Random

Tera khwaabo me yu aana,
mera chain kho jaana
bhookh pyaas ghum jaana
dil ka gaana woh gaana
dekho kitna puraana
sunlo taaro ka taraana
fir laye nazraana
mere pyaar ka khajaana
teri aankho ka nishaana
mera dil hua ghayal
tere pyaar me hai pagal
hua tujhpe wo kayal
baji jabse teri payal
teri aankhe aur kajal
jaise chaand aur badal
zulfo ka andhera
aur chehre ka savera
mera din meri raat
mere geet meri baat
sabme tu hai mere sang
gori rah gaya me dang
tera chandan sa ang
tu shama me patang

jal ke hai bataana
tujhse pyaar hai jataana
hotho ka silna
yu aankho se bataana
apne dil ka fasana
ab door nahi jaana
hua bahut tadpaana
nahi aur ab satana
ke tumko hai paana
jaaneman jaanejaana

Tere Bina

Latest Song. Didn’t feel like singing it. Had a heavy heart.

Tere bina hi yaha din hoga,
Tere bina hi raat hogi.
Aayegi fir teri yaadein,
Jaane kab baat hogi.

Tu yaha thi to thodi si roshnai thi,
Jharokhe se hokar jaise tajalli aayi thi.
Teri muskurahte meri saans ban gayi
Meri bhookh goom hue meri pyaas kho gayi.
Tu yaha thi to zindagi paas aayi thi,
Aur hume usko jeene me aas aayi thi.

Ab tere bina hi hogi subah,
Tere bina hi shaam hogi.
Gili karvato ki mehfil me,
Aahe saaqi aur aahe hi jaam hogi.

Tu nahi hai to aankh meri bhar aayi hai
Aur meri zubaan pe woh baat fir aayi hai.
Tujhe paa lenge ya tujh pe mar jayenge,
Tere pyaar me hum hudd se guzar jayenge
Tu  nahi hai to mehfil me muflisi chhayi hai,
Aur aaj fir teri yaadein yaad aayi hai.

Ab tere bina hi yaha din hoga,
Tere bina hi raat hogi.

Mausam

Fir wahi mausam aaya hai chaukhat par,
Baarish kabhi patjhad meri chaukhat par.

Kal hi to tha ki tumhe chhod aaye the hum,
Ab nazar aati ho tum mujhe har karvat par.

Kachchi-pakki neend tire khwaab me doobi,
Aur dil machalta hai mera halki si aahat par.

Aaina hasta hai mire chehre ki lakeero pe,
Meri Muntziri ke nishaan hai salvat par.

[incomplete]

Ghazal ruk jayegi

Baat fir zubaan pe aake ruk jayegi,
Machli si nabz tujhe dekh ke ruk jayegi.

Parda hata to yeh shaam ruk jayegi,
Jo zulf udegi to fir bayar ruk jayegi.

Kya ilaaz hai batao chake-dil ka yaaron,
Chal ke aayegi woh ya abhi ruk jayegi.

Umeed hai ki sawan lautega bahut jald,
Aane se unke yeh patjhadi ruk jayegi.

Dard aur hai auro ke muhabbat ke siva,
Meri aahein fir meri palako pe ruk jayegi.

Ho gaya deedar hume saiyyar bazm ka,
Aur yeh ghazal bhi ab yahin ruk jayegi.

When people hate you.

B: So today was a lot of fun. Right after the freshers we went for a treat with the juniors involved in the Choreo and had a game of truth and dare.
Me: Hmm.
B: By the way did you have an episode with this girl S?
Me: Episode? Naah I know her because I had talked to her when she contested in the elections. Why?
B: She got the truth part and was asked who she hated the most and she named you.
Me: He he he. Sounds interesting.

This got me thinking. I am starting my sixth year at IIT Kanpur and am overstaying due to academic reasons.  In the past five years, how many people have I pissed off? And I am typing a random list now as I am going over it

My first roommate is surely one I guess because he ran away within the first month of our first year More recently I guess a lot of ex/current members of the NERD team.  One of the two contestants for the post of Cultural Secretary during my time’s General Elections in the Institute or at least his associates. My ex-thesis guide. A whole lot of Hall 3 guys (I belong to Hall 2). A whole lot of Hall 2 guys. A whole lot of Hall 5 guys. The lady HR manager at Accenture. The Office Incharge at SPO. A whole lot of Post Graduates. A few alumni. Parents, certainly.

