In an article written in Abhivyakti - a monthly newsletter published by Ananya, Manasi Prasad wrote about the fact that Carnatic classical music had adopted a strong religious flavour as it evolved over the ages and literally every Carnatic music concert was laden with songs sung in the praise of some God or the other. In the process, emotions like love, bereavement, joy and sorrow, that perhaps everyone of us can connect to and can easily identify ourselves with, seemed to have lost their place not only with composers but also with the connoisseurs of Carnatic music. While lyrics do play their part in helping listeners appreciate a song better, I believe that the one of most important characteristic of a song is its tune. A song with a really offending tune can easily put people off irrespective of how good its lyrics are. If you have watched programs like TVS Saregama or Ede Tumbi Haadidenu you would know what I am talking about. That being the case, Manasi wondered as to why Carnatic music performances seemed so impoverished on themes, with all musicians unanimously sticking to just one theme - Bhakti. Would a composition be construed "less Carnatic" if it chose to highlight the emotions that we go through on a day-to-day basis than to focus on just plain devotion ? It really shouldn't matter whether a song speaks about a mother's unfailing love towards her child or about the pain suffered by a woman when she hears the news of her lover's death. As Manasi puts it, lyrics are purely incidental.
In a complete departure from traditions associated with the usual Carnatic music concerts, Manasi Prasad presented a programme called Olave Jeevana Saakshaatkara where the emphasis was on using Carnatic music to understand the various facets of love, the various forms of the love that we as human beings tend to express, be it towards our parents, our children, our friends, our partner or even towards that supreme power which is supposedly holding this universe together. There was plenty of innovation on display in Manasi's "Walk the Talk" performance and I must admit that she pulled off a stunning feat. It was not surprising then that when she concluded her show, a large section of the audience stood up and rightfully presented her with a standing ovation. For once, I had seen something different in a music concert.
The concert was different along several lines. Manasi had chosen a theme to focus all her songs on. Each of her songs was preceeded by a brief explanation that elucidated the meaning of the lyrics. I totally appreciated this effort because Tamil, Telugu and Malayalam are quite exotic to me. Manasi sang and spoke into a microphone that she seemed to be wearing from around the back of her head. While most musicians prefer to sit at one place throughout their concert, Manasi chose to walk around the stage freely as she explained her songs to the audience! The stage where the artists performed was styled with props, which with their intricate carvings, resembled the stone pillars from ancient Hindu temples. The lighting kept changing every now and then to reflect the predominant mood of her songs. Every once in a while, Manasi would bring her dancing skills to the fore and enact her songs as she sang them ! She seemed so keen to blend with her audience and engage them in a musical ride where she would show them the nuances of traditional Carnatic music while at the same time touching their hearts with stories of love.
While I sat there in the auditorium watching Manasi perform, I would often look around and find mostly people who seemed to be in their fifties or sixties. There were just a handful of those who were in their twenties. It is an acknowledged fact these days that Carnatic music doesn't sell well to the younger generations. Modern day artists like Manasi have two options then - continue the age old ways of traditional Carnatic music while simultaneously ruing about the fact that the art no longer receives the kind of patronage it used to receive before or repackage the art and deliver it a manner that is more appealing and suitable to the younger crowd. There's no denying the fact there is a lot of fun to be had here !
As far as Manasi's singing is concerned, well, let's just say that she truly rocks !
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Oops..she said "yes"
As yet another Valentine's Day draws to an uneventful close, here I am celebrating my impeccable record of being single for the past 25 years. Joining in me in this celebration are Pramod Biligiri and Kandarp, who have also put in a lot of effort, year over year, to ensure that their relationship statuses haven't had a chance to undergo dramatic changes. Welcome to the anti-valentine party, guys ! Anything that is heart-shaped and red in colour is strictly prohibited here.
Did I just say that this Valentine's Day was largely uneventful ? Look here ! Read it ? Well I am so glad that you decided to return to my blog after reading a Rakhi Sawant article. Somehow I felt you would go over to Google and search for Rakhi Sawant pictures ;-) Now that I have your undivided attention, let me tell you that I didn't have Rakhi Sawant in mind when I was thinking about what to write in this post. And therefore, it is purely coincidental that the subject matter of this post should bare some sort of resemblance to the drama reported in the aforementioned article.
This incident happened seven years ago when I was a first year student in engineering college. Mr.C, one of my seniors back then, was instrumental in setting up the whole incident and ensuring that I was the chief protagonist in the drama that unfolded subsequently. Before we get into the thicks of things here, let me introduce Mr. C to you. C was by far one of the most popular guys in the campus. He was an acknowledged STUD in his computer science class. He was also one of the front runners in the campus when it came to extra curricular activities (which by the way also includes flirting with all the popular girls). He was extremely helpful as a senior. I could go to him any time during the day and the night and there he was, ready to listen to me as I complained about the mess food, told him how some of the classes really sucked, how some classes were truly fun , so on and so forth. To cut the long story short, he was one of the most bindaas guys around. But amidst all the fun you could derive by hanging around with C, you also had to take some stick especially if you were a first year student from Bangalore. My first conversation with him proceeded like this:
C: So you are from Bangalore huh ? What is your name ?
me: Vinay Murthy
C: Who the <beep> asked you to wear a t-shirt ? Aren't you supposed to be dressed in formals ?
me: My shirt isn't washed. I didn't have anything else that I could wear.
C: I don't <beep> care. Do you <beep> understand, you <beep> ? Now get your <beep> <beep> out of this <beep> <beep> place.
Yes, I would get totally beeped out talking to him.
It was time for the college's annual cultural festival and the seniors decided to let the first years free so that they could have some fun and enjoy the fest. However this freedom, as I realized later, came at a cost. On the first day of the three-day fest, I decided to check out an event that C was conducting. I thought this was a great opportunity to get to know C better. Also, it wouldn't hurt to boost C's ego a bit by telling him how good his show was and how much I really enjoyed it. I really wanted to stop those beeps coming my way. So I walked into the hall where the event was being conducted and sat right in front of the dais so that C could take notice of my presence. I laughed loudly whenever C cracked a joke, clapped vociferously whenever he foxed everybody with his quick wit. In essence, I played every move I knew to impress him and get noticed. Ofcourse C didn't disappoint either. His eyes lit up when he saw me. It was almost as if a thirsty dracula had suddenly smelt blood. As soon as the show was over, C walked up to me and said "So, did you like the show ?". "Of course. It was brilliant. I didn't know you spoke so well. Very enlightening. And oh, that sense of humour, I wish you could pass over some of that to me. Very nice...hehe" I replied. Unfortunately, that last bit where I spoke about his humour, landed me in trouble instantaneously. I had successfully taken the bait and C decided to demonstrate his sense of humour again, in other words to go for the kill. We walked out of the hall and sat down in the main lobby where about hundred or so students from various other colleges had accumulated. Coincidentally, at around the same time, one of the girls from C's batch walked by us. She was known to be an extremely serious character, a STUD in her class as well. She had stunning looks and was fully aware of the fact that guys admired her for that very reason. Some even took the trouble of going down on their knees for her, with flowers in their hands. Experience had taught me that such girls can be very dangerous. Be sure to stay away from them as much as possible. Trouble could show up any moment. Experience had also taught C the same thing !
Eager to put me in a spot, C decided that I should socialize with that girl. He walked over to the lawn nearby, gathered some coloured leaves and stuffed them into my hand. Out came his wicked sense of humour that I had appreciated so profusely a couple of minutes ago -
C: Do you see that girl standing there ? Her name is R. I think the two of you would make a great couple. Why don't you propose to her right now ?
me: Err...what ? I don't even know her. You have to be kidding C. What if she slaps me and stuffs these leaves into my mouth ? And there are a hundred people here C. Don't make me do this.
C: <villainous grin that meant "you don't have an option, buddy. I can't help the fact that I am elder to you.">
R was standing at the center of the lobby, talking to her friend P. The fest had been forgotten for the moment and all eyes were on R. She was the topic of discussion for all the "guy groups" standing there. And then suddenly from nowhere, to everybody's disbelief, a guy with leaves in his hand approaches R. P spots me first and alerts R about it. I am sure R was thinking "Oh no, not again". The whole lobby had suddenly turned silent. The team that was registering participants for various events, put everything on hold. Trouble sensed an opportunity to make an appearance as well. I mustered all the courage I could, walked up to R, went down on my knees and said
I bring no ring, but only leaves from a distant tree
If it ain't too much trouble, would you mind marrying me ?
OK, now get ready to be thrashed for uttering such stupid lines. I could sense her hand moving towards my face. Her eyebrows were knotted and I could tell she was pissed. The end had come. This was it. My reputation was all set to go to the dogs. C had managed to embarrass me in front of a huge crowd. My heart was pounding hard and fast. Her hand was moving swiftly and was seconds away from establishing physical contact with my face...three...two...one... zero...zero..zero... what ? no slap ? How could that be possible ? Instead R took the leaves from my hand and started a conversation
R: What is your name ?
me: uh..
R: Did you put these leaves together ?
me: err..
R: I like them, very artistic. Although, I like flowers more than leaves.
me: ahem <why don't you just slap me and I'll run away from this place...this is so disgusting>
R: Actually, my name isn't R. It's S.
me: Oh!
S: And it's okay if you don't have a ring right now. But make sure you bring it to the marriage. No plans to elope right ?
me: <what ????>
S: Actually should we wait to tell our parents about it ?
me: <what ????>
S: Great job Vinay ! <She knew my name ?? who told her ? >. How about some coffee ?
me: err...sure, why not ?
People standing in the lobby couldn't believe what they were seeing. How did he pull it off ? That too with leaves ?
