The Great Ocean Road

Imagine what day light saving time could do to the fragile human planning. Unaware and unconcerned of man-made rules to control daylight I planned an early morning but a day long trip in Melbourne. I didn't know about the daylight time saving change, therefore I set my alarm for 6:15 am, thinking one hour would be enough for grooming. Lazily I tried hard to open my beer soaked heavy eyelids, rebelling against their will to continue sleeping. Last night’s beer session at the river Yarra was the culprit and had enslaved me. In the early morning hallucinating phase I suddenly realized to check my eagerly awaited important mail. I opened my laptop and my eyes were immediately drawn to Windows Date and Time. I felt butterflies in my stomach and my eyes rolled hysterically in astonishment. My computer clock was showing me 7:20 am but my mobile, landline, wrist watch, etc. showed 6:20 am. Suddenly, I the words by elderly lady at Melbourne tourist center echoed in my ears as she had told me about time change but I didn't understand and care about it. I realized my blunder. Yes, I had lost one hour and it was actually 7:20 am. The first thought that flashed to my mind was to return back to sleep and forget about my Great Ocean Road Trip. My bus was leaving at 7:45 am and I had just 25 minutes left to catch it. My $122 expenditure for the ticket motivated me to not to run it through the drain and give it a try. Moreover, I knew that this was the only weekend for me to go out. Had I stayed back, I would loose this weekend also. Therefore, I gathered all my courage to go for my quick dry clean. There was no time for shower, I changed my clothes, dumped stuff in my bag and left the hotel room for my great trip.

I coursed my way through the maze of unknown Melbourne downtown’s streets and lanes. Panting heavily, I barely managed to reach in time after sacrificing my shower and morning coffee. Obviously, it wasn't a great feeling to go on a long day trip with remnants of last night's food lying in your stomach but I learnt to live with it as the day progressed.

It was a double-decker bus and I was ushered to the upper deck by a beautiful young blonde dressed in her neat uniform. The bus had blue velvety seats with abstract images of starfish and sea-shells. The big glass windows in the bus rendered a terrific 180 degree panoramic view of the whole journey. In retrospect, I don’t regret shelling extra dollars for these extra big windows.

It was a long trip that lasted for more than twelve hours. The major attraction started with Melbourne's longest bridge – Gateway to the West – and continued until we reached a scenic place with immense ocean in view. The immensity combined with serenity had captivated the senses to forget the world around me. I was overwhelmed with this creation of nature that left me awe-struck. The driver broke my day-dream when he started serving us cakes, cookies, jam, and morning tea. The bus was fitted with a PA system for a guided tour by the driver. The driver was a handsome man in his forties, neatly dressed in formal blue pants and well creased white shirt. His goatee extended till his chin and created a natural anchor on his face, otherwise he was clean shaved. He was very amiable and cooperative through the trip. Apart from driving the bus he also guided us in real time, with his heavy Australian accented husky voice. He presented facts and history in a very exciting and interesting way with vivid descriptions and intricate details.

At 12:00 pm the bus stopped again at for lunch. Before this, we had already seen the grand entrance of Great Ocean Road. The road apparently was built by workers in 19^th century using hands and shovels. At the lunch venue, I stepped inside an old, aged, coffee shop. It seemed that the old lady, may be the owner, also grew up with her restaurant. The lines on her face were the reflection of the old furniture, dull walls, and aging floor of the restaurant. The wall at the entrance was made up of glass and the view through that opened in the vast ocean in the front. There was an old water filter kept on the wooden slab made in the front glass wall at the entrance. The water was continuously dripping through its old worn out tap. To prevent the wooden floor to get wet with unwanted water leakage, a glass was kept on a folded wet towel suggesting that the leakage is permanent and trivial for the owner. The whole ambience added unquestionable authenticity to the place. I was hungry and looked for something familiar in southern hemisphere exotic food menu. I ordered for bacon-tomatoes-scrambled egg with toast. Yes, they were serving breakfast all day long, and I didn't want to eat lunch. While waiting for the breakfast I could not resist the temptation for cappuccino and ordered one. The cappuccino surprisingly was served by a young lady with a wide and genuine smile of hospitability. The bus started again to take us back on the Great Ocean Road.

