The December Nostalgia

Ever since I started having an understanding of what goes on around me, I have known that the month of December every year is time for the annual family gathering. December 26-27 of each year has always been the time slotted for the Hari Kirtan organized in the memory of my late Great Grandfather. Baba started this on the passing away of his father (on December 27) and following the year after Babuji's passing away, this has been a regular fixture of what I know as my childhood.

When I was a kid and all of my cousins were yet to be impacted by the travails of a busy, nuclear, and urban life, we used to get together, if not at any other time during the year, at least once during the Hari Kirtan. The timing was just right for my uncles and aunts to take their annual leaves and visit their hometown. The normally lean period between Christmas and New Year with easily obtainable leaves from work and the winter vacations in schools was utilized to the hilt.

While the grown-ups alternated between organizing and attending the Hari Kirtan and catching up with the news in each others' lives, the kids used to have the room farthest from the Kirtan venue, all to themselves. This does not imply that we were not the religious type but we were just too young to understand what the "Hare Krishna Hare Krishna" signified. For us, it was just a big distraction from the fun and games we could participate in, now that there were more than a dozen of us together.

From the games of Antaakshari and Passing the Parcel, to impromptu jigs and song renditions, those were the days. We were part of a big joint family despite each of us having our own nuclear set-ups. Baba and Amma used to pride themselves on the way the household filled itself during the five-six days around that period, with each and every room, nook, and corner taken up by someone or the other, voices of merriment coming from everywhere. There were no hassles that anyone had with all of us willing (and even wanting) to sleep on the husk covered floor with blankets being shared in the most chilling of winters. Unlike today when the most hardened of us have gone soft, the communal spirit then used to take care of all discomforts, in an absolute and complete manner.

Once Amma passed away in 2007 and subsequently as Baba started losing interest in many things (including his work as an advocate from which he retired at the age of 85), things started to change. In fact, things were already a little different with most of my generation already out of colleges and making a living in some remote city or another. It was getting more and more difficult to see all of them every year but it was still some consolation since I could see most of them, even if once every alternate year. For me, going to Buxar in December was still a part of routine because Papa, Mummy, and Baba would be there irrespective of whether anyone else came in or not.

Baba's health went from good to bad to worse very rapidly this year, so much so that for more than 3-4 months, he was bedridden and had almost lost the will to live. He is better now and can sit up for stretches of an hour or so, and can even walk from one room to another. However, for the purposes of treatment and in order to be close to doctors and medical facilities, Baba was shifted to Banaras to Bade Papa's house about six months ago. Ever since the ill-health, Baba has lost whatever focus he had and the only thing he seems to continue to be excited about is my marriage, whenever it takes place. To expect him to also worry about the Hari Kirtan would be asking for too much.

Baba always wanted to keep doing this, at least for his life time. Since it was the memory of his father that he used to celebrate, he never wanted to give up. As I was speaking to Mummy last night, I was joking with her as to why she did not ask me to come to Buxar in December this year and was playfully teasing her about how she has forgotten me ever since Priya got married. She told me then that in all likelihood, there is not going to be anyone home this time for the Hari Kirtan which would probably not take place at all.

I always knew that the intensity of the occasion has been going down and with Baba being in Banaras, it would be hardly of any import this year, but I had never brought myself to realize that it was well and truly over. I could hardly reconcile to the fact that the transition from one generation to another had failed...as Mummy told me that there was no one willing to take over the responsibility of organizing such a big scale festival (apart from the Hari Kirtan, there is also a Bhandaara organized where a lot of guests from the village and the town are fed the choicest of delicacies).

I am confident that my generation, all my cousins look at the last week of December fondly and associate it with happy memories. It is all about galvanizing them into taking the onus of running with the tradition for at least some more time...not keeping the next generation away from forming their own experiences, making their own memories of our roots. There is hardly any time for it this year but even if it is the first New Year resolution that I make, I want to try my best to do something about it the next year and if Hari is with me, I am sure that His tales will be sung again in Buxar very soon.

Languor

It is a strange phase of life to be in. Ever since I moved to Mumbai, I have been fortunate in getting to stay with family since Priya was also posted in the city. She has had a big influence in my life right from when we were kids and she used to somehow convince me to do all the right and wrong things exactly the way she wanted them to be done. I had branched out since then and throughout my stay in various hostels and cities and friend circles, developed my own quirks. As we started staying together (for the first time since we were kids) about 3 years ago, Priya must have found it difficult to reconcile to the changed persona of her brother...not that she didn't try...in fact, she would be at her wit's end trying to make me do things a particular way or stop me from doing them in another. At some occasions she succeeded, at others she failed...thankfully, the ones she succeeded in also included convincing me to purchase my flat which has been the most logical investment decision I have ever happened to make.

Now that Priya is married and I am staying alone (she stays just a couple of flats away but living separately all the same and it is quite different), things are slowly taking a turn. Most of the evenings she does drop in or I go to her place for dinner, but mostly it is "main aur meri tanhaai" that inhabit the flat that Priya had so painstakingly and lovingly helped build. Knowing her, I was sure that she would get over it and start to build her own home the way she wants and she has done exactly that. In the process however, I have remained constant...without change, stuck in some sort of a limbo.

I would so love to have my parents come and stay with me and not many months pass before I bring back this topic with them. However, it is not to be as of the moment and I understand their point of view. Getting uprooted from where you have spent so many years of your life and moving to a completely new place with more strangers than acquaintances is not really easy...getting into the perils of settling in a new work place has been stopping so many of us from resigning from our existing jobs...things are no different there. So I am alone in this big bad city and it sucks. As it is, I am not of the partying around town age (not that I ever was) and as such, the merits of living in a bachelor pad all alone in a city like Mumbai are lost on me. Friends are great, work is fine, movies, plays and musical concerts are aplenty but it is not the same...not at all.

The one solution that everyone (really everyone, right from uncle, aunts, and their fifth cousins) has been doling out in good measure is the "get married" one. I know it is about time and a lot of friends would be more than happy to tell me just how much about time it is...given that since last June, I am already in the fourth decade of my existence on earth :-). I also know that it may solve to a large extent, the situation that I find myself in. Not that getting married would have me hitting all the party spots in town but at least there will be company and who knows what we might make of it. Plus it's not as if you decide to go the marriage path one day and get married the next. There is a whole lot of process here too and I have no idea as to how long it may take. This process, too is so complicated and you never know how much of yourself to expose and how soon. Ideas of honesty and frankness appear good on paper but practical stuff may be completely different. You never know if and when you know enough about someone and you never know if and when you should let out enough of you for someone to know who you really are.

And thus I keep thinking...is marriage the only solution or one that is sustainable? I am not too sure considering there are things that need to really click even post marriage in order to build the same degree of closeness that one has with family. All of it will take time and will happen in due course, marriage, settling in...the works...but the question is whether till then or beyond then, it is going to be all morose and isolated or can I make it better? I am sure that there are ways of making it better, it is just that the effort required does not seem to be worth it. The languid inertia that I find myself in seems to be taking a lot of doing to be lifted up.

