42 Milliways

2012

2012-01-01T09:57:00.001-08:00

2011 went by in the blink of my eye. The new year brings little hope of being any different from last year. People will marry, have babies, host parties, update their profiles and continue living the life of mortals. The world will go on the way it always has and always will. Nothing will change and no one will matter. Every age, every world and every moment will have a Rama and a Ravana. I wonder how long it takes for time to end.

Saket, Steve and a satiating Sunday

2011-11-21T00:01:00.001-08:00

And I'm back at Max, Saket. Dada is still not okay obviously but she's getting better every day. Touch wood.

I almost enjoy these little excursions to max now. Sitting in the 6th floor waiting lounge of the ICU wing, I can see a humungous residential colony on my right. From the main road it's impossible to tell just how deep it goes but from this height, it stretches all the way till my eyes take me. It's almost a slum, with exposed red brick structures going up five floors with no lifts obviously. The ground floor has the shops; chemists, fruit sellers, hardware stores, even a rental agency for serviced apartments. I'm not sure how these homes are capable of being serviced. Definitions vary, I guess.

This is on the left side of the road. On the right is the humungous, uber fancy max hospital that I'm currently at. It's beautifully landscaped, with pink chinar trees (that come closest to resembling the Japanese cherry blossoms ;only the flowers are varied shades of pink hanging loosely on deep brown bark) and those pygmy sized palms that look like giant green flowers. As you walk inside, you can't help but notice how few Indians you see. It's as if all the metro-ness of Delhi resides here. The reception and waiting lounges are flooded with middle eastern and African faces. Even the ones who look distinctly Indian are not. The moment they start conversing amongst each other you know they're from one of the neighbouring countries. You can see wads of American dollar bills in their hands, all crisp and ready to fly.I'm sure each one has an interesting story about what brought them all the way to Delhi and what happens to those who can't take the journey. Morbid,yes? I'd still love to know.

Yesterday was a really satiating Sunday. I woke up late but slept well through the night. Went to B block soon after, discussed the pending issues with dad, started the detox diet, and spent a few glorious hours at Lodi cafe reading the last bit of Steve Jobs. The bergamot and grape juice tea was just perfect, as was the music neither Shazam, nor I could identify. There are so many Regina Spektor clones these days. Studmuffin and I shifted base to Mashrabiya for about an hour after that and then drove back home to finish the second half of Crazy Stupid Love. What an awesome movie! It's as good a Love Actually that an American could've made.

Time to grab some grub at the whole foods store downstairs. Goodbye, non-audience.

Kites in January

2011-11-18T23:53:00.001-08:00

Thereis something
about blue doors
and green, moss walls

monochrome pictures
in long corridors

a drawer full of letters,
of castles in pencil sketches
for when the memory fades
but the love fetches

dust laden, moth-bitten
Uncles and Krackers

the Daisy smell
on rolled sleeves
of floral shirts long forgotten

What were those cosmic jokes
of five-pointed stars on erasers
similar signatures
the many coincidences

Did we love then?
Do we love now?

So long
Till we meet again
in another time
another fray

Old friends. New Friends.

2011-11-08T00:54:00.000-08:00

Hanging out with school friends is always a pleasure. You don't even have to get along with them necessarily; so long as you can recall common memories, shared experiences and giggle at all and sundry. Real, current friends on the other hand are harder to come by, harder still to keep. Too high-maintenance.

Mussourie is on the cards in just a few days. I can't wait to hang around char dukan, rokeby manor, sip on warm lemon tea and freeze to near death. Fortunately I even have 3 books waiting to be finished! There's the Jobs biography, which so far at least has been like a really long gossip column on Jobs albeit with some really interesting perspectives on running a business.

10 days later....

Mussourie was sooo good! Sigh. I can barely believe its already over, even though its been 3 days since we returned to horrible Delhi. There was warm sticky toffee pudding oozing out caramel sauce, ginger tea, the lal tibba walk, Viktor's home next to the graveyard, and good old Berry, the St. Bernard!!