Long long list as this is just the tip of the tip of the iceberg. And do I care? For a few people yes. Parents certainly. Some friends/ex-friends (2 or 3). Other than that? Go and boil your head guys

So long (that it goes from bottom to top),
Onion

Khumaar

Koi kalma kehta hai Koi kufr bakta hai is khumaar par
Sajde karta hai to koi tauba karta hai is khumar par.

Bhoola doonga use yeh kehta hai, fir bhool jaata hai,
Yeh dekh dekh kar ab hasi aati hai hume beemar par.

Jis shama ko feekaa kar rahi hai aap mohtarma,
Dekha karte the use hum roz pashchim ki deewar par.

Hum to bachna chahte hai kuchh aisa vaisa karne se,
Par Le aaye hai ishq uska hume baar baar kagaar par

Maikhaane jaana band kar diya hai humne aajkal ‘ghafil’
Jamti hai mehfil shaboroz ab dilfarosh ki mazaar par.

Why you should be careful with names ending in ‘a’

Kishor Singh, my brother from another mother (Kalli jagatmata) proposed a girl, let’s call her Sumitra.
Now the thing is that when Kishor was in IIT Kanpur (we were wingmates), it was widely believed/purported and indiscriminately spread by yours truly that Kishor Singh was GAY with a capital G. So the conversation below is somewhat obvious:

Kishor: I proposed Sumitra
Me: He is in NTPC?
Kishor: She dude she
Me: She’s a she-dude?
Kishor: She is a girl
Me: No way, you’re gay!
Kishor: Not any more
Me: Dude you sure this Sumitra is Sumitraaaa?
Kishor: I am pretty sure.
Me: Last time you were this sure, you opted for a BTP guide who turned out to be a guy.

And so I will tell you the BTP story. Professor Saumya (changed to escape disciplinary probation) is a faculty in IIT Kanpur’s Civil Department. In his fourth year, Kishor Singh had to opt for a guide for his BTech project. He applied the usual algorithm of opening the department’s webpage; browsing the faculty list; eliminating all faculty members reputed to kick your ass; select from left over.

His eyes fell on the name Dr. Saumya and promptly, after years of fantasizing for a lady teacher he sent the mail:

Dear Madam,

I am Kishor Singh, blah blah bleat bleat ollllaa lala hoo et cetera. it would be really great if I can do it with you.

Reply:

Dear Kishor,
It is nice to know that you are interested. Blah Blah yuck yuck taka tak bloo gloo et cetera. You can do it with me.

Regards,

Saumya

–

A meeting was arranged and Kishor Singh happily went to the office. After all, after yearning through his entire childhood, teenage and few years thereafter, he finally had a lady teacher. So he went to the Office and entered. Now faculty offices are actually their labs too so Kishor Singh found a guy working on a code in a corner. Not able to find the Professor Kishor Singh went to this guy and:

Kishor (tapping him on the shoulder): Yaar madam kaha hai?
Corner Guy (looks up): Kaunsi Madam?
K: Kaunsi madam kya kaunsi madam? Unke office me aap work kar rahe hai…kaunsi Madam!
CG:Mr. this is my office. I work here.
K: Dude even the sweeper of the office says the same thing. Doesn’t make it his office. Please do not waste my time. I do not want to miss my appointment.
CG: Your appointment? You are Kishor?
K: How do you know?
CG: I am Saumya.
K: What! [the color got drained from his face] I am sorry Sir. I thought you were a…
CG/P: Happens all the time. My wife also got confused the first time. My friend got married because he confused a girl named Saumya to be me. Don’t worry.
K:I am truly sorry sir. My behavior…
P: Let’s discuss your project over Tea.
K [cursing his fate after missing yet another oppotunity for a lady teacher] Ah…eh…sure sir.

And this is how he ended up with a dude for a guide.