Right, so now that we have all of this sorted (or unsorted...depends on the way you look at it), let's move on to more interesting stuff. The World Cup is underway and despite a pretty lackluster first week, it is getting into the more interesting phase where the bigger teams clash with each other. Tickets have been impossible to get, TV coverage is not too bad and considering that the IPL follows, I think that the bug I have been talking about thus far is covered as of now. So cheers to India...de ghuma ke :-)

Keeping busy

It is sheer boredom and the fact that I can postpone whatever little is occupying me at work currently, that I am here on the blog. What a waste, really that it has come to this! Started out as something that would record my life the way I see it, that would note my observations, feelings, thoughts, and ideas...Mode C was meant to be so much more but it was all of this only once upon a time. I have been busy since then and more than that, have been enjoying reading stuff online too much to bother about writing any.
 
There have been many things that have happened since I last wrote which is to be expected given the last time I wrote a post was some 7 months ago. My sister got married, I finally graduated from the small car to the mid-big sized car segment, the team I manage at work grew to five really smart people (Well...four smart ones, excluding me), I went on a regular exercise - good food course, went off it and saw myself bloat, and have now been back on the course again.
 
All these apart, the world is the same place as it was with its share of the strange and the mundane, joys and sorrows...the killings and plunderings co-existing with the winnings and achievements. With Manoj entering the family and Priya moving on to complete the family of her betrothed, I get a lot of time to sit alone and introspect...not too much of it though, considering that Priya continues to stay in the same building, even on the same floor as I do (which is a blessing, really).
 
Whatever little time I do get though, is spent on some good deal of mental reasoning, idea formulation, rationalizing and cross-questioning of thoughts, and at times, even their dissolution. Random thoughts...will India win the world cup for Sachin or vice versa...what is the purpose of my life, just to make a living, reproduce and die or to actually create something that carries my name and legacy forward...how and when will I be able to convince my parents to come and stay with me permanently...is the IPL only a random money making, extravagance showing game for the rich-beyond-means or does it bode well for the sport of cricket...and does it really matter as long as I am entertained not just by the cricket but also by the disgusting show of financial muscle...who and how would my life partner turn out to be and is it right to go the route of arranged marriage with no background or compatibility check possible and does it really matter...when would my venture finally see the light of day, if at all and what would it be like, the multimedia restaurant or the Home Office or the Fin Mart or something completely different...
 
There are no clear answers. Heck, there aren't any clear questions in the first place. All that's there is time, more than I can gainfully employ. I do keep randomly spending it quite nicely though. There have been some really good concerts that I have been to recently (the morning and evening concerts at Janfest on the 26th of Jan were specially nice and brilliant, of course, was also the time when both Manish and I lost our hearts to Gwyneth Wentink, the Harp player from Netherlands). I need to start getting back to theatre...participation may not be very active but at least as an audience...and when will I finally be able to play the guitar well (the three month lessons during my summers in Cal are all but forgotten)
 
I must catch a movie today. Keeping busy certainly helps.

What a Diwali!

It is that time of the year again when the streets are lighted and the mood festive, children out in the courtyards gleefully bursting firecrackers (the milder ones nowadays, of course), and people all decked up in their ethnic best. Diwali has always been one of the festivals I have looked forward to and it brings to my mind so many joyous memories of togetherness, with family and friends. This is one day in the year that I absolutely hate being by myself because it makes me feel really sad and grumpy listening to other people enjoy the festivities while I long for the company of my loved ones.

Luckily, Diwali this year was different from any of the sort and I was blessed with the company of my parents and more importantly, my Grandfather. While Papa was here about two weeks ahead of Diwali, Maa landed about a week later and in the middle (more towards the end, actually) of the Bihar-Maharashtra brouhaha, Baba accompanied with Bua came to town just a day before Diwali. In fact, I was so very worried that the plans of Baba to come visiting after so many requests from me and my sister may actually come to nought because of all this tamasha but thankfully better sense and peace prevailed and he was able to make the journey.

The love, affection, and blessings in the eyes of my family members is enough to make any day special for me and this Diwali was no exception. With a bhara-poora ghar, it was a completely amazing experience this Diwali and even though there was not much of firecracker bursting or diya lighting but even the bit that there was seemed blissful. After the traditional Lakshmi Puja and lighting of diyas, we started on a tour of Mumbai to experience the famous Mumbai style of celebrating this festival. It was an anticlimax, however, as we saw a deserted Juhu beach and negligible lighting even in the posh localities of Bandra, Juhu, et al. The only saving grace was Nariman Point and Marine Drive which, if you didn't mind the traffic, made you enjoy the proceedings with people out in the open, slowdown and markets be damned.

Baba's stay was just for about a week and what a packed week it was! From meeting relatives to planning outings to Lonavala, Khandala, movies, beaches, it was one roller coaster and the best part about it all was that Baba loved it. Except for a day when he was tired and slept through the day (after the Lonanavala trip), Baba's health also kept up with him by God's grace. In his own words, it was a very satisfying trip. No amount of material benefits of any sort could have had me in a happier state than the one I was in on hearing these words as I saw Baba and Bua off last night at the railway station.

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.

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.

My experiments with truth

More than the truth, I would say that these experiments were an indicator to where I stood as far as my job is concerned. Having worked for two years before joining work, it seemed like just an extension of the office culture I already had an experience of...till this date. Cold calling was what proved me wrong and resulted in my coming to the realization that thigns are not hunky dory as they used to seem to be. The prior work experience that I have is to no stead as far as my current job profile goes.

This does not mean for even a moment that I am cribbing about my job profile. In fact, I am probably one of the happiest people from my institute who got what they really wanted. Starting with a sales profile, my job promises to develop into a hardcore marketing thing and finally evolve into some heavy finance fundas. The best part is that I do all this with an eye on my own bottom line alone with no one to really hang the sword at my neck, except my own targets and my own bonus expectations.

At the same time, however, sales start with cold calling and after delaying the inevitable for many days, I finally gave myself a break and jumped headlong into the stuff. And what a jump it was! With responses ranging from "You are bothering us for nothing" to "I have had it, that's enough", it has all been a joy ride so far. There will be people, I am sure, who will listen to a line that is well past the second line of my script but that there are people like these, I have no proof of.

Things had been looking up, otherwise till today as I have been able to dig up a sort of HNI database for myself and have been to some meetings with a touch more of confidence that I used to have earlier during the first of my meetings. People at work have also proved to be quite a team with the initial formation taking no time at all...still waiting for the norming and the storming.

On a personal front, it has been all great going as I went to Bharat Bhaiya's place for birthday celebrations of Bade Papa and Bhabhi's father this Sunday. There is a lot to catch up with as far as movies are concerned and having a football crazy flat mate like Niranjan does not help one bit. Now that another flat mate in the form of Ashu has moved in (complete with the cooler and fridge), I have better hopes of catching a number of movies that will be higher than what I can necessarily consider to be the cause of my demise.