The dreams of course are still refusing to stop. The latest one featured a new (not) face. I recognized her handwriting in his register of drawings. And then she came to apologize and tell me to be friends again. My knees wobbled even in the dream. :)

Such was the bond, that is now irreparably broken.

Such was the love. Albeit always unknown to them.

Getting by

2011-08-01T16:26:00.000-07:00

The homes are looking good. Of course, with every project they'll look better and more Chinese.
Things are beginning to move, finally. I feel way more settled now than I did 9 months ago.
I feel more confident of my ability to run the show independently. The growing team is of course, largely responsible for the new found confidence.

I'm still just as lonely of course. Both my best friends live abroad. I get to see them barely once a year, if at all. The few friends I do have in town are complete idiots. They mean so little to me that I'm surprised I'm even counting them as friends in my head. They were friends of convenience long ago, who are now not even that. Just long time acquaintances whose weddings I wouldn't bother attending. Is this how it is for everyone? Doesn't everyone deserve at least one person to unwind with?

2011-07-06T00:37:00.000-07:00

Hello strange dreams. Welcome back to my life! No, I am not happy to meet with you again.

2010-05-27T04:47:00.000-07:00

In 6 months flat my life has turned around. I'm no longer a practicing lawyer.
I don't like this loss of identity one bit but one has to do what one has to do I guess. That said, I must also admit that I'm not totally hating my new job. While I'm still trying to figure out how to best articulate what I do in a few seconds so I don't sound like a klutz in the typically Delhi social scene where the hello, nice to meet you too and what do you do come in the same breath.
But since this is the little bit of space I have between the devil and the deep blue sea I'm gonna treat myself to some rambling.
I'm working on putting together a proof-of-concept/working model of affordable housing for the economically weaker section. [These days 'poor' is a politically incorrect thing to say. One may refer to them as EWS and/or LIG(Lower-income group).] Its not my idea, no. But I'm the goto person in the project. Tap leak, land purchase, missing contractor, dried grass- all my problems!

There's a fair bit of thinking required too. Lot of policy analysis, figuring out the bureaucratic machinery etc. Its fun on the whole and keeps me busy for about 10+ hours a day.

So where am I? Definitely not at the intended destination but not in the middle of nowhere either.
What do I want now? I want to hasten my pace, focus on the road-map and build away! Burn the ships, as they say.
Of course its not a happy feeling when my lawyer friends boast away the intricate details of the last merger that hit headlines, while I know my biggest learning for the day has been how not to deal with a government office. Not happy at all. But maybe one day..

On the personal front things are chugging along; perhaps with a slight drag, that I am tempted to attribute to the banality of permanence. But apart from wanting to ramble it out here, its really nothing to write home about. Just another life.

2009-05-26T09:52:00.000-07:00

I was asked to write for a group blog recently but since I was short on time I modified something I'd posted here already.

Amidst all the hoopla about UPA’s clear sweep and the BJP’s tail-between-the-legs exit from prime time TV the better news for me was the much-desired sidelining of Mayawati. I don't think I know enough dirty words to malign her to my heart's fill. But then again she has redeemed herself in the limited way of giving the Dalits of this country a public figure they can identify with. Her not-so- fashionable, cheap polyester attire and almost crude bob cut may be a downer for the urban elite but to the migrant laborer mother of five and the about to married teenage girl she does represent hope, if not promise.

Who are we really kidding? With a little money spent on a few image consultants and some accent neutralizers, would she not have been a more tolerable choice for us, given that we take corruption, incompetence and ideological obstinacy for granted in most of our politicians anyway?

If I were to think from a completely neutral standpoint, devoid of any of my 'upper class', elitist prejudices, I would be compelled to say that for a country that has a 2000 year old history of caste discrimination and related cruelty, it is absolutely fantastic that a Dalit, uneducated woman has the gall to vie for a place in national politics. That her indubitable strength as the UP Chief Minister, largely lies also in her ability to get the Brahmins support is the other part of the miracle.