The seat in front of me was occupied by newly married Indian couple. May be they were not newly married but they were surely in deep love. They were more than a normal couple as I could see the profound love for each other in their eyes. I did not want to see their showers of cheek kisses, cheek hugs on each other as they talked right in each other's eyes. The girl was sitting diagonally to me; therefore I could see her shyness, cheek hugs, shoulder naps, and continuous giggling. That moment I missed someone so much that it is inexplicable in words. I need to create another dictionary to capture that immense and deep feeling of emotions and love. Not only this, since the couple was right in front of me, doing cute acts of love, I missed her more and more.

The bus traveled through a stretch of tall eucalyptus trees – naked but habitation of cute koalas. Cuddled against the branches and sitting innocently, they were too beautiful to be missed. The bus was rendered white with flashes of camera and clicks of cameras continued until no koalas were in sight.

Later, our bus moved to the coastal area with ocean on one side hugging beautiful hills on the other. Blades of lush green grass made the hills look even more beautiful and unreal. With blue on my left and green on my right, I felt myself as a painter drawing a dark gray line of the road to separate them as I cruised along. The beaches were amazingly clean but deserted, and abandoned. May be, I felt that because of the scarce population of Australia. Some beaches had sea weeds resting in the clean, shining sand and some had rocks protruding out of water and sand. The topography of the land was mesmerizing and engrossing and mind boggling.

The bus finally reached 12-Apostles where we had an option of Helicopter ride. I really wanted to do that, to see the sea and land from 1000 feet in the helicopter. I went for 15 minutes flight to 12-Apostles and London Bridge. It cost me $120 in a four-seater copter with the same couple from my bus, the pilot and I. Three of us got seated into the helicopter by the ground staff. I took the front seat, while the couple settled on the rear-seat. Head phones with microphone attached were provided to communicate with the pilot and fellow passengers. The helicopter left the lush green ground and as it gained the height I could feel butterflies in my tummy. Unlike airplane, helicopter was very unstable, shaky, and felt dangerous. However, the ride was breathtakingly awesome and left me amazed for days to come. The flight from the helipad to London Bridge through 12-Apostles went over the land with sea to my left, but while coming back, the copter was over the sea and the land was on my left. It was scary to ride the copter over the sea, especially when I am not a swimmer and hardly know the basic of swimming. Fortunately, god helped us and nothing happened as we landed safely on the ground to return back to Melbourne.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/72683485@N00/sets/72157602928065914/

Love an Engineer?

Engineers are logical creatures who believe in coherence and order. Therefore they remain uninvolved and detached from heart and emotions which demand sensitivity and tenderness. Not that engineer suffers from a congenital disease which retards the growth of heart - rendering it numb for love - but the enforcement of brutal technical education definitely leaves no space for love.

Exceptions are part of our lives and one day something strange happened, I heard my heart beating. I thought I was unwell and ran to the doctor but he found me perfectly healthy.

Worried, I started retrospection. It took in only a fraction of second to make me realize that lately I had been interacting a lot with my good old friend. My friend - fortunately or unfortunately - an engineer like me without any place in heart for non-existent and alien feeling called love. How could she possibly make my heart beat when it was lying dormant and vegetating for years?

She was different to me – truly friendly, crazily impulsive, motherly caring, intensely enthusiastic, heartily concerned, innocently mad, and lovingly shy – all for me. It was a genuine friendly affection, bighearted and bountiful – but I made my heart believe more than that. The heart which remained so dry and juiceless that the tender walls chapped and cracked in the hope of rains of love, tasted the first shower of attraction. Yes, the engineer was in love with an engineer. How could not I fall for such a beautiful and intelligent girl?

Apprehensively and immaturely, I orchestrated my intense feelings of childish affection to my engineer after six years. As expected from an engineer, she respectfully rejected my deep reverence for her and declared me insane. She informed me about some non-engineer guy that she thought would be perfect as her soul mate. Non-Engineer guy for an engineer girl - wise decision it was to choose someone with the live and beating heart instead of a dead and numb heart. But by that time, she had already made me a sensitive and romantic poet lost in her world and the engineer in me had died long back. I had no choice but to fight back. I weaved a dazzling colorful and delicately soft fabric of my emotions, hope, and dreams and let her wrap it around herself to feel it. She could not resist the temptation of falling in love for it and finally surrendered her heart to me.

