The Zing of Tzinga

Energy was E=mc2 untill somebody liquefied it and improved it – Tzinga

When E= mc2 was written, it paved glory for scientists. Popularity of the formula is such that it has been chanted by crimemaster GoGo in a B-grade (trust me on this)! So, it’s a nice thing though many of IIT aspirants won’t show a similar affection towards it. The concept was liquefied some fifteen years back and was cleverly named as Red Bull. The energy drink. Hope you are in the loop of my PJ derivation of energy drinks. Nevertheless, even if you are, the pricing of Red Bull will make you a bit more uncomfortable. Rs 95 for a cough syrup and I guess, you guys a lot more now, thanks to F1 and goodtimes.

So, an acquaintance introduced me to a new energy drink. It is called (t)zinga, comes at Rs 20, packed in a pouch and comes in three variants – Lemon, Mango and Tropical Trip. In marketing nomenclature, it is a kind of disruptive innovation. The credibility went up when I searched a bit about it and came to know that it is from a Indian startup (funded by Infosys Murthy; see even IT stalwards don’t support IT anymore). Taste is fruit like. Energy kick is felt – going down exponentially. Verdict - the idea of an energy drink was overall improved by tzinga.

And talking about the energy drinks market, it will surely grow. Amul is its Olympic ad which is being
telecasted throughout IPL promotes milk as the world’s original energy drink. There is a considerable and conscious attempt from the Colas too to maximize market earnings from functional drinks over aerated drinks. Coke is planning to return with Citrus, which they bought quite a few years back.

Pepsi’s Pepsi-Next has reduced sugar and is promoted as a diet drink. Which brings me to next point – are energy drinks penetrating into the space of diet drinks? Anyways whatever it is, the world is going the healthy way and thankfully so are the companies. May the energy be with you, Sada ke liye (forever)

एंटरटेनमेंट… एंटरटेनमेंट…. एंटरटेनमेंट

"बेटा, अंकल आंटी को ज़रा वो poem   तो सुनाना जो टीचर ने आज क्लास में सिखाई है"

 अपने ज़िंदगी के पड़ाव में ये पल हम सब ने कभी ना कभी भुगते है जहाँ पर हमे एक ज़बरदस्ती का मंच दे दिया जाता था और बिन बुलाए दर्शक एकटक हमारी ओर देखते रहते थे।  माथे की  गंगोत्री जहाँ से पसीने की गंगा कानों के पीछे से बहते हुए अपना ही रास्ता पकड़ लेती थी, ज़बान और आवाज़ का अचानक से आँकड़ा छत्तीस का हो जाता था, दिल की धड़कनें राजधानी को मात  देने का लक्ष्य  लेकर निकल पड़ती और ज़हन में बस एक ही ख़याल आता की इन नन्हे कंधों  पर माता पिता ने दुनिया भर का बोझ डाल दिया । दिमाग़ में एकटक यही ख़याल रहता की  हम कोई ऍफ़ एम्   रेडियो के या टीवी के चॅनेल थोड़े ही है की जब मूड आया, मनोरंजन के लिए बुला लिया। हम तो वो  उम्दा कलाकार है जो अपने दर्शक भी खुद तय करते है और मंच भी।

बच्चों का जीवन कुछ चीज़ों में ही सिमटा रहता है। बचपन में जब पापा स्कूटर चलाए तो सामने खड़े होना, स्कूल टालने के लिए पेट दर्द का प्लान execute कर सफलता का परचम लहराना, शाम को डेढ़ दो घंटे क्रिकेट खेलना, सन्डे सुबह  ducktales , talespin  और फ्राइडे को alladin  देखना, किचन में डब्बों में छिपे लड्डूओं को treasure  हंट की तरह ढूंढ  निक।लना,  इन सब में एंटरटेनमेंट का फुल quota  पूरा हो जाता था । वैसे भी बच्चों की तरफ सब का ध्यान बिन बुलाए आ ही जाता है । रिश्तेदारों के घर जाने पर सब के लिए एंटरटेनमेंट का source  बच्चे ही बन जाते-  दादा दादी/नाना नानी की कहानियों को श्रोता मिल जाते, बाकी लोगों को गाल खीचने के रस का आनंद मिल जाता।

पर उमर जैसे जैसे बढ़ती है, हम में से कई मुख्य पात्र से हटकर,audience  की कुर्सी से चिपक कर बैठना ज़्यादा पसंद करने लगते है। इस परिस्थिति की विडम्बना यही है की लोगों का ध्यान खींचने की इच्छा सभी में है, पर जब सब का ध्यान हुमारी तरफ आ जाए, तो उसका करे क्या ये नही पता। फिर वापस पसीना अपनी यात्रा पे निकल पड़ता है।   मनोरंजन भी भगवान की तरह होता है, वो  ढूँदने से नही मिलता. वो तो हमारे भीतर और हमारे  आस पास ही समाया हुआ है, बस पारखी नज़र चाहिए मनोरंजन को देखकर पहचानने और समझने की। इतनी मगजमारी में न पड़ने की इच्छा की वजह से ही दर्शक की कुर्सी ज्यादा मनमोहक लगने लगती है या फिर भीड़ के अन्दर गुम होकर अलग से न दिखने की चतुर हरकत । 

