Introverts, Extroverts, and blah blah blah..

In the OB class in first semester of MBA, we were asked to fill in a long questionnaire and then do some calculations and so that we could find out what our personality type as per MBTI was. Such conversations ensued -.

“You must be something like an extrovert, right?”

“No. It says I am introvert. ISTJ as such.”

“Wow. But you talk with everyone you come across. How can you be an introvert?”

“-_-”

“-_-”

By the way, I was “diagnosed” as an INTP. I had known that for quite some time but had never given much thought to it. But suddenly I was being told that I was not good enough to be a leader as that probably required periodic war-cries which only extroverts can muster. Not even a month in MBA, it was a bit disconcerting.

So, I landed to do MBA in Gurgaon somewhere in June last year. Amongst the first things I observed here was the size of groups in which people were hanging out in. They were huge. Absolutely huge. It seemed that everyone except me had been in touch with each other even before the college had started via WhatsApp, Facebook and other means of social gratification. Imagine a group of 25 people walking around the campus post-dinner. There was just so much networking in the campus that it actually didn’t feel like a mere group of 25 but felt like a horde out on a conquest. And in that sense, I felt incredibly inadequate. I was kinda fat, my hairline had been thinning and it was not only that I was a bit older than my batchmates but I looked older than them as well. I felt like such a misfit.

In my defense, I did try to fit in. Attended random birthday parties, tried to stay relevant in a group of 25 by cracking lame jokes to which no one paid any kind of attention, went to booze parties where I was not sure why I was there and so on. And then that fateful OB class happened, I remembered that I am an introvert and realized that the label so conveniently suited me. It gave me security and it gave me answers. And the latter was much more important.

“Why didn’t you go to that party in which the whole class is going and there will be a lot of drinking and dancing and ‘networking’?”

“Ugh. Because introverts don’t go to parties. Remember, parties mein chutiye naachte hain.”

Labeling. FTW.

   

It had started to go well.

With those labels as crutches, I had returned to the last bench of the class – the proxy for my comfort zone. Away from the parties, away from random attempts of social validation, my next couple of months went away being the same non-descript, anonymous guy in the class and in the batch. I was happy sticking to the last bench and spoke as little as possible. It was not as if I had no friends. I did but in a manner which probably only a B-schooler can understand, we were misfits huddled together trying to pander to every stereotype you might have seen ascribed to introverts.

 (If I can digress a bit, the MBA is somewhat of a dichotomy in the sense that the kind of students it admits - at least in India – are different from what it expects them to be. There are presentations in every course, you are expected to be an effective if not enchanting speaker and the possibility to land plum jobs depends heavily on your ability to be assertive in group discussion of around 10 people and then in an interview. Still it admits a lot of nerds because basically the admission test tests your ability to be good at Maths and English. In any case, back to the original rant…)

After a month or two, something happened. As it always does in stories of self-discovery.

But actually, nothing happened. So, this isn’t a story of self-discovery after all.

I just became more comfortable with people. Or became comfortable with the concept of having people around myself. I guess this concept is called “familiarity” and surprisingly, as much as many Quora answers would want you to believe, it happens with introverts too. And then they start behaving like extroverts. You find a circle and in its own esotericism you laugh at jokes and you laugh at the people telling those jokes; some stories are told and some are shared; some crushes are discussed, some are dissed and some are dismissed. You don’t care if you’re extrovert or not because life is too ambiguous for that.  

(To be fair, some kind of mellowing happens with the extremely social too. The group sizes of 20 eventually whittled down to 4-5 or even 2 if the girl and the boy took a special liking for each other.)

Still, thinking about it brings some questions. If it really is a question of having increasing familiarity, spreading the envelope so to say, then at what point do you stop being an introvert and at what point you start being an extrovert? What if you start liking so many people that given sufficient time, you start being comfortable with all of them. After all, to like lots and lots of people, one doesn’t need to be an extrovert. Not being cynic enough is often sufficient. It is often told of extroverts that for them the world is a stage. What if as an introvert, you become familiar with the stage itself. Do you stop being an introvert?

The past year has been good to me. Because of many reasons, I became used to speaking in front of a lot of people. Possibly, I am not shy of crowds anymore.

But when it comes to people as individuals, it still is a chore. A bloody chore.  You break down a crowd into its ingredients and it is as if each one of it starts asking a question where earlier there was only one. All of them looking at you is fine enough but looking back in their eyes as they cross one-by-one down a street is impossible. Probably they are looking at you but you don’t know that as you are too shy to look at them. It is as if you discover that, the crowds be damned, shyness, often painfully and sometimes liberatingly stays.