My home (would love to call and treat it as home instead of just a house) at IP Extension is pretty nice, too and has given no cause of complaints so far except exhorbitant charges for housekeeping, washing clothes, et al. Photographs of the place, especially the view from the balcony will follow in the next post. Till then, ciao!

A clear sky, at last!

The clouds seem to be lifting, slowly but surely. After one week of uncertainty, Nani's condition is improving and the blood sugar level has finally come down from an extremely high number of 500+ to a more manageable 150+. Thank God for his mercies.

Now that I have the luxury to think clearly, Mode C will hopefully be back to more frequent and regular posts, with two of the immediately pending posts being the one on newly elected Backwaters Committee members and the other on the immensely enjoyable Freshers party...but all this and more later. 

Of handwork and french cuts

Although this is a back-dated post, I still wanted to write about what happened to me a few days ago in my sleepy little village (particularly sleepy given the heat wave which makes practically anything else too difficult). As the readers of this blog may be aware, I hail from a small village called Pandeypatti in the district of Buxar in Bihar. This village, as the name suggests, is the fiefdom of a particular caste (of the many that rule the Bihar landscape) and much of what happens here  is guided by the whims and fancies of the village superiors...or it used to be guided by the above. Recently, there has been a marked change in the way the proceedings are carried out and even I have been able to notice it over my last few small visits.

The Buxar town that is flanked by villages like Pandeypatti (that form the Buxar district) is an interesting study, too. With four cinema halls, one big market (big by the rural standards, that is), two mandis (make-shift markets that meet twice or thrice a week and act as a meeting point for sellers and buyers across the district), and one shady Government hospital, the place has got little to boast of apart from the historic battlefield where the famous Battle of Buxar was fought (and which has now been converted into the political playground).

Enough of background now! Let's cut down to what exactly prompted me to write all this. Actually, it was a combination of two incidents that happened one after the other, one in Buxar town and the other in my own village. Taking them in the chronological order, the first of these incidents happened when I was on a visit to the Doctor of Homeopathy who has impressed my mother and sister by his smart talk and some lucky medicine selection that seems to have worked for their repective ailments. My ailment, as per my much-impressed and much-concerned mother and sister, is my thinning mane which needs something to be done about it if there is any chance to marry me off (ok, the marriage part was my addition of the spice, but you get the point, don't you?).

So as I was explaining the encumberances of desired matrimony to this doctor, he suddenly pops up a question and I am taken aback a little, considering the passion with which I was tring to communicate all the worries of my mother and sister and the reciprocal passion with which the doctor put the question to me.

Doctor: Night fall hota hai? (Do you experience night fall?)
Me: Huh?
Doctor: Night fall (with the fall spelt as phaaaal, as if to make me understand)
Me: umm nahi, normally to nahi, kyun? (Well, no...not normally. Why?)
Doctor: Hast kriya (literally translated, Hand Work)?
Me: kya (What)???
Doctor: Hast Kriya karte hain? (Do you indulge in hand work?)
Me: Hast Kriya??? (Hand work...still trying to relate to the terminology)
Doctor: Dekhiye, humse sach bataane me koi problem nahi hai, aakhir hum aapke doctor hain (Listen, there is no problem in telling me the truth...after all, I am your doctor)
Me: Accha, wo! haan karta hoon regularly (Oh that! yeah I do that regularly...suddenly realizing that he is referring to masturbation)

Doctor raises his eyebrows at regularly and looks at me.
I change the word to normally and am eagerly waiting for him to ask me the frequency but unfortunately, the question never comes.

The next incident happened when I was coming back to my village after the emotional meeting (at least for the doctor...he did not speak much in the same tone after hearing regularly, despite my subsequent reversion to normally) with the doctor. As I was passing the last of the nukkads (the corner shops that sell tea, cakes, eggs and such), I overheard the conversation taking place between some four or five young boys (most of them in their late teens) sipping their last cup of tea before going back to their household chores of the evening.

Boy 1: kaa ho, tu gaeel rahla na saloonwa me? (so, you had gone to the saloon, hadn't you?)
Boy 2: haan, gaeel rehni par okra paas na rahe kauno design (yeah, I had but he did not have any design)
Boy 3: Frencho cut na rahal ha? (he didn't even have the french cut?)
Boy 4: are na rahela ekni ke sang ei sab, okra khaatir jaaye ke padi Patna (oh, these people don't have these things, for that you will have to go to Patna)
Boy 2: haan, aur ou phatal boot cut bhi na rahela yaar kapadwa ke dukaan me (yes, pal and even the torn boot cut is not there in the clothes' shop)
Boy 1: aajkal ihe sab achcha laagela lekin ei Buxarwa me saala kauno samjhewaala naikhe (nowadays, only these things look good but in this bloody Buxar, no one understands)

So, no one understands, and as the school drop outs and Lalu's baal charwahas (the sons of cow-grazers for whom Lalu had so famously opened the special schools all across Bihar) discuss boot cut jeans and french cut beards, the doctors in the city are still speaking of masturbation in hushed tones. Probably it makes sense, too and is not that much of a contrast for I wonder what the reply of these french cut and boot cut boys would have been, when asked about the frequency of their hast kriyas...all I can say is carry on, doctor! :-)

It's June 9, 2005 and I am a score and five

One of the first memories of my birthday celebrations that shall always be a part of my life is looking at my little sister (she was a kiddo then...not even 3...not that I was any older at my 4th birthday) sitting on the window sill all grumpy and teary eyed, with two balloon sticks in one hand and a candy wrapper in another. In fact, I shall always be indebted to whoever took the snap of her sitting there all alone, with her cheeks puffed up on being ignored and her tears having dried up on being given the little consolation she had in the form of the balloons and the candies. I still use the photograph whenever I have to get "kiddo" psyched up. :-)

The cakes and friends and temples and gifts routine carried on for quite some time but most of that is vague and hazy in my mind...till the last of them came about. Incidentally, it was my 13th birthday that was the last one celebrated with all fanfare and gung-ho enthusiasm on part of my parents and guardians. Everyone we knew in the city was called up and invited to the last birthday celebration of a 13-year old (I am not sure but as far as I remember, it was me in one of my crazy want-to-grow-up moods who suggested the birthdays-are-for-kids funda). And what a birthday celebration it was and what amazing gifts!!! It was the birthday when I received my first cricket kit, some "intelligent" board games and all this not for nothing...for it was also the only birthday where added to the usual cake and snacks bit, there was a sumptuous dinner spread for the guests, as well.

And then I was 18. Having already decided to avoid the guests invitation and gifts receiving routine (and unfotunately sticking to the decision), I had my family planning a rather moderate celebration and how moderate it was!!! We went to one of the most expensive and stylish and considered-hep restaurants of the city and reserved a table for nearly twenty (yes, that was the number of relatives whose presence blessed my trasition to legal adulthood). I had a ball that day and still carry so many memories of the party...how Nana and Nani got into the party mood for the first time...how my Mausis and Mami pulled my leg every minute of the first day of my adult life...how I laughed and laughed and laughed!

