All in a day's work

Read this old joke somewhere.. guess on a friend's Gtalk status message, and enjoyed it.
It read
"My company pretends to pay me and I pretend to work" :)

Musicals

Though I generally like all movies I watch, there are some musicals that are my favourite and I think I can watch them over and over again.

My Fair Lady - The movie, based on GB Shaw's Pygmalion is a visual and aural treat. Audrey Hepburn is phenomenal as Eliza Doolittle and so is Reg Livermore as Professor Henry Higgins. I just love the song 'I could have danced all night' and the use of alliteration such as 'The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain'. Other songs such as 'Just you wait Henry Higgins, just you wait' is equally witty.

Manpasand - Closer home, our own Bollywood has made a remake of My Fair Lady starring Tina Munim and Dev Anand. This movie also has an amazing sound track with songs like 'charu chandra ki chanchal chitwan' that are on the lines of use of alliteration in the English version and the title song 'pankh bina udoo' which is the Hindi version of 'I could have danced all night'.

Thoda Sa Rumani Ho Jayein - This 1990 musical stars Anita Kanwar (of Lajoji fame from Buniyaad) and Nana Patekar. The movie compares a beautiful parallel of drought in a town to the drought in the lives of the movie's characters. Nana Patekar plays a rain seller (incidentally, many claim this movie is also a inspired by a Hollywood movie Rain Maker) who is able to get the rain back in the life of Anita Kanwar. Songs like 'Nanhi si Silu' celebrating the imending motherhood, 'main sundar hoon' celebrating moment of self realisation by Anita Kanwar, 'Do ghaton ke beech' celebrating victory over inhibitions and 'Thoda sa rumani ho jayein' celebrating victory over dismay are heart touching and leave a deep impact. Kanwar has done a class act in portraying the life of a not-so-charming-girl-nextdoors Binni Rai.

Morning Raga - Shabana Aazmi steals the show here. The movie is about Swarnalatha (played by Shabana), whos is a budding artist, who has taken to believe that she is the cause of death of her childhood friend and quits singing. The plot goes on to bring music back in Swarnlatha when her dead friend's son comes to her for a recording. Songs like 'Mahaganpati' and 'Thaye Yashoda' are a superb blend of Karnatic and Western music.

Sardari Begum - This movie is the cause of this entire post that I am writing at such an odd hour. The story which has Kiron Kher playing the main protagonist is a lovely story of a once famous thumri singer. The movie runs in a flashback after Sardari Begum dies in a minor religious tiff. What ensues is a reporter's (who also gets to know that she is the neice of Sardari Begum) further research into the life of the singer through interviews with people around Sardari. This movie would delight those who have an ear for thumri. If you ever enjoyed 'Piya tora kaisa abhimaan' from Raincoat, you would not be disappointed by songs in this movie.

Sound of Music - Julie Andrews is the show stealer. This cropped hair nun-to-be comes into the lives of a widowed naval captain's family as a governess to his children and overturns their monotonous routine. The plot is interesting with a hint at the pre-world war II Nazi era as well. 'Doe-a-deer' from this movie is the song which all of us have known since our childhoods. 'Edelweiss', 'My favourite things', 'How do we solve a problem like Maria', 'So long, farewell, auf weidersehen, good bye' are treat to one's ears.

As I write this post am reliving the experience which I have enjoyed I don't know how many times now. Though I wouldn't recommend these as a must-watch but they are an absolute treat for any 'parallel cinema' lover.

To any of you who may plan to watch any of these, just a word of caution. Do not watch these with a big group. You would end up listening more of 'uff yeh kya ho raha hai...fir ganaaaaa..nahinnn' rather than the film's musical score....

The view from my window

I love coffee.
Though I 'm not a big fan of CCD but am loving this coffee here. What makes me love this horrendously overpriced coffee at the airport is the view from the window.

I can see the planes landing and taking off at a distance. The whole place is lit up with thousands of twinkling lights. And, I am sitting in this cozy little corner sipping my hot café latte along with some not-so-great samosas.

Ah! there comes the announcement. Flight 452 is boarding, and off I am to home for one chilly weekend in the otherwise subdued winters of Mumbai!!!

Broken Images - Indeed!!!

I was taught in my childhood that one should never scribble over books, which I was following untill I met this veteran actress - Shabana Azmi.