And now, for whatsoever it is worth, I am not sure how much of an introvert I am. Or an extrovert for that matter. It actually is weird to think of myself as an extrovert. I really want to be cool enough to be associated with all the tropes being an introvert carries with itself. Tropes, which MBTI endows upon you. Some of them are cool, some of them are cold but most of them are just confusing.  But just like horoscopes, you pick and choose the ones you think you best relate with and then live with it. If you are introvert, then you are "well-read" and form "deep" relationships even if the only reading you have done recently has been dating & relationship tips on Quora. Being insufferable in general is acceptable because you are waiting for those to come up with whom you will form “deep relationships”. As I said, "Labels - For The Win".  It’s just so easy that it is almost convenient.  

I wish it was as black and white. 

 

Sometimes one is introvert enough to cry at a song and not tell anyone about it, still extrovert enough to sometimes go to a few parties and still wonder how can people be such; Introvert enough to not go home on Diwali as that will mean 3 days of alone time and extrovert enough to sometimes, just sometimes feel bad that only 12 people wished Happy Diwali on personal chat; Introvert enough to not tell all these travails to anyone whatsoever but extrovert enough to trust internet strangers to get this. Introvert enough to know when one needs to be an introvert, extrovert enough to know when one needs to stop being an introvert.

There have been times in the past year when I used to wake up from a 4-hour sleep to find 312 WhatsApp messages from 9 different contacts, many of those directed at me because of the certain official responsibilities I used to have. Often, I had wondered that when eventually these messages will stop coming in, and nobody will feel as much need of me, will I feel good at being left alone or feel bad at being left out? I will have the answer soon enough. But all I know is that like most of the things we tend to worry about, it too will be inconsequential. 

And that will be for the best.

On popular demand.. I finally resigned!!

(So I recently resigned from the job and as all newly jobless people do, I too wrote a farewell email. Trust me, it made me more popular in the company than I could ever become in the four years preceding that. Just in case I am getting carried away, it probably was just an indictment of the pathetic work I did there and nothing more. Nevertheless, since there is nothing confidential in it, I am posting it here. So, there.. ) 
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Respected Sirs and Madams,

Some of you know that it is my last day today.

And now that all of you know this, I hope you are relieved and will remember me by this final act of making you happy.

As much as I would like to say that I am leaving for personal and professional challenges, reality is that I am an utter failure at managing finances and am presently rather broke. So the choices for future were between getting married, for which my Dad would have paid or going for higher education for which the bank will pay. Considering interest, mortgages etc the latter seems a much cheaper option at present.

It has been four years, five departments and learnings and lessons which cannot be measured by numbers. Hopefully I also managed to give something back to the company but the truth is I (with 3 others) was hired as a GET and company has stopped hiring GETs ever since. So please send me happy mails about how I made myself useful here. In the dark days ahead, they will be much helpful. Advanced apologies to all those college students who would have stood a chance if it were not for us.

Special thanks to Alok Sir for getting me to this place, for being my first boss and being the answer to password security question at multiple places; Sarsij Sir for endlessly bearing with my silly questions ; Rao Sir for giving me a chance to work in an entirely different setup which was most fulfilling and Neeraj Sir from whom I have learnt so many things about being an efficient manager. Also thank you for the coffee, biscuits, unlimited soft drinks (from 2011-2013), for the gate punching system which kept no record of entry and leaving timings and the IT department which didn’t block Facebook.

But above all I will ever remain thankful for the love and affection showered on me here. The receding hairline notwithstanding, I have been “The Kid” here. That was a privilege. A privilege, I am unlikely to get anywhere else in my lifetime.

So, again, thank you all for everything. First companies are like first crushes. Everywhere I go, I will carry a bit of this place with me.

So keep in touch. As long as you do, we can keep playing these four years again and again.

Did you see I invented the time machine here? Where is my Nobel prize now?

Please use the details below for bouquets, brickbats, wedding invitations, wedding proposals, visa applications etc.

Your colleague for the next couple of hours

Sumit Kr Das

Some thoughts on Phil Hughes.

(I am late in posting it here but I posted this as an answer to this question on Quora. The question is "How did you feel after hearing the sad news of the demise of young Australian cricketer Phil Hughes?" )