The mother of all parties, however, was when I turned 21 and when I gave a birthday treat to my friends out of my own hard-earned money, for the very first time. I was in Bangalore then, working as a research assistant under the fellowship program of JNCASR (Jawaharlal Nehru Center for Advanced Scientific Research) and had received the monthly stipend of three thousand bucks for the month of May. About ten of my batchmates from engineering were doing their summer projects in Bangalore at the time and then of course, there was Shabana from JNCASR. I don't know where you are, Shabana but this memory shall always be incomplete without you...without your childish enthusiasm, without your corn cobs...without the great friendship that we had. And before I forget, it was also the time when we had some good fun with another of my good friends. Ashish, with his girl-who-was-born-on-the-same-day connection and the rest of us, with the freshly created mail id inviting him for the girl's birthday treat...that birthday was FUN. In fact, whenever my friends from college wish me on my birthday post that year, they always refer to "that party we had...when's something similar happening again?" Probably never...but who knows!

I went out with my PG room-mates last night and thanks to the extra half hour that the PG aunty graciously allowed us post closing time, we were back after a good (though expensive :-( ) dinner and back to open doors for a change. The cake was there, courtesy Anurag and so were the cards with all those whacky messages. And then it was time...to keep the cell phone in one hand pressed hard to the ears and the knife in another slicing the cake in one sweet motion amidst loud cheers of "Happy Birthday to you". There is another party due tonight with all the summer trainees (thanks to Orkut, my birth date is not something I had to shout from the rooftop for the others at PG or office to know...I know that you were not thinking I had done something like that but still... ;-)). Thnakfully, this party involves a fixed (though by no means small) contribution from me and the rest is going to be pooled in by everybody as the contribution to the summers-at-PwC-Kolkata farewell party.

Since it is my birthday, I will leave the cynicism part for some other day and won't talk about how wishing people on their birthday is fast becoming a social farce and how long-lost friendships seem to come out of thin air as soon as the birthday comes and get lost into oblivion a day later. But didn't I say I will not talk about this? So long then and thanks for all the wishes!

Oui, c'est Louis!

What a full weekend it has been! I know that this blog mentions just how even most of my earlier weekends in Kolkata have been full, but this one takes the pride of place amongst all. Having ditched Sandipan for the last few times (that is what he says), this weekend was reserved for a rendez-vous at his place. At work, the project had come to the end of the first phase and I was expecting to be taken off it and put into another at any time. The HR Head had called for a meeting at 4:30 in the evening but it never happened and so it was at 6 that I left with the entire batch of trainees for an evening of fun that we had been promising each other for quite some time. The idea was to go to some hangout, have a drink or two with some snacks and then head for some movie.

A good idea or so it seemed till we reached Opium, the hangout selected for...well, hanging out. The place did not appeal to the refined tastes of many but after some cribbing, owing mainly to the fact that most of the others were not willing to travel all the way to the city to go to Someplace Else or one of the better do's, we made peace with Opium. After a few drinks and some food, we decided to call it quits and while some of the people left for their homes, I, Sandipan, and the two IIMC guys, Aditya and Sivaram, decided to move on to Someplace Else for some good music and some good crowd. The ambience was great, as it was when I had been there the last time, and by the time we reached Sandipan's home at about 11 in the night, I was satisfied with some good music still ringing in my ears, dead tired, and my stomach was filled right up to the brim.

The amazingly affectionate hospitality and the delicious dinner that Sandipan's mother had put out for us, however, turned out to be my undoing and...I hogged. I kept hogging for the rest of the weekend and had it not been for the few outings that we had and the few chances of walking and sweating the calories off that I got, I would surely have gained a couple of kilos on this weekend trip to Sandipan's home...not that I am reasonably sure that I haven't gained those couple, either.

The first of these outings that I talked about was to the Alliance Francaise for the third of the weekend classes in the month-and-a-half elementary course in French. We had already missed the first two classes because of joining one weekend late but the enthusiasm of the teacher (Mr. Amitav Ghosh, who quite resembles Prof Broaca, back at IIMK, in his teaching style and enthu) and the help that we got from some of our batch mates (especially Sweta, who is an ICFAI Hyderabad passout working in Kolkata, and who loaned us her notes of the first two classes for getting them photo copied) compensated for whatever trouble that we did have in the first hour of the first class.

French is understandably, one of the more popular languages in the world, what with its musical feel and the romantic appeal of all things assoicated with France. In fact, I have still not been able to recover from the extremely melodious way in which the French pronounce the phrase "Oui, c'est Louis!" (don't ask me why this phrase of all...my subconscious just picked it up amongst others). BTW, the way it goes is something like this...oooiii, say Loooiii :-). And so it was that by the Sunday class, we were quite sure of our foot hold and quite in sync with the rest of the batch (especially Sandipan, who even took a lead over others, partially due to his starting advantage of having learnt a bit of Italian earlier, which is helping him at quite a few occasions in this course, as well).

Once we were out of the class, we had some other concerns. Tanu, Sandipan's girl friend and Pallavi, my cousin had both agreed to come for the night's party at Fusion, one of the better known Kolkata discs. Pallavi is going to join Wipro at Bangalore as a Business Analyst and she was going to be in town for the weekend. When she heard about the party at the disc, she wanted to go and get a feel of the Kolkata discs after having been through the razmatazz of the Goa night life (she passed out of GIM this year). I had to ditch my own friend I had already asked for the party and had quite a row over the thing with her and we are still not talking :-( but that is perfectly okay...after all, I might not be meeting Pallavi again for quite some time and family takes precedence for me...any day.

The concern that I had been talking about was only this...that I had to go and pick Pallavi up from her Bua's place in Golf Green where she was staying. Having not known the folks and not having met them ever, I was feeling pretty uncomfortable about the entire thing...as if I were a rogue come to ask my own cousin out for a late night party. I perfectly understood Pallavi's Fufaji's hesistation in letting Pallavi go without ensuring that there was someone escorting her to the disc and all the way back to home but as I said, it just did not gel with me. I was really glad, however, to have met Gudia didi, Pallavi's cousin, at the place...though she was busy with getting her kid ready to go home with her and we hardly spoke and though we had met for the first time...I still felt that somehow she seemed to be aware of my discomfort and silently telling me that it was okay. I relaxed and all thanks to didi for that.

The party, however turned out to be a dud. With Jassi-turned-Jessica-but-actually-Mona-Singh scheduled to make her appearance at the disc, the place was choc-a-bloc with some faces and chartacters that you will never expect in a night club. For the very first time in our lives, we saw kids in a night club...and not just kids, but fully grown Papajis and Auntyjis, too...and to top it all, some salwar and sari clad behenjis and some kurta clad bhaiyyas, as well. They had all come to watch their girl-next-door-turned-glam-doll Jassi-Jessica and until she arrived at about 11:15, the party was at a stand still...well almost...but for the last three quarters of an hour when they played some real music and all the six of us (including Sandipan's friend 'chai' and his girl friend) had a good time shaking our legs. By the way, I realized that it does feel a little awkward to be dancing with your cousin in a night club and neither of us could really dance with as much abandon as we could have, had the company been of friends. Strange but still true!