While we were at the coffee, S told me that she knew this was all C's idea. After all, he wasn't covering his face with a newspaper for nothing while I talking to her in the lobby (with leaves for added effect). She thought this was her chance to pull a fast one on him. The marriage was obviously a joke. C later joined us and we all had a good laugh about it.
Did I just say that this Valentine's Day was largely uneventful ? Look here ! Read it ? Well I am so glad that you decided to return to my blog after reading a Rakhi Sawant article. Somehow I felt you would go over to Google and search for Rakhi Sawant pictures ;-) Now that I have your undivided attention, let me tell you that I didn't have Rakhi Sawant in mind when I was thinking about what to write in this post. And therefore, it is purely coincidental that the subject matter of this post should bare some sort of resemblance to the drama reported in the aforementioned article.
This incident happened seven years ago when I was a first year student in engineering college. Mr.C, one of my seniors back then, was instrumental in setting up the whole incident and ensuring that I was the chief protagonist in the drama that unfolded subsequently. Before we get into the thicks of things here, let me introduce Mr. C to you. C was by far one of the most popular guys in the campus. He was an acknowledged STUD in his computer science class. He was also one of the front runners in the campus when it came to extra curricular activities (which by the way also includes flirting with all the popular girls). He was extremely helpful as a senior. I could go to him any time during the day and the night and there he was, ready to listen to me as I complained about the mess food, told him how some of the classes really sucked, how some classes were truly fun , so on and so forth. To cut the long story short, he was one of the most bindaas guys around. But amidst all the fun you could derive by hanging around with C, you also had to take some stick especially if you were a first year student from Bangalore. My first conversation with him proceeded like this:
C: So you are from Bangalore huh ? What is your name ?
me: Vinay Murthy
C: Who the <beep> asked you to wear a t-shirt ? Aren't you supposed to be dressed in formals ?
me: My shirt isn't washed. I didn't have anything else that I could wear.
C: I don't <beep> care. Do you <beep> understand, you <beep> ? Now get your <beep> <beep> out of this <beep> <beep> place.
Yes, I would get totally beeped out talking to him.
It was time for the college's annual cultural festival and the seniors decided to let the first years free so that they could have some fun and enjoy the fest. However this freedom, as I realized later, came at a cost. On the first day of the three-day fest, I decided to check out an event that C was conducting. I thought this was a great opportunity to get to know C better. Also, it wouldn't hurt to boost C's ego a bit by telling him how good his show was and how much I really enjoyed it. I really wanted to stop those beeps coming my way. So I walked into the hall where the event was being conducted and sat right in front of the dais so that C could take notice of my presence. I laughed loudly whenever C cracked a joke, clapped vociferously whenever he foxed everybody with his quick wit. In essence, I played every move I knew to impress him and get noticed. Ofcourse C didn't disappoint either. His eyes lit up when he saw me. It was almost as if a thirsty dracula had suddenly smelt blood. As soon as the show was over, C walked up to me and said "So, did you like the show ?". "Of course. It was brilliant. I didn't know you spoke so well. Very enlightening. And oh, that sense of humour, I wish you could pass over some of that to me. Very nice...hehe" I replied. Unfortunately, that last bit where I spoke about his humour, landed me in trouble instantaneously. I had successfully taken the bait and C decided to demonstrate his sense of humour again, in other words to go for the kill. We walked out of the hall and sat down in the main lobby where about hundred or so students from various other colleges had accumulated. Coincidentally, at around the same time, one of the girls from C's batch walked by us. She was known to be an extremely serious character, a STUD in her class as well. She had stunning looks and was fully aware of the fact that guys admired her for that very reason. Some even took the trouble of going down on their knees for her, with flowers in their hands. Experience had taught me that such girls can be very dangerous. Be sure to stay away from them as much as possible. Trouble could show up any moment. Experience had also taught C the same thing !
Eager to put me in a spot, C decided that I should socialize with that girl. He walked over to the lawn nearby, gathered some coloured leaves and stuffed them into my hand. Out came his wicked sense of humour that I had appreciated so profusely a couple of minutes ago -
C: Do you see that girl standing there ? Her name is R. I think the two of you would make a great couple. Why don't you propose to her right now ?
me: Err...what ? I don't even know her. You have to be kidding C. What if she slaps me and stuffs these leaves into my mouth ? And there are a hundred people here C. Don't make me do this.
C: <villainous grin that meant "you don't have an option, buddy. I can't help the fact that I am elder to you.">
R was standing at the center of the lobby, talking to her friend P. The fest had been forgotten for the moment and all eyes were on R. She was the topic of discussion for all the "guy groups" standing there. And then suddenly from nowhere, to everybody's disbelief, a guy with leaves in his hand approaches R. P spots me first and alerts R about it. I am sure R was thinking "Oh no, not again". The whole lobby had suddenly turned silent. The team that was registering participants for various events, put everything on hold. Trouble sensed an opportunity to make an appearance as well. I mustered all the courage I could, walked up to R, went down on my knees and said
I bring no ring, but only leaves from a distant tree
If it ain't too much trouble, would you mind marrying me ?
OK, now get ready to be thrashed for uttering such stupid lines. I could sense her hand moving towards my face. Her eyebrows were knotted and I could tell she was pissed. The end had come. This was it. My reputation was all set to go to the dogs. C had managed to embarrass me in front of a huge crowd. My heart was pounding hard and fast. Her hand was moving swiftly and was seconds away from establishing physical contact with my face...three...two...one... zero...zero..zero... what ? no slap ? How could that be possible ? Instead R took the leaves from my hand and started a conversation
R: What is your name ?
me: uh..
R: Did you put these leaves together ?
me: err..
R: I like them, very artistic. Although, I like flowers more than leaves.
me: ahem <why don't you just slap me and I'll run away from this place...this is so disgusting>
R: Actually, my name isn't R. It's S.
me: Oh!
S: And it's okay if you don't have a ring right now. But make sure you bring it to the marriage. No plans to elope right ?
me: <what ????>
S: Actually should we wait to tell our parents about it ?
me: <what ????>
S: Great job Vinay ! <She knew my name ?? who told her ? >. How about some coffee ?
me: err...sure, why not ?
People standing in the lobby couldn't believe what they were seeing. How did he pull it off ? That too with leaves ?
While we were at the coffee, S told me that she knew this was all C's idea. After all, he wasn't covering his face with a newspaper for nothing while I talking to her in the lobby (with leaves for added effect). She thought this was her chance to pull a fast one on him. The marriage was obviously a joke. C later joined us and we all had a good laugh about it.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
An evening outside a beauty parlour
Every once in a while, life throws some interesting experiences at you. These experiences can be so impactful that they end up making you wiser, cautious and more knowledgeable than you were before. Lately I have been going through several such experiences, but I would like to specifically talk about one such experience that happened last weekend. It is interesting for two reasons 1) It involves an instance of the fairer sex (I can hear the guys saying "ALRIGHT!!!" ) 2) It also has to do with a beauty parlour (REEEEAAALLLLYYY?? yeah really, you think it's fun ?).
Many of you might be wondering as to what I was doing at a beauty parlour. Trust me, at the end of the whole experience, I ended up asking myself the same question - "What was I doing at a beauty parlour of all places and that too on a weekend ?" sigh..strange are the ways of life. Here's the story for you - A cousin of mine, who lives in Cochin, was visiting Bangalore to meet her folks. She had a marriage to attend at her hubby's place in Dharwad and she thought it might be a good idea to spend a week in Bangalore before proceeding to Dharwad. She called me up last weekend to check if she could hang out at my place and if I could drive her around to a couple of places in the city to help her do justice to her shopping list. Somewhere during that call, when I wasn't paying attention, she quickly mentioned to me that I had to also take her to a beautician so that she could get her eyebrows done. Honestly, until that point, I had absolutely no clue about this "getting eyebrows done" business. After thinking about it for a couple of seconds, I guessed that it had something to do with women trimming their eyebrows so that they could look good (and see well perhaps ;) ) and all that jazz. Given the fact that we i.e men, need just about 10 minutes to get our hair cut and that an eyebrow has substantially lot less hair compared to a guy's head, I concluded that eyebrows can be "done" in about 3 minutes flat. A bit of googling after the call suggested that anybody could "do" eyebrows and I wondered why my cousin had to consult a beautician for it. But then, since I was going to be doing more horrendous things like driving around Bangalore, carrying shopping bags for her, and explaining to her as to why a white salwar with blue whatever looks a lot better than a blue salwar with white whatever, I thought killing 20 minutes for an eyebrow-cut wasn't going to hurt much. Alas, I was so wrong !!
Firstly I realised that there's a strange connection between a woman and her beauty parlour. You can't convince her to visit some parlour. It has to be one where she's been going ever since she had eyebrows worth "getting done". Women and beauty parlours seem to connect intensely at very deeper levels. It is almost as if every girl gets randomly assigned to a parlour as soon as she is born. By the way, this pseudo-random assignment algorithm never picks the nearest parlour. So she wouldn't care if there's a parlour right beside her house. She has to visit the one that is 10 kms away. No matter how much you try convincing her, she won't budge and you finally have no other option but to yield. Apparently, the woman-parlour force is too strong for a man to conquer. He may instead drive through bizarre traffic, swear at autorickshaw drivers, park his car some ten stories above the ground and surrender to the might of the force. And while all this is happening, the lady keeps examining her eyebrows oblivious to the fact that the guy beside her is actually pulling his hair out !! You know, wherever I have lived so far, I have always chosen a barber who charges the least and whose shop is the closest to my place. After all, time is money , money is precious, but unfortunately a hair-cut isn't all that precious. All I care is that I shouldn't be spending more than 2 seconds combing my hair every morning. Somehow, this logic doesn't seem to work with women and especially my cousin. Learning 1: When it comes to logic, eyebrows and women, logic must fail.