आप कभी आदमियों का एक जमावड़ा देखे तो आप पाएँगे की उनके लिए मनोरंजन का source  कई पीढ़ियों से वही 4-5 चीज़ें है: भारत के प्रधानमंत्री और क्रिकेट टीम के कॅप्टन के फ़ैसलों की निंदा करना, अपने बॉस और बीवियों पर  लतीफे सुनाना  और अगली पीढ़ी की समझदारी पर सवाल उठाना । महफ़िल भले ही ऑफीस के बाद ड्रिंक्स की हो, बच्चों की बर्थडे  पार्टी,किसी रिश्तेदार की शादी या फिर कोई शोक सभा.. इन विषयों पर तो पंचायत बैठना निश्चित ही है ।

औरतों की परिचर्चा भी कुछ कम दिलचस्प नही होती है। उनके पास भी सुनने सुनाने के लिए काफ़ी कुछ रहता है। किस तरह उनके मियाँ की नौकरी अमरीका के प्रेसीडेंट से कुछ कम important  नही, किस तरह उनके बच्चों  के क्लास टेस्ट में आए दस  में से साढ़े सात  नंबर कठोर  संकल्प और परिश्रम का फल रहे , किस तरह सब्ज़ी वाला अपनी लाख कोशिशों के बावजूद दो रुपये extra  ऐंठने में उनसे चूक गया, किस तरह धीमी आँच में पकाकर और तेज पत्ता डालकर सब्जी  को अदभुत स्वाद दे दिया .. ये सारे विषय अपनी जगह हर परिचर्चा में किसी ना किसी तरह ढूंढ  ही लेते है।

मनोरंजन के अतरंगी पहलू नज़र आते है जब कोई मदिरापान  कर अपने ही रंग में आ जाता  है। आपने कई बंधुओं को drinking  session  के बाद कन्फेशन रूम में आते देखा होगा ।लड़खड़ाते ही सही पर कुछ वाक्य जैसे की "यार तू मेरा भाई है", "अपन मिलके दुनिया की बैंड बजा देंगे" या फिर "यार वो  लड़की ना जाने अपने आप को समझती क्या है। जितना भाव मैं देता हूँ, उतना भाव तो उसका आईना भी उसे नही देता होगा" अक्सर सुने जाते है । इन महफ़िलों में अगर कोई विरला बिना पिए रह गया तो भले ही  ही उसे इन सब दीवानों को संभालने का काम करना पड़ता है पर  ये सब बातें सुन उसकी शाम  एंटरटेनिंग हो जाती है।

Cinema हो या संगीत, TV हो या इंटरनेट पर सोशियल नेटवर्किंग साइट्स, मनोरंजन की दरकार सभी को किसी न किसी  दरवाज़े पर छोड़ ही जाती है। पर मनोरंजन की इस दुनिया में एक common सूत्र  होता है अपने अहम को संतुष्ट करना जिसे अँग्रेज़ी में ego  gratification  कहते है। बच्चों से पब्लिक में poem  बुलवाना हो या उन्हे ज़ी टीवी पर लिट्ल चॅंप बनवाना हो, अपने बॉस पर व्यंगय कसना हो या शादी में खड़े होकर दूल्हा दुल्हन को रेटिंग देना हो, तुलसी मिहिर के जीवन का हिस्सा बनना हो या फिर एमोशनल अत्याचार में बनते  बिखरते रिश्तों पे टिपण्णी  देना, इन सभी में हर बंधु के दिमाग़ में एक सोच common है  कि मैं इस मनोरंजन का दर्शक बनू पर  मुझे पात्र ना बनाया जाए। मैं सब पर  हंसू किंतु मुझ पे हँसा  ना जाए। मैं सबकी बेरोक टोक बात करू, पर मेरे पीठ पीछे  मेरी बात ना की जाए ( तारीफ़ हो तो किसी को कोई रोक टोक नही.. पीठ पीछे और पेट के आगे  हर जगह कीजिए)। गवर्नमेंट, क्रिकेट टीम, सिनेमा bashing और दूसरों के जीवन में मैं झांकु, पर मेरे जीवन के राज़ कोई ना जान पाए। एमोशनल अत्याचार है तो काफ़ी मनोरंजक, बस ये लायल्टी टेस्ट मुझ पे न  कराया जाए।