It felt like being punched in the stomach. And later I was shocked beyond belief. I have never felt this way for any sport-related injury and maybe never will again because somehow now I have come to accept that there is a one in a million chance that someone can actually die not only playing cricket but facing a bouncer. I mean, yes there have been cases like Raman Lamba but I thought that to be a freak incident. This one seemed like a seminal incident to me in some ways. I hope I am wrong. 
A bouncer in cricket is not merely a delivery intended to make it difficult for the batsman to score but it is a weapon to intimidate. It often is a ploy which extends far beyond that particular delivery. You have had fast bowlers proclaiming that they wanted to see blood on the pitch. But they surely didn't want to kill anyone. But now they know that rare it may be, someone can die. In the aftermath of the incident, I have often wondered how it will change the face of fast bowling. 
A few months back, without any second thoughts, I would have said that the most exciting thing to happen in last couple of years was Mitchell Johnson's accurate and relentless intimidation and subsequent annihilation of English and South African batsmen. Now I am feeling slightly guilty for feeling that exhilaration. There were some bruises, some broken bones but at least nobody died. I have high hopes from this generation of Indian batsmen and was so looking forward to facing them against Johnson this December. Now I am not so sure. Will Johnson be as willing? In the light of everything which happened, can he be? 
Like many others, I was reminded of my own cricket playing days and in particular of one incident. I was a so called fast bowler with no promise at all. But matting wickets can often bring out the devil out of any trundler and as it happened, one delivery hit a batsman on his gloves and then the chin on which he got a bad cut. The ball ballooned up and my first instinct was not to go check the batsman but to catch the ball. Normally, it would have been a standard practice. But now I feel so guilty. So many times as a bowler I felt angry on being hit and wanted to respond by a bouncer or worse, a beamer just to send the batsman packing. I now feel so relieved that apart from that cut on the chin, I was never able to hurt anyone. It was not for the lack of trying, surely. And that is such a creepy, dirty feeling. For me, that somehow puts into perspective what Sean Abbott must be going through and just how unfair it is to him. 
So, I am terribly sad for Phillip Hughes. I am sad also because of the deep introspection it prompted and am also sad because just maybe, a tearway fast bowler will think twice before bowling another bouncer.

My Boss

He strolled up to me,

In a careful chaotic walk,

I quickly closed the other things,

Looked at him, afraid we might talk.

It’s been months now,

Without any project assigned.

Not that I have been jobless,

But work-less in my mind.

He comes to me ,

Looks in my computer.

The useless book I have opened

Doesn't fool him, no matter.

Embarrassed, I ask him about projects coming up,

He laughs and looks away.

Embarrassment, thy word is even,

I too laughed, as he strolled away.

Bored Bakaiti

कुछ दिन से ऑफिस में bore हो रहा हूँ. पहले कॉलेज में होता था. अब यहाँ हो रहा हूँ.  

लद्दाख जाने का प्रोग्राम बना है. शायद बैठा बैठा उसके दिन ही गिन रहा हूँ. कुछ लिखने का भी मन कर रहा है. सोचा था आ कर ही कुछ लिखूंगा. कुछ तो punchlines सोच भी ली थी. मसलन, “दिल्ली हो या दरभंगा, इससे नीला आसमान तो शायद किसी धार्मिक सीरियल में कैलाश पर्वत पर भी नहीं दिखाते.” अब ये लाइन तो यहाँ ठेल दी है. खैर, असल पोस्ट के लिए किसी और झूठ की तलाश कर ली जायेगी.

आजकल हमें ट्विटराने (Twitter) का भी चस्का लगा है. मतलब account तो बरसों से था. कभी नज़र फेर लेते थे तो कुछ लोगों की ट्वीट अच्छी भी लग जाती थी. और  फिर उन्हें हम अपने 43 followers के दरमियान फैला भी देते थे. 43 follower . जिनमे से 40 तो उस किस्म के जंतु थे जिन्होंने हमें इस आस में फालो किया था की हम पलट कर उन्हें भी फालो करेंगे और फिर ऐसा न करने के बावजूद हमें अनफालो करना भूल गए. बाकी तीन घर वाले हैं जिन्होंने इसलिए फालो किया जिससे की निगरानी रह सके कि घर में मधु-मिश्री सी बातें करने वाला लौंडा कहीं बाहर जाकर हनी सिंह तो नहीं बन जाता. अब उन्हें block भी नहीं कर सकता नहीं तो पता लगे कि अंदेशे अंदेशे में ही लड़का दुनिया से शेष हो गया.

एक Twitter बड़ी अद्भुत चीज़ है. आप चाहें तो दुनिया भर के बकवास सुन सकते हैं . और न चाहें तो क्या ही है? रिकॉर्ड करके अपनी ही बकवास सुनते रहिये. फिलहाल तो हमें लोगों कि चर्चायात्रा सुनने में ही आनंद आ रहा है. स्वयं ज्यादा चुपचाप ही रहते हैं कि कहीं इधर मुंह खोलें और उधर हमारे बेवक़ूफ़ होने का प्रमाण साक्षात् हो जाये. अब चुप रहकर ही इतना सारा ज्ञान प्राप्त हो जाता है. जैसे आजतक मैंने सत्यमेव जयते का कोई भी एपिसोड नहीं देखा. अब कामक़ाज़ी व्यक्ति हैं. वेल्ले थोड़े न हैं. तभी तो सन्डे सोने में गुजारना पड़ता है. पर ट्विट्टर कि ज्ञानधारा में डूब डूब कर जो हमने अपने दोस्तों के साथ वितंडे या फिर अपनी भाषा मैथिली में कहें तो “घमर्थन” किये हैं, कि वो भी नज़रें तरेर कर हम से कहते है, “साले, सारा दिन तो हमारे साथ पड़ा था. ये कब देख लिया तूने?” अब उन्हें कह देते हैं कि “यार अंटी में हमने चाँद छुपा रखा है. दिमाग पर रौशनी पड़ती रहती है.” चाँद नहीं है तो क्या, पृथ्वी तो है. पृथ्वी माने दुनिया. दुनिया माने ट्विट्टर!!

