For the Glory of "Jan - Gan - Man"

The other day we went for a movie, a late night show at a multiplex in Mumbai and as is ceremonial here the National Anthem was played before the start of the movie.

Whenever I have been a part of this ritual, I have always hummed the tune and also tried to see through the corner of my eyes if the person next to me is also doing the same. Some find this ritual funny, but I don’t and I try to give the national anthem the respect that is due to it.

So, this day that I am talking about, the anthem was being played and almost everyone was at least standing. I used the phrase “at least standing” here because that is the minimum that is expected out of us when the Anthem is being played. And I used “almost” because not everyone was showing that minimum respect due also.

Down the aisle was an elderly lady, who was sitting while the anthem was being played. I had also noticed that towards the start of the Anthem a younger lady accompanying the elderly has even nudged her to get up and I had noticed the very prominent gesture of negation. And throughout the Anthem my eyes were glued to the lady (for no other reason!!).

But as we have another ritual in India “Chalta hai” no-one seemed to have been pained by the disrespect that the elderly has just shown towards the Anthem. The movie started, and we all got engrossed in the movie. It was an interesting movie.. don’t remember which one though!
It was interval, when we saw commotion down the aisle. A couple of agitated voices and violent hand gestures. I quickly realized what it was!

A young guy had supposedly gone to the lady and pointed out to her that she was not standing for the Anthem. Bas itna kehna tha, and the whole group accompanying the lady went defensive. I think, I also heard the lady say, “You don’t know! I am a very patriotic person”. The younger woman accompanying the elderly was heard saying, “Mind your business”. All this while the young guy was standing there and smiling, not uttering a single word.

Probably his simple intervention had made a big blow to the conscience of the elderly and the group accompanying her! Probably all her justifications were directed towards that inner guilt conscience than to its outer stimulus!

We couldn’t help but admire the young man who by now had already walked up the aisle and was quietly sitting at his seat while the agitated group downstairs was still settling in!
My mind wandered off to the old song that all of us would have once hummed in the schools, at least mechanically…

विजयी विश्व तिरंगा प्यारा

झंडा ऊंचा रहे हमारा

From अंजी to Chaos Theory!!

Long time ago I saw a play at the Nehru Centre in Mumbai – Anji [Hindi] by Vijay Tendulkar and I saw a yet another play yesterday at the Prithvi Theatre – Chaos Theory by Rahul da Cunha.
While “Anji” deals with the life of a girl, in her late twenties or mid thirties, trying to find a suitable match for her; “Chaos Theory” is play about two people, each with a chaos to manage in their lives.

One thing that I like about plays is that they are live! You see the actors in flesh and blood and their impeccable performances leave you dumbstruck at the end of the day. There are no retakes, just like our lives and that is what makes you wonder how on earth can someone be so perfect!!

Let me come back to Anji and Chaos Theory. Or rather to only "Chaos Theory" as the memories of the act are still fresh in my mind.

The main protagonists, Mukesh and Sunita “Sen” are in love, but they never express their love for each other to each other. And this is a chaos that they face.

Towards the end of the act there is a very beautiful and heart rendering dialogue. Sunita is meeting Mukesh for the last time and she says:
"You never knew who you were, and that is your Chaos."
To which Mukesh replies:
"You knew who I was, and that is your chaos."
Just two lines and the whole play gets summarised in them.

There were many other instances where the love between the two protagonists was projected in a very subtle but yet a very strong way.

A scene when Sen is marrying another guy and reads the marriage contract: “If the material witnesses present here have any objection to this alliance, they may speak now”.. She looks at Mukesh who is standing there with an air of indifference…. The audience is waiting for an answer from Mukesh… At least he would say something, at least now. And Then Mukesh speaks “Read the fine print”…..

But, apart from the strong portrayal of love between the protagonists, what also appealed me was the ambience of the theatre.

Set amidst the quite surroundings of Janki Kutir, Prithvi Theatre is a delightful place. The Pritvi Café is the perfect place to spend an evening with friends or with oneself. There is a bookshop with a limited but rich collection. I managed to lay my hands on Hindi literature which now-a-days is a thing of passé.

What also makes the play a memorable one is a small incident that happened with a friend of mine who had joined us for the play. Just that she never got to watch the play! And that is one Chaos that she had to manage while we enjoyed a new version of the Chaos Theory inside!!