वैसे पुरानी यादों का और मनोरंजन का भी काफ़ी गहरा संबंध होता है। फोटोस हमे  बीतें लम्हों में टाइम मशीन की तरह ले जाते है। अमूमन कई बार देखा गया है की शादी हो या बर्थडे, कुछ  दिनों बाद तक तो जब भी घर पे कोई आए, उनके नसीब में वो  वीडियो देखना तो निश्चित ही है। कई बार ऐसा होता है की दूल्हा दुल्हन खुद तो वीडियो नही देखते पर उनके मम्मी पापा शादी का पूरा कारवाँ बार बार अपने हर मेहमान के लिए प्ले करते है।उनके लिए भले ही ये गर्व से भरा moment , खर्चे की एक एक डीटेल बताने का मौका और पूरी शादी में जुगाड़ और intelligence  का जो ताल मेल बैठाया है उसकी कहानी बार बार दोहराने का समय हो  पर लोग ये नही समझ पाते की मेहमानों का interest पूरे एल्बम  या वीडियो में सिर्फ़ दो तीन  जगहों पे रहता है:   या तो जब पकवान दिखाए जाए या फिर cameraman  ने उनपे focus  किया हो। बाकी पूरा टाइम तो वो मेहमान किसी  तरह बच निकालने की फिराक़ में होता है।

जैसे की पहले मैने कहा था, मनोरंजन तो खुदा की तरह है -हर जगह मिल सकता है,  बस नज़र चाहिए और इस पर बातचीत भी घंटों तक की जा सकती है ।आप तो बस अपने दिल का रिमोट उठाइए, उसकी गिटार का वॉल्यूम बढ़ाइए और एंटरटेनमेंट में मदमस्त हो जाइए। आखिर मनोरंजन के वो कुछ पल ही तो किसी तरह सूत्रधार बने सब को जोड़े हुए है । तो फिर Entertainment  शुरू किया जाए... 

Laugh out Loud

The concept of a laughter club has always amused me. I would have loved to witness their theatrics as a spectator if only my overenthusiastic passion for a prolonged sleep in the morning didn’t spoil my plans.

For those who don’t know, here there are a bunch of people who wake up early in the morning, assemble and decide- Let’s laugh. If you think of it, it is actually a very profound thought, something which has been propagated through the age old adages like Laughter is the best medicine. Thus, each morning people crack jokes ( or do they??) and then burst out into loud laughter which scares the hell out of some species on this planet for sure. The sheer synchronization of their symphony can give Yanni’s troupe a run for their money. I don’t know if it’s the exercise of the jaw muscles with the laugh or finally finding an outlet to let things out of the system that gives them a kick, but there is a solid claim that it works and being responsible citizens of the world’s largest democracy, I respect the opinion.

So why is this whole fuss about humour and laughter so crucial in our lives? Would life be really mundane if there is absence of humour from our lives? I know the answer would be a resounding YES, but the fact of the matter here is do we really understand humour? Do we understand the difference between funny and making fun of others? I believe the topic is open for the house to debate.

Humour as a concept in itself is very tricky. It is like taste in food. Everyone thinks of themselves as a gourmet who has the taste for only the most refined and evolved stuff, but they all forget that there is something called as the taste bud which is different for different people. The same analogy can be extended to humour as well where different people have different funny bones. Each one thinks that their funny bone is strong and well nurtured, but the real test comes when the joke is on you. That’s when one clearly hears the funny bone crackling, with the added effect of cringe on the face and a highly defensive or offended body language. Thus we commonly come across the ‘your joke was not really in good taste’.

But some jokes are truly not in good taste, especially when they have been overdone for years. Stereotyped humour comes to my mind when I still see the same run of the mill jokes on fat people. They are still the butt of many jokes in popular culture, be it television or movies. Stereotyping is clearly visible even in community jokes on South Indians, Gorkhas and Bengalis, mostly with reference to their accent. To top it all, we still haven’t got over the Sardar jokes. I wonder if this is the best we can do in terms of humour. How can these things still be funny? Some who refuse to belong to this category resort to the Russell Peters humour which to me is no different, only the audience is global. Again maybe a matter open to debate.

Like popular culture, even social circles have stereotyped forms of humour. Most common of them are the ‘ let’s make fun of our respective wives’ jokes. It seems to be like an acceptance test that men have to pass before they belong to the community. The jokes on how men are scared of their wives and how their lives have been traumatized by their wives have been going on for ages and see no sign to pause in the near future. This might be a reason for a counter offensive strategy devised by the womenfolk to enter into their entertainment zone of gossiping. It’s all about finding the style that suits you the best.

Something we all don’t see very often is people getting into good self deprecating humour which can be used as a very powerful tool to gel with people and break the ice. This, if done in the right way, has immense potential to not only put people at ease but lead to a lot of positive energy in terms of introspection.