खैर, पिछले कुछ दिनों में दुनिया (असली वाली) काफी बदल गयी है. या फिर यूँ कह लीजिए कि दुनिया(ट्विट्टर वाली ) काफी हिल गयी है. गुवाहाटी का कांड, राजेश खन्ना की मौत और अब आसाम के दंगे. TOTO (Topic Of Today’s Outrage) decide करने वालों के दोनों हाथों में TOTO हैं.

गुवाहाटी पर हमने कुछ लिखा तो था, पर वो ड्राफ्ट किसी फोल्डर में पड़ा अपनी अंतिम सांसें गिन रहा है. हमने सोचा औकात में रहते हैं. इतने सीरिअस ज्वलंत आगभुभुक्का टापिक पर मुंह मार कर काहे को बजरबट्टू बनें. चादर के हिसाब से पैर फैलाते हैं. बाकी आगे का तो कोई भरोसा है नहीं. दिमाग ही तो है. बेमतलब के पारे के माफ़िक इधर उधर ढुलमुलाता रहता है.

तो पिछले दिनों श्री राजेश खन्ना साहब गुजार गए. क्या कहा? याद नहीं? अब बात ही कसूरवार है. साली पुरानी जो है. खैर राजेश खन्ना ने भी क्या किस्मत पायी थी. 10 साल कि चांदनी और फिर जो भुलाये , दुनिया को याद दिलाने के लिए उन्हें मरना पड़ा. और 10 दिन बाद दुनिया फिर भूल गयी. अब उनकी सालगिरह या बरसी का इन्तेज़ार करते हैं.

हमने उनकी फिल्में तो नहीं देखी, बस नगमें सुने हैं. और अगर याददाश्त के घोड़े कूचे भरें तो उन नगमों को शक्लें अख्तियार करते हुए बस दूरदर्शन पर “रंगोली” में देखा है बचपन में. उस से ज्यादा कुछ याद करने कि कोशिश करूं तो अक्सरहां वही घोड़े हमें धता बता जाते हैं. पर साथ में हमारी अम्मा  काका के प्रति उपेक्षा भी याद आती है. बकौल उनके ,उन्होंने अपने बेटी कि उम्र की डिम्पल कपाडिया से शादी करके फिर उसे छोड़ कर उसकी जिंदगी बर्बाद कर दी थी. पूरा Twitter उनकी याद में टसुए बहा रहा था. पर शायद हमारी अम्मा ने उनके लिए एक आह तक न निकली होगी.   शायद सही भी था उनका सोचना. थोड़ी traditional तो हैं वो . अब इस बात पर हमने आज तक उनका एहतिजाज़ नहीं किया . अब conformist, modernist या फिर fanboy कहलाने कि ललक में करेंगे भी नहीं. वैसे हमारा राजेश खन्ना से कोई लगाव रहा भी नहीं . शायद मेरी generation के काफी लोग इस ज़ज्बात से इत्तेफाक रखते भी हों. गाने किशोर कुमार ने गाये थे, पंचम ने compose किये थे. राजेश खन्ना तो यूँ कहें कि आज से कई बरस पहले ही गुजर गए थे.

गए दिन और भी बहुत कुछ हुआ. बम फटे. पुलिस को लगा किसी की मसखरी है. बाद में शायद यह कह कर सफाई दें कि अगर दहशतगर्द मजाक कर सकते हैं तो हम क्यूँ नहीं ? और कुछ ओलंपिक में मेडल भी जीते. बड़ा अच्छा लगा. और साथ ही ये भी पता लग गया कि गोल्ड छोड़िये, कोई भी पदक जीतना कितना मुश्किल होता है. अभिनव बिंद्रा के लिए दिल में जो इज्ज़त थी और भी बढ़ गयी. पर जो बात हमें सबसे ज्यादा मुतास्सिर कर गयी वो है इस्मत चुघताई की जीवनी और उर्दू ज़बान. अभी अभी पढ़ा है. और इस पोस्ट में जो इधर उधर मुख्तलिफ उर्दू के अलफ़ाज़ इस्तेमाल कर रखे हैं, वो हमने वहीँ से टेपे हैं. दो दिन में हम उर्दू के रासरचैया नहीं बन गए हैं.

खैर, पोस्ट लिखना इसलिए शुरू किया था क्योंकि ऑफिस में बोर हो रहे थे. अब नहीं हो रहे. तो बस काम धंधे पर चलते हैं अब.

The Dream

(This is a poem retelling a dream which I had someday back.) 

I walk in a train,

Running across a stream,

I look down and find no tracks

Shit!! I am again in a dream.

It cuts a corner

And stops near a mosque.

A priest comes out with a smug face

I wonder if that is a face or a mask.

I wanted to rip off his face

And solve the mystery.