हजारों ख्वाहिशें ऐसी....

It could be called serendipity! Today morning when I plugged the earphones into my ear canal, the first song that my cell played of a random lot of some hundred songs was "hazaaron khwahishein aisi" from the movie by the same name.

What else could have been a bigger coincidence that the theme of this movie was based on what we are seeing in Mumbai now.... I get goosepimples when I hear these beautiful and yet so very powerful words in a poem that goes alongside the song...

"A thousand desires such as these

A thousand moments to set this night on fire

Reach out and you can touch them

You can touch them with your silences

You can reach them with your lust

Rivers, mountains, rain

Rain against a torrid hillscape

A thousand desires such as these

I loved rain as a child

As a lost young man

Empty landscapes bleached by a tired sun

And then

Suddenly it came like a dark unknown woman

Her eyes scorched my silences

Her body wrapped itself around me like a summer without end

Pause me, Hold me Reach me where no man has gone

Crossing the seven seas

With the wings of fire, I fly towards nowhere

And you; Rivers, mountains, rain

Rain against the scorched landscape of pain

A thousand desires such as these......

हजारों ख्वाहिशें ऐसी के हर ख्वाहिश पे दम निकले

बहुत निकले मेरे अरमान लेकिन फ़िर भी कम निकले"

With regrets to the President!!

The other day, I was just casually browsing through the website of all the president of the nation when I happened to come across a section that read:
"Located on the hill top of the Mashobra, the building was taken over during 1895 by the Viceroy. The president visits The Retreat at least once a year and his core office shifts to that place during his stay in The Retreat. Thousand feet higher than the Shimla Ridge Top, The Retreat is located in a picturesque surrounding. The architectural pattern and the natural beauty of the place have made The Retreat a tourist attraction in Shimla.”

“Located at Bolarum, Rashtrapati Nilayam building was taken over from the Nizam of Hyderabad after India attained independence and handed it over to the President's Secretariat. Constructed during 1860, this building has a total land area of 90 acres. A single storied building, it contains in its premises 11 rooms. It also has a Dining Hall, Cinema Hall, Darbar Hall, Morning room, ADC's dining room etc. The President of India visits the Rashtrapati Nilayam and stays there at least once a year and conducts his official business from this Nilayam."

Now, me being me, thought to take a shot and wrote a mail to the lady at Rashtrapati (agreed it could not be Rashtrapatni, but may be something else!!) Bhawan. I wrote:
Respected Madam,
It is a pleasure to see a lady chair the seat of the highest authority in the country but it is of utmost regret to see that the Indian system is not yet ready to accept this fact.

How would the society awake to the fact of woman empowerment when the country's politics is marred by a male oriented approach to things?

The following paragraph taken from the official website of the President of India is a sad example of how we never ever in the history of 60 years of independence thought that a President could be a lady. The use of masculine gender in the statements below is such an irony to the very vision of woman empowerment that you embody.
Hope you would direct your secretariat to rectify this social, political and grammatical blunder as soon as possible.

I never expected a reply from them, let alone any action. However, I was surprised the day after when I saw a mail in my mailbox from some S G Sharma, which read:

Dear Shri Sudeep Dube,

This is to acknowledge the receipt of your e-mail dated 1st December 2008 addressed to the President of India. Your concern is appreciated and necessary step has been taken in this regards.
Regards

S G Sharma
Technical Director

I immediately checked the website and the error stood rectified! I was amazed at the promptness of response!
This made me realise that we, just the common people of this country, can bring about a change in the system. I am not saying that to get a small grammatical error rectified is the same as to be able to manage the mess in which our country seems to be currently, instead what I am saying is that no step, however small it may be is going to be a waste, especially in times like these.

धीरे-धीरे रे मना, धीरे सब कुछ होय ।

माली सींचे सौ घड़ा, ॠतु आए फल होय ॥

A quick musing!!!

Why does it need to be tagged "the 9/11 of India"?
Why can't it be "26/11 of India"?
Do we really need this comparison? Is the fact, that this was a heinous act of crime in its own right not sufficient?

Arrey... Kamaal hai!!!