I am usually a no-autograph-for-me-please-type person, but I don't know why I felt like asking Shabana (sorry can't call her Shabanaji for various reasons) for one. What followed is a lesson for life.

We (Me and two other friends from XIMB days) had gone for this new play by Girish Karnad - Broken Images.

The play arose some interest in me for two reasons: 1) Shabana Azmi, the protagonist; and 2) Use of technology.

The plot of the play is simple and yet has a suspense that unfolds beautifully towards the end. Manjula Sharma (played by Shabana) is an English lecturer and a small time Hindi writer till she comes up with her magnum opus - a novel in English which becomes a worldwide bestseller. Manjula is at a TV studio launching her book in India when she gets face to face with her conscience. What follows is a dialogue between the two that takes us through Manjula's life and her eventual breakdown in front of her own self.

Shabana Azmi, as anyone would have guessed, was superb.

What added more stars to the act is that the Shabana's conscience was also played by Shabana albeit through a pre-recorded video being played on a large plasma TV. There was perfect coordination between the video and Shabana just as it would have been between two actors.

The play got over and as we were walking out, my friend started bugging me with her whimsical whim to meet Shabana in flesh and blood. I ignored it completely and soon we were standing out in the crowd doing some star gazing (the smalltime actors of tellytown were there to make their presence felt in the social circles, but no-one seemed to be noticing them except us). But this lady's urge to meet Shabana was so strong that she cajoled my other friend to get back to the green room and meet her dear actress, while I waited downstairs for both of them to be shooed away by the guard.

Quite a few minutes passed by and there was no sign of the two of them. I was getting curious, so I also decided to join them. To my astonishment I found the duo engrossed in a blah-blah that Alyque Padmsee was delivering in some strange accent. Shabana was nowhere around till this friend of mine decided to venture in the green room. The assistant informed she would be coming out soon. Suddenly the door opened and there was a little commotion. It took us quite some time to realize we were standing next to Shabana.

My friend didn't loose a moment to "catch hold of" her dear actress and congratulate her for the lovely performance. This poor little girl had thought Shabana would be all ooh-aah at her praise. Instead she got a cold response. Shabana scribbled her illegible signature on a book that my friend was carrying without even looking up in her eyes.

It is precisely at this moment when I suddenly felt this inner urge to get rid of my habit of keeping my books clean. I dug out a copy of Pather Panchali that I had purchased barely an hour ago and slyly forwarded it. Her hands once again moved in the same mechanical movements to scribble.

Once I had the book back in my hands, I realised my mistake. I felt like tearing off the page or throwing the book away. Alas! I could not do so. I had purchased it from my own hard earned money. It would always stand as a testimony to my fallen self respect in front of a damsel from the tinsel town.

This page, dirtied by the illegible signature of Shabana, would always remind me to continue to be a no-autograph-for-me-please-type person.

I would always remember those words from Shabana, as she climbed down a flight (just one flight) of stairs - "Yahan lift nahin hai kya".

I wish Shabana would not have said this. I wish she would have at least looked up in my eyes for one moment as she scribbled on my book. I wish she would have courteously replied, or at least smiled, to my friend’s wishes.

Then, I would have never minded calling her Shabanaji.

Another year and they will call it Twenty-Ten!

I had posted this long back, almost a year back. A friend of mine asked me "Has anything changed, or you can still use the same post for this year"

The other day, I sent a mail to everyone in office inviting them to a small celebration that we had organised in office on the New Year's eve. The mail had a line that read "a year full of sweet memories..." and my colleague commented "are you sure (of the sweet memories)".

Am still trying to find answers to these two questions.

Yes, many things have not changed.. but some things have, and for the good!
And the year may not be full of good memories, but it wasn't that gloomy either.

When I sit back and count, there were more reasons to be happy that to crib about.

Home bound always!! I was home on all festivals and important occassions :)

Marriages Galore!! Three of my very good friends got married, and I could attend the wedding of at least one of them.

Two of my cousins also got married (looks like the entire year went away in marriages) and I thoroughly enjoyed the family reunions.

That one SMS. A friend made me realise the value of friendship through that simple SMS
that she sent while she was exchanging the marital vows with her beloved.

Pooo....My long time friend in the US of A is still in touch with me and we still share the same warmth.

Dube the painter. Friends gave me an amazing gift on my birthday.

Still stuck to Mahavir Classik. and I am loving it!! :)

That lovely 5-star dinner. And what a lovely time we had that night! Thanks Tushar and Ruchika for a memorable evening.