He was annoying me, so like a true Delhite,

Verbally wanted to remind of his ancestory.

The priest came close

And ripped off his face to reveal a skull inside.

No blood came out

The face was the mask and the mask was the face,

If not for horror, it was modern world’s guide.

I jump back into the train

To flee away from the skull.

And I realized that my dreams are awesome,

While my waking life is mostly dull.

I made a mental note to sleep more often ,

Trying to save my life from skullface while on run.

Thinking that if I had such dreams in college,

I wouldn’t have missed out on such fun.

Then I tried to hide in a toilet,

Again the skull was the shape of commode.

It had tentacles sprouting of it,

Beckoning and warning at the same time, in the same mode.

The train then stopped near a village,

A village I lived in when I was a kid.

Those by-lanes  I could never remember while awake,

In the  dreams, they all came back. They did.

There bandits were running amok,

I had heard bandit stories while I was a child.

While awake they are clouded by reality,

In the peace of sleep they came back from the wild.

Out of the blue, I heard a screech,

Of the unmistakable arrival of the train.

I could have been a jeep , but I prefer to recall it as train

For I would never want those bandits to hound my life again.

I hopped on it,

Preferring the skull to the flying bullet.

Skull was frightening for sure,

But wanted to get as far from death as I could get.

But the skulls were not there,

It became dark and the train shuddered.

I looked and it was falling through a drain

A chill passed through me as I realized,

GOD!! I AM THE TRAIN.

 And after that I obviously woke up as you can never die in your dreams.

The Leap Of Faith

The idea gets planted in your head. You watch some videos on the internet. You feel excited and afraid. To lower the anxiety, you watch more videos with palaces having a higher jump. You kid yourself into believing that since places with a higher jump exist, this will be like swatting a fly. But you forget that jumping from a height of 83m and 266m will have the same effect if things go wrong. You will die.

You watch some more videos. But the 2D videos characteristically lack the “depth”. They play Schadenfreude with you. They take you into the comfort of excitement.

Finally, you get to the bridge. The jumping platform is still some distance away. You tell yourself that you will live. After all more than 2000 people have taken the leap of faith from here. No one has ever died. But a tiny-tweeny voice inside your head tells you that there is always the first time and there is always the last time.

You get to the jumping platform. You think that you are mentally prepared. Since the time you watched the videos- that is 5 days back- 70% of the time has been spent preparing for this moment. You think that you will do it. You get to the edge of the platform.

Suddenly something snaps. You realise that for all your preparation for the moment you will do it, nothing can prepare you for that inevitable moment when you don’t want to do it. When you just want to take off that harness and run away from the platform. For once, you are ready for the life to call you a loser.

You then try to fix your eyes to a different spot. The one level with them. But your eyes don’t want to cheat your mind. You keep looking down.

The harness tying you to the platform is taken off. You can’t see the rope. It is at the back. You feel that you are all alone. The trainer talks to you, trying to soothe you down. You are hearing every word he is saying, but you aren’t listening. Before you realise, the excitement is gone. You are sacred now. Shit scared.

You drag yourself to the platform. You are looking down. The trainer asks you to look up. But as I said before, you aren’t listening. A voice comes. A voice comes. You don’t really know if it is the trainer shouting or somewhere someone is sitting inside you just making fun of you, laughing at you, waiting for you to turn into a damp squib as the trainer goes 3…..2…..1…..

Nevertheless, you jump.

And as if to let you capture it all forever, the time stops. And as if to let you make love to that very moment, the world takes a step back. It ceases to exist. And you live.  

.

My way or Subway???

I have gone impolite these days. Just like some say that impossible can be read as I M Possible, I am wondering that if impolite can be read as I M Polite. Actually that was what I was shouting in front of the mirror in the bath room when my reflection shouted back, “impolite” at me and asked me to shut up. Now, if you believe this story to be true, then you are the exact kind of people I love to be reading my blog.  Those who will believe anything and everything I say. And trust me , I will behave absolutely the same when I get to your blog as well.

So the other day, I went to a subway outlet. Now if  you do not know what a subway outlet is , go and thank whatever God you pray to for your “ignorance”. And to add to that, you shall go to the top right corner of your browser and press that close button. Because I might  just describe “Subway” in this post. It will lose me a few readers (if any) , but the greater good, you know and all that . Subway is a place where the idea of making a cool burger is to put in stuff Italian people do  not like to eat into ice cold bread loaves. It is a place where you always stand  confused on the counter where they ask you to choose between 5 different types of breads , scores of  different ingredients and many different sauces and you just cannot decide which combination  is likely to be the least worst of all.  But  this time, well ….

“ Which bread Sir?”

“ Honey Oat please.”

“Sorry Sir, that is not available.”

“Then I will have umm… Italian Herb & Cheese.”

“ Actually even that is not available Sir. Only Parmesan Oregano is available.”

I was stumped.

“Then why did you ask?”

“Sir, because I am asked to  ask.”

