Its not about the beer!

As I sipped the latest offering from Budweiser on a sultry Saturday evening in St Louis, I knew that a piece of heritage would soon to be relegated to the pages of history. Sure enough the next days papers were awash with the news of Anheuser Busch (the parent company of Budweieser) being taken over by InBev, a Belgium based beer conglomerate. What surprised me was not the astronomical money that would change hands ($52 billion) or the fact that the merger would result in the world’s largest beer company but rather the fact that tradition and history had to bow down to economics at the end of the day.

From my office in downtown St Louis, I gaze at the Anheuser Busch refinery and the Busch Stadium (home to the St Louis Cardinals baseball team) and can empathize with the sense of loss that fellow citizens would feel . I am not yet even contemplating the economic loss that this could mean to my current city of residence.

Connoisseurs believe Budweiser isn't the best beer in the business but then Budweiser is not just a beer. No beer has as much history attached to it as the Bud. It’s what binds America together along with Levi’s Jeans , Hot Dogs, Hollywood and Coca-Cola.

To many non-Americans who wish to come to this country and make it big, it is a shining beacon of hope of all that life can possibly offer. To merely dismiss it as a 5% v.v alcoholic drink made from grains in USA would be like calling the Taj a marble building.
I am yet to think of an Indian equivalent of Budweiser- Cricket comes closest to it in terms of its ability to bind a country together.

In this time of economic despair, the take-over seems most uncalled for. And yet the silver lining to it may be the fact that the takeover indicates that the US economy is driven by hard facts and profit motive-something that will definitely help it tide over the current trough.

InBev hopes of taking the Budweiser brand across the world. One only hopes it doesn’t end up diluting the great American heritage.

The Week that was!

Perhaps it’s the indication of the fact that we live in very exciting times and the events that as they unfold-minor as they seem are likely to affect us in a way that we may not be able to visualize today. Or perhaps its just the fact that recently I have had nothing much to write about.

Every week (that is how I would ideally want it), I would like to note a few events that I feel are either
1.Of immense importance to our lives.
2. Are offbeat in nature
3. Make for interesting reading

Ideally I would not like to talk about the spiralling gas prices and the falling stock indices of the world.

Eventually I would like this attempt to not be limited to a narration of facts but rather a commentary on the events around us.

What I hope is that in the process I will be able to form or refine opinions.
This is at best a humble effort and I am the first to acknowledge this.

Now for the first “edition”

The events that made news this week:
1. N Korea beginning with nuclear disarmanament.
2. Bill Gates bidding good bye to the tech world.
3. Passing away of the legendary Sam Maneckshaw.

All of the above events have been well-documented including the last one with the story of the President unavailable for the funeral of the greatest Field Marshall India has ever seen.

What caught my attention however was WALL-E, the latest animation offering from PIXAR. WALL E ( acronym for Waste Allocation Load Lifter Earth-Class). I don’t really want to dwelve into the story but the movie presents a startling but entirely plausible picture of the earth a couple of centuries down the line if we extraplolate the events as they are occuring today. The greatest takeaways from the film is the danger of the rampant consumerism and how we are playing into the hands of the big companies, Secondly automating everything around is deadening our brains and giving the power of the human mind to machines. Auto-Pilot is probably not the answer to everything.But the most endearing piece in the story is how even two futuristic robots cant escape the power of love. The only thing that is likely to survive the mess that we are creating for ourselves is love and of course cockroaches for company if we are there at all.

The movie though not the best offering from PIXAR so far ,delivers the most important lesson ever delivered by an animation-the time to act and the save the earth and the human race is now. There may never be a second chance.

In this world of chaos, WALL E stands for all that needs to change about this world’s and about us.

I only hope the world doesn’t brush this movie aside as a children’s cartoon film.

Random Thoughts

Adventures in a far-away land… this is how I would have ideally hoped to title these string of thoughts that I have been trying to pen down for a long time now…the truth however begs to differ… it will be close to 3 months here and life hasn’t been all that dramatic as I was half-expecting it to be…. No bite of the big apple, no big city lights, no once-in a lifetime photos from breath-taking places and after the initial anguish not even the feeling of being so far away… Wait a minute this is not meant to be a sad post. The introduction is merely a testimony to the fact that life can be beautiful even when it’s not king-size. To the extent of sounding clichéd, I have found happiness or atleast a reason to smile in all the unexpected places whenever I have made the effort.

