Truth is stranger than Fiction

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable,
must be the truth.- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

I went only because I had time and nothing to do. I had had my fair share of mall-hopping, movies and coffee joints and was generally looking at this as a newest source of entertainment.

A bit of persuasion from my parents and an unusually restless me found myself meandering through the ever-maddening traffic of Pune , climbing the never-ending stairs of a run-down building to reach “The Gateway to my future”. Sounds confusing? Then read on.

Your future is written centuries before you were born and can be decoded by studying your thumb impression. This is what he had to say. The couple of hours of waiting to hear what my future would hold for me were spent in a small room largely unfurnished bar the presence of a TV that blared images of a hapless Australian Cricket team being pummeled by the Kiwis. The difference was almost surreal, the disconnect between the two worlds too difficult to grasp.

Cut to the next scene…. My turns come finally. I see myself in an 8x8 room with the exponent of this art. After explaining me the basis of his theory, he moved on to tell me my future. He asked me a set of questions; some related some not to finally come to the leaf which would have my future written on it. Before that he summed up my personal information for me
Name……
Father’s Name…..
Mother Name….
Age…
Date of Birth…..
Educational Qualifications (along with the specializations)
My job details
And a whole host of other details that my face, attire or demeanor couldn’t possibly betray.

After this he proceeded to lay out my future in front of eyes…. some events seemed probable some not.

I returned home later with a mixed bag of emotions. Partly relieved with the assurance that life has good things in store (or atleast that was promised to me), partly disgusted for having ventured into something like this. But the overwhelming emotion that I carried for the remainder of the day (actually I still carry some of it as I write this) was one of utter helplessness and being slighted by some unknown force that had already planned out my life for me.

Room Mates!

From Left to Right:

Me, Ashwin and Haymes.

The best room-mates and friends one could ask for!

Thank you for putting up with all of my nonsense!

Good Bye Delhi!

I have made a few futile efforts in the past couple of days to pen down my thoughts but somehow my thoughts didn’t translate into words. I almost felt like giving up the idea of writing at all when suddenly I felt the urge to write again. I was talking to a friend of mine and we were discussing a whole host of things under the sky (a beautiful night sky… I think that did some of the trick as well) and then she said something about missing her family and in general missing the things the way they were. I think it was the way that she put it which made me remember a part of my life that I was so wanting to put behind me… for ever.

I was born and brought up in Delhi and somehow loved the idea of flaunting my roots… I loved getting in verbal bouts with my friends from other parts of the country defending Delhi as if it were my personal fiefdom.

If I were a writer I would spend hours describing the roads of Delhi, the beautiful trees that seem to lord over those magnificent bungalows built much before the existence of any one I know was even contemplated, those beautiful winter mornings and that amazingly pleasant sunshine which touches you lightly after a tremendous struggle with the misty fog, the joy of finding the most interesting piece of history in the most unexpected of places.

Then one day, we decided to move out of Delhi forever. I never knew leaving places could be so tough. A part of me was cut away!

But Delhi will remain with me in my memories- those wonderful and carefree years at DPS, that first lie that I told, that first time when I had the guts to speak the truth, that first fight with Rahul at the bus-stop, that first innocent peck on the cheek, that first not so innocent grope in the back seat of a car, those wonderful drives with friends on roads that always led to happiness, the joy of bumping into someone really important at IIC, the momos and fruit beer at Delhi Haat, the corner sweet shop that made the most perfect jalebi, those walks to PVR everyday and so much more

Good Bye Delhi… until we meet again!

The Phoenix

I have always been fascinated by the Phoenix.

phoe·nix also phe·nix (fē'nĭks) n.
Mythology. A bird in Egyptian mythology that lived in the desert for 500 years and then consumed itself by fire, later to rise renewed from its ashes.
A person or thing of unsurpassed excellence or beauty; a paragon

Of all the heroic tales that I have heard or read, the ones in which the protagonist has come up against all odds and proven his mettle under the most trying of conditions have fascinated me the most. I have often wondered whether such tales are limited to mythology or the imagination of those who love to weave beautiful tales out of nowhere.

The Phoenix rose again yesterday…this time from a cricket field. Hitherto trapped under the ashes of bad form, injuries, self-doubt and an accusing public and media, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar rose like a modern day Phoenix silencing his critics and reassuring his doting fans that he is ready to lead India’s charge in the coming World Cup. The same people who were baying for his blood are now hailing him as India’s only hope in the World Cup. His 41st ODI century and perhaps his most important, has once again placed him in the pantheon of the cricketing greats. The innings showed some glimpsed of the old Tendulkar but more importantly it threw some light on the way we can expect Sachin to play in the future. The innings also demonstrated one of my favorite concepts in marketing-“Repositioning”

Sachin then: Open the innings, go for your shots, bat as many as overs as you can and lay the foundation for a good total.
Sachin now: Come in the middle overs (around 20th), stabilize the innings in case of early hiccups or build on the start given by openers, accelerate towards the end for a good total.

What’s so great in this one would say? Sachin opening or playing in the middle overs? How difficult could that be?
Answer: Very difficult… and that’s why the task was given to the little genius himself. He has taken up the task with all that he has to offer Indian Cricket and yesterday’s innings shows that what he can offer is more than the opposition can handle.


The GOD is here… Long live the GOD.