I wonder whether I have gone impolite or there is something in the whole Subway atmosphere itself.

A question

The time has gone beyond me ,

The “phoney” conversations now only make me sad

I don’t even wish to turn around time

Can we please put an end to this charade?

Just a passing thought....

Pehli Salary

“Pehli salary badi kamini cheez hoti hai" 

It makes you happy. It is beyond anything you have ever experienced. You suddenly want to buy things. Anything. Just go buy it. In my case the day I got my first salary, I wanted to buy even those shirts on the footpath which you get at the rate of 1 for 100 bucks. But that is the story of only the first day. Very soon you realise that you can you have more than peanuts in your pocket and you can actually afford a shirt which costs 1 for 1000 bucks. And then gradually you come to know that not only that, you can also afford a gamepad which cost 1500 though earlier the one costing 150 used to be good enough. And then you aspire for a Xbox itself. Then may be a bike , the aspiration of which will soon turn into the one for a car. And all this khyali pulao takes place within two to three days of receiving your first salary. Just deep within you know that you can actually have all those aspirations.  And then before you know , all the money is spent. It just vanishes. And then the wish gets changed.  The wish becomes a wait. Wait for the next salary.  In other words you start aspiring for money. That is why , “ Pehli salary badi kamini cheez hoti hai.” 

It makes you  love money and disrespect it at the same time. You want to buy the world with it and yet want to lock it in a case and throw the key in a pond. It suddenly makes you aware of the capabilities of money. And that is worse than a lot of bad things you can ever think of. That is why , “ Pehli salary badi kamini cheez hoti hai.”

MY DADIMA

(Today is my Grandmother's (Dadima) 5th barsi. I wrote this shortly after her death. I don't know what made me post this today. But just posting it.
P.S- I dont remember what actually was the "it" that follows)

It  brought  flushing inside me memories of my own grandmother, dadima to us. Sometimes it seems that  she is just beside me , sometimes it seems it had been  ages since she called my name .  The funy thing death is , gives every moment of introspection a dual personality.

                                          Dadima was a deeply religious person , as all the woman of her age generally are.  She never had a very happy life- getting widowed at an age of 29. But still she had a amajing rock of belief in almighty. But what amazes me even more is that why I was able to see these things only after she died. She was so religious that once we tried to tell her that man has reached moon , she said that god lives there and flatly refused to believe that any mortal can intrude his abode. Life was going on and she was just like any other member of my family like my parents or my sister. I did not share any special bonding with her as a lot of people do with their grandparents. But then , she died. Dadima  just passed away.

                                                         Is was not as if she died all of a sudden . She had been suffering from cancer for 2 years . But somehow it made the inevitability of death strike me . And ironically , life around me changed its meaning for me . Life around me became special from being routine. Earlier, my parents were too by the way for me , they were there because they were meant to be there, but now they are a gift , because ther are with me . Funnily enough it took a death to realise me that. Earlier a seat in bus was too precious ; Now every lady is like dadima. Earlier if a friend broke my heart, I wouldn’t have given a damn , now it cries for reversal of time . Probably,  that feeling of loss is etched upon. Saying sorry has become easier , because I have realised that there are far more important things in life than one’s ego and certainly far worse thngs than having it damaged.    Earlier friends were routine , they were there because they probably needed me. Now every moment with them is to be cherished , because  at some other time , they might not be there. The feeling of being with loved ones has changed its complexion , because tomorrow I might be far away , left with only memories and , memories never suffice.  Loss is inevitable , just that notion of bidding adieu has changed. And I thank my dadima for that.

                  Sonetimes , I think that how crass I have been for a death to make me realise that. But come to think of it, if instead my neighbour’s aunt would have died , would that have made any difference to me ?  Never , though I would readily pray hundred times a day for my dadima to make her come back if I could. It just makes me realise that though I never stopped to think of whether I loved her , I probably did, a lot actually, enough to make me love everyone with life . If she is reading this somehow, from any where Dadima, probably , she would understand a lot of things left unsaid. Because that was what she always was. Ethereal in life , larger than life in death . My Dadima.    

Best of Bollywod in 2010 (according to me , of course)

Top 10 Movies :-


10 ) Rajneeti :-

I still vividly remember the sense of anticipation and excitement Rajneeti left me with at the interval. But by the time movie had veered towards it culmination , I had well realised that that feeling was not to some directorial brilliance or some moving acting skill. It was because the first half was primarily based on two of the most dramatic and stirring books I have come across –Godfather and The Mahabharata. It just was the book which was rubbing off on the movie. Nevertheless, it still could have ended up quite poorly. For the fact that it ended up being palatable , it makes my top 10.