Yes, it ridicules the Indian self perception of being a first world, educated democracy but, maybe maintaining that self-perception is not as important as exposing the ugly underbelly of the real India. The real India has more underprivileged Mayawatis and Laloos leading a tortured existence every single day of their lives than we think we know of. India is not just the English speaking, jean-clad, brown boy we see in Khan market. Its way more. And its this India that is inspired and dares to dream of a changed fate every time it sees the likes of Mayawati calling the shots in the political high circles. So while I don't support Mayawati's political theatrics and find it utterly nauseating that she even attempted leading an alternative front against the UPA, at some level I also think that it represents an interesting paradigm in the changing power-play of the Indian socio-political fabric.

For the untouchable jamadar in UP she is the greatest success story there has ever been after Mahatma Gandhi. Born to an ordinary clerk, Mayawati went on to acquire a law degree, a respectable job as a teacher in a government school in Delhi and eventually the limelight spot in UP caste politics. For an ordinary woman from a backward class in a deeply caste-divided small town how is this any less remarkable than Gandhi’s tales of bravado?

Obviously, this is not to say that she should be crowned the politician of the year or that she has met the expectations of the people in any significant measure as is amply clear from the latest election results. I don’t even think she deserves credit for any of UP’s relative progress in the last so many years but at the same time, rightly or wrongly, her rise to her current stature and the fact that she represents a large (howsoever trite) chunk of the most populated state does deserve some attention.

Of course one feels more secure discussing the genie that’s stuck in a bottle. To be really honest, I’m not so sure I would’ve been as generous with her had she posed a real threat to the UPA. The thought of her ever stepping out of UP towards New Delhi is despite everything I just said, unsettling to say the least. Equally unsettling is the realization of how unconnected I am from the people she represents, in the way I think, act, eat, vote and pray. It’s this “other India”, or the India that Arvind Adiga aptly refers to as the “Darkness” that doesn’t think she’s half as bad really.

If nothing else, it is this India that Mayawati lends a face and a respectable name to.

2009-03-17T22:29:00.000-07:00

Wednesday late morning in New Delhi. Not fun. Nothing looks pretty here, or even interesting. The buildings are new, dilapidated and unwelcoming. The people are arrogant and intimidating if not outrightly dangerous. Nothing around me is happy except Feist. Even Elliot Smith sounds like he's singing his last few words. and right outside the window I can see dragon flies whizzing around, reminding me of the freedom i no longer have.

I had been mourning the unexpected death of my best friend (she lives on in someone I don't know anymore so the only way I can deal with it is to pretend she simply doesn't exist.) all this while but it just struck me that its probably for the best that she's not around. She and a couple of others I no longer have the same kind of access to, for various reasons that are beyond my control. They'd made my life too comfortable I guess for anything constructive to happen to me. I was too happy around them and discomfort is the only thing that will yank me out of the cocoon I've been building around my myself all these wretched years.

The last two paragraphs were the outcome of a particularly bad day, thats all. My life isn't that bad, really. In, fact I have very little to complain about and thats probably why I crib so much in the first place. People with real problems are way more mature in the way they deal with them, I'm sure.

I am back in Phuket, this time with Studmuffin and his family; apparently their first family outing in many years. I have nothing else to write about this one.

Everyone has been a little maniacal about Slumdog Millionaire for some reason. I am yet to meet someone who liked the movie without having any silly reservations. Most people did not like it for one or more of the following reasons:

1. "It showed the real India." - What the hell is wrong with that? Danny Boyle or any self-respecting director will obviously not be interested in doing an (politically or otherwise) orchestrated India Shining Campaign. The point of the movie was not to showcase India to the rest of the world. It was, simply to tell the story of a slum boy. Thats what movies are made for: to tell extraordinary stories of ordinary people.