The naïve poet in me, hypnotized by her timeless beauty started painting her picture with words in adoration. She looked enchanting when I saw her in Red Indian suit which had picked up colors of the first fully blossomed rose of early winter with the golden highlights of the morning soon. She looked amazingly beautiful in her dress. She possessed magical beauty with the ability to charm and enchant the people around with her captivating personality. Her elegant and refined gestures and mannerisms implied magic, mystery, and intrigue. Her soft spoken ethereal melodies created ageless enchanting music of life where my heart sang on her tunes. And, when she beautifully wore her winsome smile on her sharply curved ruby-red lips and allured my heart, I found myself lost in her dream world.

I guess the poet was in love with the engineer. Love which was pious, sacred, and holy. Love which was timeless and heavenly. Love which was crazy and maddening. Love which was life-giving and life-taking at the same time.

And one fine day my destiny changed forever, when my engineer finally asked me out of the blue, “Love an Engineer?”

And I said, “Yes”.

Someone who is as beautiful as the shine of serenity in the eyes of god, good-hearted as a heavenly soul, wears the world’s best smile, and looks terrific in all dresses. Yes, I love my engineer with my life.

Start Thinking

Here is a question for you. Guess the object in the picture and figure out the problem.

Assured treat for the best answer.

Now start thinking.

Insanity

Insanity

My Fav Artists

Am I still dreaming?

After a very long time my heart has again started pumping fresh and tender dreams of beautiful life. Dreams - bright and colorful – that are dazzling my eyes to differentiate between the reality and fiction. Dreams - mad and frantic – that are tangling the sane thoughts to the extent of defying the logic. Dreams – young and vulnerable – that are ridiculing my intellect and mocking my reasoning. Dreams – sacred and holy – that are comforting my soul and soothing my senses.

From morning till evening, the sweet and the short time that I spent that day with the angel has still been tickling and thrilling my body. True, angels do come at night but, perhaps, I was blessed by the Ultimate to be able to found her in the beautiful summer morning. I was curious and excited like a nursery kid desperate to see the angel for the first time. I had heard a lot about them but I always thought that they did not exist until I met her. The moment my eyes met hers my body got stoned. For a second my heart stopped pumping blood, brain became numb, thoughts got frozen, and eye balls rolled down. I was completely hypnotized and transfixed by her mesmerizing and magnetic beauty. I was seeing a beautiful full moon on earth on a scorching summer day with the fierce and fiery sun in the sky. The comforting cool silver light of the full moon had overwhelmed the irritating hot rays of the sun and caused it to shy away. Confused and apprehensive about the uncertainty of the next moment and strangeness of the angel I took my first step towards her.

From close distance I could notice her moon white lustrous sheen of silver skin. And as she spoke, the words dropped off her mouth as musical notes and danced together to form a magical song that made my heart dance. As the angel smiled I could see the swirls and whirlpools on her cheeks that were sucking my heart and body without letting me loose or escape. I shook myself, came out from my stoned state to find my date. I could see the real world now, real people, and cars passing by and honking. I know I was not dreaming, but to my surprise the angel was still there. Am I dating an angel? I pinched my skin so hard that the eyes become watery but the angel was still there. I indeed was with an angel. Dream or reality? – Still figuring it out.

We sat together and the angel painted the picture of paradise in front of me. She started with canvass. She made a fine canvass by weaving the threads of hopes. She collected her hopes with mine in a bowl made of our hearts. If the thread of my hope was thin she would add her hope to make it perfect. She weaved a perfect canvass. The canvass was hanging in air between her and me, right in front of our faces, and was tied with our tacit promises that were still lingering in the air. She then plucked her and mine emotions and created a brush out of them. She asked for my dreams and used color of my dreams to color the picture. Red, green, blue, yellow, etc. all colors were there. I had given her all my dreams with none left to me. To add interest she added dabs of her exuberance and bubbliness here and there. And I kept seeing the angel working like a perfect magician without breathing. I was afraid that even the slightest puff of my breath could disturb the air, and the tacit promises might fall down, ultimately leading to the fall of paradise. I kept seeing and dreaming about the paradise with her sitting in the restaurant. The music was loud but with her magic wand she froze everybody and controlled it. I was not bothered about anything around as my eyes were immersed and indulged in the beauty of paradise.