Much before the DJ took over and the dance started, the disc managers had been thrusting upon us, their idea of entertainment. It consisted of three skimpily (but smartly) clad Chinki girls (they called themselves Filipino...they might have been, too...who knows) trying to make a mess of some good songs by trying to shake to the music and sing at the same time...all the while, making sure that their stilletos did not slip on the polished dance floor. Mona Singh's arrival (and she does look stunning, BTW) put an end to all fun that had started post the torture with the DJ taking a hold over the proceedings. We had to make a beeline for the exit at about 11:30 (10:30 being the time that I had promised Pallavi's Bua we will be back home by).

With "Chai" doing the Michael Schumacher (and a drunk Schumacher at that), we reached Golf Green in good time and it was at midnight that we stood outside Pallavi's Bua place, expecting the worst. It did not come immediately...not in my presence at least, might have come the next day for Pallavi...am not too sure. We did hear some rapidly spoken Bangla from Sandipan's mom though, but since I could not make head or tail of it and anyways, since it was not meant for me, I just sat down to another dose of royal pampering and another lavish dinner to fill an already filled stomach.

Sunday's French class took a little longer and though there was quite a lot that was covered and despite the pace being scorching, I enjoyed the session. However, I did not enjoy the following session that we had with Sandipan's friend, Soochna (nice name, isn't it?) at Camac Street. Heavily made up and full of words, my prejudice started working as soon as I saw her. The telephone call from my sister, Priya, having put my mind in the dark mode, I was a silent spectator to the lively and intelligent (my prejudice turns out to be unreasonable, too...at times) discussion between Sandipan, Soochna and Sivaram (yes, all three names starting with 'S' and as for Sivaram, the fellow trainee from IIMC, we met him roaming around the Camac Street, absolutely out of the blue).

We finally managed to make it an early night and Sandipan's mother...was she relieved! After two more meals (another couple and I would be bursting out of my widest pair of jeans), I bid good byes to Sandipan's folks and the excellent stay that I had at his place over the weekend. The odd one out (not having carried my formal office wear, I was still in my casuals) in the company bus, I was relieved at not having to hide beneath the last seat. I must have been looking like a pig, in worn jeans, not really spick and span tee, and with a stubble that had been growing for the last five days. I skipped out of the bus as soon as it reached office and instead of moving in with the rest of the people, made a rush to my PG.

A clean shaven, fresh smelling, nicely dressed me came to office to realize that I had not been put into another project. However, the second phase of my project is going to start now. Along with two others, I shall be given access to the new ERP system that the UK office is currently following. With the Indian system already charted out, my job now consists of trying to understand the UK system and prepare reports relating to the gap analysis between the two systems and regarding the things that the Indian system might put in its wish list for the adoption of the UK system to be profitable.

Another realization since the morning has been that after Friday's bout of not-strictly-related-to-project activities of the trainees observed by some senior people in the company, the mid term review has been called for. We are all scheduled to present a status report of all that we have done so far and a plan of action for all that we are going to do over the coming month...and all this action happens live...right here in Kolkata...at the 16th of May, which incidentally is exactly a week away...one whole week?? We will be able to make a dozen status reports in this much time :-)

Birthday celebrations and Patna eat-outs

It was really sweet of Shanu to have been waiting for me to cut his birthday cake. He has always been like that...a little partial towards me and that is to be expected, too. Despite being a cousin, I guess I am more of a brother to him than anyone could have been and he is the same to me. Ever since he started identifying people, he has seen me around and has spent quite a major chunk of his childhood playing, fighting, going to school, having fun with me. Having stayed with my maternal grand parents for my school education, I have always had the same amount of affection for Shanu as he took away from me, the mantle of being the youngest in the household.

I am glad that the weekend and the fact that I am doing my training in Kolkata (which is so close to Patna) gave me a chance to go to Patna and be a part of Shanu's birthday celebrations...or as much of celebrations as the cake-cutting was. The ceremony part was actually left for the morrow...the Saturday, when all the bachcha party went to the movies. Patna, incidentally, has some good cinema halls and given the low entertainment tax or some such reason, the rates are pretty cheap, too. I don't think that it is possible to watch a movie in Dolby DTS in an air conditioned theatre for as low a price as twenty bucks...that is Patna cinema for you.

Well, we did not get the tickets of Kaal for twenty and that is another aspect of it altogether. The poor me was given the charge of arranging for the tickets while Shanu had the responsibility of getting hold of all my cousins (five of them, actually) from different places in Patna and bringing them along to the theatre. The queue at the counter, despite all my good intentions, was impossible and with the free swing that the policewallahs were giving to their sticks, I thought it prudent to stay a little distant from the proceedings. Staying away from the proceedings, the only option was the dus-ka-bees...which actually was bees-ka-sau in my case...that is, for people who still did not understand (duh!!!), the tickets worth 20 bucks cost me a hundred bucks a-piece when bought from the typical Rangeela black marketeer.

I had hoped that Sunday would be a chilled out day at home with nothing to do except catch on to loads of gossip and apart from a few instances of going out, once to get Shanu's bike repaired and another time to stuff something in at one of the new eat-outs, I was at home. The rains on Saturday had made the weather amazingly pleasant and with no sun and sweat to bother me after a long time (3 weekends in Kolkata do seem to be a long time if you consider the amount of sweat that you can generate in all these days), I was having fun.

Even the eat-out venture was good, despite my stomach playing tricks with me. I did not have the speciality Golgappaes at the place but did have a good Baskin Robbins scoop to cool my stomach down, or so Shanu convinced me of doing. The Bollywood Treats, as the place calls itself, is located right down the Maurya Clarke Hotel (Patna's only five-star), and has a huge area, given its location. With a mini amusement park for kids in the lawns outside and some video games inside the restaurant, the place with its theme of Bollywood has come up quite well. The right side of the menu does give a few shakes to the left side of the chest but then, that is to be expected now...what with Patna's middle class competing with the rest as far as purchasing power goes.

Luckily, my wait-listed ticket in the Sunday night Amritsar Howrah mail was confirmed and I had a comfortable journey back. The journey to Patna, earlier in the weekend, was not too bad, either and was my first experience in the Jana-Shatabdi or the poor man's Shatabdi, as some call it. The train reached Howrah a little late today morning and the queue at the pre-paid taxi booth was quite long, too. It was only at 11 that I was able to reach office but Sunita, my sub-guide, was pretty cool about it. It seems that today's meetings are scheduled for the second half of the day. The second half of the day has just arrived and the work is beckoning. This week should be busy work wise, with the presentation to the PwC UK person also due in the middle of the week...I just hope that I am able to stand up to it.