I obviously didn't enter the parlour and so I told her to give me a buzz when she's done. After all, it shouldn't take her anything more than 3 minutes. Add some "waiting time" and the whole exercise should get over in about 20 minutes. Right ? Wrong ! I could sense the devilish woman-parlour force giving me a wicked grin. Ignoring the hints that were coming my way, courtesy the forces of nature, I decided to step into a bookshop situated close by. I sat there reading a comic, responding to messages from my friends every now and then. After about 20 minutes of valuable reading, I decided to call up my cousin to check if she was done. Well, to her misfortune and to my agony, she told me that she was still waiting for her turn and there were 10 girls ahead of her !! The wicked grins had just gotten wider. I looked around and spotted a coffee shop this time. I walked in and ordered a huge mug of cold coffee. The shop was also playing the highlights of a recent India-Australia test match and so I sat there wondering if there could be a better setting than this to enjoy one's coffee . As the cricket highlights got over (must have been an hour), I checked on my cousin again and this time she wouldn't answer her phone. I guessed that her turn had come and she was busy "shaping" her eyebrows. A bit more waiting and hopefully she should be done. I decided to take a walk as the evening weather was really good. I stopped by a roadside bookshop that was selling cheap re-prints of books that I wanted to read for quite some time now. Just as I was negotiating a deal where I felt that I had mastered the art of bargaining, my phone rang. After a 2 hour wait where I must have checked my watch a hundred times, it was finally time to pick up the cousin. Learning 2: There's more to a woman's eyebrow than what meets the man's eye. As I moved to leave the bookshop, I thought I saw a book that read "All the great men who died waiting outside beauty parlours".
When a woman asks you how she looks, especially after a visit to the parlour, make sure you give her the right answer. In most cases, you won't notice any substantial change in her looks. If you tell her that she looks great, you can move on and have that pizza your stomach has been craving for. If you stumble and tell her the truth, she'll walk back into the parlour again !! Learning 3: Beauty is subtle. Make sure you learn to notice it. Unfortunately, there's no deterministic way of clearly spotting a post-parlour change. Agree that there has been a change and make your life better.
I wondered what married men go through.
Should I really publish this ? Oh what the hell !
Many of you might be wondering as to what I was doing at a beauty parlour. Trust me, at the end of the whole experience, I ended up asking myself the same question - "What was I doing at a beauty parlour of all places and that too on a weekend ?" sigh..strange are the ways of life. Here's the story for you - A cousin of mine, who lives in Cochin, was visiting Bangalore to meet her folks. She had a marriage to attend at her hubby's place in Dharwad and she thought it might be a good idea to spend a week in Bangalore before proceeding to Dharwad. She called me up last weekend to check if she could hang out at my place and if I could drive her around to a couple of places in the city to help her do justice to her shopping list. Somewhere during that call, when I wasn't paying attention, she quickly mentioned to me that I had to also take her to a beautician so that she could get her eyebrows done. Honestly, until that point, I had absolutely no clue about this "getting eyebrows done" business. After thinking about it for a couple of seconds, I guessed that it had something to do with women trimming their eyebrows so that they could look good (and see well perhaps ;) ) and all that jazz. Given the fact that we i.e men, need just about 10 minutes to get our hair cut and that an eyebrow has substantially lot less hair compared to a guy's head, I concluded that eyebrows can be "done" in about 3 minutes flat. A bit of googling after the call suggested that anybody could "do" eyebrows and I wondered why my cousin had to consult a beautician for it. But then, since I was going to be doing more horrendous things like driving around Bangalore, carrying shopping bags for her, and explaining to her as to why a white salwar with blue whatever looks a lot better than a blue salwar with white whatever, I thought killing 20 minutes for an eyebrow-cut wasn't going to hurt much. Alas, I was so wrong !!
Firstly I realised that there's a strange connection between a woman and her beauty parlour. You can't convince her to visit some parlour. It has to be one where she's been going ever since she had eyebrows worth "getting done". Women and beauty parlours seem to connect intensely at very deeper levels. It is almost as if every girl gets randomly assigned to a parlour as soon as she is born. By the way, this pseudo-random assignment algorithm never picks the nearest parlour. So she wouldn't care if there's a parlour right beside her house. She has to visit the one that is 10 kms away. No matter how much you try convincing her, she won't budge and you finally have no other option but to yield. Apparently, the woman-parlour force is too strong for a man to conquer. He may instead drive through bizarre traffic, swear at autorickshaw drivers, park his car some ten stories above the ground and surrender to the might of the force. And while all this is happening, the lady keeps examining her eyebrows oblivious to the fact that the guy beside her is actually pulling his hair out !! You know, wherever I have lived so far, I have always chosen a barber who charges the least and whose shop is the closest to my place. After all, time is money , money is precious, but unfortunately a hair-cut isn't all that precious. All I care is that I shouldn't be spending more than 2 seconds combing my hair every morning. Somehow, this logic doesn't seem to work with women and especially my cousin. Learning 1: When it comes to logic, eyebrows and women, logic must fail.
I obviously didn't enter the parlour and so I told her to give me a buzz when she's done. After all, it shouldn't take her anything more than 3 minutes. Add some "waiting time" and the whole exercise should get over in about 20 minutes. Right ? Wrong ! I could sense the devilish woman-parlour force giving me a wicked grin. Ignoring the hints that were coming my way, courtesy the forces of nature, I decided to step into a bookshop situated close by. I sat there reading a comic, responding to messages from my friends every now and then. After about 20 minutes of valuable reading, I decided to call up my cousin to check if she was done. Well, to her misfortune and to my agony, she told me that she was still waiting for her turn and there were 10 girls ahead of her !! The wicked grins had just gotten wider. I looked around and spotted a coffee shop this time. I walked in and ordered a huge mug of cold coffee. The shop was also playing the highlights of a recent India-Australia test match and so I sat there wondering if there could be a better setting than this to enjoy one's coffee . As the cricket highlights got over (must have been an hour), I checked on my cousin again and this time she wouldn't answer her phone. I guessed that her turn had come and she was busy "shaping" her eyebrows. A bit more waiting and hopefully she should be done. I decided to take a walk as the evening weather was really good. I stopped by a roadside bookshop that was selling cheap re-prints of books that I wanted to read for quite some time now. Just as I was negotiating a deal where I felt that I had mastered the art of bargaining, my phone rang. After a 2 hour wait where I must have checked my watch a hundred times, it was finally time to pick up the cousin. Learning 2: There's more to a woman's eyebrow than what meets the man's eye. As I moved to leave the bookshop, I thought I saw a book that read "All the great men who died waiting outside beauty parlours".
When a woman asks you how she looks, especially after a visit to the parlour, make sure you give her the right answer. In most cases, you won't notice any substantial change in her looks. If you tell her that she looks great, you can move on and have that pizza your stomach has been craving for. If you stumble and tell her the truth, she'll walk back into the parlour again !! Learning 3: Beauty is subtle. Make sure you learn to notice it. Unfortunately, there's no deterministic way of clearly spotting a post-parlour change. Agree that there has been a change and make your life better.
I wondered what married men go through.
Should I really publish this ? Oh what the hell !
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Tracking Ron Paul from India
My friend Pramod is doing is a fantastic job tracking Ron Paul's campaign trail. If you aren't reading his blog already, I suggest you head over to Ron Paul India.
Cheers Bili !
Cheers Bili !
Pramod, he's different
Pramod Biligiri and I met for the first time in Vijaya High School. We were in the eighth standard then. Our classes had begun just then and the students were still getting to know each other. Pramod and I hadn't met as yet. At around the same time, a teacher in the math department was putting together a team for a group song performance. Somebody had misinformed her about my singing skills and to my horror I found myself in her cabin staring at two pages of complicated Kannada poetry, not a word of which I understood.
Along with me in the teacher's cabin, was Pramod, who was observing the manner in which the teacher was selecting students for the event. The teacher obviously had no clue about the students in our class, let alone knowing who sang well or who played the tabla well. We were still new faces. She was being advised by a group of senior students who were leveraging their "network" to suggest names from our class.
Teacher: OK, I need two more male voices. Also, is there somebody who can play the veena ?
Senior #1: Uh..my friend Divya told me that her brother's friend Dramod T K plays the veena really well. We should probably take him.
Senior #2: My sister's classmate's brother is apparently an awesome singer. We SHOULD take him. Else I won't participate !!
Senior #3: There's this guy who attends the same music academy that my cousin's neighbour does. I don't remember his name....perhaps starts with A
Soon we had our two "male voices" and Dramod T K for the veena. The teacher now wanted to talk about the song she had selected. Just as she turned her attention to the script, Pramod interrupted her: "Ma'am, I think we need to adopt a more democratic process in selecting the team. I believe in freedom of expression. I believe in public opinion and equal opportunity for all. Do we elect our leaders in the same manner as we have put this team together ? Hearsay ? Clearly our knowledge about our class is limited. Perhaps there's somebody out there who sings much better than this guy ...pointing at me..me nodding vigorously in approval.. How do we know ? We should conduct a Talent Show...provide an unbiased platform for all the kids to display their talents. And then we can proceed to choose our team. My conscience doesn't permit me to be a part this team. I am out. " What the hell was Pramod talking about ? Democratic process of decision making ? Freedom of Expression ?? hello !! The teacher was shocked at Pramod's maturity. She sent us back to our classrooms immediately and canceled the day's practice. Soon, a talent show was announced for the eighth standard students !
So that's how I met Pramod.... over a lesson on democracy, public opinion and equal opportunity.