A Love letter

I met a long time friend after a long time. We talked about the days and shared developments when the discussion invariably turned to the girls. At the time we were together he had an enormous crush on a girl. But it never went beyond yearning for the girl. She knew him but she never felt the way he felt. He attempted and he got friendly replies which were more a formality and were so cold you could use them to counter the Kanpur summers. Then we went our ways and we were in touch on and off. He continued to yearn about her and before this meeting I had heard that he had run into some trouble with her. So when we started discussing girls, I asked him about everything that had transpired. He told me. I am documenting here (with due permission) the last part of our conversation:

Arv: So what’s the status now?
Sha: Well I haven’t been in touch with her for last three years. She went to some company and anyway I was so upset I could never connect to her even in FOSLA (Frustrated One Sided Lovers’ Association – something we founded together) style.
Arv: Hmm
Sha: She did mail me a few days back when i was at home.
Arv: Oh! What did she say?

–

Dear Sha,
I hope you remember me. I am K, we used to go to college together. I am feeling very awkward as I am writing this mail especially because of what had happened the last time we met. I have a feeling that it was not something someone could forget so I would not recount that. Please don’t get me wrong. The purpose of this mail is not to make you go through the entire phase again. It is just that I have been in some situations lately which reminded me of what had happened and how sorry I am for what had transpired. I think destiny has a way of getting back at us. I realize that now. I am mailing to request you to please meet me. I know you are at home right now. I am also in town. I know it will be difficult for you but I urge you to take some time out.

Sincerely,
K

–

Arv: Okay. Then?
Sha: I did not want to meet her at all but our mutual friend (let’s call het Neetika) managed to organize a totally unnecessary and unrequired reunion of sorts.
Arv: Hmm.
Sha: We exchanged pleasantries. Then she told me how sorry she was. I told her it was fine and that I had forgotten everything and I was in no mood to recount and how out of the line this meeting was. I was furious at Neetika for doing this to me. She kept saying sorry and just out of curiosity i asked her why after 5 years was she so intent on repentance.
Arv: And what did she say to that?
Sha: The obvious thing, almost taken out of those Bollywood movies from the 80s/90s. Some guy did something similar to her and that made her realize how wrong she was and stuff.
Arv: Hmm. Jacket!
Sha: Yeah Jacket (JKT: Jaise ko Taisa – we made a lot of such distorted acronyms)
Arv: Then.
Sha: Then, I didn’t know what to say and what she wanted. I asked her bluntly and she said she was sorry – again and that wanted to stay on touch, be a friend et cetera.
Arv: Yeah Yeah. What did you say?
Sha: I said that after what had happened her request was way out of line and I couldn’t do that. But she remained persistent. Plus I think she had the entire thing planned because Neetika didn’t have the manners to leave us alone. With her she had some edge. I don’t know some girl thing. So I just said that I will think about it.
Arv: Then?
Sha: Then what? I had a meeting that day so I left. I called Neetika later and blasted her. She obviously didn’t have any thing to say except how we both were her friends and she was genuinely sorry. I cooled down but you know I thouht Neetika had some sense and that she at least knew what I had gone through last time.
Arv: It was not on. I agree. I mean I know how much you respect or respected her and the way we all are related but this was crap.
Sha: yeah but anyway she just arranged the chance meeting. I was amazed at K more than that. I obviously did not want to meet her again or talk to her so I juts put an end to it.

–

K,

After that meeting which I consider outrageously mean and shameless on Neetika’s part for arranging it and on your part for asking for it in the first place, I spent a few moments thinking about what you said at the end and believe me what follows below is probably the most wasteful waste (repetition intended) of time I have ever had in writing something.