Now that we have dwelled quite a bit into the ‘what makes you laugh’ an equally pressing question is ‘how you laugh’. Subtlety in the laugh is considered to be the order of the day. If you can laugh with just the right breadth of spread lips, just the right number of teeth on display and just the right size of the dimples [ not applicable to everyone], you’d pass the test of public scrutiny of how you laugh.

Otherwise the knives will be out to tell you how you are digging your own grave with the faux pas of laughing out loud with concatenated actions of banging the table, clapping the hands, tapping the next person’s shoulders, rolling on the floor, tapping your thighs and 147 more such actions. After all judgement is the second best hobby that humans have developed after the numero uno habit of giving unsolicited advice. I wonder if its because of these social pressures or sheer laziness of our evolving species that these actions have been substituted with words like LOL, ROFL and LMAO and the signature symbol of :D .

At the cost of repeating what I mentioned before, humour is highly subjective and each person has the prerogative to choose what entertains them the most. It can be watching a brawl, watching someone getting into secret confessions after a drinking session, it can be the whole irony of social chaos or simply watching Tom chase Jerry each day. Relish your style of humour and if you find anything funny, don’t hold it back and laugh like Charlie does [ Watch the ‘Charlie bit me’. video]. It would loosen up a lot of tightened muscles and stiff bones.

P.S. Any takers to wake up early in the morning tomorrow to witness laughter club sessions??

For(S)tress

Sundays have a special place in every person’s heart. The only thing that comes close to occupying the mind of an Indian may be a cricket victory or a Bollywood blockbuster, closely followed by the Water/Electricity/Ration/Petrol/House Rent/Fee/Sabzi bills. For the many housewives of this country the second most craved thing after diamond/gold/kanjeevaram saree is a family outing on a Sunday. But this post is not about Sundays. This post is not about any such family either.

Many homes have a debate about the Sunday Outing which sometimes exacerbates the room temperature more than the tyranny at the equator. The kids make a big sacrifice of leaving their evening cricket match with friends and are made to dress up as if the idea is to enrol them for some beauty pageant. Maybe it is these small things that constitute the family bond. But this post is not about family bonding either.

Some families love to go out to gardens and spread garbage there. They take their home sheet, spread it and get the feel of a picnic. While relishing savouries like Chana Chor garam or popcorn, they take it as one of the duties stated in the Directive Principles of State policy rested on their shoulders, to spread garbage at the hangout spot. Others simply choose to go for a movie where, if any of the member (mostly men) doesn't like cinema per se,atleast peaceful sleep wont be denied except for purchase of cold drinks and pop corns during interval. For some families, the idea of a hangout is to go out and eat. That’s it!! But as you may have rightly guessed by now, this write up is not about the places where family hangs out on holidays either.

Before I play too much on the edge with the patience of the readers and the skills of this writer to express my opinions properly, let us try coming to the point. One of the favourite spots for a Sunday trip for families to spread garbage is the historical monuments that bless many cities of our country. Yes, this is the story of one such monument. This is my story- once shining with pride, now whining without prejudice structure, a body with some pieces of flesh left on it but sans the rib cage. I am the “Unchi Dukaan, No more Pakwaan” Kila.

Well how times change, and those who said that change is always for the good deserve a punch from either Rocky Balboa(Even Sunny Deol’s dhai kilo ka haath would suffice).

Let’s rewind a few centuries to get a hang of what I’m talking about:

FLASHBACK in Eastman Colour:

I don’t want to bask too much in the vainglory, but the glory back then was indeed magnificent. I was at my prime, with my edifice rock solid to guard the royal family. I saw the bravest of warriors in my lifetime who were never afraid to fight to protect the cause of their mighty motherland. The essence of royalty was evident in their demeanor as well as in the respect in the eyes of their subjects. I witnessed true blue blood instead of the desperation to bleed blue. I witnessed the strongest of men and the most gorgeous of women. In retrospect, it seems like staying with a different species altogether.

I was given prime importance and even a single chink in my walls was attended to with due diligence. Blood was sacrificed for a cause which was much bigger than just smearing names of lovers on my walls (or are they using just red ink these days??), not that romance was an alien concept then. To put it in a box-of-cookies-without-any-nuts( pardon the eccentricity of the writer, I shall have him fired soon), Life was indeed beautiful then.

CUT TO PRESENT TIME IN BLACK AND WHITE:

After seeing generations pass through and such turbulent changes in the political/social and economic setup, I wonder what else is left for me to see. What is this democracy and egalitarianism farce anyway, cant people have respect for their innate

nature of being ruled??Anyhow, anything said here should not be held against me as I’m strictly apolitical and if that isn’t sufficient for my defence then buy the theory that I’m very old and hence crazy. The only one to beat me as far as age is concerned is my very good friend since those times, Mr.A.K.Hungal.