The Voice & Accent training. Learnt how your teeth need to pain(t) the tongue when you are saying "thank you" and that I have to bite my V's and kiss my W's. Crazy stuff!!

The unionbaazi at office. Though our lunch table has shrunk to three members for erstwhile figre of four, the unionbaazi continues. We have found some new members who have the potential to be a part of our union :)

While my mind has probably given up at this hour, I am sure there would have been a thousand other instances that would be a part of my happy memories for 2009. Not that I did not have my share of not-so-good memories, but what is the point is crying over spilt milk :)

A lesson from a cook

I crib a lot.
On various issues.
I often find myself underpaid, overworked, underutilised, over strained, underestimated, etc etc etc. More often than not things get down to money and the salaries we draw. We hardly think about the innumerable gifts that we are enjoying in our current lives.

The very reason am writing this post today is my small chat with my cook today.

A stone faced lady, that she is, Chhayabai was in a little talkative mood today. So, while I made myself a cup of hot milk she asked me about my family and other generic stuff. I chipped in to ask her about her children and pat came the reply "dono ghar pe rehte hain pagalon ki tarah". This wasn't the reply that I had expected. Then she told me her story. She has two children and both suffer from mental disorders. She told me that her daughter has problem with her memory and does not remember anything, so she is home. Then she told me the story of her son. Probably a guy of my age, may be a little younger. He was a normal schhol going kid till the age of twelve. And then he met with a rail accident after which he has not been able to walk properly. While she told me her tale of sorrow I was constantly looking in her eyes to find that moist corner. I could already feel the goosepimples on my hands, but her eyes remained dry.
They had a sparkle, on the contrary.
She was telling me how bright a student her son was. That they had put him in a good English Medium school and had arranged computer lessons for him. She was probably reliving those happy days as she narrated me the story.
I didn't know how to react. In the entire conversation, not once did she try to evoke sympathy for us.
For once, I realised the true meaning of an essay I had written long time back in school - "Health is Wealth". My father had asked me to add these closing lines : Health is Wealth, but Wealth certainly is not Health.

Nostalgia - Served hot on the platter!!

We met after a long time - Me and T. It was a long day at work and I was counting each second. As soon I wrapped up I and was at the basement, just about to give that first kick to my motorcycles, I remembered that I had forgotten to mention something important in my past mail to my client. So, back I went; frustrated and cursing myself for being so careless. As soon as my mailbox’s sent items folder confirmed that my mail was out from our server, I ran back to the casement with the cake (it was A’s birthday as well) in one hand to rush home, lest T would have to wait outside (as indeed it turned out to be).

When I reached my apartment I saw T standing there, may be cursing me for not being thereJ.

Before I proceed, let me also describe the commonalities that I share with T. Me and T were the part of the same conglomerate before wee joined the MBA course at XIMB. We were neighbours during the two year course. We did our summers in the same company and got the final placements in the same company.

But now T is moving out (as S did a week back) and is shifting his base to Mumbai. It was in this regard that T was visiting Mumbai for a short duration over the weekend. So after the day’s work we met like long lost friends and had so much to catch up. Post the birthday kicks to A, I shifted with T to his hotel, where our banter continued till late in the night.

The following morning we had the regale breakfast at the hotel. All thanks to T and his new employer J The evening was packed with good times and nostalgia. R had come over and the three of us chatted over a long dinner at the hotel. The discussions meandered from our current bosses to former friends; from our future life partners to the friends getting married; and from our roommates to life in Mumbai. The food was good and was unlimited. We had everything from soup and breads, salads, pasta, pizza, noodles, fried rice to even our very own aloo paratha. The “icing on the cake” were the desserts. We would have tasted some 15 variety of desserts that night!! While we were savoring the desserts it was getting late for R. So we decided to drop her back home. This gave us some more time to sit and chat. None of us was in a hurry and we simply did not want this dinner to end. When the service staff came over to tell us that it was close to their closing time, we proceeded for our final course of our lovely meal. The ice-creams! R was super-excited and created a very personalized scoop which we ate to our heart’s delight. Thanks T for that great dinner treat!!

And then came the goodbyes!! We dropped R to her home and then tucked ourselves to a peaceful slumber. The next morning saw us at the same place, where we had our dinner, munching away some bread over the breakfast.

It was around 10 or 11 when T checked out to meet another friend who was visiting Mumbai. I bade him farewell with the wish to see him soon in Mumbai and have more such (may be not this lavish) dinners!!

