Licence to learn (driving)

For the longest time my sister has had this wish. She wants to learn driving. Why in the world would she want such a thing is beyond me. For I can assure you that driving on Mumbai roads is less of a fun activity and more of a torture. Anyways, who am I to deny her this masochistic wish? So, when she completed her exams recently, we decided to enroll her into a driving school. I have never been a big fan of driving. The fact that it scares me is a secret I never share with anyone. But this time I decided to let go of my phobia and learn driving myself. Two birds with one stone, so to speak...

So on the last Saturday of November '13, we found ourselves sitting in the office of this renowned driving school listening to this lady sell us the sky and the heavens... For just Rs 3000. She was good at what she did. She reeled us in as effortlessly as a child would reel in a couple of hypnotized Marlins. I will leave out the gory details. Its another story for another time. Suffice it to say that we paid up 3500 each for 4 wheeler as well as 2 wheeler licences. Our lessons would start from Monday. And we had to go get our learners licences on Tuesday.

What transpired on Monday and how our lessons progressed is again another story for another post. Move forward to today... 3rd Dec '13, Tuesday...

I have been following the lady's instructions to the letter. And having a very difficult time going about it.

3:45 am... Just past the witching hour. The damn alarm goes off... In normal circumstances, me being a direct descendent of Mr. Kumbhakaran from Ramayana, I would never have perceived the blaring irritating sound. But it had been a sleepless night, with me getting up every hour or so to check the time, lest I don't get up early enough... So putting out the alarm wasn't that difficult. Getting out of the soft warm bed was, though... My eyes were tired, my body yearned to let go again...

Finally, with a seemingly herculean effort (and for a guy who had never ever got up so early, not even during exams, it was a herculean effort), I pushed myself up and went around performing the morning rituals in the dark silence of my sleeping home. The lady at the motor school had given me a Signals Chart and a set of possible questions I was sure to encounter during the computerized test. But the past two days had been pretty hectic and I had never even given them a cursory glance. So I went through them once while answering nature's call (if there is one thing I did manage to retain from my engineering college days, its the concept of multi-tasking)...

I was ready by 4:50. By then I was already late. The lady had instructed me to be there at the Andheri RTO by 5:00... If I was late, even by an hour, I would miss my chance to get the learners licence that day... So I got a rick, and asked the driver to step on it. He got me there in 15 minutes and 60 Rs flat...

This was the first time I was visiting the RTO. I was told to look out for a glass building. In the dark of the pre-dawn, all I could make out was an 8 feet high fence made up of fiber sheets. I asked around and someone directed me to go through the gap in the fence. Beyond the gap was a big commercial building. The road flanking the building was cordoned off on both sides by the fence. So it was devoid of any vehicles whatsoever. A guy asked me where were they taking interviews. Interviews? No idea, I told him.  A lady was doing an early morning walk along the road. There were others walking urgently towards the building. I followed them to the building's entrance arch, an there I asked the security people. They directed me to the back of the building.

It was dark. I followed the man in front of me as he entered a hall - an open area covered with roof. There were quite a few people here, standing in what passed for a queue. I went and appended myself to the end of it. It was dark. Only the feeble yellow glare from the far off perimeter light illuminated sections of the otherwise dark hall and made shadows dance on the the opposite wall. There was just a single metal bench, capable of accommodating 3 people, and a small 4 by 4 feet of square block of tiled platform. These were the only seating arrangements available. So there was no choice but to stand. Or to perch on the parapet along the hall's periphery. Or to simply squat down on the dusty floor, as some people were doing. There was an old guy selling tea out of a thermos for Rs 6. Mosquitoes were having a field day with so many different samples of blood to taste. Apart from sipping tea and bearing with the mosquitoes there was nothing much to do but wait...

The guy who had asked me about 'interview' was standing right behind me. The guy I had followed, a middle aged man in his 40s and wearing a wig, was right ahead of me. At such times, your neighbours become your best pals. I am not much of a talker. The wig-man tried to start a conversation. "They should make this process available online", he said. "It would be fast and hassle free, just like they did for the passports"... I would be hearing the same opinion from multiple people multiple times during that day. I nodded but did not add much. And so the conversation ended. Not so with the interview-guy behind me. He kept commenting every now and then, asking questions, expressing opinions. There was a guy ahead of us who was smoking. A really thin fellow, dressed shabbily, with long sparse hairs slick with grease. He had trouble written all over him. I do not know what he was smoking, but it smelt awful. The interview-guy opined, he probably had something stuffed in the cigarette. I simply nodded. I was in no mood for talking and soon even he lapsed into silence.

The trouble-man, the obnoxious smoker with trouble written all over him, left the group and went out. He appeared an hour later with two guys. One was a thin fellow wearing the skullcap. The other was a stocky fellow wearing a very strong perfume. This was the first time I realized that people were being inserted into the queue. People who came late, but were placed ahead by these agents who had been standing in the queue in their place. All acceptable, except for the fact that it was unfair for people like us who had been standing since before the damn dawn. I taunted the guy indirectly by saying it out to my neighbour - the interview-guy. I am sure the stocky fellow heard me, but he never uttered a word. I let it go at that.

People kept coming and merging into the queue, making it longer and longer. Within the hour, the queue had elongated itself out of the hall, made a u turn, and stretched itself along the slope of the descending path that let to the underground parking below. I left my place for a while to go check out where the queue began. At the other end of the hall is a passage along the building wall, that leads to a similar hall at the other end. The tokens will be distributed here. The queue continued from the first hall, followed the passage, and formed a zigzag snake within the next hall. As I retraced my steps back to my rightful place in the queue, I estimated around 150-200 people ahead of me. It looked like I had a long day ahead.

As I learnt later, on any given day, more than 500 applicants appeared for the learning licence test. And the RTO only took in 400 applications per day. If your number is beyond 200, it will easily eat up most of your day. No wonder people stood in the queue from 1 o'clock in the night...

With no lights and no arrangements to sit, it was a long day ahead for everyone. At least till everyone got their tokens. Once the tokens were distributed, one was free to roam around until your token number is called. They have displayed the timings at which certain range of token numbers are expected to be called. So ideally one can move out and come back by that time. But a word to the wise, as instructed to us by the training institute lady - the timings are tentative. Your token number may get called any time. So it is advisable to stay put if your token number is below 250.

Even in the feeble light, people were reading Signal Charts similar to what the motor training school lady had provided us. Apparently some people find it difficult to memorize all the symbols and so they fail the test. Its not surprising though. All the symbols look similar enclosed in either the usual circle for mandatory signs, or triangles for the cautionary signs. They are logical, but not everybody are able to grasp and retain them.

My sister arrived at about 7:15. They had told her to reach there by 6:45. There is a separate queue for ladies and senior citizens. So the ladies need to come as early as us guys. By then, the queue was already 20 ladies long.