And she spoke finally to tell me, that the paradise is not for human beings but for angels. I should not desire and long for it. She pulled away the tacit promises and the paradise fell down and disintegrated. She was in hurry to go to the real paradise else the door would close. She returned my colorful dreams and my stranded emotions that belonged to me. But, in hurry she took away the canvas to make me realize later that my threads of hopes were gone with hers. The angel still has my threads of hope with her.

I dream, I feel them, but without hopes. Do dreams have significance without hopes? Do they really exist without it? Dear Angel, when we meet again or whenever you come to earth again from paradise, please, return my hopes.

The angel disappeared and I was back again in the real world. The world that works on fake principles those are twisted and tweaked every other second. Shocked and lost, I pinched myself again to found me on bed. Was it a dream?

I checked my clothes and found a lean thread of hope on my collar. I easily recognized that it belonged to her. A gush of gentle evening breeze swayed the thread in front of my eyes and as it dangled past my eyes I read her hope, she indeed wanted me to join paradise with her but unlike earth rules in paradise are inflexible and stringent. Human beings are not allowed. And all drenched in profuse perspiration, I pinched myself again. Am I still dreaming?

Bhay - The Fear

Dreams and reality are different. It is very easy to dream but difficult to implement. I always wanted to make films. By films, I mean story about real people. I love documentaries and aspire to have a few in my name one day.

After a lot of hustle and bustle of life I decided to go ahead with my first movie. I never wanted to do fiction but my friend Ritesh insisted to start with that. Osian talent campus hunt was another reason to choose 1 minute movie over others.

There was no scope for endless arguments as Ritesh and I unanimously selected a feasible story with least of the budget and time requirements.

Bhay – The Fear - did not turn out the way we wanted but I am satisfied with the way we completed it in just three days over two weekends. Arranging resources and managing everyone with different commitments was indeed a difficult task at hand. However, I could use my resources and contacts, and above all my rapport with various people around me. Everything went smooth and on time. We chose Sunday Apr 28, 2007 for shooting and May 05-06, 2007 for editing.

As expected, editing revealed our various flaws such as loose script, low quality direction and camera work, issues with the sound, and the final editing itself. However, the encouraging part was that we could deliver the product, even of an inferior scale. But there is no concept of a perfect product as there is always a room for improvement.

How many people actually step forward and realize their thoughts in reality. I am happy that I could do that even on a smaller scale. I am much more confident and better prepared for my next movie.

I did not get an opportunity to thank people in my film in such a small time frame but here on my blog I would certainly mention everybody’s name.

Thank you Ritesh for partnering with me. I am sure that we will make better and better movies with time. I would like to thank Pantji and Ravinder who spent their weekends away from their family with us working on the editing table. Special thanks to Ravinder for not only editing the movie but also teaching me and being a patient listener for my stupid editing related questions. Also, thankful to Dr. Ajit Kumar for being so helping, supportive, and confident about my endeavor.

I would like to extend my thanks to my friend Sriram for his honest critique, support, and encouragement. Mukesh Srivastava, Praveen Shukla, Sarvesh Chinagi, and Nitika Sood for their continuous support. Thanks for listening my stupid stories and giving your valuable inputs and suggestions.

Last but not the least, greatly thankful to my parents and my sisters who could instill me with positive thoughts, never dying energy, and confidence to realize the dream into reality. Thank you Mummy and Papa for the fantastic upbringing.

Please go through the movie. Criticize and make me better.

Date with the Dentist

Being a Doctor is a noble profession as we consider them God avatars. Therefore, the relationship between a doctor and patient should be seen as professional and sacred. But what would one do if the doctor is a young and beautiful lady with a honey voice. After all we are humans, and on top of it, I am still single and not committed. I always try to restrain my feeling in such cases but sometimes the heart overpowers logic and objectivity. I am a writer and enjoy writing experiences. I could not stop myself writing about it.

On the advice of one of my beloved friend about the best hospitals in Delhi I decided to go to Fortis for my dental treatment. No doubt as I had heard, the hospital was spotlessly clean. But it was not the cleanliness that attracted me but the handpicked selection of staff which drew my attention.