There was a time when I was crazy about you. A time when I would hand out Dominoes Pizza pamphlets just to talk to you, or beat up old friends because they made a bad joke about you, or feed some wiseass to get your mobile number, or ask people to support you at some crappy college activity, or make your lab reports, or send you anonymous presents, or stare at your photographs for hours at a stretch and put them on my desktop, or search for you the moment I logged in on GTalk, or attend classes because I would be able to get a chance to see you, or climb walls in Carnivals to impress you or do something crazy just to get your attention or bring a smile on your face. That time is gone. It is a thing of past. I am not crazy for you anymore. I do not waste my time searching your photos on Orkut or asking my friends about your birth date. My desktop has a To Do list and thinking about you is not on it, not even crossed out. You do not feature in my dreams as the regular attraction or distraction that you used to be five springs ago. I do not open chat windows only to close them again after wondering what to write or after writing and deleting some pleasant message hundred times. I do not think of texting you just to get a response from you or stay connected. In fact I have no intention of connecting with you. And it is not because you caused so much pain to me. It is not because you, so meticulously, destroyed me in front of people I knew, destroyed me in front of my own yearning eyes or killed countless seconds from my life by condemning my eyes to that pillow showcased on my bed, my heart to countless pieces and my head to complete mindlessness. It is not because you behaved like such a bitch and completely forgot that there were several better ways of putting me away instead of coldly shrugging me off and then crushing me. It is just because for all practical purposes you never happened. Because I have better things to do in life and better things to take care of then meatballs that belong to restaurant backyards and not my life.

Do not ask for forgiveness because you are not that great. I do not intend to grace your actions- past or present with an opinion, reply or forgiveness. I have wasted enough time on that. I am not ‘that’ guy any more. You lost me ages ago and I have no intention of being a ‘friend.’ I have enough friends who I am sure, would not go behind my back, unlike your friend Neetika, to shamelessly plant you back in my life. I do not need you. I do not want you. You do not exist. You are not even a ghost from the past. You are an unnecessary entity and I intend to keep it that way. Hence please do not bother me just because some guy made you realize what a bitch you were/are. Although you said you deserved it I think you did not deserve it. you deserve it a hundred time sover. Please destroy someone else’s life. There’s nothing left to destroy here. So do not try to mail me, phone me or meet me. You won’t be able to misuse my friends to ‘arrange’ any more meetings so don’t try. Go back and have a life. I can’t wish you good on that but I am not a SOB to wish you bad.

Sha.

–

Arv: You did something similar to what she did to you.
Sha: No, I just saved her from something worse I could have done.

Adchan

And on popular demand, the song is here in the fresh new voice of a young talent: ME! Go get your ear plugs and keep the 911 call handy because after listening to this even dead guys will wake up and say: No more!

Just click on the link below.

Adchan

Lyrics:

Subah shaam Dil mera thare geet gave hai,
Har din yeh thare se milne chahe hai,
Milne ko to mil loo me aake ek baar
Par mari gaadi ka indicator baar baar
Petrol kam bataye hai

Socha milne ko railgaadi se jaaye,
Ticket khidki se tikat katvaaye
Chadhne ko to chadh loo WT mere yaar
Par jab bhi pahuchu tesan bar bar
Gaadi chhoot jaye hai

Subah shaam teri ghani yaad aave hai,
Har din mujhko yaadein yoon sataye hai
Karne ko to kar loo me thane ek call,
Par Customer care ki baa chhori baar baar
Balance low bataye hai.

Thak haar kar kabootar le aaye
Socha ud kar sandesa de aaye
Likhne ko to likh doo me chithiya hazaar,
Par muaa kabootar baar baar
Bin chiththi ud jaaye hai

Rail, car, phone sab peechhe chhod aaye
Socha khwabo me hi tumse mila jaaye
Karne ko to kar loo mein tumse izhaar
Har raat neend me yoon aa kar baar baar
Sapna toot jaaye hai

[The third stanza was a SMS sent to my friend Ashish Agrawal by his friend from IITR: Manish. Rest is what I added to make it a complete song. Add more stanzas!]

Be-maqduri

Na mila kijiye is tarah har mod par,
Baar baar humse muskuraya nahi jaata

Thak chuke hain hathayli nam kar-kar ke
Dila humse tujhko rulaya nahi jaata

Nikal jaate hai ajnabi ki tarah pahlu se,
Rundhe gale se unhe bulaaya nahi jaata

Baandhaa karte the sama gaakar jise
Woh nagma ab humse gaaya nahi jaata.

Shama bhi maangne lagi hai keemat aajkal,
Ab humse khud ko jalaaya nahi jaata.