2. "It did not show the real India"- Of course not. Child prostitution and slum dwelling are only figments of western imagination, as are child labor and street begging rackets! Besides, its best left for Premchand to write about. Danny Boyle should stick to James Bond.

3. "It was so gross. Where was Shah Rukh and who the hell is Irfan?"- This was the reaction from all those people who liked DTPH and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. There are just so many of them in the world: its nauseating!

4. "What was so great about it anyway?"- Jesus! Its a goddamn movie. Like it or leave it. Why all the fuss? Whether or not anyone knew what political party they were gonna vote for, it was socially imperative for everyone to have an opinion on Slumdog Millionaire. If you hadn't watched it you were making a mistake BUT it wasn't really much to speak of. ( I am tempted to say "Bloody Delhiites!")

Anyway, enough nonsense for the day. My eyes and fingers are beginning to complain now.

Goodnight all.

I'm so Marvin

2008-11-03T04:09:00.000-08:00

There are people I wish who would just vanish from the face of the earth. Not die, just vanish; cease to exist in people's memories and in the collective cosmic memory in general. Of course its a self destructive wish given how vicious people can be but then it might actually end up being the 'greatest good for the greatest number' sort of a thing you know. I mean, humans are not the only people in the universe. There are the Vogons and the Magratheans and many more races who could totally do with a human-free Earth. So, keeping the larger picture in mind I don't think its too bad an idea to grant everyone a kill-any-one wish.

Its been a reasonably productive/eventful day. Lots of phone calls, things that either got deferred or concluded, an out-of-the-box, chopsticks aided Chinese dinner, an email from an old old friend (read and replied to) and a horrific cold inching towards fever. A packed day that's distraction enough to keep you from realizing how boring and miserable you and your life are. What more can one ask for, except a few kites, perhaps?

Birthday Blues

2008-10-16T03:01:00.001-07:00

I'll turn 25 tomorrow. Its not a happy time at all. Nothing seems right. The winter's approaching faster than I was prepared for. Not that I sleep on the roads but its always brings with itself late mornings, musty woolens, an eerie indoor silence (what with no fans, no ac and little traffic noise) and joyless baths.
This year I wont even get any presents. Only, pointless and impersonal birthday wishes prompted by facebook's free reminder service.
Gah! I'm totally struck by the birthday blues!

Delhi Belly is right.

2008-10-09T02:11:00.000-07:00

Yes, I am from a small town. And yes, I hate Delhi. Of, course it would be easier to give an account of all the things I DO like about Delhi as against those that I don't, but then there aren't any to speak of at all.
I am usually a big fan of making lists. My first one was a list of all the people, fictional or not, I'd want to invite to my birthday party (other than those who had nothing better to do than to actually attend). It was a 20 odder that had everyone from Gandhi and Godse to Caulfield, Kunta Kinte and Dumbledore. Then there was the 'I hate..' list which was a detailed insight into my cynicism. It was lovely, really. Finishing the I-hate list was like wiping your wet hands on your pants. Utterly satisfying. I gave it to T the very next day of course. She had a box for all my letters, gifts and other quirks. I doubt she still has it, though. She's not a very sentimental person obviously. It just took me too long to figure it out. The day I discovered my box of her letters and stuff destroyed to shreds by termite, I cried. That day I felt like I'd lost her all over again.

of oranges and butter

2008-09-16T05:05:00.000-07:00

History is the best reflection of the mistakes you’re about to make. One of your many twins has already been there, done that and either figured it all out or failed and perished. What makes it difficult to learn from is the miserable fact that, mistakes rarely live on- neither in people’s memory nor in any physical consequence. Success on the other hand yearns to be repeated.