"Arrey... Kamaal hai".. how often would we have used this phrase, and more in concatenation with another phrase "Ek to chori, oopar se seenajori"..... But then who would go and tell this to the CM of Maharashtra, "Shri Vilasrao Deshmukh" Who has, who had the audacity to take his entourage for a terror tourism trip at the scene of Taj carnage and massacre.
How on earth could he think of tagging along his good-for-nothing son, Ritesh (now spelled as Riteish, to bring good luck to his doomed career; which unfortunately would now be doomed forever if the people of India excercise their disposition) and the equally good-for-nothing director Ram Gopal Verma to the scene which would have witnessed the biggest and the most horrendous terror attack on the country.
Jo kiya, so kiya but at the end of it all, how boldly he is making statements "Arrey Kamaal hai.... we gave you the footage on goodwill and you are stretching things..... (or something of the sorts, but Arrey kamaal hai is what I am sure of)" One look at the face of the beloved CM during his recent press conference would have cleared us of any doubts of his love and respect for fellow citizens.
Did I write "Fellow Citizens"..... guess no politician in this god-foresaken country would be considering the aam aadmi even close to that term. To them we are the lesser mortal beings and in bade bade sheheron mein to yeh chhote chhote haadse hote hi rehte hain.

Wonder what the Patils and the Deshmukhs would have to say if their residence or the Mantralaya would have been the focus of the attack. That being the case, this would have been another big attack on the democracy of this country, after the Parliament attack. And did I say "Democracy".... did someone not tell these demigods of the society that democracy is a system of governanceof the people, by the people, for the people....... Wish at least some of our politicians had not been the school dropouts then this much sense would have prevailed!!!!! Not that those who have degree from the Howard and Cambridge Universities of the world are doing some wonders..... Bhai kamaal hai!!!!

Yeh Public hai... sab jaanti hai

Today morning, as my rickshaw approached Bhandup I could see a big mob of Police constables. I call them a mob because that is what they behave like. They hardly have a human side to them. One of these constables stops us and mutters something in Marathi. He wants to check our bags and we oblige. He gets disappointed for not finding any illegal arm or drugs in our possession. But how would he letus go just like that. This isthe boni ka time. Yeah pretty much like those road side vendors who have their boni (the first customer) early in the mornings when one buys a comb or a wallet from them at one of those foot-over-bridges.
So this Police-wallah asks the auto driver for his licence and other documents and the driver obliges. Bad Luck! The Police constable mutters under his breath. But he is unabated by this second failure in a row and gives it a final try. A thousand ideas cross his nerves in a fraction of a second and he realises that the Auto-driver is not carrying his badge. There! Caught! Hurray!
Now he is half way through with his boni. Alas! The poor auto driver, who probably is having his boni time has got no money in his pocket. Additionally he has his passengers waiting in the rear seat. The Police-wallah tries to be rude and demeaning, signals the auto-wallah to come in the khopcha (where he could settle for kharcha pani). The rickshaw driver is now in a very odd situation and so are we, sitting in the rear seat. Suddenly something happens, the Police-wallah darts towards the rickshaw and in a split second we are off on our way. We just see the driver slipping something in the hands of the Police wallah and pocketing his licence into his pocket.

As we inquire he says, “ Chaalis rupayee liye saab. Sharifon ko hi to pakdenge, do number wale to aise hi nikal jate hain”. And my mind wanders off to the bomb blasts that we have witnessed in the recent past….

Mumbai Meri Jaan

"ऐ दिल है मुश्किल जीना यहाँ ..... ज़रा हट के ज़रा बच के यह है बॉम्बे मेरी जान...." went the last track of this movie Mumbai Meri Jaan.... Quite an impressive attempt by the director. I wonder if it would not also have been pertinent if the director would also have added the following stanza from the same song " ऐ दिल है आसां जीना यहाँ, सुनो बंधू सुनो मिस्टर यह है बॉम्बे मेरी जान"
I do not want to rate this movie. I have always had a bias in favour of those movies that are off-beat and this movie I believe was precisely that, else the hall would have been running a houseful . Two characters which I felt very moving were that of the News reporter (Soha Ali) and the high-paid desh bhakt professional (R Madhavan). May be Kay Kay Menon, Irrfan Khan and Paresh Rawals' characters could also have been made more powerful if the movie was of a smaller duration. Nevertheless, if nothing else, the movie does leave you more observant of your surroundings.