My importance in the life of people around me has come crashing down over years like my wall on the southern end did in 1436 in a brutal war. My importance has been reduced to the mercy and the mood of the skinny and the fake accent guide who cooks up stories about me which leaves me in splits at times( as if the ones on my walls aren’t enough). Fancy the one where the broken pieces of the wall on the eastern half of the front gate hav

e been attributed to the vandalization caused by the attack in 1442 when the reality is that the strong breeze did the final rites of the already dead wall in 2001. ASI is too busy to notice, maybe still excavating Mohenjo-Daro and Harappa ruins as they find a mention quickly in the history books.

The purpose of people’s visits to my premise couldn’t be more diverse than the agenda of Capitalists and Communists. Just the invisible hand of having a good time is the common thread. Parents bring their kids so that they can understand the cultural heritage of the country as well as the richness of the history that our country has to offer, much to the bewilderment of the kids who somehow just can’t relate to the mystic beauty of the ruins. The Artillery section is the only one where I have seen sparkling eyes of boys who get excited on seeing all the weapons. I can see it in their eyes that they start dreaming about themselves battling it out in those costumes fighting the mighty enemy and emerging victorious to conquer kingdoms. Since people aren’t charged much to visit us because of our supposed importance t

o the country’s heritage, they throng in large numbers and needless to say the larger the visitors, the more employment generation for the cleaners.

I’ve witnessed some of the finest artists this country has ever been blessed with. The artists with their scintillating carvings and paintings have adorned my anatomy over years. The modern day, however, seems to have a clear deficiency of quality artists and thus they are substituted by obsessive lovers who decide to engrave their immortal love on my walls. Although I never asked for it myself, but I have been made part of millions of love stories like Ramu loves Kamala, Pokiri Loves Missamma, Anjaana loves Anjaani and lyrical masterpieces like “Hogi Pyar Ki jeet”. The word spellbound has a new found meaning in my existence now.

The generosity of the lovers does not end here. They take the onus proactively to show me how deeply and madly they are in love with each other with highly innovative ways of Public Display of Affection. One of the first lessons of marketing does talk about understanding the Target Group and then going all out to acquire them and retain them. Well, atleast on weekdays, these lovers are my main audience ( or am I the audience to their escapades, whatever !!). The acquisition and now the compelled retention is proving a tough cookie to digest.

The peculiarity of people who visit does not end here. One such wonderful yet slightly amusing category is of the foreign tourists. They are astonished at anything and everything. I’m not sure it’s the novelty factor or the fact that our guides are wonderful raconteurs, but they leave my premise as if they have just reinvented the wheel. The only sad part about their visits is the illustrations and anecdotes they narrate of all the places they have visited and start comparing me with my competitors. Why wouldn’t a neglected fort like me be disheartened to know that some fort in Rajasthan is so majestic or is still without a sign of ageing? Adding oregano to injury isn’t basic manners, now is it???

Time is an illusion and the mirage does seem to show uncanny things which might not even exist. Even though I’m left in ruins, I live with the pride of being the carrier of preserving the last remains of a kingdom and maybe a civilization for that matter. I’ve been a silent spectator to the rise and fall of generations. I don’t expect one to respect heritage and preserve it, maybe its too much for ask for. The only

courtesy that would be sane to expect is that people would not at least ruin the sanctity of the place that once was a symbol of pride and glory. After all, I may be your last hope of a Time Machine to relive that era.

The Bold Face Of Beauty

There are three magical words which have defined some of the most prized moments of human history. They have been at the nub of some of the biggest battles, some of the uncanniest contentions or the subject of the most ubiquitous desire in Almighty’s most prized creation- human beings. The three magical words aren’t every lover’s karaoke song “I Love You” but instead the three cornerstones of every civilization, the mitochondria of the most defining emotions. They are – Beauty, Power and Money.

Considering the fact that we live in a world where we are taught virtues from the time we leave our prams, it is highly ironical that the virtues are not ably reflected or rather absorbed by our wisdom. Call it lack of egalitarianism on the part of God to spread wisdom equitably or sheer ignorance (deliberate or undeliberate is something we won’t deliberate on) on the part of few, but what becomes a muse for some of the world’s finest creations holds an equally potent capacity to open the doors of destruction for Satan to come and impart his blitzkrieg.

Beauty is one such potion that has inspired the most gifted artists to come up with their best works and at the same time has led barbarians to annihilate lives. Is it pure hedonism or sheer lack of character that allures people to physical beauty, making them nonchalant to everything else in the world?