The interesting journey started from the reception desk. Three beautiful and charming ladies in perfect shape, draped in bright red saris fixed my appointment with the doctor. I proceeded to the hallway after the appointment and saw a long row of doors lined up to my right. The room numbers were powered with dim blue light and were placed repeatedly till the end of the hallway. I stopped at the toilet to figure out the hygiene they maintained and I would say that it was definitely impressive. Finally I found the dentist room. I went inside to found a female doctor of around thirty years of age with a stern face. She asked me the purpose of visit and finally asked me to lie on the dental chair. She examined my teeth and finally asked another doctor to take the job.

This visit of mine to the dentist was almost after the gap of 8-9 years. Fortunately I never had any toothache or decay. However after this long gap, when I visited the dentist I figured out that how different this profession was from others. This profession required physical intimacy between the dentist and the patient as the dentist work close to the patient’s face and body for long hours. Normal doctors examine their patients for a minute closely and step back or if they are close to the body you are probably on anesthesia or feeling severe pain.

When I was waiting on the chair for the new doctor, the new doctor came as a surprise and bliss. A very beautiful girl in her late 20s, flaunting her short hair arrived and asked for my problem. She appeared calm and concerned unlike the other doctors. Girls in short hair have always been my weakness.

She started the procedure and the need of the profession brought her face close to mine. She was looking like an angel to me. An angel helping me out by solving my problems and this is what angels do. Her face effused milky aura and my pores of skin could feel the angelic warmth of her body. I had no other option but to either look at her face or close my eyes. I elected for the former one. While she was busy doing the treatment I surrendered my eyes to the captivating and comforting aura of her face and forgot all my pain and agony. My ear heard her engaging patterns of breath creating soothing symphonies that made my heart dance eternally.

I was completely drowned in her mystical mesmerizing eyes, blinded by the lucid luminescence of her scented skin, and completely lost in the carbon blackness of her curly black hair which was falling on her face time and again. I was totally indulged in her beauty with no pain, no sounds, and no feelings. Her beauty had defied the gravity and my body was levitating in the infinite vastness of the universe beyond the dentist’s chair, beyond the doctor’s room, beyond the hospital, and beyond everything perceptible.

At times I would see her lips moving and murmuring gracefully and her eyes making cushy contact with mine trying to communicate with me in my hypnotic stage. I would then force myself to come out of the trance of her beauty to listen to the still lingering odiferous words of hers. And I would find her face just six inches away from mine, looking directly into my eyes and waiting patiently for my replies.

Finally the treatment was over but the splendid memories stayed alive and engrossing. Never visit a beautiful dentist.

Blog 2.0

Of late, people have started using technical terms in their personal lives. The impact of such an exercise could be irreversible and fatal to the language. But like everything else there are two schools of thoughts. One school wholeheartedly welcomes new words to the existing vocabulary of the language. The other type despises and prevents any new words to enter the language. I am not here to advocate either of them but to provide an insight about the consequences that could occur if the penetration is not stopped.

One such word is Web 2.0. It was first coined by Tim O'Reilly and has become so successful that everyone has started using it. Services 2.0, SaaS 2.0, RSS 2.0, HTML 2.0, ASP.NET 2.0, etc. The list is endless but the pattern is easily identifiable with 2.0 as the repetitive unit.

Diffusion of these words in our everyday language would make a lot of difference. 2.0 would make it simple for us to give explanations to others. Whatever you cannot explain is 2.0.

Executive 2.0 and Worker 2.0 for office 2.0 doing Work 2.0. Appraisals 2.0, Resignation 2.0

Mother 2.0 and Father 2.0 living with Kid 2.0. Mother in law 2.0, Father in law 2.0

Imagine Ram naming his new born baby as Ram 2.0 and Sheetal as Sheetal 2.0.

Imagine a guy saying, “I Love 2.0 you” instead of simple I love you.

Imagine writing Gita 2.0 and Ramayana 2.0

Begging 2.0, Teaching 2.0, Corruption 2.0, Media 2.0, etc.

Opportunities are many but we need to think creatively to use the term carefully and intelligently. Otherwise we would end up contaminating the language and there is no comeback after that.

Eight easy steps to become a successful designer

Designers are a different breed and many of us aspire to be one of them. I would like to take the opportunity to explain you the different steps to be a successful designer. You would not take much time to identify this breed. They can be easily found in malls, coffee-shops, pubs and discs. Some of the identifiable traits and characteristics are their hair, earrings, tattoos, clothes, big-ego, and criticizing nature. Let’s pick each one by one.