A foreign country with the idiosyncrasies of its people (or this is how it looks to me) has meant smiles and more smiles whenever I have chosen to see the lighter side. (I am sure I have been a source of amusement alike for many of the locals)… my name pronounced as Gotham, Botham or even Doug (where did that come from?), the sheer futility of trying to drink from the water fountain on the first couple of occasions, managing in the land of toilet paper, ordering the wrong stuff every single time, smiles all round from absolute strangers, nodding heads that convey the opposite of what I have grown up to believe, been told on numerous occasions to speak more clearly and slowly, the sheer bliss in anonymity, chasing outrageous deals, the sheer pleasure of snow, rain and golden sunshine on the same day.

And yet some joys are the same regardless of the land or the people. The joy of seeing smiling children aboard school buses, the thrill of an early let off from work, meeting a dear friend after a hard day at work, cracking jokes at the expense of my colleagues at work, that unexpected phone call from a long-lost friend, the early morning freshness in the air, the laziness of Sundays and the joy of long weekends.

Life for me will always be beautiful as long as I seek happiness in the small things. The bigger picture can meanwhile wait.

8:36 to Union Station

All it takes is 24 hours and a new world and possibly a new life stand in front of me. Through my jet-lagged eyes piercing from a body heavily wrapped up and my groggy legs that set foot on the icy tarmac, the enormity of change strikes me…

A familiar face… my close friend… confused emotions… happiness, relief and a wish to take the next available flight home...

The first few things that I notice on my cab ride “home”… traffic on the right side (wrong side for me really), petrol (or gas) less expensive than diesel, no blaring horns, signs and instructions all around bordering on paranoia, no potholes and a chill in the air that could kill…

Quick stopover at “home”… quick round of introductions with my room-mate… first impressions… nice guy… relief the most overwhelming emotion encountered… Step 1 cleared…

A delightfully cooked Indian meal at my friend’s home… me refreshed but a deep sense of detachment lingers… my sense of humor also fails me… my loss of conversation disconcerts my friend… for once I unable to comfort her…

I sleep a jet-lagged sleep… wake up more disoriented… need groceries.... visit a nearby store with my friend…. The same emotion… too much change to register and by the way why can’t they have lesser varieties of waffles? Waffles incidentally become a big part of my life… I begin my day with them…. People have more choices in waffles than newspapers… anyways who cares... I move on… the aisle of bottled water beckons…

My office I notice is in downtown… a concept as yet unknown to me… from my conversations with colleagues and friends; I stumble onto my own definition:
Downtown: You work here and it has all the nice places that you can’t visit till you have a car coz it’s not safe…

Speaking of car, no Zen here for me… bus and metro will have to do…. It feels horrible on the first few days even with company around….. there is no comfort of peths, nagars and colonies… addresses like so and so boulevard, this and that plaza seem too distant to absorb… somewhere in the maze of Wellston, Rock Road, Delmar, the heart craves for Aundh, Wakad, Kothrud….

Must it be so hard?

Human beings have a wonderful way of moving on with life and thankfully I don’t prove an exception to this….

It takes the most mundane thing to help me realize this... coffee… I stumble from my sense of despair… wake up and smell the coffee… this is the land of Starbucks… the land of consumerism, the land where all the case studies of Kotler came from… wake up and explore the world… I warm up to the brands and the malls and the promise of the American dream. The place provides me the ability to see a “better” me, a concept that keeps me pre-occupied. I enroll myself at the snazziest gym in town. Colleagues call me home for “Pongal” dinner. I discover the heavenly bakery treats on offer. Manage to find the locations of the best Thai and Mexican restaurant in town. Start looking for the best deals on offer in Shnucks, try my hand at picking up Spanish. It helps immensely that Americans are a friendly community… their smiles warm up the heart…. They also like my sense of humor :) or atleast most do…

Life I realize is not bad just a bit different. So what if it’s a few degrees colder than back home, so what if no understands expletives in Hindi, so what if milk is available in gallons and not liters … loved ones are still a message, mail or call away:). The heart has the ability to transcend the longest of physical distances…

Comforted by these thoughts and the central heating I snuggle into a peaceful sleep in my blanket or the comforter as they call it here:)

Next morning, I find myself on the 8:36 to Union… I smile as I gaze at the billboard of a popular Vodka brand… “Life is calling. Where are you?”… I smile and thank God for this opportunity…

"I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For"

Some wonderful thoughts brought alive by U2.....