Nitai Gaur Hari bol

Kayi dino se man me ek abhilasha hunkaare bhar rahi thi aur prabhu ki kripa se is warsh yah manokaamna bhi poorna ho gayi. Darasal, jab se main college me Pavan ke sampark me aaya aur usne mere naam ko lekar kaseede kasne shuru kiye, tabhi se meri iksha thi ki main apne naam ke bhawaarth ke antahkaran tak jaoon. Aur jaisa ki maine kaha, is warsh harikirtan me ye awasar bhi mil hi gaya. Chaubees ghante ka akhand kirtan sampann ho chuka tha aur bhandaare ke baad ki madhur aur tript bela (ya yun kahein ki tript udar) thi jab saara pariwaar gapp-sarhaake ke liye baitha aur bas phir kya hona tha...kaam aayi meri abhilasha aur usse bhi zyada kaam aaya biljli vibhaag, jisne ye thaan liya tha ki bijli dena uske dharm ke khilaaf hai aur is prakaar humein gapp ka bharpoor awasar dena uska param kartavya.

Jaise hi maine apne naam ke arth ki baat cherhi, kai awaazein ek saath aani shuru ho gayi...amma, chacha, chote papa, bua...jise dekho, apni hi dhuni ramaata sa prateet hota tha. Lekin jaldi hi main wo sab kuch sun chuka tha jo mujhe pehle se hi pata tha. Jab maine kuch aur andar jaakar thehre hue paani me hulchul paida karne ka prayaas kiya, tab jaakar asliyat saaamne aayi aur maine wo kahaani suni jisne na kewal meri jigyaasa ko shaant kiya balki mere mastishk me supt ek doosri jigyaasa ko janm diya...lekin main shayad path-bhramit ho raha hoon...sab kuch parantu kramwash.

Nimai bachpan se hi shararati the. Chutpan se hi unhone aisa koi bhi awasar nahi jaane diya jab unhone kisi sanyaasi, kisi sadhu ka apamaan athwa parihaas na kiya ho. Lekin jaise jaise unhein sachchai ka gyan hua aur prabhu ki leela unke jeevan me prakaash ban kar aayi, waise waise unhone aise kaam shuru kiye jinki wajah se aaj unhe Mahaprabhu ki sangya di jaati hai. Unhone kisi ko bhi shishya nahi banaaya lekin unke kai paarshad the jinhe gosaain ki sangya di gayi. In sabhi anuyaayiyon ne gauriya sampradaay ka srijan kiya aur krishna prem ke bhaaw ka prachaar prasaar kiya. In sab paarshadon me pramukh the chah gosaain: Roop, Sanatan, Bhat, Raghunath, Jeev aur Gopal...in logo ne Chaitanya Chaitawali ki rachna ki aur Bhagwan Sri Krishna ke prem ras me sabhi ko vibhor kiya. Mahaprabhu ne in chah gosaaion ko aagya di ki wo Bhagwan Sri Krishna ki leela ko punarjeevit karein. Yah inhi gosaaiyon ki mehnat ka nateeja hai ki jo Vrindavan kabhi jangal tha, aaj itna bada dhaarmik sthal hai jahaan jaate hi aisa lagta hai maano prabhu ki baal leela aur raas leela aankhon ke samaksh sajeev ho padi ho.

Nitai ek sanyaasi the jo ki dar dar prabhu gyan ke talaash me bhatakte the. Jabse inka sampark Mahaprabhu se hua, wo unke maadhyam se prabhu ke sameep pahuch gaye. Mahaprabhu ke sabse bade bhakton me unka naam liya jaata hai...yahaan tak ki kimvandati ye bhi hai ki Nitai aur Nimai bhai the (halaanki wo kewal Guru Bhai the). Isi prakaar kai baar ye bhi kaha jaata raha hai ki jis prakaar Mahaprabhu swayam Prabhu Sri Krishna ke awataar the, usi prakaar Nitai Dau Balraam ke roop the. Mahaprabhu swayam Nitai ko bahut maante the aur jaisa ki maana jaata hai, Prabhu ke sameep pahuchne ka sabse uttam maarg unke bhaktgan hi hain...tabhi to kaha jaata hai...Nitai bole, Gaur bol, Gura bole Hari bol.

Ye sach hai ki mera naam Nitai hote hue bhi aaj tak main in sab baaton se awagat nahi tha lekin sach ye bhi hai ki ye sabhi baatein kaafi anokhi lagi mujhe aur unhone mere man mastishk me kahi soye hue Nitai ko shayad jhakjhor sa diya. Agar main ek vaakya me us din ki kahaani ka mere upar jo asar hua uski vyaakhya karne ki cheshta karoon to shayad wohi kahoonga jaisa ki chote papa ne ant me kaha...yadyapi Prabhu har roop me ek hi hain, lekin Bhaktavatsal Prabhu Sri Krishna ke bhakt Gauriya Sampradaay ki bhakti me jo ras hai, wo shayad hi kisi aur sampradaay me milta ho.

Tradition...Custom...Convenience

My trip to Patna is over and I have been in Buxar since yesterday. There are already quite a lot of relatives at home and more are expected in a day or two. The occasion is the annual 24-hour Harikirtan organised every year on the 26th and 27th of December to remember my Great Grand father who passed away on the same date many years ago. It has become a tradition for the family. Still, however much may it be a part of the routine, every year's Harikirtan brings with itself a new flavor, a new form in which the family dynamics plays its role.

Right from my Bare Papa to the youngest member of our family, Bharat Bhaiya's (my first cousin) daughter, it has become a custom of sorts for everyone to be present on this occasion. We may think of absenting ourselves from any festival but not from this one unless there is a very strong reason. Unfortunately for me, I had such a reason last year due to which I had to give the Kirtan a miss. This year, however, the Kirtan is going to be special. It is also going to purify the new house that Chote Papa has built in Buxar. I have just been to the new house and I must say that by Buxar standards, the house has come out quite well. I hope that the Kirtan, that is actually going to shift its venue for the first time in my memory, proves auspicious for the new house.

It is only because of the Kirtan that all of my cousins have been able to keep so much in touch. We are not just on Hi-hello terms but are actually into each others' lives fully, living the others' joys and sorrows alike. There has never been any distinction between brothers/sisters and cousins in our family and God willing, it shall never ever happen.

It is not that our family is perfect and does not have the usual skirmishes that any family faces. But, with the trend moving from the joint to the nuclear families, I must say that our family puts up a brave face despite everything. It is time now that I play my part in this tradition that my Grand father has set up for us. With Bharat Bhaiya's daughter making her first entry in the Kirtan this year, I am no longer a part of the family's youngest generation. Going on 25 this June, it is about time that I, along with my cousins, take hold of the family tradition and take it forward...at least, that was what quite a lot of the talk this year was all about...Gosh!!! Am I really ready for it?