High on Hair
If you are a male you are surely going to have long hair. Length can vary according to the quality of hair. It might vary from shoulder to hip’s length. From pony tail to a full grown long braided hair - long enough to advertise for the largest shampoo manufacturer if you would be a girl. Not all males are blessed with long hair but no worries; you can boast weird and eerie design of moustaches and beards. Having said that, I must assert the fact that it does require high level of creativity to devise interesting patterns and styles in hair grooming.

On the other hand if you are a female you need to go in opposite direction. You start decreasing the length of hair from hips to almost nothing. I have seen my female designer friends in short hair, very short hair, very very short hair, scalp kissing hair length, and bald.

These days you have to have strands of red, green, and blue to highlight the design. Match color with your dress and lipstick.

Breathe through Skin
Try choking a designer to death. You cannot because they can literally breathe through their skin. Skin piercing saves their lives in case of such an emergency.

Male designers have increasingly started picking earrings to be in vogue. They started from one ear, then both ears, later more than two earrings for the ears. I have seen people with seven piercing in just one ear. Some have gone beyond ears, and have reached till eyebrows, chins, etc. Let’s not discuss piercing beyond the face in this forum. You decide how much pain you can bear and plan accordingly.
Female designers are least interested in ear piercing. They don’t like anything in their ears. If they get something pierced it is most likely be their noses, lips, eyebrows, etc. If you wear anything in your ears please throw it right away before the attractive male in the next cubicle glance at you.

Paint your Body
No designer can live without tattoo. It can present virtually anywhere on the body but what’s the fun if the world is not seeing it. Most of the junta therefore go for shoulders and back where they can reveal their designs to the world. This tattoo design disclosure has been very progressive as the length of the clothes is diminishing day by day. This has left me confused and bewildered as to whether to concentrate on the design or somewhere else. Please decide the design and placement of tattoo on your comfort level of revealing your protected zones.

Dress to Kill
If you wear what everybody wears than certainly you are going to be kicked out of the community. You have to customize your clothes yourself. You should learn selecting the right fabric after watching the in vogue designs on FTV by European designers. Then you go to a boutique and ask the tailor to sew your design. If you are not good at designing clothes you can ask your fashion design friends to help you out. You can repay their debt when they go for interior design or to buy new furniture. The next step is to wear the design and explain your friends the whole story - from pattern of the clothes to selection of design. Also learn to insult your other friends who buy labeled clothes. The art of insulting is must to learn as it requires high degree of precision. An insult by a designer should be glib, smooth and sophisticated yet sarcastic and piercing.

Only Me, Myself, and I
You are the best person ever born on this planet. Nobody before you and nobody after you would be of the stature which you are at now. You are always right and everybody else is wrong. Your dress selection, furniture selection, mobile selection, etc are the best choices that anyone could make. People don’t dare to give you advice on these topics. Whatever you design is the best and it cannot be perfected anymore. There is no phrase like “taking suggestive inputs” in your dictionary. You always believe in giving them.

Be a good Critique
You are not a designer if you don’t have this quality. Please leave the design fraternity if you are down to earth kind of person. You must learn how to mock people on their behavior, dressing, interiors, selection of furniture, etc. You must start criticizing everything around you. If you go out to eat, the moment you enter in a restaurant, start criticizing the selection of furniture, then move on to curtains and drapery, then move on to cutlery selection, and you continue on and on and on. You exercise the same thing at your friends and relative’s houses.

Indulge in Life
Live life to the fullest is the mantra. Don’t care about tomorrow. There is no concept of saving money for the future. Live in present. Start lot of socializing. Start visiting local pubs and bars. Start trying new things if bars can’t quench your thirst and if you are looking for “high”. If you still think that grass is what cows eat than it is high time to increase your design vocabulary.

Break Norms
Start with short relationships. The more you had girlfriends and boyfriends in the past the better designer you are. If you are in a living-in relationship that is super cool. Being a gay or a lesbian increases your change manifolds for being selected as celebrity of the month or for a cover page interview in one of the leading fashion magazines. Suddenly you start getting name and fame.