Thanks again to T for the treat.

A "Union" disintegrates

"S" has quit the company and that leaves only the three of us at the lunch table. Till now, even if one of us was on leave it would be a crowd of three having lunch and the post lunch walk. But, now onwards, on such occassions it would just be the company of two.

Over the past 18 months, we have shared everything from personal life to professional life over the lunch and snacks sessions. We have played pranks; been more-than-often to the nearby Naturals for those ice-cream breaks; celebrated birthdays and weddings; and shared our thoughts about others rather loudly.

While S moves on to be with her dear P, we wish her a great life ahed. We will miss her in our very dear "Majboor Union" of Four.....

The cattle class and the poor little minister

A train rams into another near Mathura killing some 30 people (that is the official figure) and Ms. Mamta Banerjee immediately announces a 5 lakh compensation for the family members of the victims. What else could have Ms. Banerjee done? This is not a dharna of which she has an expertise, nor is this a Lok Sabha session where she screams with elance. We are dealing with people here, whom she represents, and that is something that our poor little Railway Minister has got no experience.

The authorities are investigating the cause of the accident, or so they are saying. Soon, Ms Banerjee would set up a commission to prepare a report on the incident. And we all know what will happen next. The report would never be out and the dead would be forgotten as they have always been in the past. After all, we are the “cattle class” and why bother for the cattle when you have other greener pastures to attend to!

The Kali Shoe

When I stumbled upon this website called zazzle.co.uk I was first amazed at their product offering. The website allows you to create your own designs online. But I was appalled, when I came across one particular design - the "Kali Hindu Goddess Shoes". The designer has crossed all limits of cultural sensitivity by putting the image of a Kali-like figure on the shoes.

Wonder where have all the activists gone who had vandalised M.F Hussain's art works when he had "supposedly" portrayed the Hindu Goddesses in nude.

The Invisible Gift

Never in my life would I have felt this blank as all of us did after we got off from the rickshaw that Saturday night.
We had been invited to a friend's house over dinner cum birthday treat. As is customary, we - me, A and R - had a bag of goodies as a gift for our host for the night. We got a rick and were chit chatting all the way to Mulund, where we had to change to another rickshaw to reach G's house in Thane.
I called up G when we reached Mulund that we are standing in a queue to get a rickshaw to Thane. This (queue), in our view, was the most absurd thing that we had come across that day - at least till that point in time.
Our turn came pretty quickly and soon we were trotting all the way to G's home. Half way through I called up G to tell her that we would be reaching in another 10 minutes.
As we got down from the rickshaw, and I was settling the bill, A asked the BIG QUESTION "Where is the bag?"
In all this rickshaw hunting and queuing up, we had conveniently forgotten about the gift which we had left in the first rickshaw.
My mind went blank.
This rickwallah was saying aomething about change and I son't remember how much I gave him over the fare.
I was still blank.
As we made way to G's house I could see the disappointment on A's face and astonishment on R's face. We could not believe we had done this, and there was no way that we could trace the rickshaw back.
We went up to G's house and were greeted by the warm smiles of G and her mom and grandmom.
The jaws dropped when they heard our deeds and we got our share of scoldings from Maanti (as A and G call her) and G's mom.
For G, we had nothing but an invisible bag from Lifestyle, an odourless perfume by Marks & Spencer and a colourless eyeshadow pack by Maybelline. Guess G would not have been too happy flaunting these.. neither we gifting them to her.

Ganpati Bappa Morya, Pudhchya Varshi Lavkarya

And then it rained, like it had never before in the past few days. It was a sign of good omen. The skies had finally relented to the cries of the people. May be, it was the final gift that Ganapati wanted to give to his devotees.
It was the tenth day of Ganapati celebrations. The last day. The lake near my home - the Powai Lake - was a busy place. This Ganapati, though I had all plans to visit one of the pandals, I decided otherwise - thanks to the flu of the Swine. But then one could not have missed the grand visarjan ceremony.
As if, the waters of the lake were not sufficient, there was a great sea of humanity that was thronging the ghats to bid farewell to its favourite God; and one could see hundreds of statues floating amidst this sea of thousands of devotees. It was a joyous and mystic atmosphere all around.
The dhak of the dhols, the glare of spotlights, the blaring bollywood numbers, the soft-tonned aartis, the loud slogans and the messemerizingly beautiful statues took you to a different world altogether. After a good long walk and a dekho at all the murtis and a memory card full load of photographs we headed home.... and just as we entered the apartment, it started pouring heavily... May be, Ganapati was showering his blessings on us!