I won't be wrong if I branded Pramod as the "true geek" among all my friends. When the gang wants to talk about Sushmita Sen in her latest movie, Pramod wants to discuss Ron Paul. When Avinash and I raised a minor complaint about prices of coffee at Cafe Coffee Day, Pramod informed us about the effects of Fringe Benefit Tax on the prices of mosquito repellants. When Kandarp wanted to discuss a certain girl in his class, Pramod wanted us talk about Ubuntu instead. He once made me write a ruby program in a movie hall !
Back in 2000, after we had completed writing a million engineering entrance examinations, Avinash, Kandarp, Pramod and I set off on a trip to discover coastal Karnataka. We were going to visit several beaches and also spend some time in Mangalore. One of the beaches we visited was Kapu. We reached the beach at 5 in the evening, tired after a really strenuous bus ride. Each one of us bought a tender coconut from a peddler on the beach. We threw ourselves on the sand and sat facing the beach with the sun setting in the background. At a distance, very very far away, we spotted a ship that was disappearing slowly into the horizon. We sat there for several minutes, our eyes riveted on that ship. We seemed to have been overcome by a sudden silence that was interrupted every now and then by the sound of the waves and cries of "yellneer" from the peddler. Nobody spoke. Everyone watched...simply watched.
Finally, when the ship had disappeared, Kandarp broke the silence: "Guys, what do you reckon of that ship ?"
Avinash: Don't worry. It's a cargo ship. I have seen several of those in the movies. It won't destroy us.
Me: I wonder what it is carrying...marijuana ? Trafficking human beings ?
Kandarp: What crap ?! I think that ship resembles our life, as it stands at this point in time.
Avinash and I were a bit puzzled, but we managed to put a philosophical look on our faces to suit the occasion.
"That ship was perhaps at a harbour a couple of days ago. It was anchored there in the company of several of it's "friend" ships. It has now embarked on a journey, with a destination in mind. It doesn't know when it is going to return to the harbour, when will it ever get to meet it's friends again. Some of them may meet again, some may never meet at all. Each one of us is now embarking on a similar journey...a journey called life. Will we all stay in Bangalore ? Maybe we'll go to different cities. And what if I decide to go to the US after my engineering ? Will we ever get to meet again ?"
Avinash and I were suddenly taken over by the gravity of Kandarp's remark. All those scenes of we being together, cracking jokes at each other, hanging out in 4th block for by-two coffee by-two idli flashed before our eyes. We were going to be separated, and no one except Kandarp had realised it !! The emotional crescendo had reached a peak. One more word from Kandarp and we were probably going to tumble down with tears in our eyes. Were we really going to be separated ? Avinash searched for his handkerchief.
Kandarp, sensing that Pramod hadn't spoken at all: So Bili, what do you reckon of that ship ?
no answer
Kandarp: BILI !!
Pramod: Uh ?? monopoly, absolute monopoly
Monopoly ? Did he actually say monopoly ? "There are so many coconut trees in this place. There are so many people on this beach. Yet, there's only one guy selling tender coconuts here. Plus this is summer. I am sure he has an exclusive license to sell coconuts on this beach. Perhaps, he has bribed the local politician to ensure no one else is allowed to sell anything here. No wonder we paid 20 bucks for the coconut, while back in Bangalore, we would have paid just 5 bucks. I wonder what the license costed him though."
Kandarp: OK OK, but what about that ship ?
Pramod: What ship ?
Kandarp, Avinash and I buried our heads in disbelief.
Along with me in the teacher's cabin, was Pramod, who was observing the manner in which the teacher was selecting students for the event. The teacher obviously had no clue about the students in our class, let alone knowing who sang well or who played the tabla well. We were still new faces. She was being advised by a group of senior students who were leveraging their "network" to suggest names from our class.
Teacher: OK, I need two more male voices. Also, is there somebody who can play the veena ?
Senior #1: Uh..my friend Divya told me that her brother's friend Dramod T K plays the veena really well. We should probably take him.
Senior #2: My sister's classmate's brother is apparently an awesome singer. We SHOULD take him. Else I won't participate !!
Senior #3: There's this guy who attends the same music academy that my cousin's neighbour does. I don't remember his name....perhaps starts with A
Soon we had our two "male voices" and Dramod T K for the veena. The teacher now wanted to talk about the song she had selected. Just as she turned her attention to the script, Pramod interrupted her: "Ma'am, I think we need to adopt a more democratic process in selecting the team. I believe in freedom of expression. I believe in public opinion and equal opportunity for all. Do we elect our leaders in the same manner as we have put this team together ? Hearsay ? Clearly our knowledge about our class is limited. Perhaps there's somebody out there who sings much better than this guy ...pointing at me..me nodding vigorously in approval.. How do we know ? We should conduct a Talent Show...provide an unbiased platform for all the kids to display their talents. And then we can proceed to choose our team. My conscience doesn't permit me to be a part this team. I am out. " What the hell was Pramod talking about ? Democratic process of decision making ? Freedom of Expression ?? hello !! The teacher was shocked at Pramod's maturity. She sent us back to our classrooms immediately and canceled the day's practice. Soon, a talent show was announced for the eighth standard students !
So that's how I met Pramod.... over a lesson on democracy, public opinion and equal opportunity.
I won't be wrong if I branded Pramod as the "true geek" among all my friends. When the gang wants to talk about Sushmita Sen in her latest movie, Pramod wants to discuss Ron Paul. When Avinash and I raised a minor complaint about prices of coffee at Cafe Coffee Day, Pramod informed us about the effects of Fringe Benefit Tax on the prices of mosquito repellants. When Kandarp wanted to discuss a certain girl in his class, Pramod wanted us talk about Ubuntu instead. He once made me write a ruby program in a movie hall !
Back in 2000, after we had completed writing a million engineering entrance examinations, Avinash, Kandarp, Pramod and I set off on a trip to discover coastal Karnataka. We were going to visit several beaches and also spend some time in Mangalore. One of the beaches we visited was Kapu. We reached the beach at 5 in the evening, tired after a really strenuous bus ride. Each one of us bought a tender coconut from a peddler on the beach. We threw ourselves on the sand and sat facing the beach with the sun setting in the background. At a distance, very very far away, we spotted a ship that was disappearing slowly into the horizon. We sat there for several minutes, our eyes riveted on that ship. We seemed to have been overcome by a sudden silence that was interrupted every now and then by the sound of the waves and cries of "yellneer" from the peddler. Nobody spoke. Everyone watched...simply watched.
Finally, when the ship had disappeared, Kandarp broke the silence: "Guys, what do you reckon of that ship ?"
Avinash: Don't worry. It's a cargo ship. I have seen several of those in the movies. It won't destroy us.
Me: I wonder what it is carrying...marijuana ? Trafficking human beings ?
Kandarp: What crap ?! I think that ship resembles our life, as it stands at this point in time.
Avinash and I were a bit puzzled, but we managed to put a philosophical look on our faces to suit the occasion.
"That ship was perhaps at a harbour a couple of days ago. It was anchored there in the company of several of it's "friend" ships. It has now embarked on a journey, with a destination in mind. It doesn't know when it is going to return to the harbour, when will it ever get to meet it's friends again. Some of them may meet again, some may never meet at all. Each one of us is now embarking on a similar journey...a journey called life. Will we all stay in Bangalore ? Maybe we'll go to different cities. And what if I decide to go to the US after my engineering ? Will we ever get to meet again ?"
Avinash and I were suddenly taken over by the gravity of Kandarp's remark. All those scenes of we being together, cracking jokes at each other, hanging out in 4th block for by-two coffee by-two idli flashed before our eyes. We were going to be separated, and no one except Kandarp had realised it !! The emotional crescendo had reached a peak. One more word from Kandarp and we were probably going to tumble down with tears in our eyes. Were we really going to be separated ? Avinash searched for his handkerchief.
Kandarp, sensing that Pramod hadn't spoken at all: So Bili, what do you reckon of that ship ?
no answer
Kandarp: BILI !!
Pramod: Uh ?? monopoly, absolute monopoly
Monopoly ? Did he actually say monopoly ? "There are so many coconut trees in this place. There are so many people on this beach. Yet, there's only one guy selling tender coconuts here. Plus this is summer. I am sure he has an exclusive license to sell coconuts on this beach. Perhaps, he has bribed the local politician to ensure no one else is allowed to sell anything here. No wonder we paid 20 bucks for the coconut, while back in Bangalore, we would have paid just 5 bucks. I wonder what the license costed him though."
Kandarp: OK OK, but what about that ship ?
Pramod: What ship ?
Kandarp, Avinash and I buried our heads in disbelief.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
My friend Kandarp
This post is dedicated to my friend Kandarp, or perhaps to a certain problem that keeps haunting him every now and then. Kandarp and I met for the first time in 1992. Our schools had closed for the summer break. Kandarp was visiting his grandparents who lived in Jayanagar. I was spending an unusual amount of time in the playgrounds playing an ununsual number of cricket matches with my friends. It was during one such cricket match that another friend of mine called Ganesh introduced Kandarp to me.
Ganesh: Vindy, meet Kandarp !
Me: Oh ! Hey Gandharv, how are you doing ?
Kandarp: Hi... uh..actually my name is Kandarp
Me: Yes yes, Kandraap
Kandarp (irritated, his face turning red): No! It's Kandarp K-A-N-D-A-R-P
Me: Oh Kandarp, Kandarp...sorry sorry. You know it's not too often that one comes across somebody by name Kandarp in Bangalore...ahem So, are you from India ?
Kandarp: Ofcourse I am from India. Kannada barathappa !! Kandarp is another name for Manmatha. Have you heard of Manmatha....Cupid ? The Roman God who makes people fall in love ? That's me.
Vinay: Wow.. really ? (thinking about my recent crush in Sudarshan Vidya Mandir)... Man, I would love to be your friend
And so this very conversation that happened on a hot Monday afternoon triggered a friendship - a friendship that has lasted for 15 years now, an intense friendship that I am now going to take undue advantage of....