Today morning while travelling I noticed a Police constable talking to a private taxi driver. then the driver digged out something from his pocket, possibly his licence and what would have entailed thenafter is something that we all can guess. I have not picked up today's newspaper yet and am sure it would also have something that I could relate with the movie. Guess it is the effect of the late-night show... by the time the day passes by, I would soon be back to my normal self.

What I find quite amusing here is that the movie in itself is a big paradox. The movie sort of portrays media in a bad light. I may sound a bit outrageous if I call today's reporting as Journalistic Voyeurism but that is what today's news channels are. the are the biggest possible reality shows. If we look at it from another angle, even this movie was supposed to "entertain" us by portraying what would have been the plight of the bomb blast victims. Never-the-less, I rate it as an honest effort from the director to portray life's realities.

The final note from me on this:
After the movie had its "The End" (sadly, they don't have this appearing anymore as the movie ends) a friend of mine quite pertinently noticed that why is this movie "Mumbai" meri jaan. Had it been Ahmedabad, Jaipur, Banagalore for for that matter Bhubaneswar the meaning would not have changed. I guess this is a movie about India. That Indian spirit which has kept us going for generations..... this again reminds me of a couplet from Iqbal
"यूनान मिस्र रोमा, सब मिट गए जहाँ से, बाकी मगर है अब तक नामो निशाँ हमारा... कुछ बात है वह हस्ती मिटती नहीं हमारी... "

Of Blues, Beiges, Blacks and Whites

I often wonder why I do not see people wearing colours to their offices. It has to be a combination-permutation of the above four, or at the max a variant of the shade.
May be it is a silent protest against how pale their lives are at the office or it is to remind themselves that everything has to be in black & white with no traces of any intermediary shade, be alone a different colour.

The Midnight's Angels

It was 2 am in the morning. The Indian bureaucracy was probably celebrating the 61st Independence Day, or probably they had not even realised that wewere already in the 61st year as a free nation else I would not have been there sitting in a pre-paid cab stuck in knee deep waters in the middle of nowhere. This was the last I could have expected after my ordeal to reach home for that extended weekend (Those of you who are still figuring out what I am referring to may please refer to my earlier post). If I look back at it now, I am reminded of that song from popular film Mughal-e-azam “ Jab raat hai aisi matwali to subah ka aalam kya hoga !!”

Such had been my plight ever since my flight had a touch down at The IGI Airport.

The Arrival lounge was unusually crowded. I thought may be Delhi has now opened the arrivals to visitors but I was proven wrong when I saw the long queues at the pre-paid taxi counters. Then someone got the news from the counter that the whole of Delhi was enjoying heavy rains and the Delhi drains had refused to let go the water that they seldom get to feel (other times it’s the solid waste). And all the vehicles in a radius of 7 – 8 Kms were having a holy dip in these monsoon waters. So we waited. At the stroke of the midnight hour when the world was asleep (and India had awaken to freedom and glory at the same stroke some 61 years back) I got the parchi which was my boarding pass for the pre-paid cab ride to Faridabad. After another half-an-hour-long queue I finally managed to get a cabbie for Faridabad.

The journey was quite un-eventful, initially. For the next one hour the driver waded through thick traffic and I was getting restless. I was not being able to understand whether I was hungry or sleepy (probably I was both). I had a company of another passenger who was going to Sector 30 and we both had some small moments of discussions on the way. I dozed off soon.

The gentleman guided the driver to his destination and then directed him the way to my place. In the dead of the night at 2.30 one should always expect a driver to loose his way and the same happened that fateful night. Luckily, we spotted a sardaarji (with due respect to be called surd) and he was kind enough to direct him again. However, the poor soul, tired after almost a two hour drive got scared when he saw the road ahead filled with water and in an unsuccessful attempt to protect his rozi-roti managed to get the car stuck in knee deep water. At such an odd hour whom do you expect to come helping? But then came the same surd, driving with a merry band of quite a few of others, all cramped in a small car. Initially they made fun of the driver but the very next moment they were all out in the water with their trousers folded upto their knees. One push and the car was out. I could almost hear the “Jo bole so nihaal…….” in the air. Not a single word was exchanged. None for help, none for thanks. As I stood there figuring out how to thank these gentlemen off they went in their small car.