There was now a feeble ambient light as the dawn broke. They switched off the yellow perimeter lights. It had been easy to snooze in the dark. Just to close the eyes and catch half a wink... Now, even sleep eluded me. The minutes began to look longer than they had been before. There was pain in the legs and the back. The body felt sore. When will they open the token counter? Every few minutes, I would take out the signal chart and try to study it, but I was too tired to be able to concentrate.

Around 8:00 someone, probably a peon, went along telling everyone to stand in a single file. The disorderly groups of applicants suddenly shuffled and formed a single line. Now it was easier to have a proper picture of what was happening far ahead in the queue. By now, the queue was in tight formation and we had advanced towards where the passage started.

Suddenly out of the blue, this guy comes along and stands beside us, just out of the queue. Then he calls someone. Asks: "Where are you? I have already reached". And then the slick fellow just inserts himself into the queue right in front of us. I was observing this new-comer right from the start. Eyes dispassionate, lips curled down in a displeased manner, scars on the right cheek and chin... Someone not to be trifled with. I decided to keep mum. No point making trouble.

But if people kept inserting themselves into the queue like this, we would have to wait longer than we actually deserved. It is not bravery that pushes one into bold action. It is necessity. And so, with my heart in my throat going thump-thump-thump, my body literally but imperceptibly shaking, I asked him why he was standing here. He said, he had been in the line before. I knew it was a lie - not from the fact that I had not seen him before (I might be wrong), but from the manner in which he had furtively inserted himself into the line. So I challenged this. The neighbours denied seeing him before. It was the first time the stocky fellow, who was inserted ahead of me, spoke. And it would be the last. After all, with what face would he accuse someone of a crime he himself was guilty of? Anyways, since the others denied seeing him before, I challenged him. Asked him to leave the line. He said, his friend had been standing here before. Which friend? Where was he? He said, the friend was on his way. By now, all my steam had blown out. I was shaking, probably perceptibly. There was no fear in the guy's eyes. Not even concern. It was like he was confident I could do him no harm whatsoever. And worse, everybody had gone silent. They were now spectators enjoying the fun. Without support, I could no longer risk my neck. So I said that let his friend come, then we will see if his friend was actually standing in the line or not... And let it go at that.

After a minute of silence, the wigged middle-aged guy spoke up. He said that there hadn't been anyone between him and the stocky fellow. The guys ahead of him corroborated. The interview-guy behind me stepped in. Suddenly everybody was talking against the interloper. This gave me renewed courage and I told him to step out of the line. He could come back when his "friend" arrived. With so many people suddenly raising their voices, the guy finally broke. Finally, I could see a shadow of concern and doubt, if not outright fear, appear in his eyes. I pressed on, raised my voice even more. And finally the guy, muttering his displeasure, left the line and went away.

United we stand... And people unite... not out of ideals or the sense of what's right, but out of their common selfish interests... But once united, they can achieve what an individual can't. Unfortunately, when it comes to actually sticking out your neck, then all this unity breaks down and each man will save his own ass. I was about to experience this later.

It was utter chaos by now. People were moving up and down the line. For what reason, I was unable to comprehend. The line looked strangely bloated. There were more people ahead of us than there had been when we had arrived. How could this be? I found the answer to this when I saw a new-comer being inserted into the line. Actually the interview-man pointed this out to me. I raised my voice again. Even got the support of my neighbours. But to no avail. The agent comes to me and says, that his guy had been standing in that place. Its not as if he inserted two guys in place of one, he asks indignantly. What could I say to this utterly fair and logical arguement?

After a while the agent came ahead and asked me to swap places with his guy who was maybe 8-10 places ahead of me. Why he wanted to do that was beyond me. And I was the only one to gain from this exchange. But if I accepted his offer, I would suddenly loose my credibility to raise my voice against any interlopers. For I would become a part of the dirty trade. So I vehemently declined. There was surprise and concern on the agent's face, which gave me a strange sense of self-righteous satisfaction.

I guess this happened everyday. It was big business, for there appeared to be many agents. People who were coming in so late were being inserted into the queue much ahead of us even though we had been standing around for hours now. The interview guy pointed out another illegal insertion. This was in the form of a bespectacled guy in white shirt, jeans, a sack over his back, a typical professional... Its surprising how the more educated we are, the less scrupulous we become. It seems that the education system teaches us everything except morals...

I was especially wary of this particular group which had been bloating up for the past hour or so. I raised my voice again... This time a short stocky fellow came to me and asked threateningly what was my problem. But however much I tried, the bespectacled fellow stayed. And I got no support whatsoever from others. There were even more insertions going on further up the line... But we could do nothing about it from here. Any action in such cases needs to be taken by the neighbouring people where the queue is being compromised. But no one raised a voice and the agents were having a milk run. The fact that there was no camera along the passageway probably encouraged such illegal activity.

Finally I gave up. The interview-man kept pointing out illegal insertions to me. He probably wanted to see some justice, but had no guts to step up on his own. Instead he wanted me to stick my neck out. But I resisted.

A few minutes past 9:30, the line finally began to move. It made slow progress. I had another go at the short stocky agent who had recently inserted a new guy right there in front of everyone's eyes. I threatened to call the authorities. He said gladly go ahead. I threatened to pull the new guy out of line myself. He said he would like to see me try. I might have, had I gained support from my fellow guys. But now that the line was moving, nobody gave a damn. It was pure chaos. People were being inserted into the line even so near to the token window. Couldn't the officers sitting beyond the window see all this? There is a board outside the token window that explicitly says that only the applicant should stand in the line. No one else should do so on behalf of the applicant. They have even given a phone number to lodge a complaint if someone notices such an activity. But when each man for his own, what use is the number and the notice?

At the token window, they check the photo copies of the identity and residence proofs you have attached, and if all is in order, they accept your application and hand you a little chit. On it is printed a number. And a hand-scribbled date. Today's date. Jotted using a coloured pencil - probably to avoid embezzlement of such chits. This little piece of paper, smaller than a square inch in size, is the reason for all the struggle that had been going on since the morning... Some paid around 300-500 Rs for it. Others, like me, paid in terms of sleep, time, sweat and mental and physical stress. This was the infernal Token Number... They take in ladies and senior citizens first along with the first few general applicants. So my sister got a token number of 33. I got a token number of 270...

Right besides the open area where I had joined the line so early in the morning is the entrance to the RTO office's own canteen. We went and had a quick breakfast there. The breakfast was strictly ok, but certainly better than one could have expected in a government office canteen. Same could be said about the inside of the office building. It looks like its either been newly constructed, or freshly renovated. Good bright paintwork, proper signs everywhere, clean corridors and walls. For a government office it was pretty impressive.

My sister's token number was announced around 11:15. She came out by 12:30. Meanwhile I had a chat with an aged man who told me that when he had come here yesterday to get information about the office timings, there had been a guy who told him that he would get him a very early number for just Rs 300. So that was the amount you paid to save your time at the expense of many others who have been waiting in the line from early morning. My sister went home. I had to wait till 1:15 when my number was finally called out.

