Friday, August 29, 2008

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….

Thursday, August 28, 2008

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... "

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

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.

Friday, August 22, 2008

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!!

Thursday, August 21, 2008

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 :)