I asked the cabbie, “What would you have done if these people would not have come? I would have called my family and be gone with them, what would have you done the whole night” Pat cam his reply, “koi aur mil jata sahib” and I could not stop admiring his optimism!!

How I made it ..... Almost

14th August 2008 was the Independence Day of Pakistan and, the entire Mumbai was on roads. Not that they were celebrating Pakistan’s independence or staging a dharna against it, but they were all rushing to their nests in their hometowns. It was that long weekend, which each employee longs for…. And the preparations had begun almost a month back. All the trains were running high on waitlist and the travel agents were minting money with people ready to dole out huge sums for that tatkal ticket… All thanks to Lalooji for the 60 day window for booking tickets and inflation for the soaring flight fares…. And in the midst of all this brouhaha was a confused me still planning the trip home forr this extended weekend which coincided with Rakshabandhan.
After not much of a jaddo-jahad I booked a supposedly low cost air carrier for 14th August and a train ticket at a whopping W/L 91 for the return journey.
The moment I clicked the “OK” button on the payment gateway of the air carrier I took a deep breath of relief – ab jana to pucca ho gaya. How I ever got inspired to book at wait-list 91 cleared was another story and I wouldn’t delve into that for now.

Let me take you through a flashback of what I went through.

The day started early and around 9.30 I was at office. There were some mails from the client. By the lunch time I was through with all the mails and the deliverables for the day. I had called on the client and told him that there was a colleague who would be working for him in my absence. Post lunch I had done all the KT to this colleague of mine and had just packed my bags for the day when the an “URGENT” request came from the client. My watch showed it was already 4.00 pm and I had the flight at 7.45. Quite a margin, I thought, and I lingered on with the mail trying to figure out the solution. Soon I was at my wit’s end and I called up the client who was considerate enough to not to have held me back. It was not before 5.30 that I reached home. By the time I got ready and was done with the final packing the clock struck 5.45.

It was at this moment that I realised I had misplaced my flight ticket. And while I was searching for this, I happened to stumble across the train ticket and pocketed it, else even that I would have left back. After a phone call to the air carrier’s call centre and being assured of a duplicate copy at the ticketing counter I left and took an auto. Ah! I forgot to mention that I had no money in my wallet and had to stop by at the nearest ATM to get some cash. And then began the journey. Half an hour passed and I was still pretty close to my house. Another half and hour gone and still the airport was not to be seen. The suto-wallah took a “short-cut” to cut on time and traffic which was now proving costly to me. All calls to the call centre to get the ticket cancelled or postponed were futile. They wanted me to have done that 2 hours ago…. NOW, HOW DO THEY EXPECT SOMEONE TO ANTICIPATE A LAST MINUTE TRAFFIC JAM in those 2 hours !!! The best they could help me was to refund me Rs 225 in case I missed my flight!! Done with all this, my watch told me it was 7.15 and I should press the Panic button.
So off I was from the rick and was running like a mad man on the Western Express Highway. To describe my situation in a poets word would be

“Auto Auto everywhere, but none is able to move;
Auto Auto everywhere and am sure the flight am gonna loose”

And when my legs gave up and I could see the turn for the airport, there came another gentleman, dressed in White, in a rick and stopped at the wave of my hand. So in I went and was sson at the airport Terminal 1B. That day I didn’t have to stand in any queue. I was late and I got the full VIP treatment. And the moment I was done with the security check, I heaved a sigh of relief. The Muimbai Delhi flight 186 was boarding. And I was there at the fag end of the queue, calling up my folks at Delhi that I have finally made it…. Almost :)

In the memory of my grandmother..Love you always!!

Vasansi Jeernani yatha Vihay
Navani Grihyati Naroparani |
tatha sharirani vihay jeerna-
anyani sanyati navani dehi ||

A bridge an hour!!

When we were in grade 5 were taught the unit of speed as kilometers per hour, metres per second, etc. but having come to Mumbai I have come across this new unit of measuring speed - A bridge an hour.

As is with all others units in physics this is very self explanatory and easy to understand. What is different is that its very expensive to be used. Let me explain you with an example.