Apart from the long queue to get the token and the long wait until your number gets called, the rest of the process is pretty efficient and streamlined. Yet another thing I never expected in a government office.

The first step involves the verification of your original documents. I had my passport. It would serve as my address proof, my identity proof and my birth date proof. In my sister's case, she had to attach a number of documents: PAN card, Aadhaar Card for identity and birth proofs, Ration Card and electricity bill for address proof, and mother's (or father's) election card (in case of unmarried female)... Anyways, all these documents are verified by one of the three RTO inspectors sitting in there. If all is well, they send you ahead to the cash counter to pay your fee for the licence. I was applying for both four wheeler and two wheeler licenses. So I had to pay 30 Rs for each. They attach a receipt to your application form and usher you ahead to the data entry counter. Here your details, the ones you have filled in the form, are entered into the system. In order to avoid further hassles due to a wrong data entry, it is very important that you fill up your form very clearly and in best and legible handwriting. The next stop is where they save your biometric information. This included a photograph, taken using a web cam mounted atop the monitor (try to smile at the cam. Otherwise you will look like a wanted-dead-or-alive criminal with a sour expressionless face.), the finger print of your left hand thumb using a small scanning device, and an image of your signature using a stylus on a digital pad. Pretty sophisticated eh? Yup, looks like government offices are going digital in a big way... Then we were made to wait some more while the previous batch was giving the final test.

While we waited, the bespectacled white-shirted professional guy who had been illegally inserted into the line, and about whom I had fought with the agent, was standing right in front of me. He was chatting with a young fellow, who looked so young, he might have been a school going teenager. This one had come even later, and had secured a place right besides the bespectacled professional guy. The bespectacled pro says in accented English: "You know what I hate most?"... And without waiting for a response. "This damn waiting. That's what I hate most. Waiting"... Yeah right, I thought. Talk about waiting. We have been doing that from 5:15 in the morning you f***ing idiot. They continued to chat in their accent about foreign food, cooking, culture in UK, pubs, foreign music... Their accented chatter grated on my ear. What's with so many Indians trying to speak in accent every time they converse in English? Why cant they just speak in a neutral accent?

Anyways, I was soon spared further auditory torture when we were ushered into a spacious enough waiting room. Here, they had displayed huge, detailed and accurate signal charts. There were signs I had never seen before, not even on the signals chart the motor training school had provided me. I kept looking at the signs, revising them, memorizing them. One of the RTO sub-inspectors, a young fellow in full khaki uniform, advised us to do the same.

After a while he ushered us into a big hall. There were row after row of seats. It could accommodate nearly 50-60 candidates. In front of each seat was what looked like a podium. On the top of the podium, covered from three sides was a little electrical panel. It had 3 buttons - red, amber and green, the colours of the traffic signal. Each podium had a seat number. There was a number hand-scribbled over the receipt attached to our forms. He asked us to sit according to our corresponding numbers. On the wall in front of us was a screen. There was a projector hanging from the ceiling which was now displaying a list of candidates on the screen. Each name was mapped to their respective seat numbers. We were asked to verify our seat numbers. Which is important - you don't want someone else to take credit for your brains, or luck, or both...

After the seat numbers were verified, they began the test. The test compromised of 20 questions. Multiple choice types with 3 options and 1 correct answer out of them. The target was to attempt at least 12 correct answers in order to pass. The question and the options were displayed on the screen in two languages simultaneously - English and Marathi. At the same time they were read out by an automated voice in Marathi. After the question was read out, a buzzer was sounded. After the buzzer, we had 10 seconds within which to press the button corresponding to the answer. As soon as the countdown, which was also being displayed on the screen ended, another buzzer sounds to indicate time up. Pretty intricate working procedure, I should say.

I found a few questions bit difficult. It was a good thing I had revised from the charts displayed in the waiting room. For there were quite a few questions related to signs that were present in that chart, but not in the signals chart given to me by the training school.

Finally the test was over. After a while they flashed the results on the screen. Six candidates had failed. They were asked to leave and cone back after 7 days. I had scored 17/20. They made us wait. And while we waited, they passed around a suggestions book and asked us to jot down any suggestions which might help them improve their process. I was very tempted to write down about how people were illegally inserted into the line for token number. But the register never reached me. For they began distributing our learning licences - laminated cards with your black-and-white pic on it. I received two, one for the four-wheeler, and the other for two-wheeler.

The long day was finally over, as I made my way home, with a licence to learn driving...

Religious Beliefs today: unfortunate and misguided

Today we were discussing a very sad incident. Quite a few pilgrims died due to a stampede at one of the famous over-crowded religious pilgrimage. It was a sad news indeed. But certainly not one of a kind. For similar accidents are known to happen every year.

And each year, the number of accidents are increasing. The death toll rises with every incident. For the number of people that flock to the religious places has risen.

Its paradoxical really... In this modern age of information technology and free thought, more and more people are turning to Religion, God and Rituals.

"How could God allow such a thing to happen to the devotees? Afterall, they were there for God..."

"God never really asked them to come there? If God is everywhere, then one can pray to him in any place. Why the need for a pilgrimage? Just look at the throngs of people crowding all these religious places. Do you really think even God would get a place in so much crowd and commotion?"


I do not mean to say it is really bad to be religious. But in this "Kalyug", more and more people are turning to Religious Rituals, instead of the simple satisfaction of good deeds.
People now believe in the power of "miracles", instead of the straight-forward laws of nature, that God has created for us.
They now believe in supernatural power of an omnipotent God, instead of the ability gifted to them by God to control their own lives, for better or for worse.
They now seek material comfort out of their religious quest, instead of the peace of mind through the pursuit of spiritual awakening and understanding.

And what else can we expect, when one has to pay to buy the God's blessings. When the "God-men" (babas and yogis) have become the proxy for God. When people ask God for a quick-fix, instead of trying to fix their own lives...
When each one of us is equipped with everything one needs to solve all the problems in life. And yet, we want God to do that for us...

That's the unfortunate truth about our religious beliefs today...

The fine balance between Art and Life...

What is an Artist? Many can answer that.
Who is an Artist? Again, a common question with a common enough answer...
But...
WHY is an Artist?
Every artist will have an answer to that.
Personally I feel that the Artist is an Artist because s/he is driven by the deep desire to express... And the art-form is the chosen platform for that expression.

And yet, this "Why" is not the question I seek to answer. All artist know that this is true to some extent. This desire to express. It consumes us. Drives us. Sometimes, even defines us. But in that process, we are so consumed by our art, that sometimes, the artist forgets to live - to live a day-to-day normal life. 

An artist may ask, what is life without art? 

But what happens when your life itself becomes art? 

What happens when the art become all consuming? When you are so devoted to your art, so driven by it, so addicted to it, that you cant find time or energy or both, to fulfill your day-to-day chores, activities and responsibilities.