I have climbed the highest mountain
I have run through the fields
Only to be with you
Only to be with you

I have run,
I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls
These city walls
Only to be with you
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

I have kissed honey lips
Felt the healing in her fingertips
It burned like fire
This burning desire
I have spoke with the tongue of angels
I have held the hand of a devil

It was warm in the night
I was cold as a stone

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
I believe in the kingdom come

Then all the colors will bleed into one
Bleed into one
Well, yes, I'm still running
You broke the bonds and youLoosed the chains
Carried the cross
And my shame
All my shame
You know I believe it

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

Mangalore Diaries

The first thing that strikes you about Mangalore even before you deplane is the deep red soil, the magnificent view of the never-ending coastline and the heady mix of blue and the green that only the sea can reflect.

A sneak preview into paradise is brought to an almost unwanted halt as the plane changes its course abruptly and manages to find an air-strip in what seems like an unending expanse of coastal greenery. Even the airport in its attempt to co-exist with nature is perched perilously on a hill-top. The airport is refreshingly efficient albeit a bit small.

My guest house is almost an hour’s drive and I am excited at the prospect of a firsthand glimpse of the town which to me has till now be in a small dot on the western coast of our country. One of the most rewarding experience for any new-comer to a coastal city is the sheer joy of catching a glimpse of the ocean when you least expect it. I spend the first half off my journey craning my neck with this very purpose in mind, I have no such luck. My driver sensing how I feel remarks that we are atleast 20 kms off the general direction of the coast. Miffed, I sit back and try to concentrate on the more mundane things.

Most roads on the way seem to be under construction and bias is towards concrete. I encounter no working traffic lights. I attribute it to a lazy Sunday afternoon. I manage to sight an MG road and a Moti Mahal restaurant.... India’s most favourite names for a street and a restaurant respectively. The amazing thing throughout the drive is the absence of significantly prosperous or significantly not so well off areas. There are no slums to speak of and at first glimpse; it seems that the Mangaloreans enjoy a good standard of living. This of course is a testimony to the hard work and enterprise of the locals who took advantage of the Gulf employment boom.
In the evening, I go to the nearest beach which is the other end of the town... Panumbur... it’s the Mangalorean counterpart of Juhu... but thankfully its cleaner, less commercialized and substantially less crowded. I miss the sunset thanks to the good trains that blocks the only way to the beach. I am merely amused and attribute it to the idiosyncrasies of small town India. I make subsequent trips to this beach... but strangely miss the sunsets on every occasion. I do the usual tourist stuff and click snaps with gay abandon. In my attempt to capture the beauty around me forever, I later realise that I have missed it altogether.

In Mangalore, you are always surrounded by history. A small walk from the urban jungle and you could find yourself in an area known as Temple Square... and you could mistake yourself for being in Mahabalipuram, Thanjavur or Konark. At every other nook and corner are delightful little pre-colonial era cottages and pristine churches. In Mangalore, the new and old co-exist harmoniously. To my untrained eyes, there are glimpses of Goa or is it the imagination of a tired mind longing for a break.

On most days, I am busy with work and don’t get much time for sight-seeing. My impression about Mangalore is formed by what I see on the road to work and the people I meet. How a city travels, how it makes the outsiders feel, what it eats and how it treats its women says a lot about the city. Mangalore scores very highly on all these.

I use all possible modes of travel... the office, the city bus and the autos. All of them are refreshingly efficient. I am greatly impressed by the way natives have embraced Hindi. It’s the first sign towards making an outsider feel at home. The traffic of course is maddening at peak hours and the horns used by motorists here are significantly louder than anywhere else that I have gone.

At work, I am surprised by the refreshingly helpful nature of everyone around... I also notice that “Pai” and “Shetty” are the most popular surnames:)

Mangalore doesn't pretend to be anything that it is not... It may be a sleepy old town on the western coast... but it treats its citizens well... is a convenient and safe place... some sort of a family man's paradise......To some extent though it lives in the shadow of Bangalore. Most vernacular newspapers have more news items concerning its “prosperous” cousin. Mangalore to me means the much needed time for introspection... this is not a conscious effort but comes naturally... may be its the effect of the sea:)

The human mind usually sets off a trail of comparisons and judgements when confronted with something that is not routine. My stay in Mangalore is one such experience.

As I prepare for my journey back to Pune, I try to recollect the best of Mangalore...it’s not the unspoilt beaches that come to my mind, not the temples or the churches or the quaint by-lanes. I take with me the idea of a life much different from the one I currently lead, much simpler and certainly less complex. Mangalore then to me is not just a place.... but a way of life... I leave with the hope of keeping with me the solace and peace found here forever.

Like most small towns in India, Mangalore stands at the cusp of urban development.... One just hopes that is wise enough to learn the lessons from its counterparts across the country. A Mangalore on the map of India is any day better than another “prosperous” concrete jungle.