Off topic:
Kandarp was smart chap (he still is). He could do decimal multiplication and division really fast. He knew the answer to every question our science teacher asked. He seemed to know the capital of every country you could think of. He knew the GDP of every nation on this planet, including Burkina Faso. Kandarp was indeed a smart chap. Girls would come to Kandarp during the lunch break to have their math doubts clarified. And Kandarp would come over to my desk to have lunch with me. As a result, I got to hang around with all the popular girls of my school !! Pretty cool stuff I must say. It felt really good being his friend. Just that I couldn't see any chemistry happening between me and my crush. But Kandarp advised me to be patient and I gladly agreed to follow his advice. After all, he was cupid ! btw I am still following his advice....psst
Back to the topic:
You see, I was not the only guy who got his name wrong. In all fairness to Kandarp, I think he has a wonderful name. My grandmom really likes his name and so does a Sanskrit teacher at a nearby temple. But throughout the 15 years that I have known him, I have come across several people who have had problems registering his name when they hear it the first time. They would look at his name, think for a couple of seconds and then change it to something that suited them. For example, back in 6th standard, Kandarp and I had won the south zone inter-school badminton competition and we were now going to compete at the inter-zonal level. On the day of the competition, Kandarp walked over to the registration desk to register our team and to announce our arrival to all the other teams. A physical training instructor from one of the participating schools was registering the teams
PT instructor (munching paan parag): yenappa hesaru ?
Kandarp: Kandarp, sir.
PT instructor: Aaaaahhhhhh ? (with knotted eyebrows)
Kandarp: Kandarp, Kandarp
PT instructor: Oh ok .... ahem ahem (spits the paan parag out)
The instructor went through names from all the participating teams and finally declared that there was nobody by name Kandarp! Kandarp was distraught. This couldn't be happening. We had fought really hard to make it to the zonal level and it seemed like some administrative glitch somewhere was going to keep us out of winning the zonal title. Wiping sweat from his forehead, Kandarp thundered "Illa sir, chanceeee illa...naav south zone winners sir...sudarshan vidya mandir !!!"..... The instructor went back to his list and specifically looked for the south zone winners. Lifting his head and spitting out some more paan parag, he said "Sheeeeee, the wonly team we have here from SVM is Vinay and Sikander".....Sikander ?? what the hell ! Kandarp took out his south zone certificate, showed it to the instructor and got his name changed on the list. We were finally set to roll. I opened my bag and pulled out a glittering maroon Yonex - our brahmaastra if I could say so.
A couple years passed by and we were now in high school. Back in those days, the second most coolest thing a kid from Bangalore South could do, was to go to Vijaya High School. The coolest thing obviously was to eat dose at Dosa Camp. Kandarp had aced the 7th standard board exams with a percentage of 99.98. He had lost just one mark in his math exam owing to a spelling mistake !! To everybody's horror, I had managed a decent score too. So our parents took us out of Sudarshan Vidya Mandir and put us in Vijaya High School. On our first day at VHS, we were all made to sit in an open air auditorium and a teacher by name Dumar kept calling out our names one after another to assign us to various sections. Dvinash Atreya D section, Dramod Biligiri D section, N R Drasad F section, Darsha Honappa D section, Vinay Murthy D section Dogish D section.... and so the list went on and on until about 500 kids were assigned to their sections, with the exception of only one guy. Kandarp was still sitting there in the hot sun with ears that had turned red listening to Dumar for two long hours. Kandarp couldn't think of a reason why he hadn't been assigned a section. Perhaps, they had a special K section just for him ? Dumar looked at Kandarp and said "Yeno sundaraanga, aagle class-inda aache haakbittra ?" Kandarp, who was blushing now, replied "illa sir, nan hesare karililla neevu" Dumar was surprised. He had meticulously stepped through the entire list crossing out every name as soon as he had called it out. After all he had been doing this for 20 years now. It did surprise him that he had missed out on Kandarp's name. Dumar put on his reading glasses and went through the entire list again. He finally found one name that hadn't been crossed - Kandar.P... sigh !! The necessary corrections were made and Kandarp was finally assigned to the D section. Manmatha was back in action, ready to impress all the girls with his laser sharp brain.
I have already told you about two cool things that kids in Bangalore South could do back in the days. Apparently, the third most coolest thing was to write the NTSE exam. The principal of VHS had impressed upon us that if we cleared the exam, the Indian government would adopt us. By adopt, he actually meant a scholarship. The first time our parents heard our principal talking about the NTSE exam, they literally freaked out. They didn't need anybody to adopt their kids ! Anyway, all the cool kids decided to write the exam and so I gave name too. To nobody's surprise, Kandarp aced the state level exam. To everybody's surprise, I managed to clear the exam too. And so here we were enrolling ourselves into a month long coaching class at the Kumarans' for the national level exam. On the first day of our classes, we were all made to assemble in a well lit classroom. There were kids from all over Karnataka. Kandarp even found his childhood sweetheart from Mysore in that class. Our teacher for the first class was a person by name Divakumar. As is the usual practice in all first day classes, Divakumar laboured through the intricacies of the national level exam and by doing so, he convinced me that I stood no chance of clearing the exam. I could clear it if I attended his class religiously and took all his tests. But that meant that I couldn't play for the local Apollo 11 cricket team anymore. I was already getting tensed about this NTSE exam. Perhaps I should have stuck to playing cricket. NTSE ?? definitely not my cup of tea. Divakumar decided to take a roll call and started calling out our names Dvinash...present sir, Drasad ... present sir, ..... , Vinay...a feeble present sir, Dogish...a confident present sir. Having completed the formality, Divakumar got ready to talk about the application of the harmonic mean to an average speed problem. As soon as he opened his mouth to talk, a hand was raised among the students and Kandarp got up. There was a faint murmuring in the classroom. Everyone wanted to know who this guy was. All the girls looked up. Divakumar was impressed. For the first time in his life, he had come across a student who had a doubt on day's topic even before the topic could be discussed...what a student to have in your class. But Kandarp had a totally different concern... "Sir, my name wasn't called".....err..... Divakumar's excitement sank in a couple of seconds and he opened the attendance register again. He looked at Kandarp and said "The only person who is absent today is Bhandari".... Dvinash, Drasad, Dogish and I burst out in peels of laughter.
And so the saga of Kandarp's name continued for several more years later. Several attendance registers were corrected, countless certificates were changed, a couple of T-shirts were re-printed, a degree certificate was re-embossed and a passport was also set right. One fine Sunday morning, Kandarp woke up and decided that he had to put an end to all this confusion. He convinced his parents to change his name to Kandarp Srinivasan and since then, I have been told that Kandarp prefers to introduce himself as K Srinivasan.
Cheers Kandy !
Ganesh: Vindy, meet Kandarp !
Me: Oh ! Hey Gandharv, how are you doing ?
Kandarp: Hi... uh..actually my name is Kandarp
Me: Yes yes, Kandraap
Kandarp (irritated, his face turning red): No! It's Kandarp K-A-N-D-A-R-P
Me: Oh Kandarp, Kandarp...sorry sorry. You know it's not too often that one comes across somebody by name Kandarp in Bangalore...ahem So, are you from India ?
Kandarp: Ofcourse I am from India. Kannada barathappa !! Kandarp is another name for Manmatha. Have you heard of Manmatha....Cupid ? The Roman God who makes people fall in love ? That's me.
Vinay: Wow.. really ? (thinking about my recent crush in Sudarshan Vidya Mandir)... Man, I would love to be your friend
And so this very conversation that happened on a hot Monday afternoon triggered a friendship - a friendship that has lasted for 15 years now, an intense friendship that I am now going to take undue advantage of....
Off topic:
Kandarp was smart chap (he still is). He could do decimal multiplication and division really fast. He knew the answer to every question our science teacher asked. He seemed to know the capital of every country you could think of. He knew the GDP of every nation on this planet, including Burkina Faso. Kandarp was indeed a smart chap. Girls would come to Kandarp during the lunch break to have their math doubts clarified. And Kandarp would come over to my desk to have lunch with me. As a result, I got to hang around with all the popular girls of my school !! Pretty cool stuff I must say. It felt really good being his friend. Just that I couldn't see any chemistry happening between me and my crush. But Kandarp advised me to be patient and I gladly agreed to follow his advice. After all, he was cupid ! btw I am still following his advice....psst
Back to the topic:
You see, I was not the only guy who got his name wrong. In all fairness to Kandarp, I think he has a wonderful name. My grandmom really likes his name and so does a Sanskrit teacher at a nearby temple. But throughout the 15 years that I have known him, I have come across several people who have had problems registering his name when they hear it the first time. They would look at his name, think for a couple of seconds and then change it to something that suited them. For example, back in 6th standard, Kandarp and I had won the south zone inter-school badminton competition and we were now going to compete at the inter-zonal level. On the day of the competition, Kandarp walked over to the registration desk to register our team and to announce our arrival to all the other teams. A physical training instructor from one of the participating schools was registering the teams
PT instructor (munching paan parag): yenappa hesaru ?
Kandarp: Kandarp, sir.
PT instructor: Aaaaahhhhhh ? (with knotted eyebrows)
Kandarp: Kandarp, Kandarp
PT instructor: Oh ok .... ahem ahem (spits the paan parag out)
The instructor went through names from all the participating teams and finally declared that there was nobody by name Kandarp! Kandarp was distraught. This couldn't be happening. We had fought really hard to make it to the zonal level and it seemed like some administrative glitch somewhere was going to keep us out of winning the zonal title. Wiping sweat from his forehead, Kandarp thundered "Illa sir, chanceeee illa...naav south zone winners sir...sudarshan vidya mandir !!!"..... The instructor went back to his list and specifically looked for the south zone winners. Lifting his head and spitting out some more paan parag, he said "Sheeeeee, the wonly team we have here from SVM is Vinay and Sikander".....Sikander ?? what the hell ! Kandarp took out his south zone certificate, showed it to the instructor and got his name changed on the list. We were finally set to roll. I opened my bag and pulled out a glittering maroon Yonex - our brahmaastra if I could say so.