And what happens if it all goes other way round? That you are so submerged under the weight of the daily chores and responsibilities, that you can't find the time or the energy to devote to the expression of your feelings through your art? Would it not feel like being trapped in a polythene bag? Can't see clearly, can't breathe freely... trapped...?

In both cases, the life of an Artist burns out. In the first case, it burns like a candle flame. Bright, but consuming the candle every moment, destroying its very existence .. And in the second case, it burns like a tube-light  It serves its purpose of giving the light. But hardly ever inspires wonder or romance...

Is it possible then, to have a balanced life-style? With equal time and energies devoted to both art and to normal life? I think it is. And I think each artist has to struggle to find that fine balance...

A question about the Questions in Life

Originally written on 31st May 2013

It is the Why that confounds us..
It is the how that drives us...
It is the What that makes us think too much
It is the Where that takes us there
It is the ? that makes a ! out of us...
Stop being full of so many questions...
No questions no answers... Life becomes a simple "." :-)

Further observation...
A ? should just be ,
It shouldn't become ;
Certainly not .
Otherwise life becomes...

My encounter with Prejudice - the truth inhibitor

Recently I stumbled upon this pretty interesting tv series 'The Last Resort'. Right from the start I liked it a lot. Almost as much as I liked 'Jericho', another similar TV series, which has become one of my favourites. Its gripping. It has an interesting plot. And most of all, just like 'Jericho' it raises some very important questions about morality, truth, deception, and military policies of the corporate-influenced profit and power hungry US government officials. Its a very brave stance for a program to take especially post 9-11...

There are only two things I did not like about it. It shows Pakistan as an innocent victim of a staged US attack. Even a kid in India knows that there is nothing 'innocent' about this country of religious zealots and terrorists. And the second thing is, it somehow portrays India as an opportunistic state, when it shows a rogue Indian General lead the Indian army towards a defenceless Pakistan... How can such an act be anything but the sanest thing in the world? For wont the world be a better place without the constant threat of a nuclear powered brat in our neighbourhood?

When I watched this episode today where they portray the Indian rogue army general trying to be opportunistic by leading the army towards Pakistan, I was so taken aback that decided to stop it right there and delete the remaining episodes. But then I remembered a conversation I had today itself, with a friend. He claims that he is a seeker of truth. ( and for the most part he really is ) But sometimes, I feel his ideas and views are not entirely true, but are his assumptions and conclusions drawn based on his ingrained prejudice against Muslims. So, today I told him that he was not really a seeker of truth, as he claimed. For one cant seek the truth if blinded by prejudice...

So I have decided to swallow the bitter pill. And watch the serial till the end. And if it is as good till the end, as it was in the start, then I will keep it in my collection of memorable TV serials. Even if I find the serial's pro-Pakistani tone pretty abhorrent. Yet, I will not allow my prejudice to rule me. Not after what I told to my friend... Isn't it said by the wise that one should practice what one preaches? I hope I will be able to do that...

Being Aggressive (unnecessarily)

18th August, Sunday.

Empty-stomach, gingerly holding a urine sample in one hand, I stood outside the pathology lab.

It had rained early in the morning. The ground outside the lab door was wet. While I fumbled with the straps of my floaters, trying not to step on the wet ground, a man and a kid stepped past me, slipped off their slippers and went in. Damn. Now I would be behind them in the queue. A waste of at least 10-15 mins.

A true metropolitan, I am always in haste. In spite of years of daily forced practice, waiting just doesn't come easy to me. So it was with some resentment that I sat there besides them on the bench lining the corridor. There was no one else in queue. So Man and Child were #1 and yours truly was #2. 'Good', I thought. 'Less time to wait'.

As we sat there waiting, another guy came and sat besides me. This was #3. As I gave him a once-over scan, the lab technician ushered Man and Child inside.

I should have shifted to occupy their vacated place. But lazybones that I am, I continued to warm my current patch of bench.

After a while, Mr #3 got up and occupied the recently vacated place near the door. I was suddenly very alert. What was this guy trying to pull on me? Was he planning to grab my #2 position? No way was I gonna allow him to one-up me.

So when the Man and Child left, and the lab technician opened the lab door, I perceived Mr #3 get up to grab an opportunity which was rightfully mine... I quickly moved past him, making no effort to hide the fact that I was blocking his way on purpose to get in before he did. It was a sudden move, effective and shamelessly ruthless. When it comes to my rightful piece of cheese, this city-bred lab-rat can be pretty ruthless, thank you.

As I went in and sat down, I saw Mr #3 looking in at me through the glass door, an incredulous expression still plastered ob his face. I looked him in the eye and gave him my best triumphant "finger" look. I must have been certainly pissed off that morning, to be so aggressive.

The lab technician asked me to hold out my right hand - balled fist, arm straight. He strapped the tourniquet above my elbow. Then took out a really giant syringe, and attached a very long needle to it...

I am ashamed to say this. But for a grown up guy in his thirties, I am still scared like hell of needle pricks. I avoid injections like a cat avoiding getting wet. The few times I had to give blood have been an ordeal. Not to me, to the lab technicians who have to run helter-skelter when I start sweating and break the news on them that I feel like fainting...

I asked a physician once what was wrong with me? He told me there was nothing physically wrong with me. My fear manifested all these symptoms. It was all in my mind.

So, as the lab technician rubbed some sweet-sour-pungent smelling spirit and then brought that needle near the fold of arm, I turned away, shut my eyes and began telling myself - 'Its all in the mind, buddy. Its all in the mind'...

I felt the needle prick. (Ouch)... And after a second or two, I felt another prick. And then another. And another... I thought, what the heck, how many litres of my blood were they gonna take? But I still had my eyes shut... Then I felt the tourniquet loosen and I looked...

The syringe was empty. The lab technician had, a worried look on his face. "I did not get any blood. Its not coming out..." he tells me. I know some of my colleagues call me an alien, but deep down I am pretty sure I am human (well, almost)... So where had all my blood gone?

I did not get more time to worry about my missing blood. For suddenly there were ants in front of my eyes. A buzzing in my ears. Sweat broke out on my forehead. I couldn't see clearly. It was like the receiving antenna of my brainevision was not receiving a strong enough signal from the eyes.

I told them I was feeling faint. So they asked me to keep seated. One guy handed me a glass of water. As I sat there trying in vain to convince my brain that 'Aal is well, aal is well, its all in the mind, dude', through the haze of ant-infested vision, I perceived the door open and Mr #3 step in. Damn, the gut would get his opportunity after all while I waited to get back to normal...

"What is it?", asked the lab technician.

"I just want my report", says Mr #3.

And he took his report and left...

So that was it. That's why he was in such a rush. It was a matter of a few seconds, nothing more. And I had been so unnecessarily aggressive and rude... All out of my haste...

I was finally able to give blood ( they took it out of the other hand), and as I stepped out of the lab, I decided to remember this lesson in humility and patience, as a I hastened and hurried my way home, dodging all the damn slow-moving idiots on the road...