 9 ) Peepli Live :-

In a lot of lists , this flick figures way up. Not in mine though. May be I have  not watched as much “world cinema” to earn my stripes. Or, just because this is India’s Oscar entry, it should figure way up. May be to my non-intellectual mind , some metaphors still seem more like jargons.  Whatever, but for me its humour originated from some crass abusive lines, which somehow did not go well for me. It somehow seemed an extension of Slumdog Millionaire to me. And I did not have a very good opinion about Slumdog either. But Peepli scored because it projected that message well which it set out to. That of a farming not being a lucrative  livelihood option for many in several parts of India. Add to that some believable performance coupled with some really good characters, made Peepli a decent watch.

                             

8) Rann :-

By now, I have glossed over around 6-7 lists on the net similar to mine and nowhere I could find a mention of Rann. Don’t know why, coz it was released in 2010. 29^th January, to be precise.  Some called it ill-researched. Wonder what they had to say about Slumdog Millionaire. Well, ill researched in my book is as bad as half-baked research. Rann was irritating at points but all RGV movies are irritating at points. But, at points it was brilliant too, as again all RGV movies are . But what puts it into 8^th position for me was that the brilliant points comfortably outnumbered the irritating points.   

7) Dabangg:-

Kamal Karte ho Sir jee. Dabangg ko hi bhool gaye ??

 Dabangg and Wanted have been probably the least pretentious movies of the Bollywood so far. What you see is what you get.  You can love it or hate it . But then there are millions of Salman fans out there who can only love a movie which is full of Salman. It was polar opposite of something like Tere Bin Laden (yes, I am classifying Dabangg as comedy),  but still quite a joy ride.   And then there was Sonakshi. Well, I repeat that  I am still wondering that how do these macho men of yesteryears like Shatrughan Sinha  and Anil Kapoor keep producing such beautiful daughters. 

6) Ishqiya :-

After I came out of the theatre, if somebody had told me that it would find 6^th  place in my year end list, I would have gone , “Naah… 9^th or 10^th may be, if we are unlucky for the rest of the year.” That it comes at No.6 is a proof of the absolute drivel Bollywood has served us all year. But let that not take anything away from the movie Ishqiya was. Three things pulled it into top 10. Dialogues which were both crackling and cracking as if written after having smoked Charas, Vidya Balan and Dil To Bachha Hai Ji. Add to that an opening disclaimer which actually claimed that the movie is “almost” fictitious. All that was enough to make Ishqiya pull its weight in what has been a largely barren year for Hindi Cinema.

5) Phas Gaye Re Obama :-

The only thing I did not understand about this movie was what Obama was doing in its title. Some sort of metaphor , may be. Or it was just destined for me that Obama and Osama will rule this year’s comedy scene. Farah Khan , please watch this. This is how you pull of a heist. Akshay Kumar, please watch this. This is how you make people laugh. And everybody, please watch this. Because, it deserves to be watched. And yes , please ignore Neha Dhupiya. She is just there to reiterate the fact that nothing can be perfect. 

 4) Udaan :-

A father like Ronit Roy was not the only thing unbelievable about this. Add to that a plot set in Jamshedpur which has only two things- TATA and XLRI, the younger cast all of which were completely unknown except Manjot Singh (Young Lucky In Oye Lucky Lucky Oye) who got all together a screen space of 10 minutes. And a screenplay if called rebellious will probably be the understatement of the decade. To put it in perspective , one senior person I know termed the movie malicious , misguiding, disrespectful and a stigma to our culture if viewed widely. But at the end of the day Udaan emphatically proved that any movie which is made with its heart in the right place, strikes the right chords. One thing which struck me throughout the movie was its innocence. Be it the protagonist Rohan, his cute younger brother, his Uncle when he is accused by his father to be a “fat loser”, even the scene where Ronit Roy asks his son to smoke in front of him and to top it all the scene where a drunk father explains to his son that he actually did visit him once only to back off because without him he looked happy. Precious.

3) Tere Bin Laden:-

Set in Karachi,  Pakistan . Isn’t that is the country which perpetuated 26/11 ?? Starring Ali Zafar , again from Pakistan. Sorry, but Ali Zafar, WHO???  And with the theme as the world’s most wanted terrorist , Osama.  A Bollywood movie made on these!!! Chances  it being liked ?? Hahahaha!!!! But not quite sir, and thanks heavens that movie making is not quite politics. I liked Main Hoon Na, Heyy Baby and Golmaal 1 . But this movie and Phas gaya re Obama proved that subtlety lasts and only subtlety lasts. In a year when some “comedies”, if you can call them that, almost wanted to smack your head , pierce open your eyes and tear open your jaw while employing these very antics in order to “ order” you two laugh, these two almost gave you democratic choices . Not that it mattered anyway. Armed with a super script and brilliant acting, this movie showcased that Osama can be adorable , cute and amazingly funny.