A couple years passed by and we were now in high school. Back in those days, the second most coolest thing a kid from Bangalore South could do, was to go to Vijaya High School. The coolest thing obviously was to eat dose at Dosa Camp. Kandarp had aced the 7th standard board exams with a percentage of 99.98. He had lost just one mark in his math exam owing to a spelling mistake !! To everybody's horror, I had managed a decent score too. So our parents took us out of Sudarshan Vidya Mandir and put us in Vijaya High School. On our first day at VHS, we were all made to sit in an open air auditorium and a teacher by name Dumar kept calling out our names one after another to assign us to various sections. Dvinash Atreya D section, Dramod Biligiri D section, N R Drasad F section, Darsha Honappa D section, Vinay Murthy D section Dogish D section.... and so the list went on and on until about 500 kids were assigned to their sections, with the exception of only one guy. Kandarp was still sitting there in the hot sun with ears that had turned red listening to Dumar for two long hours. Kandarp couldn't think of a reason why he hadn't been assigned a section. Perhaps, they had a special K section just for him ? Dumar looked at Kandarp and said "Yeno sundaraanga, aagle class-inda aache haakbittra ?" Kandarp, who was blushing now, replied "illa sir, nan hesare karililla neevu" Dumar was surprised. He had meticulously stepped through the entire list crossing out every name as soon as he had called it out. After all he had been doing this for 20 years now. It did surprise him that he had missed out on Kandarp's name. Dumar put on his reading glasses and went through the entire list again. He finally found one name that hadn't been crossed - Kandar.P... sigh !! The necessary corrections were made and Kandarp was finally assigned to the D section. Manmatha was back in action, ready to impress all the girls with his laser sharp brain.
I have already told you about two cool things that kids in Bangalore South could do back in the days. Apparently, the third most coolest thing was to write the NTSE exam. The principal of VHS had impressed upon us that if we cleared the exam, the Indian government would adopt us. By adopt, he actually meant a scholarship. The first time our parents heard our principal talking about the NTSE exam, they literally freaked out. They didn't need anybody to adopt their kids ! Anyway, all the cool kids decided to write the exam and so I gave name too. To nobody's surprise, Kandarp aced the state level exam. To everybody's surprise, I managed to clear the exam too. And so here we were enrolling ourselves into a month long coaching class at the Kumarans' for the national level exam. On the first day of our classes, we were all made to assemble in a well lit classroom. There were kids from all over Karnataka. Kandarp even found his childhood sweetheart from Mysore in that class. Our teacher for the first class was a person by name Divakumar. As is the usual practice in all first day classes, Divakumar laboured through the intricacies of the national level exam and by doing so, he convinced me that I stood no chance of clearing the exam. I could clear it if I attended his class religiously and took all his tests. But that meant that I couldn't play for the local Apollo 11 cricket team anymore. I was already getting tensed about this NTSE exam. Perhaps I should have stuck to playing cricket. NTSE ?? definitely not my cup of tea. Divakumar decided to take a roll call and started calling out our names Dvinash...present sir, Drasad ... present sir, ..... , Vinay...a feeble present sir, Dogish...a confident present sir. Having completed the formality, Divakumar got ready to talk about the application of the harmonic mean to an average speed problem. As soon as he opened his mouth to talk, a hand was raised among the students and Kandarp got up. There was a faint murmuring in the classroom. Everyone wanted to know who this guy was. All the girls looked up. Divakumar was impressed. For the first time in his life, he had come across a student who had a doubt on day's topic even before the topic could be discussed...what a student to have in your class. But Kandarp had a totally different concern... "Sir, my name wasn't called".....err..... Divakumar's excitement sank in a couple of seconds and he opened the attendance register again. He looked at Kandarp and said "The only person who is absent today is Bhandari".... Dvinash, Drasad, Dogish and I burst out in peels of laughter.
And so the saga of Kandarp's name continued for several more years later. Several attendance registers were corrected, countless certificates were changed, a couple of T-shirts were re-printed, a degree certificate was re-embossed and a passport was also set right. One fine Sunday morning, Kandarp woke up and decided that he had to put an end to all this confusion. He convinced his parents to change his name to Kandarp Srinivasan and since then, I have been told that Kandarp prefers to introduce himself as K Srinivasan.
Cheers Kandy !
Friday, December 21, 2007
Davan, Dhavan, the keyboard kid and I
I am going to tell you about an incident that happened when I was a primary school kid in Sudarshan Vidya Mandir. The year was 1990. My parents had just then moved to Bangalore from Baroda. I was enrolled "mid-way" in November into the 3rd standard. I could neither read nor write Kannada, which was the third language in the school's curriculum. I was a fairly unknown character in the school back then and my only claim to fame was ace-ing the mid-term Kannada exam after having spent just about a month learning the language. The guys knew me as "Vinay" and the girls knew me as "some random Baroda kid".
The school fixed a date for the Annual Day celebrations and the teachers got busy selecting kids for various cultural programmes. Every class had to present one programme. It was decided that the 3rd standard kids would present a play about the Ramayana. The play was supposed to be a whirlwind tour of the epic, beginning with Rama's fourteen-year exile to the forests and culminating with his appointment to the throne of Ayodhya. The play had a crew comprising of 30 students and 4 teachers with a separate team just for the musicals ! Costumes had been hired from Prabath Kalavidaru and apparently the principal had evinced keen interest in the play as well. Absolutely serious stuff I tell you. You were considered cool if you were a part of the play....in whatever manner possible.
The play had 7 major roles - Rama, Lakshmana, Sita, Bharatha, Ravana, Hanuman and Dasharatha. The supporting roles included Lava, Kusha, Shatrughna, Vishwamitra, Sugreeva and Vali. And finally there were a bunch of boring "extra" roles like a soldier in Rama's army who would make a 2 second appearance on the stage only to have Ravana's sword pierce through his body. His only dialogue was to scream in pain "AAAAAAHHHHHH" when Ravana's sword made it's way through him. He would then be carried off the stage by a bunch of other "extra" guys. Obviously the kids who were most popular with the teachers got the major roles (you know how things work in primary school, don't you). The least popular ones would end up with the fringe roles. Now, ace-ing a Kannada exam once doesn't make you intensely popular and so, I ended up playing that soldier who would get shred to pieces by Ravana. I spent a whole night in bed figuring forty one different ways of screaming "AAAAAAHHHHH" and I must say that I had it in me to make the scene highly emotional.
Three days to go for the mega event and we promptly assembled in the GMT hall for after-hours practice. We quickly reached the scene where I had to make my entry. I executed my role with such passion that the teacher who was directing the play shouted "Very Good. Next !". I was supposed to be followed by Hanuman who would engage Ravana in an intense gadha battle. The keyboard guy in the backstage got ready to play the ting sound every time the gadhas would meet. Ravana stood on stage waiting for Hanuman, but the kid who was supposed to play Hanuman was nowhere to be seen. The teacher shouted "Where is Hanuman ??" ... no sign of Hanuman .... "Where the hell is Hanuman??"....still no sign. Suddenly there was this feeble voice from back stage "Maam, Danesh has typhoid and he will not be participating in our play". Duh! OK, so we have a problem now. Hanuman is missing and we all know that you can't have a play about Ramayana with no Hanuman in it. The teacher, visibly disturbed, looked around to see if any of the other kids would fit into Hanuman's role. Just around the same time, I was being carried off stage by Davan and Dhavan (yeah, twins). The teacher shouted "Put Vinay down"....what ?? ... that was not in the script. I was supposed to be carried off the stage. So I tried getting up to complain about this sudden change in the script that had happened without my knowledge. Just then, the teacher walked up to me and said "OK Vinay, you are going to play Hanuman"...wait a minute, I spent a whole night figuring out forty one ways of screaming in pain and now, all that was going down the drain ? Just because Danesh woke up one day and had a hot plate instead of a forehead ? More importantly, we had just three days left !! For somebody who was trying to enhance his popularity with the best "AAAAAHHHH" people had ever heard, I was being set up for failure. I didn't know the dialogues and Hanuman had quite a lot of things to say. I was not even sure whether the costumes would fit me. This was just not fair. But then, in primary school, you really can't flex your muscles a lot and so I had to accept the role, quite reluctantly if I may add. The soldier's role was trashed and with that Davan and Dhavan lost their roles too. They had to sit and watch us perform. Sad exit for the twins. They were sacked and I seemed to have got a promotion.