Monotony is underrated

Sometimes life can become pretty monotonous. We get up. Go to office. Work. Come back. Watch TV. Have dinner. Go to sleep. Repeat that 5 times a day. First half of the weekend finds us taking care of personal life. And the second half, the blessed Sunday, for unwinding from the daily grind and getting ready for the week ahead. Repeat that 52 weeks a year.

Yup. Life can be very monotonous. We always complain about the same old daily routine. Sometimes, if lady luck may smile upon us, then we find the time and the opportunity to go out, unwind, have a vacation, take a break... Break the monotony...

But the fact is, monotony makes up the major chunk of life. If life is a meal, then monotony is the bread, or the rice. The breaks and vacations are the spices and vegetables and meat we eat along with the bread or the rice.

When was the last you had a filling meal made up solely of vegetables or meat? It is the bread, or the rice, that makes the meal complete. Gives us the carbs necessary for supplying energy to our body.

So however unsavoury monotony might be, it still forms the major chunk of the meal of life.

From Faith to Superstition

Your boat upended and sank. You are alone. In the middle of a roiling sea. No shore in sight. The waves are a meter high. The storm is raging around you. You have been swimming for hours and hours. Your limbs are tired. Your body is heavy. You just want to give up. And let fate take you to the sea-bed.

And that's when you see it. Its a very thin stick of wood. All the logic in the world says, the stick will not hold your weight. Its too thin. Too small. No way is it gonna help you afloat. But its a support nevertheless. Something to hold on to. For a while at least. So you struggle to reach it. Wading through the shifting sea-scape, and the howling winds... You finally lay your hands upon it. You are too tired to swim any more. But the feel of that stick in your hand gives you hope. A support. This is "Faith"... Blind, illogical but hope-filled.

With the stick supporting you, you keep kicking, swimming to God know where... For God knows how long.

And finally, even to your own surprise, from between the high waves, you see the shore... Right there in front of you... This is "Hope". A promise of salvation. Who knows, you may never reach the shore? You might get caught in a rip-current which will drag you deep and drown you to death... Yet, you start kicking. Thinking of nothing else but the shore...

Suddenly there is a renewed vigour in your limbs. A new light in your heart. You kick faster than you ever kicked in your life. Cutting through the water, you finally reach the Shore... This is "Efforts". Pure result-bearing perseverance, will-power, sweat and blood.

So you reach the shore. and lie there for the longest time. Feeling the sand below you. A hard concrete reminder of the fact that you survived. And the waves intermittently touching your feet, a wet silent reminder of the ordeal you have just gone through.

And then you feel the stick in your hand. The stick that gave you, not support, but hope. To keep swimming, against all odds. Without even expecting to survive it all.

You carry the stick with you as you make your way inland. Holding on to it. For you now firmly believe that it was the stick that saved you. You make it your lucky talisman. You start believing that as long as the stick is with you, nothing will happen to you. This is "Superstition"... Blind, illogical and nothing more...

In the vile Crucible of Mumbai trains

Yesterday it rained. Heavily. In fact it rained so heavily that most of the offices - even my own, allowed employees to leave early. In our case "early" translates to just 1/2 hour before the normal out time - 6:30 pm. So I left by 6:15. Wading through foot-deep water, making way through a crowd of traffic-stranded vehicles, unusually high number of walkers and their unusually high number of umbrellas, we finally reached Andheri station. The trains were crowded, but not unusually so. And there is always rush and struggle at the door as people try to get out and simultaneously get into the train... Its a perfect setting for tempers to flare...

As I got in and was standing (if you can call it that) inside the train, there was some commotion at the door.

One voice (angrily): "Stop pushing. Take back your umbrella"
Another voice (equally angrily): "GO in will you..."
First Voice: "First take back your umbrella"
Second Voice: "Whats it to you? You go in first?"
First Voice: "Dont you understand? My spectacles will fall"
Second Voice: "Dont YOU understand, I will fall if you dont go in? (angrily as well as mockingly) Weird fellow! Its my life in danger here and you are concerned about your specs.."

I looked and found out that Voice 1 was an aged guy. His specs had slid down right to the edge of his nose. He was looking angrily back at the guy hanging at the door. This was Voice 2. Apparently, he had his umbrella hanging on the same hand with which he was holding the centre-rod for support. This said umbrella must have come in the way of the older guy as he tried to get in. By this time, the train had started rolling.

The old guy was silent now. But the anger clearly etched on his face.

The young fellow, our Mr Voice #2, continued to chide him. He was joined by his fellow door-hangers, all belonging to the clan of Young Reckless Blood. This probably infuriated the old guy even further. But what could he do? He was outnumbered and could not match the young guy in strength. Also, partially he was in the wrong too. I could see him swallow his anger and move inside. The teasing and provoking comments went on at the doorway.

As the older guy moved deeper into the compartment. Now he had squirmed his way to somewhere behind me, when I heard him again.

Voice 3 (a new voice from somewhere behind): "Will you be getting down at Goregaon?"
Old guy: "No"
Voice 3: "Then please move inside"
Old Guy (residual anger still there in his voice): "Why should i move in? You get down when Goregaon comes"
Voice 3 (now angry): "But if I get down I will drag you along with me. Is that ok?"
Old Guy (voice raised): "Its still time for Goregaon. You stay as you are."
Voice 3 (voice raised): "But why dont you move in now?"
Old Guy: "Dont argue with me"
Voice 3: "What kind of person are you? I ask you politely with respect. And you bark back..."
 
Now the old guy is silent again.

Voice 3 continues: "For people like you, one should not ask politly in the first place. Had I ordered you 'Come on you bloody laggard. Move back.', then you would have properly moved back without a word. I ask you politely and you bark back at me..."
 
Now the old Guy must have moved deeper inside the compartment, for Mr Voice 3 was now right behind me, where the old guy had been.

Voice 3 continued to complain and insult and was joined by Voice 2 from the doorway. One partucular comment I clearly remember was by Mr Voice 3: "People talk a lot about how well-mannered the previous generation was. I say its exactly opposite. Our generation guys are pretty decent as compared to these older generation guys". There were not just comments, but jokes and laughter. All at the expense of the angry old man. And they were loud. On purpose. So that the old man will hear it.

All through the charade, I kept thinking about what the old guy must be feeling right then. Having to swallow the poison of his hurt pride, shattered ego and anger... Feeling like a limbless person - unable to do anything about the lava building up in him... Even if he was partially in the wrong, I felt sorry for him...

This is what happens under high pressures and temperatures in the vile Crucible of Mumbai trains during rush hours.

Ayushyavar bolu kaahi

Life is a candle

Time is the wick of that candle

We are the wax

Desires and Dreams are the flame that burns the candle.

And hope...

Hope is the oxygen that fuels the flame. Without it the candle won't burn...

And what good is a candle that doesn't burn???

