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We lost a journalist, we lost a few hot cops & a hotter commando, we lost a few businessmen, we lost a few non-living things & we lost a lot of our people. Not that it made any major difference to the ‘Blue Billion’ numerically…actually it’s a meagre part of it. But how about the slap on our faces. The whole world now knows theirs is this country called India, wherein you can barge in any time, at any hour of the day, kill people ruin heritage buidings & still hope to get back. And then people google India in unknown parts of the world to find that it’s the seventh largest country in the world, the largest ‘secular’ living democracy under the sun, one of the highest populated countries…WOW! Would be the feeling. No not towards us…towards those 10 men who created a weeklong mayhem in the business capital of the world’s largest ‘secular’ & living democracy. So that means, if tomorrow you don’t have much work…just pack your backpacks with a few Kilos of explosives, take a flight or cruise to India to make full use of it. You won’t be disappointed, I bet.

Yes, I am the Gen Y of this nation speaking. I put up in a city with a lot of other people, houses, buses, metro, shopping malls, multiplexes, railway stations, an airport & serial blasts at regular intervals. My workplace features on the terror hitlist. My favourite marketplace has already had two blasts during the last season. My mother can’t sleep when I’m out for a movie. I thank God everytime I step out of a movie theatre, a mall or a marketplace alive. I’ve changed my shopping time to a part of the day which assumingly is less likely to face violence. Weekends are a big NO NO for movies & shopping. And now when I dine in these really swank restaurants with glass walls, I keep staring outside waiting for the gun guy to step-in & kill everyone present. And all this, surprisingly in my very own land. WTF!

And then they talk about the ‘undying spirit’ of the city & what not. In a third world land where everyday survival is a struggle what spirit can exist? So you mean if there’s a blast you won’t go to work for the whole next week? The bigger question is…can you afford to? The majority has a family to feed…so you taking a day off just after the attack is quite a far fetched dream. It’s high time we stop cashing on the FAKE ‘undying spirit’!

Now that ‘operation Cyclone’ is over & everybody is throwing around their opinions, let me make full use of the opportunity to throw mine as well for I’m a firm believer of the Fundamental Rights granted by our beloved constitution. We Indians are never able to set examples. If there’s this guy who places bombs all over the city & loves watching them explode & people die, why keep him alive when caught? I mean get him in public & just hang him…let the very active media capture the whole drama & live telecast it…just the way it did this last week thingy! Let’s set an example to the world by telling them that boss…if you think you can barge in anytime & kill people…this is what happens to you.

I remember the lines of my professor while he taught us ‘Revolution’…"All revolutions are subject to the availability of human lives."

She did pinch herself

It was not long back when an ailing nation of more than a billion people rose together. As if somebody had sprinkled half a teaspoon of life on it. A nation half dead with terror attacks, diagnosed of communal disharmony, a nation with regional imbalances, innumerable perspectives clashing everyday, everywhere, a nation burning with hatred. A nation that has lost all hopes of convalescing from fatal ailments, like an ignored patient lying on a stretcher day after day in a government hospital. The stage is such that fatality of the disease has stopped worrying her. She just doesn’t care probably. Probably she knows caring won’t help much. But the same nation rose, almost a year after a handful of her young men got her a world cup. This time it was not even a handful, it was one single guy who helped her stand, stand with a billion on the same side, saluting that one single guy who had put her back in the crowd of countries where she was once forgotten of her existence. Till then her different parts were ready to get rid of each other, expunge various existences. Faith was much more important…everyone was in search of a neverland where nobody else existed. But one fine day she stood up. Somebody gave her a hand to stand up, somebody held her tight and said I’ll hold you when you stand. Your shoulders need not droop. You need not look down, you need not bend in front of your friends. It was an assurance that came in form of an Olympic gold. An Olympic Gold…realising aspiration of a billion Indians. Rich-Poor, Muslim-Hindu, metros-mofussils, Maruti 800-VolksWagen, PSU-Private, Fabindia-Levis…all possible Indians. All Indians…and before she could have the time to bask in the glory…two other men got her some more. This time the metal wasn’t as expensive as gold but on her 61st year of freedom she did make a start to take herself seriously. It’s her time now…let her sit back for with tea in her balcony watching sunset for sometime. Let’s leave her alone for sometime, let her get decked and then step out in open to astonish everybody with her grace. Amen.