The day finally arrived. I was dressed in the weirdest costume I had ever worn for a play. I had a huge tail tied to my waist. I had a fairly ornamental headgear as well. Holding a mace in my hand, I was all set to beat the hell out of Ravana. Our play started and I must admit that we were all doing a great job. The audience was totally mesmerized by our performance. Everyone watched, intently. I walked out and gave Ravana a couple of extra punches than what we had earlier planned. After all, he had stolen my pencil a couple of days ago !! The audience couldn't stop applauding the two of us while we were putting up a wonderful demonstration of "mace fight". The tings from the backstage happened at the same time the maces met...what synchrony... even the keyboard kid was doing a fantastic job. Applause applause everywhere. The mace fighting scene with Ravana got over and the play soon rolled over to the final scene where Rama is sitting on the throne with Sita alongside....a couple of extras start a dance sequence celebrating Rama's victory over Ravana .... the backstage choir is singing a song "Jaya jaya Rama, jaya jaya Sita....".....somewhere in that song when a brief mention is made of Hanuman, I was supposed to leap across the dais, shout "Bolo Shri Ramchandra ki....Jai" and finally genuflect in front of Rama. As soon as the song started praising Hanuman, I took off. I was probably air borne for three to four seconds. Just when I was about touch down, one of the guys from the dance troupe meandered into my glide path... Oh gee, we have a problem. Where's air traffic control ?? There's a kid on the run way .... I couldn't quite manage to avoid this obstruction which had emerged from nowhere and with no prior warning. Quite predictably, I crashed into this kid. My mace hit him on his head and he fell down. Time froze for a couple of seconds. Everybody on the stage was dumbstruck. The teacher, who all along kept cheering us from the side-wings, was now searching for a place to hide. The choir stopped singing. The audience froze. Rama seemed clueless for the first time in his life. This couldn't be happening now, that too towards the end of the play. I had ruined what seemed like a stellar performance by a bunch of awesome 8 year old kids. Nobody knew what to do. I looked around and spotted Davan and Dhavan sitting with their parents. I waved at them frantically to tell them we had a casualty on the stage. Luckily these guys were in a traditional costume that made them presentable on stage. They promptly walked on to the stage, lifted the kid who had fallen down and carried him off the stage...just like they were supposed to carry me off when I was the soldier. Now that the debris had been cleared, a gleeful Hanuman started jumping around with his mace shouting "Bolo Ramchandra Ki" "Bolo Ramchandra Ki"... the keyboard kid played a couple of ting tings to wake up the choir which seemed to have gone into a trance and the dance continued from where it had been paused. The air went alive with cheers of "JAI JAI" from the audience and Rama was back to smiling again.
Davan, Dhavan , the keyboard kid and I shot to fame. The guys knew me as "Vinay" and the girls came to know me as "Vinay" too.
The school fixed a date for the Annual Day celebrations and the teachers got busy selecting kids for various cultural programmes. Every class had to present one programme. It was decided that the 3rd standard kids would present a play about the Ramayana. The play was supposed to be a whirlwind tour of the epic, beginning with Rama's fourteen-year exile to the forests and culminating with his appointment to the throne of Ayodhya. The play had a crew comprising of 30 students and 4 teachers with a separate team just for the musicals ! Costumes had been hired from Prabath Kalavidaru and apparently the principal had evinced keen interest in the play as well. Absolutely serious stuff I tell you. You were considered cool if you were a part of the play....in whatever manner possible.
The play had 7 major roles - Rama, Lakshmana, Sita, Bharatha, Ravana, Hanuman and Dasharatha. The supporting roles included Lava, Kusha, Shatrughna, Vishwamitra, Sugreeva and Vali. And finally there were a bunch of boring "extra" roles like a soldier in Rama's army who would make a 2 second appearance on the stage only to have Ravana's sword pierce through his body. His only dialogue was to scream in pain "AAAAAAHHHHHH" when Ravana's sword made it's way through him. He would then be carried off the stage by a bunch of other "extra" guys. Obviously the kids who were most popular with the teachers got the major roles (you know how things work in primary school, don't you). The least popular ones would end up with the fringe roles. Now, ace-ing a Kannada exam once doesn't make you intensely popular and so, I ended up playing that soldier who would get shred to pieces by Ravana. I spent a whole night in bed figuring forty one different ways of screaming "AAAAAAHHHHH" and I must say that I had it in me to make the scene highly emotional.
Three days to go for the mega event and we promptly assembled in the GMT hall for after-hours practice. We quickly reached the scene where I had to make my entry. I executed my role with such passion that the teacher who was directing the play shouted "Very Good. Next !". I was supposed to be followed by Hanuman who would engage Ravana in an intense gadha battle. The keyboard guy in the backstage got ready to play the ting sound every time the gadhas would meet. Ravana stood on stage waiting for Hanuman, but the kid who was supposed to play Hanuman was nowhere to be seen. The teacher shouted "Where is Hanuman ??" ... no sign of Hanuman .... "Where the hell is Hanuman??"....still no sign. Suddenly there was this feeble voice from back stage "Maam, Danesh has typhoid and he will not be participating in our play". Duh! OK, so we have a problem now. Hanuman is missing and we all know that you can't have a play about Ramayana with no Hanuman in it. The teacher, visibly disturbed, looked around to see if any of the other kids would fit into Hanuman's role. Just around the same time, I was being carried off stage by Davan and Dhavan (yeah, twins). The teacher shouted "Put Vinay down"....what ?? ... that was not in the script. I was supposed to be carried off the stage. So I tried getting up to complain about this sudden change in the script that had happened without my knowledge. Just then, the teacher walked up to me and said "OK Vinay, you are going to play Hanuman"...wait a minute, I spent a whole night figuring out forty one ways of screaming in pain and now, all that was going down the drain ? Just because Danesh woke up one day and had a hot plate instead of a forehead ? More importantly, we had just three days left !! For somebody who was trying to enhance his popularity with the best "AAAAAHHHH" people had ever heard, I was being set up for failure. I didn't know the dialogues and Hanuman had quite a lot of things to say. I was not even sure whether the costumes would fit me. This was just not fair. But then, in primary school, you really can't flex your muscles a lot and so I had to accept the role, quite reluctantly if I may add. The soldier's role was trashed and with that Davan and Dhavan lost their roles too. They had to sit and watch us perform. Sad exit for the twins. They were sacked and I seemed to have got a promotion.
The day finally arrived. I was dressed in the weirdest costume I had ever worn for a play. I had a huge tail tied to my waist. I had a fairly ornamental headgear as well. Holding a mace in my hand, I was all set to beat the hell out of Ravana. Our play started and I must admit that we were all doing a great job. The audience was totally mesmerized by our performance. Everyone watched, intently. I walked out and gave Ravana a couple of extra punches than what we had earlier planned. After all, he had stolen my pencil a couple of days ago !! The audience couldn't stop applauding the two of us while we were putting up a wonderful demonstration of "mace fight". The tings from the backstage happened at the same time the maces met...what synchrony... even the keyboard kid was doing a fantastic job. Applause applause everywhere. The mace fighting scene with Ravana got over and the play soon rolled over to the final scene where Rama is sitting on the throne with Sita alongside....a couple of extras start a dance sequence celebrating Rama's victory over Ravana .... the backstage choir is singing a song "Jaya jaya Rama, jaya jaya Sita....".....somewhere in that song when a brief mention is made of Hanuman, I was supposed to leap across the dais, shout "Bolo Shri Ramchandra ki....Jai" and finally genuflect in front of Rama. As soon as the song started praising Hanuman, I took off. I was probably air borne for three to four seconds. Just when I was about touch down, one of the guys from the dance troupe meandered into my glide path... Oh gee, we have a problem. Where's air traffic control ?? There's a kid on the run way .... I couldn't quite manage to avoid this obstruction which had emerged from nowhere and with no prior warning. Quite predictably, I crashed into this kid. My mace hit him on his head and he fell down. Time froze for a couple of seconds. Everybody on the stage was dumbstruck. The teacher, who all along kept cheering us from the side-wings, was now searching for a place to hide. The choir stopped singing. The audience froze. Rama seemed clueless for the first time in his life. This couldn't be happening now, that too towards the end of the play. I had ruined what seemed like a stellar performance by a bunch of awesome 8 year old kids. Nobody knew what to do. I looked around and spotted Davan and Dhavan sitting with their parents. I waved at them frantically to tell them we had a casualty on the stage. Luckily these guys were in a traditional costume that made them presentable on stage. They promptly walked on to the stage, lifted the kid who had fallen down and carried him off the stage...just like they were supposed to carry me off when I was the soldier. Now that the debris had been cleared, a gleeful Hanuman started jumping around with his mace shouting "Bolo Ramchandra Ki" "Bolo Ramchandra Ki"... the keyboard kid played a couple of ting tings to wake up the choir which seemed to have gone into a trance and the dance continued from where it had been paused. The air went alive with cheers of "JAI JAI" from the audience and Rama was back to smiling again.
Davan, Dhavan , the keyboard kid and I shot to fame. The guys knew me as "Vinay" and the girls came to know me as "Vinay" too.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
We, the people
This is going to be "crib" post, but with a difference. This post is not meant to be a complaint about life, but rather a reflection on our true selves and our capabilities as thinking individuals.
If you ever gave me a chance to speak about my life, I will bore you to death, I promise. Obviously you aren't here seeking death. If death is what you really wanted, please venture your lives on the roads of Bangalore. Yes, roads, or rather the traffic in Bangalore, will figure prominently in this post. I have always believed that if you wanted to get a measure of how civilized a nation is, take a look at how people behave on its roads. A month ago, I wrote about an incident that took place in front of the Forum mall. While the generous act was duly appreciated by the needy, the world around didn't seem to like it at all. Be that as it may, for changing minds is a tough process. I have tried it several times with several people. It takes quite an effort. However indulging in a take-a-look-at-yourself act every once in a while is not going to be wasteful either.