Something about Tea and Coffee

Tea. 

Coffee. 

Indispensable fuel for Cranial Labour-work... 

Especially in the afternoons, when the lunch weighs heavy on the stomach and the eyelids...

So there are the "tapri"s - little shacks vending "cutting" chai and coffee...

And there are the cafes and little hotels which serve you your fuel in nice cups and saucers, while you sit there leisurely and enjoy the break.

And then there is the Coffee-Vending-Machine. 

Looks like every office has one now-a-days.
And in every office, it serves exactly the same kind of tea or coffee - "un-drinkable"... 

Not that it tastes that bad. 

Or bland. 

Its just that 90% of the people in every office tend to hate the dark steaming stuff the machine spews out of it's innards...

Yet, I am one of the 10% who actually prefer the tea or coffee from the Coffee Vending machine.

I don't know why, but drinking tea / coffee from the machine in our office makes me feel sleepy...

Then why do I drink it in the first place?

I am already feeling drowsy. So I drink tea / coffee in order to feel completely sleepy. One should not do anything half heartedly - not even "feeling sleepy" :-P

Things change, a.k.a. an unusual evening with school-time buddies

It was an unusual evening, right from the start. I broke my usual routine - instead of the usual half hour walk, I caught a bus to Andheri. The traffic was lighter than usual. I reached there by 8:00. Then I caught a bus from Andheri, instead of the usual train ride. Again the traffic was light on S. V. Road. I reached Goregaon in 20 minutes flat! Another unusual occurrence.
Yes the evening was certainly unusual. But it was far from over. As I began to walk my way home, the phone buzzed. It was Gattu. A school-time friend.
"Hey, my friend, my darling! Where are you?", he says. He is a boisterous fellow... pure nautanki... but charming in his own way...
"I just reached Goregaon"
"Great. Come meet me at Ambamata temple" he suggested... no, asked... no, to be precise, he ordered me to come there... But thats Gattu.

To tell you the truth, I was in no mood to go anywhere but home - have dinner, read and then go to sleep. Instead I landed up spending the evening with Gattu and another friend of ours.
This other friend is Mehul. After visiting the temple, Gattu suggested lets have some beer. I was no game. Not that I don't drink beer. But I don't like it much.
"Lets call Mehul." he suggests.
Smart move, Gattu. Mehul is a beer lover. Gattu knows that if Mehul will come, then I have no choice but to give them both company. It would be a quick affair. Just a glass per head - nothing more. So I agreed.
So Gattu calls Mehul "Yes Mehul. My darling. where are you.. At home? Then come meet me at Pop-n-Dine. Lets have some beer man... Why not?" It appears Mehul is using evasive tactics.
Both Gattu and Mehul are married. Each has a cute little daughter. After you become a "husband" and a "father", its a rare occasion when you can take out some time to be a "friend". So Mehul's reluctance was understandable. Usually when Mehul and I went for a late night movie (a once in a blue moon affair, when Mehul's wife is not at home and he is temporarily a bachelor for a day or two), Gattu would give us a "dacchu". This time Gattu was free (later it turned out his wife was not at home. No wonder you found time today, Gattu...) But Mehul wasn't.
So I stepped in.
"Let me speak to him"... I spoke to Mehul. Told him, if not beer, we will just have some soup. Just come over and spend some time, that's all. Mehul is a sport. He finally agreed.

And so we ended up spending the evening together.

Few years back, on an equally unusual evening, I met Mehul and Gattu after a very long time.
I am never good at keeping in touch. After school, I lost touch with the both of them. For years, we hardly ever talked.
So imagine my surprise to receive a call from Mehul, as I was about to reach Goregaon. On his insistence I met them both.
We had dinner together in Image restaurant. Then we went to Gattu's home. His family was out. We ended up spending the night at Gattu's place - talking about old times, happy school memories, and having fun in general. I ended up creating my Orkut account that day (Facebook was virtually unknown then, but Orkut was all the big rage). They made me create it. Not that i was more social on the net than i am in real life - which isn't much in the first place.
But I still remember the good times we had that evening so many years ago.

But things have changed now. Gattu's boisterousness has always been superficial, but it was more so now than ever. The years and the growing-up has probably subdued it a bit. Under all that superficial boisterousness  he is a serious philosophical contemplater... And the rare times we do meet, we sometimes end up talking about Life, the Universe and everything, But not today. While we waited for Mehul, Gattu tells me about him being sick recently. He had an operation. But now he is fine. I had no way of knowing, thanks to my usual reluctance to keep in touch. Then he suddenly changes topic and shows me his new mobile. Samsung galaxy S4. He sold his previous one (S3) and got this one. I look at it. Not being a great fan of technology, I try to look awed. For a while we talk about the mobile. Then about Gattu's daughter. Then about the recent movies each of us saw. But soon the conversation falters and dwindles for a while.

Then Mehul arrived. I would have expected to get back the spark between us with Mehul's advent. But it was not to be so. Usually Mehul is not so quiet. he is a cocky fellow, sometimes prone to making big claims, mixing some facts here, some fiction there, and making it difficult for you to guess whether what he claims is really true? Or a figment of his overactive imagination? But today he is silent. Contemplative. Something is bugging him thats for sure. But I am not so close enough to him to get him to divulge his worries. Either ways, he was always a difficult-to-read character...

Starters and beer arrive. We drink and eat. And talk. Mostly, they talk. I listen. The two of them have always had a good chemistry. Unlike me they kept in touch. So, I can't help but feel like an outsider between the two of them. Some of the topics I do follow. Some go way above my head. Both of them have their businesses, and are somewhat better off than me. But the tensions of their respective businesses is there under the surface... But it still feels nice to be with the two, after a long time. Something different from the daily routine.

Finally, we leave. As we walk along our way back home, we remember the good old school days. Mehul and Gattu talk about the school time friends they are in touch with on FB. Am I missing something by not being on FB? We remember our head-girl, about whom Mehul used to tease me, just because both our names sounded similar... 70% of the guys in our batch had a big time crush on her :) Yours truly was certainly not one of them. Yes, she certainly looked beautiful. But for me she was like an angel. Beautiful but way beyond my reach. So I never really pursued...

We also ended up talking about how difficult it is now-a-days to find an affordable house in Mumbai. I mean, Gattu owns an S4, and its difficult even for him... 

We parted ways, and as I walked home, I mulled about how things have changed. We are still school-time buddies. But that innocence is lost now. We talk mostly about serious stuff. The labours of work and family life weigh heavily upon us. We try to mask them, hide them. But they are there, visible in our bent backs, our balding heads, and our serious conversations. And yet in all of it, we try to capture the nostalgic magic of the times bygone... Ah, the pangs of growing up...

We will meet again, Gattu, Mehul and I. And may be next time, we might succeed in reviving some of that old magic? Who knows.
But for now, the unusual evening is over. And its time to call it a day...