I know that it is easier said than done but only persistently hard working person tastes the success. Go ahead and be a designer. Happy designing…

Collage

Thanks Note: I was not writing my blog for sometime. Thousand and one lame excuses I can give but I was not writing for one reason or the other. My dear friend Khushi who is one of the biggest admirers of my blog and a great girl advised me to continue. She is one of my few friends who delight and nourish my soul after every interaction. Thanks Khushi for your support and encouragement for my writings.

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The ring tone

My brother in law is finally enlightened after initial 3-4 years of mushy-mushy talks with my sister. It seems that the initial emotional phase is over and finally like all men he also has found the ultimate truth about woman. And the truth is that all women are scary after marriage and create spine-chilling ambience for the poor husband.

I found out about his enlightenment only when my sister informed me about his new ring personalized ring tone that he had set for my sister’s calls. The ring tone is none other than the title music of our own super-hit ZEE HORROR SHOW which had successfully sown seeds of deadly fear in all of us. Now every time his mobile rings he is well aware and prepared about the caller. In fact the awareness has expanded to my brother in law’s office as well. People sitting around him in office express grave tacit sympathy and offer prayers for his well being. They are well aware what would happen if they opened their mouths. Well, every house has the same story.

Lucky I am still happily unmarried.

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The deal is closed

Since childhood I had been fostering a dream to own a Bullet. Every time I planned to buy it I was confronted by my parent’s parental wrath. Why bullet? Why not some cheap bike? Then buy a car….blah blah blah….
There questions were genuine. No sane person would buy an expensive, low-average two wheeler, which on top of all intrinsic faults is noisy also.

Car comes with a canopy to protect your body from air, water, and sun. To add more value to the car’s protection, let’s add local goons also. More protection and more security. The enclosed space in the car also offers privacy. More intimate talks, more fun, and more adventure. True the fuel consumption is equal to the bullet but the car has a better resale value unlike the big bulky bullet.

May be I was born insane that I could not digest these straightforward sane and logical explanations and finally signed the cheque for Bullet Electra 5S on 2nd March 2007.

I love independence and the bullet signifies it. I will let my soul float free which is being tied up with all trivia existing around us and our lives.

The soul which is free to fly in the sky beyond the horizon. Free to feel the warmth of the golden sunlight in the Himalayas. Free to smell the sweet lingering fragrance of the spring flowers in the Kashmir valley. Free to touch the crystal clear water of the river Brahmaputra. Free to wander endlessly in the mesmerizing backwaters of Kerala. Free to loose its way in the mystifying lush green beauty of Konkan. Free to hear the roars of the sand storms in the Thar till the end of the time...... And above all the soul which is so pure and virtuous that it touches the people's hearts.

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The Cab Experience

Going in an office cab is an experience in itself as it offers an opportunity to interact with the people who neither are friends nor co-workers. They are our office folks and we know them only because they are our cab mates. Everybody in the cab has its own whims and fancies.

Note: Names have been changed to keep the identity secret.

Vikas likes only Hindi music. He loathes Himesh Reshammaiyya, Punjabi, and English songs equally. He is like a spoilt brat who changes the channels by instinct and rarely by content if you had given them the remote of your TV. If he sits next to the driver than the average continuous time that every FM channel gets is less than three minutes. In between you will witness the moments of quick shuffle mode where the buttons are brutally pressed continuously as the index finger dances on different buttons relentlessly. He has gone beyond veteran perfection and has developed the sixth sense to predict the songs to be played in next 5 minutes by different stations. The other cab members silently bear the brunt of FM frenzy every day as if they did not have any taste for music. But at times it is better to adapt to a taste even if it’s bitter.

Kamakshi and I sat on the middle seat of Tavera one day. Vikas was sitting with the driver so only Kamakshi and I were left to sit in the middle. I kept my bag on the back seat behind me. Kamakshi entered with a small paper bag and purse and kept it in between her and me even when I was the most decent guy in the cab. It is quite normal for the girls to be overly obsessed for their belongings but it reached to an unbearable limit when she slid her hand through the handles of both the bags and folded her hands as if I was just about to snatch them from her. To add an injury to the indirect insult she instinctively pulled her purse and kept it on the other side of her lap. She ensured that my hands would never reach to her purse and it was in the safest ever position. I gaped and giggled silently for her. I still don’t know whether it was a deliberate act or was it sheer women instinct that was working in the rear seat of Tavera. Whatever it was, it was definitely bad for me.

There are so many experiences to pen down but I will stop myself here to go through more.