The Show-Stoppers and the Show-Stealers

Yesterday was Friendship Day. A day to show love to all your friends. I was no exception. After spending a day with this very old school friend, I took an auto to get back. It was some wonderful time spent and I was in the mode ‘the world is full of love’ & ‘friends make life a blessing’. The twist happened towards the end. A silkly smooth happy day ended with a dash of sadness and ‘good people still exist’ feeling sprinkled all over.
There’s a busy T point on my way back from Saket. The Adhchini three point crossing just after the Qutub Golf Course. The road was crowded. The autorickshaw gave in from almost half a kilometre back and ceased to move. It only moved metre by metre with the crowd. It couldn’t be the traffic signal I thought. 7:45-8:00-8:15-8:30 and I could reach the T point only to find the traffic light not working. All the traffic had gathered at the T point, honking at each other, abusing each other as reckless human beings and citizens of the largest democracy of the world. And why not! It’s our Fundamental Right to just be out with it! I subconsciously joined the crowd, made an irritated face and criticised the government and rest of the people for a while with the autowallah. The honking cars, the shouting men, beggars at work, bikers in a hurry, buses not in a hurry…had turned the place into a sudden collage of human expression, where each human being had turned into a performer considering all the world’s a stage. I could see an old woman in pain sitting inside the adjacent car. For the carwallahs it was too degrading to step out of the car and clear the jam, and come-on it isn’t their job at the first place, why can’t a PCR van come and clear it, they thought. They bus drivers were too unworried, the autowallahs knew it’s beyond thei reach to clear the traffic and the bikewallahs knew they could always make their way out from in between the traffic.
I was kind of sinking into the whole situation when these few men from nowhere appeared at the G-spot of the congestion. They seemed to be trying to clear the jam. On any given day anybody would have mistaken each one of them as pickpockets. Shabby clothes, shabby hair, appearances not worth a second look…they were all there trying their best to clear it up. What hit me was the most famous TV commercial which rocked the nation a few months back. Where emerged a leader from a small kid when he tried to move the tree to open the way for the rest. I remember the kid getting a pat on his back in the end. Well, these men took some 6-8 minutes to clear the place and the traffic went smooth after that. What happened in the end, here was these men gave each other a smile, a few of them hi5s and went on. Who were they? Where do they live? What car do they drive? What brand of shirts do they wear? WHO WERE THEY? I don’t know. I bet nobody from that crowd of a few hundreds knew who they were. Nobody bothered to find out who they were, why did they have to clear the place, what would they get back in return, nobody knew. Obviously no one thanked them, no one patted on their backs. I thought, I would say a subtle thank-you while passing by. I didn’t, I thought it would be embarrassing for me to thank them.
They aren’t propagators of India Shining, neither they know what Lead India is, no, they don’t belong to the English educated, brand-conscious emerging middle-class. They were no one. They didn’t have a name, they didn’t have an identity. I named them as the ‘Show-Stealers and I also named ourselves. The Show-Stoppers…

Sticky Sticky Bum Bum!

How imperial can times be! This very acclaimed author of recent times calls India unstoppable, we no more boycott foreign goods, instead we buy the company that makes them. We have changed our ways, we are no underdogs and the list goes on!
The emerging middle-class, booming IT, quite a few Cannes Lions, many acquisitions, few familiar Indian faces amongst the world billionaires, increasing number of Volkswagens and nissans on city roads made everyone feel India has arrived! (words stolen from a known adman’s recent statement) I felt the same only till I read an article on those ‘booming’ (note the single inverted commas) firms who cutcost (I’m using both words together because they are inseparable) by not providing toilet papers in the washrooms. NO TOILET PAPERS IN THE WASHROOMS!!! Shitty enough. So what, we have jets! Isn’t the provision of water enough for you, wait for another year they will start costcutting by only having washrooms and no water. Ask them and they say, don’t you know, how scarce water is, if you misuse it in the office washrooms you will have to take your kids to the museum to show them water. You work for the US process, can’t you learn some fuckin water saving methods from them, Indians will be Indians. Oh! Only because I work for a US process, I’ll need to learn to shit from them! So ultimately the situation becomes, more than half of the emerging middle class comes out of corporate washrooms with a sticky bums and a consequent weird walk. They might proudly flaunt their D&G pair of glares and Tommy watches but the fact remains the moment dollar goes down, it comes to their arses. Man, if it goes down further, the company will cutcost again and I’ll be kicked out. Watcha irony of the much talked about middle class... can’t even shit in peace. So this whole deal of becoming incredible to unstoppable comes to a shutdown the moment the book is closed. All comes to my mind is...Long Live the Revolution!