While the world ran!

They changed the name of the company and the sea changed its colour... it was all red now... welcome change from the shocking pink of the previous edition... the Pune marathon i.e. .....

Never mind the colour or the celebrities; it was the cause that took centre stage... the cause of spreading awareness against AIDS.

Run for the cause and for your own small cause was the message that was plastered all over Pune days before the marathon. A unique way of motivating Puneites to participate in large numbers..

For me it had started with a promise. Selfishly the thought of running for one’s own small cause kept me pre-occupied and even motivated me through the gym schedules that my body no longer agrees to it as easily.... perhaps it’s finally got a mind of its own... well that’s a story unto itself... back to the main story now...

To the big day now... 2nd December 2007... An early start to a Sunday and soon I was swarmed by the huge mass of humanity engulfed in bright red t-shirts at Deccan Chowk... Pune had responded and how....

I hadn’t the best preparation for the marathon... the motivating factor had gone away and somehow I couldn’t get myself to train the way I used to before. Overindulgence in Diwali and then an untimely illness and I was tempted to not participate at all. It’s too cold for an early morning run, I have work, It’s a Sunday, who cares If I run or not, I am not too well... I had a whole host of excuses.....my body and more importantly my mind was in no mood for this at all...

It was all to too easy to give away... but there was still a small part of me... the part that still clings on to the beautiful memories of the past with the hope that the future will be much the same... urging me on....

And so I ran...luckily my legs didn’t freeze or I didn’t faint out of exhaustion as I had half dreaded...in the end it was over before I realized... it may have just been 4.5 kms but the finish line seemed more monumental and significant than that at that instant.

And I as waited for my tears to mingle with the sweat, I felt more relief than happiness... while the world ran, I had kept my promise ...the motivation was back....

Of Jelly Beans, Howel(s) and missed chances

The recently concluded test series between India and England ended in a 1-0 win for us. For most cricket lovers around the country, it may mean our team moving that much closer to the utopian concept of the world’s best test playing nation. I will however remember the series for all the non-cricketing (wrong?) reasons. My 2 years of B-school education followed by more than a year at a leading IT organization have somehow molded me to think only in terms of bullet points. So here it goes:

1. Jelly Beans:

Main Entry: jelly bean
Function: noun: a sugar-glazed bean-shaped candy
Being a child in the pre-liberalization era was never easy. One of the disadvantages was never getting the chance to get close to a jelly bean. A jelly bean was round and sweet… or so I gathered from the Enid Blyton books.

All this changed during the course of this test series…. Messrs Prior and Peterson decided to revisit primary school, play the clown, and poke some fun at Zacs by “bombarding” him with jelly beans. They ended up in annoying the big man and the rest is history.

My word of advice: Things that are meant for eating should be eaten and not thrown at others. If you have food to waste, please think again. You are no longer our colonial masters… 60 years should be long enough to understand this fact. And yes… thanks for the wonderful Independence Day Gift. Like they say “Hum Lagaan Nahin Denge”!

2. Umpire Ian Howell:

A newspaper headline summed up my feelings:
“Not Elite and it shows”

My question to the ICC, how do you decide who officiates in test matches. Do you have a proper policy for umpires in place? If so, please revisit it coz one Mr. Ian Howell should not be allowed within 2 km radius of a cricket field, let alone officiate in one. By the end of the series, most people expected wrong decisions and the correct ones were greeted with a surprise usually reserved for finding an empty seat on the 7:13 pm Andheri fast local.

I would recommend the following training sessions for Mr. Howell:
a. “Umpiring for Dummies”
b.“LBW”: Introduction (including full form), Meaning, Practical Case Studies and of course revisiting past mistakes.
c.“The Art of Player Recall”: Issues, Challenges and virtues of fair play.
d. Don’t raise your finger unless it’s out”. - A practical guide to giving up the temptation of raising your finger just because it’s yours.
e.“Don’t Play God”: The Do’s and Don’ts of umpiring.
A small word for Umpire Bucknor: Is it not time for you to play cricket with great grand children? And by the way thanks for bailing us out in the first test match. It doesn’t however mean we are ok with your decision to give Sachin “shoulder before wicket out”. I hope you remember that. That was hilarious, now that I think of it. You have a sense of humor after all.