2) Love, Sex aur Dhokha

To put it simply , Dibakar Banarjee is the best director we have in film industry. Because, I simply refuse to believe that any other director could have picked a motley bunch of people and turn them into the most impressive ensemble cast of the year. And I simply refuse to believe that any other director could have extracted such level of performance from everyone in a cast the names of any of whom have never been heard before. And I refuse to believe that any other director could have made a movie which ends so haphazardly but still leaves not even an iota of inadequacy in viewer’s mind. And I simply refuse to believe that any other director could take shock, shock and shock and then term it Love,  Sex and Dhokha and all the while make the translation entirely plausible. And I simply refuse to believe that any other director could have made Ekta Kapoor produce a film which has no  cruel Saas, but a brutal Sasur. And , to put it simply, I simply refuse to believe that anybody but Dibakar Banarjee could have made this film 

1) Band Baaja Baarat:-

There will be people who might take it as a reflection of the poor year that the Bollywood had in 2010 that a flick like Band Baaja Baarat is at the top of the table. But if I am asked to compile a list of best rom-coms of Bollywood in past 25 years, this movie will surely find a place in top 3.  A good rom-com should leave you with happiness in your heart and smile on your lips. This surely did that and more. It filled you with hope after TMK and Ravan that good writers are not yet dead in Bollywood. It made you believe that for making an authentic movie on a city , you do not have to be some Danny  Boyle descended from wherever to research on our own place  to show us that how shitty and bad our own country is . If you want to make  a movie on Delhi, having a proper dilli ka dil  in the right place will do wonders. It made me wide eyed that Anushka Sharma can actually act. And it made me shrug  the notion that only Hugh Grant or Hugh Grant- ish  actors can light up a rom com . A Ranveer Singh who at the first glance looked like an ordinary lampat Jatt  ready for a fisticuff can prove to be a worthy match , if not better. And it did all that while having and letting us all have some good old fashioned our own Mauj.

  

 Awesome Mention Of the Year:-

Tees Maar Khan:- 

It was such an awesome movie that all theatres , awesome or not raised their ticket prices to  awesome levels. And I was such an awesome fellow that I spent an awesome amount of money, patience and guts to watch this awesomely awesome film. Just imagine , what can be more awesome to have every character in the movie awesomely copy bonafide awesome antics of awesome Akshay Kumar. 

 Top 10 Songs :-

10)   Lehrein ( Aisha) :- A beautiful song which again emphasised to me that Javed Akhtar , if and when he wants can be a brilliant writer, though that sadly is not always is the case.

9) Des Mera ( Peepli Live) :- Though Mehangayi Dayan  garnered more publicity , I could hardly see how it actually fitted in the premise of the movie and ultimately that song seemed to be included for just that , to garner publicity. On the other hand , for a change Indian Ocean came up with an upbeat song. And they were just as good with this as well.

8) Main Jiyoonga (Break Ke Baad) :- A vastly underrated song , it shared the same fate as the whole album did. But the lyrics were apt , music good. A tragedy that the song was not included in the movie as the movie had a plot which was perfect for this song. 

7) Tum Jo Aaye ( Once upon a time in Mumbai) :- It was more a case of selecting one song out of the best album of the year than anything else. And I go with this . The Rahat Fateh Ali Khan version to be precise.

6) Jaane Kiske Khwaab (Guzaarish) :- For me , the best song  to paint an appropriate picture of what the movie is going to be like.

5) Surili Ankhiyoin Waale (Veer):- The only good thing about Veer was that this song featured thrice in the movie. In full.

4) I am in love (OUATIM) :- One song out of OUATIM was never going to be enough. It was too good an album for that.  

3) Naav Chadhti ( Udaan) :- The most inspiring song of the year. Enough said.

2) Dil To Bachha hai Jee  (Ishqiya) :- The list could not possibly have been complete without Gulzaar coming into it , isn’t it? This song had the most simple , most striking ,  and the most identifiable lyrics and was one for the ages.

1) Shaam (Aisha) :- The most soothing, most sweet and the most serene song to come out of Bollywood in may be last 5 years. It was.

  Top 5 Albums:-

1)      Once upon a time in Mumbai :- Even a song like Baburao made perfect sense in the movie.

2)      Aisha :- One song was crap, one was so so , but rest three   were so good that the album is right up there. 

3)       Guzaarish :- It is the best album you can find to listen in a particular mood and in particular setting. To find out which mood and setting I am talking about, you have to listen toi the album.

4)      Udaan :- The movie was different . The music was no different.

5)      Break ke Baad :- All the songs were similar in mood , even the sad ones. But I am not complaining now. 

  Special Mention :-

Cinematography in Ravan :- 

I was ready to watch this, yes this piece of absolute drivel for a second time just to see the scenes once again. The work of Santosh Sivan and V. Manikandan was cinematographic orgasm unfolding on screen. 

 Happy New Year to all. And here is just wishing that this New Year is good for Bollywood too. It did not have even an average 2010 which made our year a bit less good in its own way. Cheers…

The Obituary

This is a rant, an absolute rant

They keep me failing,

As the water runs down,

May be,

Better I leave wailing ,

Or else, they will leave with a frown.

And they say ,

That the world is white , black or gray,

That depends on your calling,

But they leave me for the greener pastures ,

Huh!! I wonder,

Have I turned brown?