The day after tomorrow

It has been a short term and as all of us here at IIMK from the batch of 2006 were expecting, it came to an end just too soon. As for me, the end came at an opportune moment. Like every year, this time too, all my relatives were gathering in Buxar to take part in the annual Harikirtan on the 27th of December to remember my Great Grand Father who passed away on the same date many years ago. 27th of December falling right in the plum center of my leave, there could not have been a better duration for the term break.

The journey home was long (with a capital L). I had decided to accompany Aditya to Bombay and thereon till Allahabad, thinking that he will turn out to be a comrade in solitude. But alas! it was not to be as Aditya decided to dedicate some more of his time to his 'dedication'.

The journey to Bombay was fun. With about a dozen classmates for company, it could hardly have been anything else. The numerous games of cards where I tried to run Mayank out of luck in Flash...where I tried to team up with Aditya to turn up the black 2's and catch all the 10's against Mayank and Manish.

Another interesting incident that I missed because of sweet sleep was when everyone was playing Dumb Charades and Pranay was trying to act out the word Yaad and ultimately ended up with making the people guess it by trying to make it rhyme with some word really out of place and one that, of course, did not rhyme at all :-) (unfortunately, I do not remember the exact word)

I also got to know quite a lot about things that happened in Aditya's life and got a chance to brag about my own history for a bit...an interesting conversation and trip...but not so for the remainder of the journey. The start was good with a visit to Hiranandani with Aditya, Tarun, and Mitali and some really good Aloo Parathas to top it off. However, good things were not there to last as I realised, and that too once I was well settled in my seat on the Kurla Patna Express, that I had left my bed cover (and Aditya, his) in the train to Bombay.

Two shivering nights later, I was home with Nani, Mamas, and cousins...and a good stay it promises to be. Despite the trip, I and my entire self were fully warmed up once at home and with my dear ones.

Appy B'day Peedee!!!

As always, I am late. As always, I am sure that you will forgive me. This one is to you, my dear sister. Happy Birthday, Priya! Reflecting back at the photographs of the two of us, sitting side by side on the numerous furnishings (we did not spare even one table, one sofa at home), I can still make out your chubby round face looking all swollen and puffy because I would have done some big-brotherly thing moments ago.

Despite being only one and a half years elder to you, you have always been the kiddo for me. Starting from caring for you when both of us were too little to realize the meaning of caring (all claims in this respect are as per what Maa keeps telling us) to having the say when we went to buy clothes and toys, I have always had the upper hand. Then again, you would get your own at me by taking away all that should have been mine :-))

The numerous tee-shirts that we have shared (when I was small enough to fit into them), the numerous fights we have had over aeroplanes and cars and Nana-Nani's affection are memories that shall be there for eternity. The plots that we made together, the throwing of stones at the neighbour's windows, the jamming of tumblers (the one that never got unstuck still adorns our kitchen :-)), the Holis, the Diwalis, the birthdays, the December Kirtans, and lately the understanding between us when we speak the same thing at the same time, as if each knows what goes on in the other's mind... unmatchable.

Despite all the distances and the supposed pursuit of careers between us, I am sure that today on your birthday, you would be remembering me the most, as I am missing you. Though the blog entry comes late because of no laptop (I haven't told you the story yet, just wait till we meet, it is fun :-)), I will certainly make it up to you once we do catch up.

I am hap...hap...happy...

The mystery is solved, finally. I know who has been reading my blog from the faculty building. I just hope that Dr. Sarkar realises that whatever I do write about him or any body else from the faculty or student community is just my personal opinion and that again, more than being judgemental, is actually perceptive (you know, writing the report for OB has taught me the difference between the two :-))

Well, as the topic mentions, I am happy and more than that, satisfied with the way things have been shaping up. Priya (my little sis) is settled and happy at her institute and is considering a distance MBA from IMT Ghaziabad to supplement her course in footwear design and management. By the time both of us pass out, despite the one and a half year difference between us (me being the big bro), here is a brief comparison of what I will possess in terms of education and what she has laid her hands on. As for me, I am just a B.Tech and hopefully will be a PGDM holder in the coming years (not too many years, though, I hope). When it comes to her, I will have to leave the commas and go to the list format. Priya is a
BBA
B Com
Natya Visharad....or something (basically a graduate in Kathak)
Sangeet Visharad...or that same thing above
PGDFDM (Post Graduate Diploma in Footwear Design and Management) holder
PGDBM (Post Graduate Diploma in Business Management) holder

Hey kiddo, if you ever read this, I just want to say that I am really proud of you and your rakhi and card have made my day and I feel myself at the top of the world again...lest it skips your mind, just don't forget to return my walkman, music CDs, and all other things that you have stolen...robbed off me :-)

I got another letter...this one from my mother...a letter written in real ink on real paper...after about six-seven years. With phone conversations almost every other night, there was hardly any occassion for her to write me one. It is because of this reason and many more, Maa, that this letter has been truly special for me.

As if the things above were not enough to enthuse a guy enough, I found out that I have done decently in my mid terms, too....ok ok, before some of my batchmates kill me...a little more than decently in the mid terms. Let's see what I have got in three out of the six papers for which we had examinations...33 out of 40 in accounts...41 out of 50 in Quants...94 out of 100 in Microeconomics...and I must say that I couldn't have expected better. As far as the other three subjects are concerned, I have absolutely no idea about where I stand. Given the subjective nature of the papers, perhaps I would prefer the status quo

When I wrote my previous post, I missed out on a major aspect of what happened at IIMK over the past weekend. It was the foundation day programme presided over by none other than Mr Subeer Raha, the CEO of ONGC, one of the largest companies of India, and even the world. Mr. Raha, in his foundation address, spoke about the challenges being faced by India as a nation. He put them at ten major or macro factors which could be broken into thousands of micro factors and an equal number of opportunities for people from institutes like IIMK to prove their worth and give back to the society and the tax payer who have given them so much in the first place. Well, what he did speak was quite relevant to the present situation but there were many in the crowd who had different expectations from the CEO of such a big company and were a tad disappointed when the speech veered off to what has been discussed above. However, what he spoke did make such a lot of sense, if we do apply the philosophy for which IIMK has always stood.

For the past few days, there have been occassions and happenings that have posed a few concerns with the student body and administration. The student council had a tough job to do...they not only had to make sure that nothing of the sort happens again and be forceful about it, but at the same time, they had to be democratic and not force the things that are going to happen in the future. They had to involve the junta in a decision that may not be liked at all and though I have never been inside a lion's den myself when the lion is hungry and lonely and the lioness has been AWOL...but I can feel your predicament somewhat...

Anupam, Atul, Mustu and Rohit...you guys did an amazing job. The presentation yesterday was as well-coordinated as it could be and the way you guys handled the entire stuff was absolutely fantastic. With such people as you and the immensely dedicated Place Com working towards the casue, I am sure that each one of us feels his fate secure in your hands. You people have a great responsibility...of not just making us and the IIMK name click and shine but more importantly, to keep the fabric and spirit of our batch together for the two years here and many more to come. Believe me when I say that the way you rose up to the responsibility yesterday has contributed immensely in making one individual feel happy about himself...if that is of any use to you.

