need of keeping up the facade for the sake of Nani. The facade soon turned into a notion of sanity and truth from the farce that it had been during its inception.

It was very clear, not just to me but to the entire family, that Nani deserved much more than a life tormented by memories alone. For me, in particular, it meant all the more to make sure that I was able to express to her all the love that I missed out on when Nana was still alive, having taken things for granted. Someone who used to cook snacks for me and keep it in the fridge everyday, long after I had left Patna for good, deserved all the expressions of love that I could manage and even more.

And so I was, still a child for her, reveling in sitting close to her, snuggling up to the warmth of her blessings, and generally chatting away with her as I probably wouldn't have done otherwise. Today, thus, seems an end of all that childishness. As I think back on the events of the past week, I know now that it is not going to be the same. I can no longer treat myself as the youngest son of the family. The relations will change, sooner or later, since the facade is no longer there and since reality, in its whole self, seems an illusion after all.