Monuments turn me on. Yes they do. For that matter any form of architecture does. My yesterday’s evening visit to the Red Fort tickled my satirical bones only to unleash the devil within. To put it in a better and decent way it has given a new understanding of the monument.
There is this place in Red Fort which claims to be the “Khawab Mahal”, (the Dream palace) where Emperor Shah Jahan dreamt. Dreamt??? Hello! Dreamt! You actually mean that? You mean these Mughals even had a different Mahal, an entirely different Mahal to bloody dream? Watcha extravagant deal man! Go ask for a 1 BHK apartment in CR Park, GK and you end up being almost nanga! Forget about a different house to dream, I bet it’s impossible to find a house of dreams in the city. Think of the Sheesh Mahal. Heights of self obsession. Now who wants to stare at themselves while taking a bath! Eeeeks!
More I learn about this particular dynasty, the more I get amused. Think of the cuisine. The mughlai cuisine is one that the world craves for. Come to think of the amount of spices that are used, your amazement and respect for their appetite and digestive system grows and just grows. Imagine if your weekly menu was Monday: Murg Lababdar
Tuesday: Murg Makhani
Wednesday: Rogan Josh
Thursday: Gosht Rezala
Friday: Raan
Saturday: Gilauti and Kakori kababs
Sunday: Gosht Dum Handi Biriyani and Phirni
Bhwaaaahhhhhh!!!! I want to throw up. I’m a hardcore Non-Vegetarian, If I put myself on half of this diet for a week I’l find myself shitting much before I reach the loo. I will have lose motion man, I will simply be bedridden. How can somebody even have this cuisine everyday? Or does that imply the metabolism of people, with time has gone for a toss!
Think of the total area of the Red Fort. Make me take a walk inside and find me resting for the next three days. What leaves you breathless is the glory and grandeur of the architecture, which can never be replicated. I feel so happy, so very assured and so very proud of it. More than half the fort is inaccessible which stops the general public from entering the protected areas. People complain of not being able to see most of the structure. But there is no other way out. Red Fort has all kind of people. I saw a group of young guys almost trying to jump insiode the ‘hammam’ (luxurious bathroom) and talking amongst themselves “yahan ranilog nahati thi be” (the queens used to bathe here). The other one says “hatna be humko bhi dekhne de na….aree kaanch ka khirki se to sabb dikhta hoga re” (you better move and let me see…wow everything must have been visible thorugh these transperant glass windows). Trust me their level of excitement to see the bathing area was so high, I am sure they tried their best to imagine a few girls actually bathing inside!
Guess this will force you make another visit to the Red Fort. Make it Real soon!

Saaddi Dilli...(our Delhi)