Some birds aren't meant to be caged

"Sometimes it makes me sad, though, Andy being gone. I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright and when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice, but still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I guess I just miss my friend." - Red, after his friend Andy escapes from prison (in Shawshank Redemption)

It has happened before. And it will happen again. You kind of get used to it. And yet every time it happens, you feel like you lost a little part of your life... That little part which was made special by the presence of that person.

It always happens, especially in the IT sector, where people move around from company to company like loose leaves in the breeze... Settle a while here, then fly around and settle a while there and so on... You work with someone, you form a bond with them. Some bonds are temporary. Some are special. You move on from being colleagues to being friends. You share more than just work - food, jokes, insults, experiences, life... As time passes, you begin to rely on their presence. You get used to having them around. But then, one day, they drop the bomb... They have put the papers. And you only have a few days left to spend with them...

So when these special colleagues leave the company, you are lost for a while. There is a vacuum they leave behind. And however much you seek to fill it, you just cannot. Of course it is the law of nature that vacuum cannot exist for long. Something comes along to fill it up. Life goes on. And you learn to move on with it. After a while, you have adjusted to their absence. 

Of course, there are get-togethers and picnics and such with these "ex"-colleague friends. But now they have a different schedule and you have a different one. Soon you drift apart, and the occasion of your paths crossing become very rare indeed.

But for a while there, in between them leaving and you getting adjusted to their absence, the vacuum always makes its presence felt. And that's when you miss them most.

My Lucky Stars

I have to reach office by 9:30. It takes me better part of an hour from my home. I left home just now. Its aleady 9:00. As I reach the main road, I see a Bus zip by. Its the bus I wish to catch. And its almost empty. What choice do I have? I begin to run.

WHY? Everyone in this world has their own version of what Heaven means to them. Ask any true Mumbaikar. Our version of Heaven is a ride on an almost empty train with no delays, or an almost empty bus through comparatively less traffic.

So I am running... But the bust stop is far. And the bus is faster than me. Make no mistake, I can run pretty fast (relatively speaking. Relatively speaking - to a snail, even the turtle is fast) - and that too for a whopping long distance of 1 to 2 mtrs... But the bus stop is a bit farther than that distance-limit.

The bus has stopped.

I am still running.

Some passengers have got on to the bus.

I am still running.

The bus has started.

I stop running.

Huffing and wheezing, I stare helplessly at my version of ideal heaven leave me behind. 

But wait... There is a Tata Sumo, blocking the road, as it tries to cross over to the other side. The bus has stopped. I start running again!

The Tata Sumo is moving ahead.

I am running.

The Sumo has crossed the road.

I am still running.

The Bus begins to move.

I stop running again... :(

I have reached the bus stop. But I have missed the bus...

"You wanna catch the bus?" I hear the voice. I turn. The voice belongs to a man sitting on a scooter. I never noticed when he stopped by my side. "Sorry?" I cant believe what I am hearing. For the implications of what he has said are profound. He is promising me my Heaven.
"You wanna catch that bus?" he repeats.
Who am I to turn down such an alluring invitation?
"Is that ok with you?" I ask. Its a rhetoric, asked as a mere formality. I am already getting ready to sit behind him on the scooter.
"Yeah no problem", says he, then waits for me to settle down behind him, and suddenly guns the motor...

The scooter lungs ahead at break-neck speed, wind lashing my face, cars zipping by, as my unknown benefactor hurls the bike ahead to help me catch my bus.
I hold on for dear life, as I fearfully contemplate what are the chances of me meeting my ideal heaven alive and in one piece.

With the scooter now talking to the winds, we quickly cover the gap between us and the bus, when! Disaster!
We are forced to wait at the next traffic signal, while the bus slips away. I stare forlornly at the fast receding backside of the bus.
But soon, we pick up the break neck speed and rush towards the next stop. By the time, we are nearing the next stop, the bus has already moved on...

But fortunately there is another traffic signal right ahead. And this traffic signal, so well-known for its habit of making people wait and gain curses from them, makes the bus wait and gains a blessing from me.
My unknown benefactor stops right besides the bus. I get down. I have not asked his name. Neither has he asked mine. I simply thank this helpful stranger and get onto the bus... Heaven at last!

The bus has started to move. I stare out, but find no sign of the guy who helped me out...
I look around, with an urgent longing to rest my tush... There is no seat available... So I stand along the aisle waiting for a seat to vacate.

While I stand there, I suddenly happen to look at the back of the bus, where this guy sitting on the last seat is smiling and beckoning to me. He is pointing out a vacant place on the last seat, the one that occupies the entire width of the bus. I gladly oblige

As I leave my standing position and make my way to the back of the bus, the thought suddenly hits me - "Whats going on? Out of the blue, two complete strangers offer to help me out... In a span of few minutes?" Must be my lucky stars!!! :)

Up there, and back again...

Today I was feeling very down... depressed, sad, pissed off at the world in general and myself in particular... For no particular reason really - just a mood swing... Or may be there was a reason... But its lost somewhere in the quagmire of a sad and depressed evening that is now a part of the ever bloating past... Not that this was the first time - I have felt such downs before. The sine wave of life is full of them...

So I was in the grips of a very depressing mood swing. Even when I left office on time (not a regularly afforded luxury, I assure you), I steered clear of the office bus. Instead, I chose to walk 30 minutes to the Railway station. Maybe a walk would sooth my nerves? To help me cheer myself up, I plugged in the earphones and listened to some cheering music. But all of this to no avail. The free body massage, exercise and steam bath afforded by the rush in the trains did not help either. As I alighted at my destination, I decided to take a longer route home.

On the way, along this longer route lies a temple. For some reason that I am not very sure about, my steps took me into it. Some days its pretty crowded there. Today was not one of those day. Thankfully. I don't understand how anyone can feel one with God in all those crowded famous temples? I prefer quiet and seclusion when cribbing to God.

I went in. Stood there in front of the Goddess. Closed my eyes. And for a while I was lost to the world... I did not spill out my woes. I started to state my demands and requests, but those thoughts soon trailed off... For a while I just stood there, eyes closed, thoughts lost, attention fully concentrated on the sudden nothingness within my head.

Suddenly peace descended upon the turmoil-ridden landscape of my mind. I am not a very religious person. I hardly ever visit temples - only when I usually have something to ask of God - not otherwise... And here I was, standing in the temple - arrived there for no particular reason - and I think I had found what I was subconsciously seeking - some Peace of Mind...

Even when I visit the temple on those rare occasions, I hardly ever sit for more than a minute. Today I sat in a corner for nearly 5 full minutes. 5 minutes of blessed peace and quiet. But soon it was time to leave. Harsh realities of life were waiting outside. Already I was beginning to feel the uneasy intrusion of tense thoughts. The shadow of my former dark mood was lurking somewhere nearby.