The Diary Circle - Bannerghatta Road intersection is quite an interesting case study if you wanted to know more about the psychology of the "India Driver". I was driving towards the Forum mall yesterday at 10 in the morning. As I reached the Dairy Circle on Bannerghatta road, the traffic signal turned red. Back in primary school, I was taught to stop at the red light and so I brought all my learning to the front and slowed down my car. However, a lot of people driving ahead of me weren't keen on breaking their inertia and so, they decided to jump the signal. Their mindless act ended up creating a jam under the ramp that goes over the intersection. I didn't want to contribute to the prevailing entropy and so I decided to stop. Plus the signal was red. I had to stop. It turned out that this very act of bringing my vehicle to a halt resulted in more confusion and more angry drivers on the road. The stage for the opera was set by yours truly and as expected, the musical began. Four cars with perhaps the loudest horns that I had ever heard in my life went blaring as though they were being trampled by an elephant or something. It didn't seem like Earth for a moment. I turned on the radio, hoping for some instant relief. A couple of seconds later, a guy dressed in a three piece suit knocked at my window. He looked very irritated and wanted to talk to me urgently. People who have known me will tell you that I am one those guys who would listen to all your crap and keep listening and listening and listening until you ran out of things to say. Relieved at having emptied your mind at my expense, you would leave happier and lighter. (Thankfully I am not a piss pot). Thinking that Mr three-piece needed some help, I rolled the window down facilitating a conversation between the two of us. He scowled at first and then with a loud high pitched voice screamed at me "Just what are you doing ?". I found it rather amusing to be honest. I replied back "Just following the law". Mr. three-piece threw his arms up in the air, showered the usual Hindi abuses at me and made his way back to his car. I stood still because, you see, the signal showed red. Meanwhile, a rickshaw driver pulled over by my car and said "En maadthideera saar ?? hogtaayirbeku..." (What are you doing sir ? Keep moving). Just like most others, he too jumped the signal. The dude in the suit had to wait though. I was blocking his way and he didn't have enough clearance to manoeuvre his car past mine. A minute later, the signal turned green and I drove towards Forum. Mr three-piece, who was now following me, still seemed miffed with the whole incident.
Anyway, now let us involve ourselves in a serious exchange of thoughts. Most of us seemed to be perennially unhappy with our roads, our country and our politicians. We blame the government (or the lack of it) for all our miseries. We blame others on the road for the mad traffic. We blame the traffic cops, who quite honestly, are a helpless lot. Almost anything that the cops do (including using BlackBerries), seems to backfire. The increasingly cunning Indian always has a way around things. We rue the lack of legislation in our country. "I wish we had a law that prevented people from switching lanes whenever they felt like", "I wish we had a law against honking on the roads", "I wish we had a law that gave the first right of use on roads to the pedestrians, the old and the buffaloes". The funniest part is, as a nation, we have failed to respect the limited amount of restriction that has been imposed on us by way of law. And here we are complaining about the inadequacy of law in our country.
I think India's biggest problem is it's people (and that includes me as well). For when you try to follow the law, what you get to hear is the unfriendly MCs and BCs. You are considered dumb if you agree to follow a set of rules that are designed to bring in some order in your lives. How will tightening the law ever help solve our problems unless we are prepared to follow the law ? How will a strict legislation ever help us when we don't think twice about bribing a cop to escape a ticket ? How will we keep our cities clean unless we stop spitting on the roads, dumping garbage outside our home and decorating the walls of our cities with posters of our politicians, their fathers, their mothers and their wives ? And oh, here's one complaint that my grandmom always has "Why is it that we behave ourselves when we are in a foreign country, but let ourselves loose when we return to India ?" Your first meeting with corruption in India happens as soon as you land..yeah the customs in the airport ! And you will find Indians, who have probably shopped their wallets out like crazy, bribing their way through customs. A guy in the Bangalore airport actually offered to take me out of the customs queue if I paid him a dollar ! A lot of my co-passengers, i.e citizens of the great country of India, obliged. Not sure what they had in their bags.
Some of you may read this and think that I am probably jobless on a Saturday afternoon. Some may appreciate this post and my simple act of stopping at the red light. But the question is, how many of us are willing to follow the law, come what may. As long as we are happy punching our favourite bags i.e politicians, corruption, population, illiteracy and these days even global warming, our country will continue to rot under the surface. And we will have always things to bitch about in the kitchen or in the hallways at work. I have always believed that as individuals, we have the power to influence others. We have the ability to make an impression. Through our actions, we can make people around us think and take a look at themselves. More importantly, we can change people around us. If hanging out on Orkut is considered "cool", why isn't following a set of laws considered cool as well ? Would you help usher a new trend ? A trend where the coolest thing to do is to let the old man cross, to seldom honk, to use the garbage bin to throw your movie tickets when you don't need them any longer.... the list goes on. The more the merrier. If you are already doing all of this, I couldn't be more thankful to you.
If you ever gave me a chance to speak about my life, I will bore you to death, I promise. Obviously you aren't here seeking death. If death is what you really wanted, please venture your lives on the roads of Bangalore. Yes, roads, or rather the traffic in Bangalore, will figure prominently in this post. I have always believed that if you wanted to get a measure of how civilized a nation is, take a look at how people behave on its roads. A month ago, I wrote about an incident that took place in front of the Forum mall. While the generous act was duly appreciated by the needy, the world around didn't seem to like it at all. Be that as it may, for changing minds is a tough process. I have tried it several times with several people. It takes quite an effort. However indulging in a take-a-look-at-yourself act every once in a while is not going to be wasteful either.
The Diary Circle - Bannerghatta Road intersection is quite an interesting case study if you wanted to know more about the psychology of the "India Driver". I was driving towards the Forum mall yesterday at 10 in the morning. As I reached the Dairy Circle on Bannerghatta road, the traffic signal turned red. Back in primary school, I was taught to stop at the red light and so I brought all my learning to the front and slowed down my car. However, a lot of people driving ahead of me weren't keen on breaking their inertia and so, they decided to jump the signal. Their mindless act ended up creating a jam under the ramp that goes over the intersection. I didn't want to contribute to the prevailing entropy and so I decided to stop. Plus the signal was red. I had to stop. It turned out that this very act of bringing my vehicle to a halt resulted in more confusion and more angry drivers on the road. The stage for the opera was set by yours truly and as expected, the musical began. Four cars with perhaps the loudest horns that I had ever heard in my life went blaring as though they were being trampled by an elephant or something. It didn't seem like Earth for a moment. I turned on the radio, hoping for some instant relief. A couple of seconds later, a guy dressed in a three piece suit knocked at my window. He looked very irritated and wanted to talk to me urgently. People who have known me will tell you that I am one those guys who would listen to all your crap and keep listening and listening and listening until you ran out of things to say. Relieved at having emptied your mind at my expense, you would leave happier and lighter. (Thankfully I am not a piss pot). Thinking that Mr three-piece needed some help, I rolled the window down facilitating a conversation between the two of us. He scowled at first and then with a loud high pitched voice screamed at me "Just what are you doing ?". I found it rather amusing to be honest. I replied back "Just following the law". Mr. three-piece threw his arms up in the air, showered the usual Hindi abuses at me and made his way back to his car. I stood still because, you see, the signal showed red. Meanwhile, a rickshaw driver pulled over by my car and said "En maadthideera saar ?? hogtaayirbeku..." (What are you doing sir ? Keep moving). Just like most others, he too jumped the signal. The dude in the suit had to wait though. I was blocking his way and he didn't have enough clearance to manoeuvre his car past mine. A minute later, the signal turned green and I drove towards Forum. Mr three-piece, who was now following me, still seemed miffed with the whole incident.
Anyway, now let us involve ourselves in a serious exchange of thoughts. Most of us seemed to be perennially unhappy with our roads, our country and our politicians. We blame the government (or the lack of it) for all our miseries. We blame others on the road for the mad traffic. We blame the traffic cops, who quite honestly, are a helpless lot. Almost anything that the cops do (including using BlackBerries), seems to backfire. The increasingly cunning Indian always has a way around things. We rue the lack of legislation in our country. "I wish we had a law that prevented people from switching lanes whenever they felt like", "I wish we had a law against honking on the roads", "I wish we had a law that gave the first right of use on roads to the pedestrians, the old and the buffaloes". The funniest part is, as a nation, we have failed to respect the limited amount of restriction that has been imposed on us by way of law. And here we are complaining about the inadequacy of law in our country.
I think India's biggest problem is it's people (and that includes me as well). For when you try to follow the law, what you get to hear is the unfriendly MCs and BCs. You are considered dumb if you agree to follow a set of rules that are designed to bring in some order in your lives. How will tightening the law ever help solve our problems unless we are prepared to follow the law ? How will a strict legislation ever help us when we don't think twice about bribing a cop to escape a ticket ? How will we keep our cities clean unless we stop spitting on the roads, dumping garbage outside our home and decorating the walls of our cities with posters of our politicians, their fathers, their mothers and their wives ? And oh, here's one complaint that my grandmom always has "Why is it that we behave ourselves when we are in a foreign country, but let ourselves loose when we return to India ?" Your first meeting with corruption in India happens as soon as you land..yeah the customs in the airport ! And you will find Indians, who have probably shopped their wallets out like crazy, bribing their way through customs. A guy in the Bangalore airport actually offered to take me out of the customs queue if I paid him a dollar ! A lot of my co-passengers, i.e citizens of the great country of India, obliged. Not sure what they had in their bags.
Some of you may read this and think that I am probably jobless on a Saturday afternoon. Some may appreciate this post and my simple act of stopping at the red light. But the question is, how many of us are willing to follow the law, come what may. As long as we are happy punching our favourite bags i.e politicians, corruption, population, illiteracy and these days even global warming, our country will continue to rot under the surface. And we will have always things to bitch about in the kitchen or in the hallways at work. I have always believed that as individuals, we have the power to influence others. We have the ability to make an impression. Through our actions, we can make people around us think and take a look at themselves. More importantly, we can change people around us. If hanging out on Orkut is considered "cool", why isn't following a set of laws considered cool as well ? Would you help usher a new trend ? A trend where the coolest thing to do is to let the old man cross, to seldom honk, to use the garbage bin to throw your movie tickets when you don't need them any longer.... the list goes on. The more the merrier. If you are already doing all of this, I couldn't be more thankful to you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