I’m finding it increasingly difficult to pen things down these days. It’s been this way ever since things started moving like a roller coaster ride with studmuffin and me. I’m not saying I regret any part of the last 18 odd months but a part of me somewhere wants to allow my imagination to take over and start tweaking things here and there to make it perfect. Of course I’ll never get it perfect because there is no such thing as perfect. Its all one big heterogeneous ball of …clones? I don’t know. I’ve always believed the following:

1. Everything is infinite.

2. Everything is everything. Oranges are stars. Stones are butter.

3. The only real way out and the only solution to absolutely everything is true knowledge- moksh.

4. There is no doubt, a God.

5. The world is nothing but a humongous mass of clues carefully planted by Him.

6. Change is the biggest preservation mechanism. Boredom is just one of its many methods. Evolution is how we justify the objective of change.

7. Religion is for beginners, spirituality for aspirers.

8. Music is God’s best gift to the world

9. Mauve is a wannabe blue

10. Hitler’s only fault was that he personified the unsaid truth about mankind.

11. There's a little bit of him in all of us.

12. I am an idiot.

The Puzzle that is India

2008-07-23T12:51:00.000-07:00

Damn! I missed all the action on TV thanks to this stupid viral-bacterial infection I'm down with. I slept and intermittently coughed through all the steamy speeches by Omar, Rahul and Manmohan. Although it was nice waking up to the good news of the UPA victory. The bigger and better news of course was the much needed side-lining of Mayawati. I don't think I know enough dirty words to malign her to my heart's fill.

There is another way of looking at this though. I mean, apart from the I-can't-believe-she-has-prime ministerial-ambitions. For a country that has a 2000 year old history of caste discrimination and related cruelty, it is absolutely fantastic that a Dalit, uneducated woman has the gall to vie for a place in national politics. That her indubitable strength as the UP Chief Minister, largely lies also in her ability to get the Brahmins on her side is the other part of the miracle.

Yes, it ridicules the Indian self perception of being a first world, educated democracy but, maybe maintaining that self-perception is not as important as exposing the ugly underbelly of the real India. The real India has more underprivileged Mayawatis and Laloos leading a tortured existence every single day of their lives than we think we know of. India is not just the english speaking, jean-clad, brown boy we see in Khan market. Its way more. And its this India that is inspired and dares to dream of a changed fate everytime it sees the likes of Mayawati calling the shots in the political high circles. So while I don't support Mayawati's political theatrics and find it utterly nauseating that she should lead an alternative front against the UPA or any other national party for that matter, I also think that it represents an interesting paradigm in the changing power-play of the Indian socio-political fabric.

After a sikh Prime Minister and a Muslim President an opposition led by a Dalit woman is all we needed to complete the Indian puzzle!

Anyway, I hope the Left has learnt its lesson for the day. I also hope that its the beginning of the end for them in Bengal and Kerala too. What Bengal needs is an independent Marwari CM and Kerala, an honest Chandrababu Naidu, if thats even a possibility.

One person I felt really bad for is Somnath Chatterjee. I really liked the guy.

Its a little past 4 in the morning right now and having slept all of the previous night AND day I think my eyelids are a bit too tired to take anymore of it. So I'm sitting in the living area, treating myself to TV, peanut butter Reeses and oh yes, my brand new Apple Air!

Sleep well world!

Blue Frog and all that Jazz

2008-07-10T01:55:00.000-07:00

Trivializing your circumstances does make living them down easier. So if the tap's not throwing out the usual quantity of water or you get dumped by the one you knew you ought to have dumped long ago , all you say to yourself is "shit happens, dude" and suddenly, almost all is well with the world.
Seriously, shit does happen. Sometimes it even hits the fan and then no matter how much you groan and moan, it seldom cleans up on its own. But what actually makes it stink is when we make a big deal of it( which is admittedly natural but also quite easily avoidable). The day we write it off by realizing how minuscule a part of the universe it is and how inconsequential it is in the larger scheme of things, dealing with it becomes a lot easier.
Disappointments are rarely a part of the climax. Every story has a happy ending, sooner or later. You just have to wait long enough for the story to unfold to completion.