Some beautiful moments my friend "A" captured on his camera.....

"Is that a halo, or am I dazed by your divine presence"


"Even the mouse is so cute"


"I pray to thee, oh lord!"

"A hand from all"

"Am holding your hands"





"You are under my umbrella"



"Rest your tired bodies on me, am here for you"


"The sea of humanity"

"Divine"

"The Golden Ganapati"

"A closer look"

(C) All photographs are courtesy Amol.

V, R and Me

Time flies. It was about three months back that my friend V told me about her wedding planned in September. That got me, and another common friend making plans for the wedding and at the end, both of us ended up not attending the wedding.
As luck would have it, this other friend also got engaged and is now busy preparing for her own wedding and thus could not make it to V's marriage. Why I never made it - that is another story - which I would rather not discuss :(
The bottomline being, that we didn't make it to V's moment of happiness.... I can only imagine V clad in a rich silk sari with heavy gajra (God knows if she would have worn jewellery on her marriage or not - she was always a no-jewellery person) sitting in the mandapam amidst the sacred chants with R by her side, clad in a white dhoti ("Topless" as V describes the look).

God knows if we ever will meet again.... All three of us together again, like we used to when we were in the college - over a lunch at Shrikunj or for that pao bhaji at the Unit 1 market.
O! What fun it used to be. Going all around the city of Bhubaneswar in an autorickshaw to visit various temples, or a trip to the far flung forests of Simplipal and the adventurous Hirakud dam excursion, or the innumerable visits to Puri and shopping at Raghurajpur, or (as a matter of fact!) the various assignment where we played those you-did-not-do-anything blame games, getting caught by the professor for helping each other and sending apology mails to clear the mess - they will all be the sweet memories that one can never forget.
Am sure V and R (not V's R) will agree to this.

Die another day!!

Many a times we feel that nothing is in our hands. That we are mere puppets and someone else is pulling the strings. If the string snaps, off we go - haywire.
Well this is exactly what I felt last night when I was sitting on the rear seat of the motorcycle that my good friend "R" was driving. As the speedometer touched past 60 my heart rate would have been surely double this number. Not because 60 is too fast, but on Mumbai it is! As he raced through the traffic meandering through the pot-holes and tunneling through the traffic, overtaking from the left and splashing through a wet patch, I was not really sure if I would be alive till we reached the movie hall where we were headed.
As it happens in troubled times, that we remember the good lord, I was actually remembering the almighty that he let me watch this movie show.... and I made a resolve that never again am I to be a pillion rider. The irony of the situation was that while returning I chose to sit behind another good friend "A" considering it might help my cause, but empty roads and a slow Bullet Thunderbird just don't go together (somehow!). We were back on the same road meanering through the same potholes and the wet patch.... just that this time I was enjoying the power.. the wind coming in my face.... and me thinking aloud...Die Another Day!!

Maaru Amdavad

As I was idle at work, I did a random wiki search. I was reading about the nobel prize when the wiki page on Tagore threw up an image of the Sardar Patel National Museum in Ahmedabad. My mind immediately wandered off to Ahmedabad and its touristic attractions.

One of the first memories is that of Gandhi Ashram. The place was next doors to our first house in Ahmedabad. As one enters the Ashram, one is greeted by a red wall contrasted by a row of lush green ashoka trees. A sign-board informs the visitors that one of these was planted by Pandit Nehru himself when the Ashram was inaugurated.

As you move inside, the chirping of birds and the uncanny silence in the air takes over. You are in a different land. The galleries that connect the small thatched square red-and-white-walled cottages that house the museum are lined with huge cut-outs and writings of Gandhiji. His almost illegible handwriting is a treat to the eyes!

There is a painting gallery with huge life-size portraits of Gandhiji. I distinctly remember a portrait of Gandhiji made using groundnut shells. These have amazed me everytime I have visited the Ashram.

“Hriday Kunj” is the cottage where Gandhiji and Karturba satayed while the Ashram was functional. The cottage has been maintained in its original form. One may be astounded to find different rooms for Kasturba and Gandhiji in this cottage. There is a small room in the courtyard of the cottage where you can just peep in from the grilled door. It has a neat arrangement of Gandhiji’s desk with a book and his glasses placed over and the famous watch lying by the side on the small sitting couch.