Revelry of the young and old

For the past few days, I had been thinking of organizing an outing in Patna. Nani has been feeling so lonely ever since Nana left and she just used to sit idle, staring into the darkness. It was very important that she have a change in her daily routine. Mananmama has got a new car and a trip for Nani in the car was also due. So it was that yesterday, we decided to go to the local Zoo for a picnic trip. Rita Mausi was here from Muzaffarpur and Mausi was already here in Patna. It was decided to have two trips by the car to transport all twelve people to the zoo.

To add to the spice, the pump at home was burnt out. Water had to be stored into drums and buckets because the mechanic had given Monday evening as the probable time of fixing up the motor and pump. Mananmama decided to have a full bath at Mausi's place in Rajiv Nagar. Since we also had to pick them up for the trip, I, Mananmama and Shanu left for Mausi's place with all our clothes for the first phase of the trip. How little we knew that this phase was all we could have hoped for. The rain gods unleashed their fury as soon as we were all ready to depart with Mausi's family for the Zoo.

After some hour-long deliberations on what to do and a score of telephone calls later, it was decided to have the picnic in Mausi's home. Mananmama went back to pick up everyone else, including Nani. I agreed, though with a heavy heart (because of the plans getting cancelled), because it would anyway have turned out to be a good outing for Nani, especially since she would be able to meet up her favorite daughter. Pappumama, as expected did not turn up. I always knew that unless the plan to the zoo materialized, he will not come. That was another of the reasons for my being upset by the change of plans.

Everything turned out to be good in the end as we did have a nice time. The lunch was good and full of fun and some good laughter all around. The most satisfying part was that Nani was having a good time and that's what finally mattered to me.

Chatting away with some friends in the night (thanks to the twelve hour internet pack that I had bought yesterday), I could not help but philosophize a bit about life. Here was Nani, all alone and full of life, slowly losing recognition of all those she held dearest to her through out her life. There, just a few days back when I was in Varanasi, was Bharat Bhaiya's new born baby daughter, who is fast busy gaining recognition of all those who are going to be close to her. So much is at stake for one while the other already has her plate full. The difference, however, is negligible. For an outsider like me, who is not in constant touch with either of them, what is important is not to let their attention wander into loneliness...keep them occupied...the methods differ but the objectives don't. Both of them are fragile as fragile can be. Both of them have to be pampered and cared for. Above all, both of them are so…so very dear to me...

I am back...but leaving soon

It seems ages since I blogged last but believe me, it hardly appeared a day to me. Home is one place where I forget everything else, yes even the blog. I do not have much choice too. There is no PC at home and the nearest cyber cafe is about 5 kms into the city (5 kms is one hell of a long distance by Buxar standards). To add to all this, the storm that came a day prior to my arrival in Buxar uprooted some trees which conveniently fell on some electric poles and as a result, there is no power in this district for the past 5 days. Welcome to Buxar, my home town!

The journey home was broadly uneventful apart from the now-usual discussions about the latest cabinet at Delhi and our beloved Laloo's role in the same. In fact, one enterprising young guy on the adjacent berth was mouthing the possibilities of the diffrent sweepers/pantry workers actually being Laloo in disguise. The beautiful girl on the upper berth was quite interesting, too...especially when she used to ask me for help in opening the cabin door as she had a lot of stuff she was carrying in (she almost always had a lot of stuff whenever we reached a major station...mostly a couple of magazines and some biscuits and stuff). The train did not go all the way to Buxar and I had to change trains at Varanasi. Getting down in the Varanasi heat from the air conditioned compartment of an express train and getting into the general compartment of an inter-city passenger was nothing short of hell.

Two days at home and it was time for the 'Maa' of all stormy nights. It seemd as if it was a special way for the nature to greet me on my birthday with another violent storm. 9th June had hardly started and my parents and sister had just wished me Happy Birthday (with the help of the 12o'clock alarm that my sis had set on her mobile). All of a sudden, the bedding started flying from the terrace (which is our bedroom in the summers at Buxar, what with no electricity and an almost heavenly wind blowing in the night). We could hardly hold on to our stuff as the wind raged and bellowed with abandon. I know that it sounds melodramatic but that is the way it was, especially it being my birthday and all...

I guess that I do not have much more to write about since I have not been doing anything worthwhile at all for the past few days. I plan to go to Varanasi on the 15th (after we have celebrated my parents' anniversary on the 14th) to meet my newly born niece and later, I might go to Patna...only then will I be able to get in staeady and constant touch with the outside world but till then, sayonara...

Missing you...

When I started writing this blog, I thought that it seemed a good idea to have more and more people read the blog. Somehow, the statistics related to the number of visitors to the blog fascinated me. I even tried to trace the IP addresses of the visitors to know who visited my blog and how regularly. Lately however, I have been writing some things that I really don't want to invite people to pry into. The question that comes now is that if I really don't want people to know these things, why am I writing them in the first place. I don't know the answer. I have been writing for only a month now and yet, I have somehow started to depend on writing stuff to take it out of my system. It is such a relief when I sit down and just put fingers to keyboard and let out all that I have been thinking for the past day. Also, there is another thing that I promised to myself before I started writing this blog. I would be honest, if not to others, then at least to myself. And so the journey continues...

I am not sure what hit me yesterday. I had been getting signatures on my release form and just meeting up people generally. Since Puneet had a dinner engagement at his boss' place, I decided to call it a day and return home at about seven. All alone and biking through the Chennai traffic on a relatively cloudy evening, my thoughts automatically turned towards Nana. It has been difficult for me to digest the truth that he is no more. Since I just went to Patna for the funeral and came back immediately after, I have not really felt the loss. Since that unfortunate day, for the past eight months, Nani and everyone back there in Patna has been feeling the absence of Nana everyday in their lives. For me however, it is nothing different at such a radical scale. I am still away from Patna. I still talk to everyone on phone. I am still not actually meeting anyone physically. It is almost as if Nana is still there, waiting for me, reading his newspaper on the front verandah, with his eyes looking up every once in a while to check if I have come yet.

I grew up in Patna, did most of my schooling there as the schools in Buxar were not good enough. I did not know enough at the time to appreciate what Nana and Nani had committed themselves to, and all for my sake. They had taken over the role of my parents and how well they performed it! I was more close to Nana that I am to my own father. He was so much to me that even if I want, I can not count his blessings. Somehow and for some stupid reason, all this and more came back to me yesterday. I spent the entire 15 km stretch from office to my flat crying...literally sobbing aloud. I don't know how I managed to control the bike with images flashing across my eyes of Nana buying me comics everyday, Nana taking me for rides in the office jeep, Nana helping me cut my birthday cake, Nana lying motionless on the Ghaats, as if waiting for me to come and pay my last respects before he moves on....so much and yet, so little.