What persuaded Dorian Gray to sell his soul just to retain his nonpareil beauty forever? Can we really blame Lord Henry that his immoral influence led to the change of heart in Dorian Gray? Or was it just his innate desire, concocted with deep insecurity, which came out under the veil of hedonistic pleasures to bring out his true side?

The truth as a matter of fact is, whether we like it or not, there is a part of us which falls into the trap of this black hole. We do discard all such conjectures with able assertiveness calling them “Mediocre thoughts”, but the fact remains that we are part of this loop as well. What else could possibly explain the fact that in every movie the hero falls for the most beautiful girl of the group a.k.a the heroine? Doers he ever make even a remote attempt to find out how the other girls of her group might be like? Does he even care about the fact that her friend might be a much better person than the protagonist? Doesn’t the adage proudly engraved in the “We-are-the-real-lovers-“ rosy Lalaland about “Love at first sight” actually corroborate this whole hypothesis? What else draws a person otherwise in the “love at first sight” case if not the other person’s beauty ?

We live in a world where our face acts as the medium of our endorsement. It is a harsh truth to accept but that’s how it is. Even if I move away from the realms of personal relationships and move to a ground that is portrayed to be highly organized and meticulous, the situation changes as much as a dog’s twisted tail. We are unfortunately reaching a stage where being presentable may not be presentable enough. It has become a stark reality to witness the multiplier effect of the X-factor, a highly adorned but rarely understood concept, around us. Looking good is fast becoming one of the prerequisites, and if it continues this way then we may not be far enough from the day where the entire concept of a geeky look may become obsolete. Although it may lead to celebrations in a school of thought who apostle the theory, but does that mean that someone like Mr. Kalam would actually have to go to a beauty salon before a missile launch? Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder they say, but what if the eye lashes become overcritical to lash everyone around.

Face is meant to be a reflection of our thoughts. It is meant to be a mirror which displays the mirage of our thoughts without any bias. It is a book that only the privileged can read to absorb the thoughts running in a person’s mind. Not everyone has the acumen to read a face and gauge the mood of a person(unless you are a clairvoyant or the other person is an over dramatized wannabe performer).

It is the same face which is one of the biggest motivators for vanity. Vanity is a trait we all have ingrained deeply in our DNA. It is highly unrealistic to expect a person not to like himself/herself. Even people who are suffering from low self esteem do have their moments when they admire themselves. We all have a balloon called ego which craves to be inflated with airs about it. Compliment and attention are the favourite travel companions of ego whenever it decides to visit Vanity land. It is an equally flummoxing yet realistic truth that there is something about being praised of one’s looks that instills an unparalleled pride in a person.

Now some may argue that the trait rests more predominantly in the fairer sex compared to the male counterparts. Maybe it does, but it is difficult to segregate. It is more than apt to accept the fact that men are equally if not more stuck in this whirlpool. Although we all love to use our defence mechanism of modesty to confirm first whether it was a genuine compliment or sarcastic mockery, there is a certain feel good thing associated with the entire phenomenon. Human race is fascinated with physical beauty and would continue to do so.

The World has seen Gods/ Goddesses who are embodiments of beauty. Aphrodite, Venus, Hathor and even Lakshmi. They are revered and considered to be highly powerful in their own rights. The modern day cosmetic surgeons and cosmetic good manufacturers do strive hard to see their name in the list, but the destination still seems away from them. Maybe they need better subjects to deal with (No pun intended).

Beauty is a circe that does allure a person towards it and some of them may be turned to swine later on. But this is not the real danger. The real danger lies in the fundamental problem we all have. We have to accept this reality and move out of the comfort zone of our hypocrisy.

There is nothing wrong in being enamoured by it, where things may go horribly wrong is when you start questioning and discarding other characteristic traits by keeping this as the ultimate cornerstone.

जायका मीठे का

बात उन दिनों की है जनाब,
जब हम होते थे हर जशन के साथी|
खुशिओं के हर डाक के संग,
हमारी महक रौनक फैलाती|

पप्पू जब भी पास हुआ था,
शर्मा जी की हुई तरक्की,
इकबाल मियां ने पहली कार खरीदी,
या हुई थी जब मिश्रा जी की शादी पक्की|

जब गूंजी थी वो पहली किलकारी,
जब आँगन में फैला था हर्षौल्लास,
सबका मुह मीठा कराकर ही,
अपनी खुशियों का ज़ाहिर किया था एहसास|

बात उन दिनों की है जनाब,
जब मामूली दिन को हम उत्सव बनाते थे|
हम चखने चखाने में ही लेते थे आनंद,
किलो पाव की गिनती नहीं गिनाते थे|

जब माँ छुपाती थी हमको बच्चों से,
कभी डब्बों में कभी अलमारी के अन्दर,
सूंघ सूंघ के हर कोने पर,
सफल हो ही जाते थे नन्हे धुरंदर|