3. Monty Singh Panesar:

This young man won the hearts of millions of cricket fans as he huffed and lumbered across the cricket field. The monumental cheers he received whenever he touched a cricket ball or bat or merely “waltzed” across the field bear testimony to the fact that an earnest albeit a gawky striver is appreciated by one and all. His comment to Sourav after the latter hit him for a six was particularly endearing “Yaar bacche hain, thoda dheere se maro.”

4. Where have all the centuries gone? :

India reached scores of 201, 282, 481, 73, and 664,180 in the six innings of test matches it played. And surprisingly only one century and that too from Anil Kumble. The Big 4 fired at times but never crossed the three figure mark. Perhaps not the way they would have liked to finish up with in their last series in England. May be a sign that experience must give way to young Turks??

5. Warming the bench:

This series was perhaps unique in the sense that there were no substitutions from either team and the same teams battled each other for three test matches. Few lucky people had an all expense paid holiday. Oh heck we won so no one will complain.

6. Coach anyone:

A full fledged tour and no coach? Sounds funny right? Move over Guru Greg, Grandpa Borde is here. 74 year old Chandu Borde was handed over the role of the manager of Indian Cricket Team. I wonder what cricketers 50 years younger called him. It is said that Chandu Borde has a habit of forgetting names, calling Sourav Ganguly Gaurav Ganguly and Wasim Salim (I assume he remembered Salim Durrani). May be what he brought to the dressing room were peals of laughter and that lightened the mood.

A neutral observer of the game would probably not rate this test series as among the best. It was after all the battle of two relatively weak cricketing teams, a battle between an ageing batting line up and a bowling attack sorely missed the Harmisons, Hoggards and the Flintoffs but for reasons best known to me, I’m going to tell Gautam Begde Jr. all that I will remember from the 2007 Series just as my old man told me about the 1971 series :).

8 Facts about Me!

I have been tagged by Nandita….here goes….

I have been thinking about this for quite some time now. Probably for all of the 27 years of my existence on this planet. Surprisingly it wasn’t as easy I thought it would be. I guess it’s difficult to mould and cleave the truth to present 8 socially acceptable and impressive facts about oneself. So here it goes 8 facts…. The truth about myself as I know it:

1. I LOVE my name: I love to spell out my whole name-Gautam Prabhakar Begde. I sign out my full name at the smallest opportunity with a flourish worthy enough to put to shame rock stars, sports stars and business tycoons all put together. I love to see my name in print and visualize my name on all the important notices, emails, letters, offices etc. I feel my name gives me some kind of a cosmic edge over everyone else.
2. I LOVE numbers: I love to dazzle people with mathematical calculations. Close friends are targeted most often. Saying something like “If you add 9 to 4743 and multiply the result by 33, u will get the square of 396” gives me a great high.
3. I set impossible targets: I love setting impossible targets for myself. Something like running a half-marathon or trying to be the most well read person among all the people I know. Usually I fail but I end up with a lot more than I had expected.
4. I LOVE the Sea: There is no sight more beautiful than the ocean with its infinite shades of blues and greens all contributing to present a spectacle that man can never replicate. I love the calming effect of the sea, its magical effect of relieving one of all his/her worries and feel one with the world. I love the sea… and loathe people who regard it as just a huge body of sea.
5. I am great fan of sweet corn soup… A Chinese meal or if I can help it any meal is incomplete without it. It’s a habit bordering on the verge of addiction. A friend of mine used to think its extremely endearingJ.
6. I talk a lot to myself…. Even during a conversation with someone, I tend to trail into a conversation with my inner self. Not many people notice this but people close to me find this amusing and sometimes extremely irritating.
7. I strongly believe that Tendulkar batting at his best is as close as we will see God in action.
8. I love pampering people close to me. I like transforming people close to me into imaginary kids that need to be taken care of all the time. It borders on madness… some people will vouch for that.
9. Oops I have come to 9… couldn’t help it…. I love no 9. I think it’s the most balanced number in the number set... Another fact-my destiny number is also 9.

My Biggest Learning

The lights are dim, the AC strong and the conversation incoherent for my unresponsive brain. The stale coffee is my solitary refuge. Why I am doing this? My mind trails off in a chain of random thoughts ranging from my current crush to the BCG Matrix. My few minutes of solitude are broken by a request to do something I don’t even understand. It’s like answering a question when the question is in a language unknown to me. This time around the language is a computer one. I nod and trudge back heavily to my cubicle. It’s going to be an uneasy time... all over again. This is happening far too frequently for my liking. I look at the watch… it will be over soon... I assure myself.

Here I am. My typical work day is summed up in endless java commands and the much to my anguish the omnipresent IE500 error screens.