You are traveling from Kanjurmarg to Powai. There is a bridge that you have to cross. You are in an auto-rickshaw with the meter down. As you wade past the thick traffic enroute you come on this bridge. There is a cluster of vehicles a little ahead. You have been luck so far to have been successful in navigating through the traffic and you very confidently tell the auto-wallah to take you through the bridge much against his expert opinion to take an alternate rout. And rest they say is ............ So there you are at the end of the line (or may be at the beginning of it) and waiting for traffic to move, but it doesn't. So you wait... 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes pass by and you have moved just an inch. Half an hour later you realise you have moved by a meter..By now you start getting frustrated and seeing the meter (which is running even though the auto is not running) you feel all the more frustrated... Your daily budget of expense seems to be going for a toss. In the meanwhile the auto-wallahs gets some sadbudhhi to change the lane and your savari seems to be moving a bit faster. So you chug slowly, halting intermittently and cursing heavily under your breath the Mumbai Municipality for not having completed the road on time, the police wallah for not having done his duty properly, the trawler which got stuck midway and your fate which showed you this fateful day!!!
Full one hour later, when you finally have cleared the bridge the engineer in you wakes up to the call of you inner unconscious and coins this new unit of speed A bridge an hour!!!

That is one small bridge for the Municipality and one huge dent in the pocket for the mankind!!!

In the memory of Arundhati

Well, am not a big fan of Arundhati Roy so this post is definitely not going to be about her. Nor have I ever know anyone by the name Arundhati in my life so far, so no remembrances for anyone. For those of you who are still reading Arundhati was a tele-serial that was once telecast on our once-very-own DoorDarshan. The story was simple with no multiple relationships, no vamp queeens and no slaps that would rebound at least thrice, unlike the K-series today.
The tele-series was actually a tribute to Nargis Dutt who had died of cancer.
The story had a good cast with the main protagonist being played by Himani Shivpuri supported by Alok Nath as the doting husband. Himani, a superstar actress of yester-years, gets diagnosed of brain tumour and that changes the life for her. The story is not of the pain that she undergoes but of the battle that she fights against life. The portrayal of love between husband and wife is amazing and both Himani and Alok Nath have done a phenomenal job! During the tough times when Himani is undergoing chemotherapy, she starts loosing hair and develops patches on her skin. this beauty queen of the yester years sees her glory fading away. During such tough times the whole family comes together and braves the struggle of Himani with her. I do not remember if Himani survives or dies but what I remember is the strong portrayal of emotions!!

Surprisingly, this tele-series never became popular like the soaps of that era (read Shanti, Swabhimaan and Junoon) nor was it re-telecast ever.

Why I ever wrote this post post was because I tried searching about this tele-series on the net and could not get any links. So I thought I would inititate this post and let those of you who have seen this tele-series contribute more through the comments!!

Summer of 2007!!

Yesterday, I met a friend from my alma mater and we were having a casual discussion when suddenly he referred to our small stint at Mumbai almost a year back. I could see that twinkle in his eyes and my thoughts went back to the summer of 2007.
What fun our gang of 9 had!!
Well this post is the story of 7 guys and two girls !! This is dedicated to all my friends with whom I had one of the most memorable summer of my life.
I would cherish remembering:

1. The mouth watering dinners at Bhagat Tarachand
2. The pastries at Theobroma
3. The soupy birthday at marine-drive
4. The alumni meet and trip back, finding ourselves locked outside our hostel
5. The visits to the art galleries around Mumbai
6. The walks on Colaba Causeway
7. Chinese food at 5 spice
8. The late night movie session in our hostel room
9. The visit of ladies to our gents' hostel and its afternath
10. The trip to Elephanta caves
11. Movies at the multiplexes and the not-so-multiplexes in south Bombay
12. The veg-grilled sandwitch near VT subway and the McDonal burgers
13. The golas at Girgaum Chaupati
14. The dinner at soul fry casa and the upset stomach after that
15. The walks on marine drive

Thank you folks for being there and making them one of the best days of my fife !!

Of auto-rickshaws and the auto-wallahs

Ever since I joined my MBA course and have been away from home, I never have had the sukh of keeping my motor-bike with me. So my sole dependencywas on the autowallah wherever I stayed.