Not far from the Gandhi Ashram is the Calico Textile Museum. A museum preserved by the Lalbhai Group of Ahmedabad. The Museum, housed in an ancient haveli, is a treat to your eyes. The old fabrics weave a charm and you just can’t help getting mesmerized. Each woven thread has a tale to tell. Meandering through the dark staircases lit by the natural light filtering through the jharokhas, one is transcended to the world of the royals. It is not just the museum but the entire place that creates an out-of-this-world charm. The little pond in the courtyard with water lilies and the jain pichwai paintings to the remains of a haveli salvaged from a kabadi create magic.

A little ahead is the Sardar Patel National Museum. It is an umimpressive museum housed in a majestic palace. What catches the eye is a statue of Mahatma Gandhi and Sardar Patel – arm-in-arms – right outside the complex. I think this is the only one of its kind statue of Patel and Gandhiji together.

A little further from Shahibuagh - towards Dilli Darwaza - is located the famous Hutheesingh Jain Temple. The majestic tall tower and the symmetric arches along the corridors adorned in the jain style architecture are a must visit. Photography, unfortunately, is prohibited.

From Dilli Darwaza, one must make headway to the Saiyyed Siddi ni Jali at Lal Darwaza. The jail is a huge window in a mosque with intricate carving depicting a tree. This is also the unofficial symbol of Ahmedbad.

Right opposite Siddi Saiyyed's mosque is an old haveli, which now operates as a restaurant – Agashiye – famous for its authentic Gujarati cuisine.

Other places of interest in Ahmedabad could be the Kite Museum, Kochrab Ashram, Kankariya lake, Baal Vatika, Ahmedabad Zoo and Vishala Utensil Museum. A little drive away are the famous Adalaj ni Vav and Akshardham Mandir.

Oh! My mind is cluttered with memories of the colourful land…. Wish I could turn time back... How I wish!!

जल्दी आओ Dube!!

It was well past twelve midnight and I was dreading the Monday that was awaiting the daybreak. My laptop's almost dead speakers were trying hard to make me enjoy Jagjeet Singh's Hazaron Khwahishein Aisi. The song was in the first paragraph and I was about to explain to my room-mate what the lines meant when suddenly "A" - my other flatmate - screamed. Jaldi aao Dube!! Trust me, my heart just froze for a moment. The living room was dark with him standing there with the flash light of his cell phone switched on. I thought some strange insect, a smake probably, has entered the house. As my eyes searched for the supposed snake and I moved further in the living room I was surprised by a bunch of friends screaming "Happy Birthday". For once, I didn't realise what was happening! It was a big surprise. Dunno when and how they managed to sneak in.

So there they were, the five of them. A, A, A, A and V (R). While A (my flat mate, the jadi aao guy) was busy shoting a video, A was helplessly trying to light a match - a proxy for a candle :)
The message on the cake read : Belated Happy Birthday Debbey। But this was not all. More was to follow.

On some other friend's birthday, I had told my friends what I wanted as a birthday gift and lo! here it was - a painter's tripod। They would have gone around places to find one, am sure। but here it was, right there in my arms.

I had been thinking for quite some time to update my blog। What better moment than this to write about, especially when I have now become the owner of a prized possession.

MJ.... just loved your work in "Heal The World"... may you find peace wherever you are. Amen!

Headlines for today....

I won't say anything... I would rather let these news headlines from today's TOI do the talking...
UPA minister-run med college wants Rs 20L donation - Ah! ask my brother how he felt when he got admission for a PG course in a medical college.... Bloody parasites !!
MNS sees red over Raj caller tune - They should rather be seing saffron...
Don't blame us for bad roads: BMC - Then whom do I blame, my bad luck :O
Rs 400 incentive for women who deliver in civic hospitals - And what about the life insurance premium for the unborn?????
Give baby a Tamil name, get a gold ring - And finish off all the alphabets of English two times over for just one gram of gold!! What an idea sirjee!
Girls are bad at math?It's all a myth, says study - Ever tried siphoning off a rupee from the money your mother gave you for the groceries???
AND THE WINNER IS...
Pakistan plannig to setup new anti-terrorism force - Ha ha ha!! am laughing my lungs out.... Look who is saying.... if Pakistan is setting up a new anti terrorism force then India should better be beefing up the security:)

ENDS.