So I got up and went to the shoe rack. As I was getting my shoes, I heard it... "Meow". It was a cat. Standing nearby. It looked up at me. "Meow" it said. What it meant I did not understand. "Kay re kay pahije tula?" I asked. What I meant, it did not understand. For it did a feeble meow-ing sound and turned its attention to something on it's left. I bent down and patted it on its head.

Now its attention was drawn back to me again. It did another couple of meows and head-butted my open palm. I scratched it behind its ear. It seemed to like that, for it just stood there contentedly enjoying my ministrations. Then it turned its head a little more, to get me to scratch a bit lower. After a while, it turned its face the other way, indicating that I should scratch it on the other side too. I obliged.

I haven't known cats to be so forthcoming and docile as this one was, not in their first encounter with a stranger. But bent as I was, my back was beginning to ache. So I stood up, and moved to the nearby bench to wear my socks.

The cat meow-ed for a while, looking at me. Then it came towards me. It brushed first its head, and then the side of its body against my leg... Then it did something I never expected. Imagine my surprise, when the cat jumped up, first onto the bench, and then straight onto my lap! No doubts, its dirty paws would leave dusty impressions on my trousers. But at that moment, I did not care. I petted it, and it enjoyed my attentions.

All this while, the serpentine tense thoughts and the shadow of the dark mood that had begun to creep back upon my mind was completely forgotten. I was once again at peace with myself. The worries of the world lost to the winds...

Life is a coal mine. And hope, peace, happiness are the diamonds. We are always digging for these diamonds, hardly ever getting them... And sometimes they just pop out in front of us in places we least expect them to be... This was how I found my little unexpected diamond of peace.

I petted the cat for awhile. But the spell was soon broken by the incessant buzzing of my cellphone. That's what drove the cat away.

I cut it off, but by then the cat had jumped down the bench. I called it, but it had found something more interesting in a speck of dust on the ground... So it ignored me...

So I left it to its feline tasks, wore my shoes, and left the temple with a new-found peace of mind.

Not long after, my cellphone buzzed again. It was a well-wisher. He talked. I listened. For nearly an hour... By the time we were done, my little Diamond was lost... Good bye Peace of Mind... Welcome back, Harsh Reality...

Philosophically speaking...

1> Self Respect is very important. If you don't respect yourself, others will not respect you. They will take you for granted. You open yourself to ridicule and hurt from others. Some people mistake it for ego. But then ego is just an extension of self-respect. To some extent, ego is important in order to have self-respect.
The fact that you don't respect yourself means you don't understand the true meaning of respect. And if you don't understand respect, you will not be able to respect others.

2> Some people misuse words. Some use them too much. Words are like commodity; they follow the rules of supply and demand. The more the supply, the less the demand. For, if you use too many words, you are liable to use them flippantly, carelessly and unnecessarily. It deteriorates the quality of your communication.

3> Making jokes needs, not just humour, but wisdom and maturity too. Maturity to be able to digest a joke directed at you as well as to be able to pull a joke on yourself. Wisdom to be able to distinguish a joke from a snide. And wisdom to avoid making jokes on others. For your joke may be funny to you, but it may be insulting to others.

4> The key to your happiness lies in your hands. No one can hurt you. It is you and you alone, who open yourself to hurt from others.

5> Love has to be as light as a feather, as effortless as a bird's flight, as easily binding, as the simple bond between yin and yang... If it's burdensome, if it hurts, if it keeps you hooked like a fish on a fishing hook, then its not love... It may be a crush, it may be obsession, it may be an infatuation, it may be attraction, may be even lust. But it certainly aint love...

6> When you fall in love, its important to not take it very seriously at first. It will hurt you. And its equally important to take it very seriously at a later time. For if you don't, it will hurt your loved one.

Physics and Mechanics in Daily Life

Stress and Strain... Pressure... Simple concepts of Physics and Mechanics...

But they make such a huge impact on us humans.

Apply pressure beyond a certain limit, and it turns a Human into a mindless desperate animal. Don't believe me? Try to travel in the Local trains of Mumbai during peak hours. Once you get used to it, you don't even notice it in you... But when you are standing on the platform, after having been forced to let go of more than one crowded trains, you are a desperate animal. You are so desperate that you are oblivious to your surroundings. You don't care whether the thing you are trampling below your feet is your fellow passenger's luggage or the fellow passenger himself...

Apply some stress beyond a certain limit, and a perfectly intelligent human turns into a babbling fool. Don't believe me again? Just face the onslaught of the management in your company when they are only interested in finding a scapegoat, and the unfortunate one with the short straw is you...

Finally, I guess, Pressure and Stress are two variables that are "variable" in the true sense. Their values, at any given time, are not always in our hands. But how we are able to cope with them, is what makes us, or breaks us, doesn't it...?

Move on with a smile...

Today, a good friend changed his profile photo..

Initially it showed him grinning from ear to ear... As happy as Garfield who has recently gobbled up a whole dish of lasagna... Your typical :-D grin...

The current pic shows him simply smiling... The plain old :-) smile...

I asked him why he did that... He says, it signifies he is moving on. For moving on is very important in life.. Even if it means stepping backwards instead of moving forwards [ for his smile had downgraded from :-D to :-) ]

Well I agree with him... Moving on is very important... But I don't think he has moved on... Rather I think he has grown up... 
His first grin looked great on him. But it was still too wide, too carefree... Now his smile looks mature... wise, even...

When we are kids, life allows us the leisure to enjoy the widely grinning smile... One can do that without the burden of worries, responsibilities, expectations and the pain of unfulfilled dreams.. We have the fire of our dreams and our hopes burning bright in our mighty little hearts...

But as we grow up, these things tend to unfold in front of us, like peeling off layers of onion... We are no longer carefree. Worries worry us. Responsibilities make us responsible... Expectations expect from us. Pain pains us so... Then it becomes so difficult to wear that careless happy grin.

Yet we smile... Not the wide denture-flashing grin variety... Just a simple curve of the lips... For the dreams may have died and the fires of hope may no longer burn bright. But the embers are still warm in the hearts. And we hold them dear, never letting them extinguish... For without those embers, won't life become as cold as death itself...?

Lab Rat...

Sometimes I feel like the Lab rat...

Running inside the wheel of Life...

Chasing the beautiful cheese that are my Dreams...
Dreams - always there in front of me, but never really mine...
Dreams - those impossible ones I will never achieve, but can't live without...

When  I tire of the dreams, and am about to stop running... 
There are the electric shocks...
The shocks of responsibilities and expectations...
Making me run faster and faster... Against my will, against my desire...

I land up running the wheel...
Expending my energies, while creating power for someone else
Sometimes the someone else is as stranger to me...
as the company I work in...

And yet I keep going... looking wishfully at that sweet dream-cheese in front of my eyes
Knowing I can never have it, yet pursuing it with daily renewed hopes...

For is it not true what someone said "Woh zindagi hi kya... jisme koi naamumkin sapna na ho..."
"Whats the meaning to that life - which does not have an impossible dream?"