First, it was Bhubaneswar. This land of temples has got nothing in the name of public transport. The government seems to be so busy in solving the issues of flood and drought that it hardly would have had time to notice the sad plight of public transport in the capital city. And as they say, when the cat is away the mice are on the play; the Bhubaneswar auto-wallahs have taken up the charge in the city. The share-auto that ply across the city are pretty nominal but, if you happen to take a reserved auto then you must have your mom's bargaining skills. And, if you happen to be somewhere close to an IT park or some educational institute then be sure you are being taken for a ride !! (Yeah that pun is intended)

Let us move on from Bhubaneswar to down south, the metropolitan (Says who?????? )-Chennai. Here taking an auto is like a two edged sword. Neither do they charge you by the meter nor do they understand your language (or at least pretend that they are not). So you land up in a catch 22 situation. Let me make you experience the same.
Now just imagine yourself on one of the busy roads of Chennai. Let us make it more realistic. Say you are at T. Nagar, Venkatnarayana road and wish to go to Kilpauk Garden Road. And you obviously do not know Tamil. Now here is this autowallah gentle man. The first one that stops at the signal of your hand.
You: "Kilpauk Garden Road"
He: "Kilpaukam?"
You (speaking Tamil in English):"No no..No Kilpauka, kilpauk Garden road... opposite side"
He: "Mummy daddy showroom, watertank?"
You (still wondering how to communicate): "no water tank... Cemetry... burial ground"
He (is getting confused, or pretending to be so): ?????
You: "Dead people, Christian samadhi, New Avadi Road, Halls Road, Kilpauk Garden Road"
He (His face lights up): Ok
You: Evlo (that is "How much" in Tamil)
He: @#@$%#% (some figure in Tamil, which you obviously do not understand)
You: "Tamil Teriyad" (Do not know Tamil)
He (Wondering, if You do not know Tamil then how are you speaking Tamil)
He: 120 Rupees
You: 60 Rupees
He: Makes a hand gesture in negation and goes away
Now trust me this is the most frustrating thing that can happen. All your efforts going waste and you start allover again and again and again.....
and then there would be times that no matter how much you are ready to pay they are not interested in you. May be you should check your face in the mirror... may be you are that ghost for them who would turn their auto-rick to a stone monolith if you ever boarded it....

And now from Chennai to Mumbai... Here things are very much in order. The auto wallahs charge you by the meter and they also understand your language. So things are much easy. But there is a catch here as well. They are not ready to go where you want to go. Blame it on the traffic jam en route your destination or their greed for a longer ride.. they will simply not go. So you try one after the other and hope that the next one would take you for a ride.....

Its raining Mum ...

Had heard of the terrible rains in Mumbai but had never thought I would be a victim of these rains someday..
I had woken up to the music of raindrops early in the morning, and for the next two hours I was lying on the bed letting my subconscious do the thinking-whether I should go to office or not! Don't know why but my subconscious decided to push me to get up and get going for the office. So there I was standing at my window and gazing at the traffic on the street right under.
Long queue of cars bith the sidelights blinking and the fast moving people and their colurful umberellas making dynamic patterns... It all seemed to be inviting me to be a part of that experience... and finally I got ready after a hearty breakfast and was ready with my umberella to be a part of that crowd.
I stay in Thane, which is supposedly not even in Mumbai, and I decided to travel the entire route by an auto-rickshaw. Reaching the Mumbai border, I realised that no-one was ready to take me to Powai. I just couldn't control my laughter. I had anticipated this but the quotes that all the autowallahs and taxiwallahs were quoting for ferrying me to Powai were outrageous. And then I called up office and to my great relief I was "advised" by my senior to stay back. I did not even think once and took an auto-rick back home. Well the journey back home was equally eventful with the Thane bound auto-wallahs quoting outrageous fares, telling me how flooded the area was... Through this entire experience, not once did I feel stuck.. I seemed to be enjoying the Mumbai rains.. Soon I was home, had a nice lunch and a great dinner that day.
All the news channels were buzzing with "breaking news" of how Mumbai and its suburbs had got submerged. Well the media doesn't leave a single stone unturned in creating a mountain out of a molehill. I was told by my friends in the so called submerged areas that the situation is not as grim as these media channels were showing.... Anyway, I was just lying on my couch and enjoying the rains.. there was hardly anything else that I could have done. And, then came the icing on the cake. The Met. department came up with a warning of heavy rains in the next 24 hours.. 12 of those 24 hours have passed and not a drop of rain has fallen from the sky.. I wonder why the Met. deptt. did not come up with such a warning before the first spell of the dreaded rains... may be they were too busy fixing their leaking roofs to save their own skin !!!