Why am I talking so much nonsense? Its because I have little else to write about. The world is going nowhere, politics is as horrifically predictable and flamboyant in its hype as it was meant to be and there are no heroes good enough to deserve mention. Maybe I should simply grumble.

Bombay, by the way was a helluva lot of fun this time. Blue Frog for brunch from 11-4- bang in the middle of the day! I got frequently twirled by Kevin and another and was thrilled to bits with the charged, happy atmosphere they'd managed to create. These are the places that make you wonder if magic does in fact exist, and with things like Apple butter and blue cheese mousse on the buffet menu its difficult not to firmly believe so. The previous night it was Jazz by the bay/Jazz night-needless to say, absolutely brilliant.

The other highlight of the week was "Jaane tu..". It had all the trappings of a Bollywood classic. Fresh, intelligent faces, a great script, music by Rehman and the midas touch of Amir! Imran, his nephew is clearly a cut above the rest, both in terms of sheer talent AND good looks. He's got this soft intensity in his eyes which has the potential to drill a hole right through you. A bit like Michael Scofield of Prison Break, really. Hmmm... the movie on the whole was nothing spectacular, but a must-watch-once feel good sort.

Must get going now.

2008-06-18T22:58:00.000-07:00

Just when I thought this was my own little private space in the multiverse, along came the Worm! As my very first discoverer and commenter I think he/she deserves the title. Oh well, Congratulations! :) And now buzz off. I have matters of importance, of Liff (no, its not a typos) and the deadly to discuss with myself. Bzzz. Bzzz.

The problem is that I am not quite used to this space yet. I can't just pour my mind out the I way I really yearn to. What makes it even more complicated than it should have been is that 3 people already know I write here and the community is probably growing. There are random people I don't know names of who also know I exist. I don't like not knowing who they are. Actually I don't like not knowing if they are not who I think they are. How I wish this was really a hot line to God. (That would really be an earth shattering contribution by Google after the launch of Google maps.)
The other problem I think is that I barely get any free time to myself nowadays. There's always the odd fly or two buzzing around with painful enthusiasm. I wish they'd stop and look at themselves in the mirror. At least that would put a name to their miseries.

We're going for sushi tonight. I hope there isn't any fish broth in the miso for once. It'd be such a dampener to my already soggy spirits.

Goodbye world. Hope all is well with you.Oh, and I still can't put the commas.

The Catharsis

2008-05-30T06:41:00.001-07:00

Hmm.. I'm not sure how long this is going to survive. Since this blog is the result of a split second decision of a distracted moment it might just end up being wound up today itself. Might even take a week though given how lethargic I can be.

Why have I started in the first place? Well.. I always thought I didn't have enough to say to the world to have a blog of my own. Then somebody mentioned how therapeutic it can be (or did they?)- the offload that is. I still have my doubts, which explains the cynical start but giving it a try anyway. How bad could it be? In fact, the pressure of maintaining it will hopefully make me write more even if its just random gibberish and with a little time and practice I may even graduate to churning out the occasional shit pot read.
That makes me wonder-how many people obsess over their blackberries on the shit pot the way I do? Quite a few I would think. Its the only really peaceful moment of the day, for the healthy at least as opposed to the Taco Bell enthusiast. I rarely call it the shit pot though. My favorite name for it is 'the daily throne, to each his own' (admittedly plagiarized from Praveen Jagwani who once upon a time, long long ago used to write in one of the financial papers. ) Its only after Rockstar Studmuffin came into my life that I started using it more frequently despite my distinct dislike for it. Somehow it disrespects the sanctity of the activity. I mean how can you coin a four letter word for something so crucial to the survival of an entire race?! Its utterly sacrilegious if you ask me! But then again, nobody ever asks me. I guess there are few who have the constitution of a troll and the mind of a pig.

Chew that till I'm back.

WOTR