हमारे जायके के किस्से तो,
हर घर, हर गली में फैले ज़रूर है|
बच्चों के संग संग बड़ों के भी,
ललचाने के पल मशहूर है|

पर अब न जाने क्यों समय बदल चुका है,
पीढ़ियों का ये चक्र अपनी परिक्रमा चल चुका है|
अब मुह मीठा करने की बात पे ये आदम,
चोकोलेट से तुलना में लग चुका है|

कुछ कद्रदान अब भी है हमारे,
जो diabetes से डर कर नहीं बैठ जाते|
दूध संग जलेबी का स्वाद अब भी लेते है,
उसका प्रयोग सीधे होने के मुहावरे तक सीमित नहीं बनाते|

उत्सव के हर अवसर पर,
चांदी का वर्क हमारा गहना बना|
आज बनाने वाले ने ही ख़ुशी में कर दी मिलावट,
तो अब सवालों का उठना तो लाज़मी बना|

खबरों में हमारी चर्चा,
हमारे स्वाद की प्रशंसा में होती भली|
पर अब तो जनाब खबरें भी,
हमारी मिठास में कड़वाहट घोलती चली|

हर कोने से हम सब पर,
आक्रमण के तीर चले|
पर अब भी हमारे कुछ कद्रदान,
हमारी चाह में कई मील चले|

ये व्यथा नहीं उल्लास का समय है,
फिर बंध रहा है खुशियों का रंग|
बीते समय की मीठी यादें बटोरिये,
और सजाइए थाली में मीठे का संग|

घर पर सब मिलकर बनाएं,
या चखे हलवाई के हाथ का कमाल |
बात उन दिनों या इन दिनों की नहीं है जनाब,
ये तो बस संग मौज मनाने का है सवाल |

The first curve on the road to El Dorado

“Life becomes a crisp toast if the thoughts are buttered properly”

Thoughts have the pleasure of relishing adventures that we could only wish for. They pack their bags and set on a journey to any corner of the world, enjoy uncanny swashbuckling experiences. They are mavericks in true sense of the word that love to explore things till infinity and beyond. But unfortunately for them, they have a mean step cousin, named concentration which imparts atrocity of dragging them back from their frenzy and incarcerating them in a prison meant to focus only on one thing. But it is actually not as bad as it sounds- the ones who manage to strike a chord between the two end up with the most melodious symphony of life. A college tries to create the same musical rhythm in one’s life so that thoughts and concentration complement each other instead of taking out daggers.


As I sip my coffee early on a Sunday morning looking at nature which tries to flaunt its bloom with all vanity- the birds singing their euphony and sun marching its way up in the sky set out on a mission. The gentle breeze for a change decides not to be a snob and bless everyone by flowing gently. The roads have their few moments of peace before vehicles start their rampage on its ribs. Watching this picturesque setup, I ruminate over my time spent so far at NMIMS doing MBA- the coveted course that I wanted to do since as long as I can remember. Now, that I’m on the hot seat immersed in the process- I’m filled with ambivalence mostly because I hardly get a chance to sit back and cogitate over how the salad days of this journey have been. So let us turn the clocks backwards for a while and rewind to June 2010-


The city of Mumbai-fast, busy, ruthless, cradle of self discovery, passionate, the city that never sleeps are just few of the qualifying words and phrases that adorns this city. At the cost of sounding filmy may I say like any other person, I came with my own aspirations here. When I got down the train, my first reaction was- God! What an avalanche of people. But as they say, love can come from the most unexpected of quarters. Before you get any ideas may I clarify that I didn’t see a curl of hair hiding a beautiful face and then there was the moment of ecstasy. By love, I mean what started as a rude shock became a source of penchant with time.


The first tryst in this new peregrination was the hostel. A new experience altogether for someone who had seen extreme levels of mollycoddling at grandparents place during graduation. At the time of bidding adieu, their concern was as if a camel has been transported from Thar desert to the Arctic Circle. Mom, being the sweetheart that moms are, started with the question about how are the roommates and how is the food. After round 1 of assurance, round 2 of reassurance till round thirty seven of more reassurance, was she satisfied that her poor kid would survive in this tyrannous world.


The scene on the first day of any academic year is a photographer’s delight. The countenance on each face has so many expressions that it would put any actor to shame. One can clearly see the ambivalence of excitement and pride of making it finally to the coveted place, but simultaneously one can see lines on the forehead reflecting the concern of what the journey ahead would hold in store. This concern is of course exacerbated by the induction session where a virtual visual of the journey ahead is run right in front of your eyes and you start thinking- Ahem Ahem, maybe I hurried into my decision. The early rounds of introductions, asking each other for their names and backgrounds and then asking them again because with so many people around you keep forgetting the names. So it may not be an exaggeration if one ends up asking the same person his name 5-6 times (Guys for some strange reason have Chacha Chaudhary’s memory when it comes to remembering girls’ names). One can also see guys trying to create the first mover advantage (marketing concepts can be taught much better outside the classroom) on the fairer sex and of course the girls love all the attention they get.