A Transition through Time - As you walk along the narrow bylanes of this city of dreams, tread softly. Every crumbling wall has a story to tell. Every yesterday is replete with history. Rulers have come and gone. The city has lived through wars and resurrection, repeatedly rising from the ashes. No, these are not my words. A tourism website describes the city like this. Delhi. The ‘proud’ capital of India. Proud…is it? Yes indeed. It has always been proud from the time it came to existence. The rise and fall of many empires might have given the city a plethora of magnificent monuments and a remarkable place in the world history as well, but this is not the time when it actually came to existence. Delhi existed from much before that. Yes. Remains of the early man were found in here. Is saddi dilli that old? Doesn’t look like. Keeping apart the renovation task going on in Qutab Minar and the Red Fort, the city is still jawan (young) like a zohra jabeen ( my beautiful love). Walking past the pothole free roads of the city anyone would feel oh my god! Who says that the government does not work in our country? Go to Prithviraj road, Ashok road or for that matter any road in the southern half of the city. Truly it does. And Delhiites who still crib about it, drop down to the City of Joy once, to know how happy can people be with so less! No roads at all. Okay coming back to Dilli. Can anyone beat the charm of Old Delhi, the so called walled city? A walk through the narrow galies (bylanes) and boisterous katras (markets) of Chandni Chowk and Chawri bazaar …the cheap yet latest in fashion spectacular spectacles market of Ballimaran (the shops will shock you with the originality with fakes of Armani and Tommy!), to garnish the visit, some of the most delectable kababs and mughlai food at the landmark Karim’s. Guess I will miss this the most when I someday will have to leave the city. Enough of Nostalgia and history. Not to forget Delhi is home to few of the most renowned universities in the world. I will certainly be biased about talking of the North Campus (the University of Delhi campus that boasts of some of the best colleges in the country) and the Jawaharlal Nehru University, so better not talk of it. And yes how can one forget the lifeline of Delhi, the blueline and the DTC ( Delhi Transport Corporation) who proudly sport ‘vishwa ki sabse badi CNG bus sewa’ (the world’s largest network of CNG buses). Every morning there is this undeclared war of buses happening at every traffic. Also, the bluelines can still be seen on the roads after repeated appeals from the public and n number of meetings to get rid of them. How does it make a difference anyways if few are mowed down by buses in world’s one of the most populous countries? That proves, that either the average memory of people in a democracy is very low or they must be having newer or more sensitive issues to keep themselves occupied or 21st century Indians are getting back to the age-old principles of ‘forgive and forget’. In addition we of course have the autowallahs (the auto rickshaw drivers), who are determined to spread harmony in the city with the ‘only for you rates’. Let me brush it up a bit more. They will have their own likings and dislikings for a place. You have to pick and choose amongst a place where they want to take you and remember. You are the one responsible for all traffic jams in the city so you need to bear it. The revised, government recognized meters are often never working, here comes the ‘only for you rates’. For a meter distance of 8Kms. they will say “madam 70 rupaye de dena, abb isse kam kya doge, jam bhi to itna hota hai.”( madam you pay me 70 bucks, what less than that would you give for such a distance, moreover there is so much of traffic on the way)…Well that’s how it works in saddi dilli. Blessed with hustle bustle of people from all over the country, saddi dilli boasts of the bittersweet communitarian clashes. The majority being north Indian communities like the Punjabis, Haryanvis and people from UP, there is a sizeable number of Bengalis, South Indians, Marwaris and Biharis. Having spent a major part of my life in Bihar I have seen people abusing each other by calling them Jatt (a Haryanvi community who are believed to blessed with only physical power and no brains). It goes like this, saala jatt buddhi (bloody jatt brains) No this is not the end of the story. In Delhi it’s just the opposite. If you are pissed with someone just call him a Bihari and the work is done. Punjabis at the same time are the flamboyant lot. With big houses and flashy cars, they are the friendliest and the one with biggest hearts when it comes to splurging, be it the best of parties or the best of brands. People say Delhi has quite a laidback attitude as compared to other metropolitan cities in the country. Once on my way to the office I met a man from Mumbai whose work had brought him to Delhi. He went on complaining about how laid back the city is and how Mumbai has a better attitude towards work. I wanted to give him one tight slap and tell him listen boss its not always about being on time, its also about having a bada dil (a big heart). To me…Delhi is so much home. This city has given me a whole lot. It has metamorphosed me from a volatile undergrad to seasoned individual. It has taught me how to tackle life, grab and embark upon every opportunity that knocks. From the timeless chats of Miranda House backgate, the paneer paranthas of PGW, the mutton dosas of the DSE canteen, the Kamla Nagar momos to the vehement argument sessions of the Ganga Dhaba, Delhi has given it to me all. I get up one fine morning to realize how would life be without haggling with the autowallahs , scaring them off for challan(fine), running behind a blueline, manage to sneak into office at 11, bearing those chilly winters and flaunting all the weird colors you have in the wardrobe. Frantically looking out for some Bengali food around, heading to CR park every other day, those awesum bhalla papris of Aggarwal Sweet House, has become inevitable to me. Not that I am not in love with my hometown Kolkata, but I am glad Delhi still has space left for a Bookfair. Quite unlike our cultural and intellectual capital Kolkata where the legendary Book fair had go for a toss because of some stupid vested interests.