The song goes...Jai Ho, but whose???

When I saw Danny Boyle's Slumdog Millionaire, never in my dreams could I have imagined that it would sweep the Oscars. Good, that it did! And better that it brought laurels to the various Indian artistes and technicians. But then it should stop at this. I think Danny, as a film-maker, did a fantastic job to show it to the world how poor the country is (and we all loved him for this) and, we don't actually don't need to go overboard and tell the World "Suno Suno!!! Hum Gareeb Hain. We are still the good 'ol land of snake charmers and beggars".

When I read a recent statement by Azhar's (the kid in the movie) mother after Gerard Butler's visit to their shanty - “Humne suna hai ki woh paanch lakh dene wale hai Azhar ke naam pe” I was shocked. This, when Danny Boyle is already funding Azhar and Rubina's education and has even bought them houses.

Agreed that the families are poor, but whatever happened to those things called dignity and self respect. I wonder if it would not be better that they focussed on developing their children's future than stuffing money in their pockets, only to spend it all on the vices. That would be the real Jai Ho!!
Guess what Congress has to say to this.... After all this was their election Anthem!! Am sure there are many Azhar's and Rubina's waiting to see the zariwala aasman out there....

34-Sona Mahal.....Will miss you

My association with Ahmedabad goes back to 1992 when we my dad got posted here. The very first memories are that of a transporter strike because of which our stuff couldn't come on time and I had to make do with samosas and jalebis in the tiffin, which I have anyway hated all my school life.
We stayed in a rented accomodation for a couple of years. I have very vivid and happy memories of that place. My sister would sit at the window and gaze at the vehicles passing by on the Subhash Bridge. When it rained heavily, the Sabarmati would swell and we would go to the bridge to see the waters. Come Navaratri, the whole society (yes, that's how we called it) would get decked up and people would dance all night long to the tunes of pankhida re udi ne jaje... I even taught my sister how to ride a bicycle in this society. There was a vegetable grocer within the premisis where I would often go with a list of vegetables that mom wanted. Also, there was a shop where you could buy that orange candy bar. In the evening all the kids would gather near the tall overhead tank and play till the sun set and their mothers came out calling them.

In 1994, we moved to our own apartment, our home. It must have been such a fulfilling moment for my parents. And never till today did I realise that I have spent some 15 long years in that house. I grew up in that house and the house grew with me. Over the years, we had adorned the walls with hand-picked paintings and the corners with the finest and the most unique artefacts. What memories I have associated with this house is something that I cannot describe in words. But why am I writitng this post is because today I suddenly felt that the string, which had kept me attached to MY HOME, has snapped.... My heart is overwhelmed by such strong feelings. When my parents told me that the packers were packing up stuff in cartons, my mind wandered off to those artefacts, those books, those paintings, those clothes, that crockery which had been there since ages, at least to me it did! I know its never going to be the same again. I know that Ahmedabad is lost for me....I know Sona Mahal is no more my home.... It might be a permanent address but not a home... I would now be a mere visitor to my own city, to my hometown.... There is so much that I have held close to my heart... There is so much to remember so much that am going to miss all my life.


I will miss writing "34-Sona Mahal....." as my postal address.
I will miss the name plate that bore my father's name.
I will miss the iron grill with a unique pattern, specially designed by my parents.
I will miss the arched doorway that let into my home.
I will miss my room with arched balcony.
I will miss the creaking noice that my almirah made.
I will miss that cozy corner in the living room under the lanp.
I will miss the sofa that I had bought.
I will never be able to see the sun set behind the temple.
I will miss the panoramic view from my balcony.
I will miss hushing away those pigeons in the morning.
I will miss reading the newspaper sitting on the bed while the first rays of sun filled the room with warmth.
I will miss the wardrobe that still smelled of fresh paint.
I will miss getting ready under the dressing table's spot-light.
I will miss seeing the Sabarmati flow by through the window.
I will miss pinnig-up a picture on the study table.
I will miss walking bare-footed into my neighbour's house to borrow a lemon.
I will miss driving to Yogesh Khamman to get my mom's fovourite dhokla.
I will miss kite-flying during Uttarayan on the terrace.
I will miss going to the law garden to do some local shopping.
I will miss the cool evening breeze.
I will miss the bright and scorching sun on a summer afternoon.

I will miss the walls, the flooring, the paint, the smell, the touch, the sounds, the sights...........