Ctrl+Z

If only life had an Undo button. I could have taken it to the way it was before I met her. The thing is, you can never truly let go. You obsess, you fantasize, then they make you feel the reality, then you become the heart break kid and then you try forgetting her and then you try and find other things and people in your life to move along with. Then someone comes along and in a moment’s weakness, or may be because you identify with the heart break this guy has had, you tell him your story and then, it all comes back. And at around the same time you watch Ghost Town and what the fuck! The wounds are fresh again and you are in pain and you want again for your life to go back to where it was before you met her. And although I picked this line from Ghost Town but it is perfect to explain my situation. If only life had an Undo button.

IIT, IIT, IIT

This post is continuation of the incidents that happened on March 25.

After buying a mobile phone from Rave@Moti, me and Ashish proceeded to the Rawatpur crossing in order to board a tempo for IIT Kanpur. After standing there for 10 minutes and realizing that no tempo wala was willing to go to IIT Kanpur, I thought of an idea. You know the tempowallahs who shout Bada Chouraha, Parade, Swaroop Nagar, Yeh Nagar Woh Nagar et cetera. I thought that if they can shout to attract passengers, why can’t I shout to attarct tempowallahs. So:

Me: IIT, IIT, IIT, IT IT chalega koi IT IT IT chalega koi IIT IT. IIT Le jayega koi?
Ashish: Dood, what the fuck man?
Me: Are, let’s see what happens.

And I kept shouting.People who walked by us looked at me curiously. Some bystanders shook head and Ashish, well Ashish said:

Ashish (pointing at me): I am not with him.
Me: IIT IIT IIT
Ashish (pointing at me): He is not with me.

Some Kanpuriya beauty mistook me for a tempo conductor and came to me

(Beautiful Kanpuriya Girl) BKG: Tempo to hai nahi, kandhe par le jaoge kya.
Me (this came out INEVITABLY): Aap kahiye to god me utha ke le jayenge. Vaise me khud tempo dhoondh raha hoon.

BKG smiled and left. Ashish looked at me with disbelief. Suddenly a tempo wallah parked his tempo across the road. He waved and so I crossed the road to talk to him. No use! He wouldn’t go. So I came back and ashish was nowhere to be found. I looked around and then, a voice I heard, as if from a distance…

Ashish: IIT IIT IT, koi le jayega IT?

Miscellaneous events from trip(s) to Kanpur

Hullo!

I spent the better part of March 25, 2009 running around in Kanpur city to lodge an FIR for my missing mobile, finding the right Airtel Office for deactivating and reissuing SIM and buying an economical new Mobile Phone. Below are some incidents from the day along with a few others from other trips to the city:

1. ‘Pahiya Ghoom Raha hia‘

Me and my friend Ashish set out to go to Kanpur city. We were supposed to get a photo of me, lodge an FIR, take a copy and give it to Airtel Guys and get a new SIM with my old number from them. On our way from Hall 8 to IIT Gate we pulled off that long forgotten road trick: Pahiya Ghoom Raha Hia.

So unsuspecting obnoxiously young (we are both in fifth year…so there) IITians passing on cycles became targets.

Me (pointing a finger at the tyre): Arey Parul. Parul, Pahiya Ghoom Raha hia!!!
Parul (unsuspecting second year girl): Kya? Kaha? Kya hua? (looks at the bicycle tyre in a concerned way)
Me and Ashish: Bwahahahahahaha
Parul (realizing what just happened): Kya bakwaas hia.

And then the cycle-rickshawallahs too:

Me (pointing a finger at the tyre): Bhaiya!!! Pahiya ghoom raha hai!

‘Bhaiya’ stopped, turned the rickshaw and came to us. The look on his face made my face perspire a bit more on that hot March afternoon. On the other hand it was good that we finally found a rickshaw.

Bhaiya: Ka babu! Ab hami ko moorakh bana doge kya?
Me (relieved after seeing the smile on his face): Ehhh…aise hi mazaak kar raha tha.
Bhaiya: Ee dillagi hum bhi bahut karat rahe bachpan me. Aur aap mil gaye pachpan me. Kaha chaloge?
Ashish: Gate.
Bhaiya: Chalo.