Flashback a couple of years or even less than that. I am surrounded by theories of manipulating the 4P’s to achieve marketing excellence. My mind absorbs all of what I read and parallelly my heart subconsciously paints a future for me… a life content with selling toothpastes, cola drinks or potato chips. It seems like the perfect picture.
Fate however has other ideas. I finish b-school and end up with code review, code rework; patch installation and loads of excel sheets thrown in for company. Segmentation, Targeting and Positioning strategies are thrown away.

I have two options… sulk or make most of it. Sulking seems easy and comes naturally to me. Wait a minute… the code is running just when I am going to give up.... Some up there likes me. I am finally getting somewhere.

It must be a sign (I am the kind who lives his life by these signs). Its coding that I must do… it seems the correct option.

I have just learned the biggest lesson of my life…. “Unlearning is the biggest learning” Kotler and his theories will always be a bitter-sweet memory.

Sweet Memories!

“Whenever you go for ice-cream, let the lady choose the flavor. That way it’s not just the ice-cream that seems sweet to her”

It was not even in the scheme of things and yet it seemed perfect as it unfolded. For the outside world, it didn’t seem too much. For the two people it was the happiest moment of the day.

Let’s have ice-cream was the unanimous verdict that was reached even before lunch was ordered. Lunch was a delightful combination of great food and each other’s excellent company. The conversation was carried through not just by the words that were spoken.

His mind was in an eternal quandary. Should he finish the lunch fast and move on to ice-cream… something which would bring that beautiful smile onto her already pretty face or eat slow and enjoy few more minutes of her company. The Pasta she was having made up his mind for him… or rather the black pepper seeds in it…. There were far too many of them to let them continue the meal. So the pasta abandoned… they moved onto sweeter things.

She could never make up her mind…. How he liked the confused childlike expression on her face. It seemed to have the magical property of transporting them back to their childhood, when life was so easy, where life seemed complete with just an ice-cream cone in one’s hands.
Narrow your choice down to two… he pleaded to her. She would of course take her time…. And in the end chose her ice-cream and unknowingly influence his also (not that he ever complained… it was always sweeter to eat what she chose for him).

The difficult task over, they found a place to sit in the food court, which was not difficult since most people were back at their desks. Ice-cream then it was for the two out-grown kids in a world of adults. She invariably preferred the ice-cream he chose. He loved this part the most. He would leave the best part for her… always. It seemed the best thing to do… her smile was what he enjoyed the most… the ice-cream by comparison a distant second.

Like unwilling kids, they went back to their desks. But they knew they would meet again…. And there would always be ice-cream and the beautiful time all over again.

Illusions!

It has been an unusual day, an unusual Saturday. I have spent a major part of the day in office and then at the gym. Tired and wary of the sun that that seems to shine at its prickly best even though it’s almost time for it to pass on the baton to the night sky, I seek refuge in the air-conditioned environs of the on campus departmental store.

The strong A/C is enough to numb my senses and ignore the wise adage “Never enter a shop without a list or at least a purpose” and I soon find myself walking the endless aisles lined with products that promise me a “better life”. I succumb eventually and as I turn to the stationery section, I have consumed almost the whole of a high calorie chocolate effectively negating my entire gym session in a matter of minutes.

I turn my attention to the writing material on display. I haven’t had an idea to pen on paper for some time now and yet I’m drawn to it almost for some kind of inspiration.
It’s the name that catches my attention. I ignore it but it seems to be all over the place. Some marketing manager has decided to name a particular series of registers “Illusions”. What an absurd name I think to myself. However on second thoughts it seems extremely appropriate. We do really live in a world of illusions or rather we live our life through a maze of illusions. The meaning of our existence on this planet will always be clouded by the illusions painted for us by the people who chose to live theirs in them. Let’s begin with this piece of writing material itself. Market it as a ladder to success and some gullible student will fall for it, brainwashed that a good academic career ensures success in life. Somewhere down the line he will mistake success for happiness. Thus even before he can understand the meaning of “Illusion”, he would have started living his life in one.

My train of thoughts is interrupted by the store-owner who is looking at me impatiently. Its past closing time. “Do you want anything or you just wanted to enjoy the A/C” his eyes seems to ask me accusingly. I hurriedly buy myself one of THE registers and another of those chocolates. I smile as I do so. Atleast I have worked past one of my illusions..”..I will never be the next Sylvester Stallone”

Where is the Life I wanted?

Each day I am awake with that same feeling
A small part of me is leaving
Each day seems like the end of some beginning
Somewhere in this crowd, it’s my identity that I’m losing

My mind’s full of questions no one seems interested in answering.
Where am I running?
Why am I running?
Where is the life that the glib talking salesmen were selling?