After the warm welcome, you are introduced to the concept of case study method, which schools of thoughts are still battling over and the breaking of Berlin wall over this still seems like a distant dream. As a student, you are flooded with cases left, right and centre and before you take your guard you find yourself sitting in the arena with 60 more gladiators. Every warrior takes his/her swords out and starts slaughtering everyone else to win “The Great Battle of Class Participation”. Gautam Buddha, Mahatma Gandhi and Nelson Mandela would have fainted at this literal obnoxious slaughtering of their preachings.


The battleground is restricted to the class hours. Apart from that, it is wonderful to find people of different socio cultural backgrounds and experiences coming together and working on different projects. The initial phase for me was certainly a cultural shock when I was made to realize that drinking and smoking has somehow become a normal course of activity in the lives of people. It seems like I have been transported from my archaic world to the new age world in a matter of days. What started as a cultural shock is now alleviating as maybe a way of life. Words such as “smoking networks, delightfully high discussions” have crept their way into the vocabulary and one has to appreciate the fact that you may not do it, but there is no point in secluding yourself from the ones who do.


As coffee is on its way from the cup into my system, the thoughts keep wandering about these few months. There is a sudden rush of thoughts; the pictures coming in front of the eyes with every blink are faster than Rajnikant’s punches to fifty people at the same time. The sun rises further in the sky and I immerse further in my thoughts of flashback.


The first month is completely crazy where you are bombarded with ideas, opinions, viewpoints, the jargons reflective of a college’s tradition (Read: gas). Add to that multiple committees; first you feel that you would choose which one to join, only to realize later that you may not be chosen by any (Eventually one does end up in something). This bombardment of ideas was of course in concatenation with the usual mystery that surrounds accounting, the unimaginable purview of marketing which even fails the phrase that sky is the limit, the micro concepts of economics that even the biologists have declared them as unidentifiable species and the some-foreign-guy-gave-this-model concepts of HR. I think I started off by saying that this is what I wanted to do since as long as I remember. Ahem Ahem, wake up kid.
But to be honest, I won’t be a cynic here playing the devil’s advocate. It is this challenge every day that creates a vivid memory for you to share later. The sleepless nights, the emptying of coffee mugs again and again, racking all your brain nerves to understand and balance the assets and liabilities at least for once, to procrastinate first and then working like maniacs to meet the deadlines of an assignment, sitting with your group with the intent of a project meeting and ending up with tea, vada pav and a sandwich party( of course for some it ends with a certain cult place on the Irla Road- it’s the place that shall not be named but only revered).


One actually gets to feel like the poor pillow which people, for some strange reason, decide to use for a fight and it is being spanked from all quarters. It makes you tough, it makes you help rise to the occasion and if not the above two- it makes you console yourself everytime “It can’t get any worse than this”, only to be proved wrong again the very next day. For me, right from the moment the day starts with the customary music of the lift that every NM student worships even more than the NMIMS Anthem(I hope I’m not getting killed for this), to the time when you just can’t wait to crash into your bed but contain yourself saying that an hour more else the next day might turn catastrophic, each day here is a host to a new chapter of life- it is a tale that I’m sure we would all love to narrate wherever we go in future, it is an anecdote that has exuded spice in bland lifestyles, it is the flavor that would make the dish just about perfect for everyone to relish.


Tom Hanks said in Forest Gump –“Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get next.” Well over the past few months, I have agreed to this statement every single day. You just cannot predict what might come and stop you on your free ride down the expressway. Either one takes it in right spirit and gains the best out of things that come their way or spend their time cribbing over how life has been so cruel. The ones who do the former, needless to say, tread on the path of greatness.


The biggest lesson that NMIMS’s salad days have taught me is that I may not be the most knowledgeable guy, I may not be the most creative, I may not be the most gregarious one either but as long as I can be myself writing cheques that my body can cash and as long as I can hold my own, I have created an apt space for myself. The queen of hearts may be the best bet, but not drawing the queens on diamonds would be completely crazy.


A college is not only an institution where I become knowledgeable or more intelligent, it is the place I become wiser. It is the place where I get into self discovery, it is the place where I decide to face the world with an open mind and heart saying- “Here I am, prepared to take you on. Let the game begin.”
There is a silent hope that comes with every wish that the step cousins- thought and concentration do stay together and after these initial days for me in NMIMS, they are finally finding peace with one another and now becoming agreeable to stay in the same stable. I just hope that peace prevails.


The thoughts decide to set out on a new voyage now and I realize that my cup of coffee is finally empty again. Bother to pour in something?