It’s that same empty feeling
The one that seems to have no meaning
The one that cannot be filled by the riches I’m accumulating
Yet I feel it like my own breathing
I fail to fight this empty feeling
It’s that time which I’m longing
When I no longer feel this need of running

I ask for the beautiful moments to freeze
Give myself a few seconds to breathe
But somehow I’m not at ease
Something somewhere disturbs my peace
Why do I hang on to things fleeting as these?

I lie, but never sleep
Not for me those beautiful dreams
I twist and turn
It’s the morning sun I yearn.

And yet morning brings the same old feeling!

Cursed!

Do you believe in the supernatural? Ever had the feeling that some unknown force up there knows all the cards in your hand and deals out the game exactly the way it wishes.

Well I have been feeling this way for some time. It happens with such uncanny knack that I am convinced that some thing out there is working against me. I would like to refer to this force as “CC” for the time being.

It’s a long story… I will begin from the start. The story is more about the house and not so much about me really. I just happen to live there. And that is something that CC doesn’t like I think. We have a beautiful house… tastefully done up, a welcoming patio, small green area in the front and back, a great location, friendly neighbors, a lovely breeze all the time, a wonderful view of the night sky… enough for us to take up the house without much persuasion. It seemed too good really at that time. Little did we know the price we would have to pay for it?

I still remember the day it happened for the first time… we were watching a much awaited India Australia cricket match… and the lights went out… … we missed most of the match including Tendulkar’s masterful innings. We attributed it to our bad luck and thought nothing about it at that time. Little did we know CC had started its work.

Then it happened again… this time the cable connection was lost and we missed the entire match. This happened 2 days in our row…enough to drive me to the verge of madness.

Then CC decided to get meaner…. It allowed us to glimpses of cricket but only when we played at our abysmal lowest. CC was particularly harsh on Sachin…

There is one thing I have to acknowledge… how CC came up with novel ways to deprive us of our dose of the nation’s favorite past time. Sometimes we had no cable connection because the cable got stolen. On other occasions it rained like cats and dogs on match days in places that otherwise are known as mini-Saharas.

The final nail in the coffin came with the World Cup… Ashwin got sent to US on business…which meant he would miss the majority of the world cup, Himanshu is not really the one to sweat about wickets and runs, so technically I was bracing for the full fury of CC. What would CC dish out this time? Volcano? Or perhaps a cyclone in Pune? CC was smart… not one to lift a finger without reason… we just go knocked out in the first round… I could almost picture CC beaming as the last Indian wicket fell.

I have never seen an hour of good cricket ever since I have shifted into our house… CC has won…I no longer watch cricket at home… rather catch glimpses of it standing in front of electronic shops… I think its helping... we are doing better these… we just beat Bangladesh twice over in 2 keenly contested matches…. May be we can make it three in a row…who knows… CC I hope you are not listening.

P.S: For the uninitiated, CC=Cricket Curser.

Old Man and his Birthday Wishes!

I have never seen him, let alone meet him. I don’t know how he looks like. I don’t know how old he is (though I guess he’s old); I don’t know where he stays and what he does for a living. I call him Aba coz that does how I think he wants me address him.

But what I do know is that each year without fail I receive a postcard on my birthday. And it’s the same each year… A brown post card from way out with that same scrawny handwriting and more importantly with that same affection and concern knowing very well that this gesture of his will never be reciprocated. Even the blessings are the same… something to the effect that should I strive to be the best I can each year. He signs off with a characteristic “Tujha Aba”.

I picture a frail but active old man pulling out my name from an ancient diary that he treasures more than anything else in his life, putting on his glasses and looking frantically for my name in a list of names, not sorted by any logical parameter but fondly stored with probably a small anecdote attached with each entry.

I am of course not the only blessed one. Each one in my family receives the old man’s blessings on the birthdays, child births and anniversaries.

Occasionally he calls up people (of course he never calls me up)... only to enquire about the new developments in the family… did Mr X move to Kalyan? Did Mrs D daughter get married? Whats the name of Mr and Mrs B’s son? And such kind of questions.

What is it that keeps him going? I might never know.

Here’s saluting to the man himself… thank you for remembering me all these years.

This year I am thinking of doing an Aba on Aba himself.

I hope I succeed.

Birthday Wish

“Beneath the helmet, under that unruly curly hair, inside the cranium, there is something we don't know, something beyond scientific measure. Something that allows him to soar, to roam a territory of sport that, forget us, even those who are gifted enough to play alongside him cannot even fathom. When he goes out to bat, people switch on their TV sets and switch off their lives” -BBC on Sachin

Dear Sachin,

It must be strange not be a part of the World Cup. It must be strange to be in Mumbai when Barbados is the place you would have died be in at this time. It must be strange that all the fans who probably spent all their waking hours worshipping you, those who skipped offices, colleges and schools just to see you wield that willow and take on the best in the world, those who wished they could see you in person if only in their dreams seem to have deserted you all of a sudden. It must be strange to be ostensibly dropped for the next tour.

Why should the blame of our failure be placed only on your shoulders?

I guess it’s because greatness has its own drawbacks. Lesser mortals can’t understand greatness. Public memory is short. However having said that I do have some complaints. Of late, you don’t seem the same player. You seem to be stifled by some unknown force. I hate those inside edges onto the stump…. I seem to lose a small part of my belief in you every time you make some mediocre bowler seem like a world beater by handing over your wicket by being too circumspect. Why don’t you play freely? Surely we have other players and the pressure on you would be less than before. I am late in posting this but thats exactly the complaint i have with your timimg these days. Why cant you of all people meet the ball solidly in the middle of the bat?

Enough of this of course. I have digressed enough.

Let’s get to the main point now….

Happy Birthday Sachin! Having a rocking year! Let your bat do your talking and silence the critics as it always does. India needs you.

Your supporter forever
Gautam

When was the last time you did something for the first time?

"When was the last time you did something for the first time?” or so goes the saying.

Somehow this quote stuck in my mind which otherwise refuses to hold anything of any great significance these days. And I had to think about the quote seriously however much I tried to bury it beneath other important concerns like predicting the winner of the England Ireland cricket match. Technically I though to myself… I do a lot of new things each day. I even made a list of them.

Teaming up my trousers with a new different pair of socks each day.
Buying fuel from different fuel stations and that too in different denominations each time.
Trying the same food from different caterers in the uber-modern food court of our office.
Drinking the office coffee at different times of the day.

However much I tried to convince myself that the thrill quotient in my life was above average, I knew the truth myself… which was important.

Just when I was thinking of ways to save my otherwise boring life, a friend suggested 2 options… swimming or salsa. Me and Salsa? I can’t see myself waltzing across the dance room and at the same time balancing my partner... all with an expression of consummate ease.

So swimming it is. After 3 weeks, I am not doing too badly. I have bunked only 50% of the lessons and I don’t really drown in the pool. So there it is… new something in my life.

Is Salsa next? I may just suprise myself.

The Day After!

Its some time past lunch on a Saturday afternoon and I am keying these lines on an office machine. Hang on-things can become worse. Out of the two life-support systems in my office, one is away and the other refuses to give me my much required dose of caffeine. I just finished a badly cooked meal that promised to be a Chinese delight but ended up being a cross between a badly cooked pulao and a hurriedly conjured up curry. Wait wait I haven’t finished. I forgot to mention the big one-our team is out of the Cricket World Cup… thanks to some fine display of their true worth.

I thought I would be sad but the truth is I am not… a little hurt or cheated may be… but nothing more than that. Perhaps I have changed... perhaps my priorities have… perhaps my happiness lies elsewhere. I could see that change in me well below our fate in the Cup of Woes was sealed.

I surprised myself yesterday when I happily traded Tendulkar’s batting (ok he didn’t last too long) for an evening of star gazing (the real ones and not the ones that seem to excel in those atrocious 30 sec commercials) and a conversation of beautiful words and beautiful moments that were sadly moments only.

Is this the real me or do I need to wake up? I really don’t know but I guess it doesn’t matter. I guess these lines sum it up for me…..

“As I grow to understand life less and less,
I learn to love it more and more.”

Being at the right place at the right time!

As a kid, i was taught to do all the right things in life with the promise that all that i wanted would follow eventually- a result of my hard work. While i retain most of what was preached to me, of-late i have started thinking whether happiness, success and all that one really runs after in our existence on this planet is really the outcome of our actions. Lately i feel that much of our life is driven by our circumstances. Two people could start at the same point in their life and yet end up in very different stations in life. To many what i am saying may sound like ramblings of a pessismistic soul, the truth is that one must understand that there is only as much that one can do while a large majority of our life is being chosen for us by forces, factors and reasons completely unknown to us.

If i had one wish that could ever be fulfilled, It would be "Being at the right place at the right time".

However as i know, some wishes never come true.......

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.