And off we went. You can fool some people all the time, you can fool all the people some of the time, you can’t fool all the people all the time. Or can you?

2. Police Thana

Prathmiki

We went to Kalyanpur Police Station. The police station is housed in a dilapidated old building, the ones you see in Ramsey Brothers’ movies – those spooky houses with creaky doors. The Police Station is stationed thus: There is the Grand Trunk Road; parallel to the road runs a railway track. The police station is beyond the railway track. So probably the idea is that anyone with trouble would probably be run over by any of the Laloo’s trains before they can trouble the Police guys.

Even if you cross the railway track safely, there is a open sewer line placed like a moat around a castle. The ‘bridge’ connecting the land to the police station, bridging the moat, is creaky, old and wooden. So you might drop dead in it before registering a complaint.

We went in and asked where to file the FIR. We were guided in. The office was filled with registers, old wooden furniture, more registers, a hawaldar and two police officers.

Me: Namaste.
Officer Vijay Kumar (VK): Namaskar.
Me: Sir, mera mobile kho gaya hai usi ke liye FIR darz karwani thi.
VK: IIT ke ho kya?
Me (amazed): Sir aapko kaise…
VK: Yaar tum log apne mobile shaam ko hamare yaha chhod jaya karo. Cheeze le lete ho aur sambhal paate nahi. Mobile ki aadhi FIR IIT se aati hai.  (Please note that he was candid while saying this).
Me: Sir, sahi kah rahe hai aap. Itne mobile ghum ho jaaate hai. Aap log FIR ka ek special form bana dijiye IIT ke liye.

He looks at me and I know what he is thinking: Another smart alec.

Me: Mazzak kar raha tha Sir.
VK: Koi baat nahi. Aap FIR likh do. Make two copeej.
Me: Kisko likhoo application.
Other COP: Seva Mein, Thana Prabhari, Kalyanpur…
Me: Sir barahvi maine hindi se hi ki thi. (VK is smiling at the Other Cop who is making faces)
VK: Likh ke laa do aap. Me darz kar loonga

I went outside with Ashish and started writing the FIR or should I say Prathmiki. It was a strange feeling. I was writing hindi formally after five years. Even when I was editor of the college magazine, I wrote all hindi stuff on computer using Shusha. A photo pf the FIR is here in the post. Never mind the handwriting. Poor! But it was a good feeling. I really felt good after writing in Hindi. And then I thought, I left Hindi, couldn’t master English and are now hung in between.

Anyway, I went in and gave the application’s original copy to VK. An aged person was standing with the same case: Mobile lost.

VK: IIT ke hai dada aap?
Dada: IT, IT, IT. Poore Kanpur ko IT me padaoge kya. Kalyanpur ke hai. ‘Aphh Aayi Aar‘ karni hai.

VK gave my FIR a sneak peek and handed it over to Dada.

VK: Aise likh dijiye

So obviously, my FIR was a benchmark. Dada looked at it and then went outside to write his own. The carbon paper I used was taken by VK and put in his cupboard. Mind you, I bought this carbon paper at 1.5 bucks each from Shop C at IIT Kanpur. VK took out a seal, stamped the carbon copy, signed it and we were done.

Me: Thank You Sir.

As we moved out Ashish whispered: Bahut jaldi ho gaya. Vishvas nahi ho raha.

You have to understand, before we went to the police station we went to see the cinemas for about 17 years most of which portray the cops as those sweaty shirt, bribe hungry, chai sipping monsters with dandas and Stone Age rifles. Plus, just before the station happened, we went to get me clicked at a photography studio (photo required for issuing new SIM). The wise old lady of the Studio (who by the way works at Media Lab IIT Kanpur and is an expert at getting people new SIM with old numbers when they lose their mobile) told us:

WOL: Beta, 50 rupaye to le hi lega. Affidavit ke 100 upar se. Par IT ke ho. Pachaas se zyyada mat dena.

So you see, this was the impression we had. meanwhile VK heard Ashish’s whispering.

VK: Kya hua Sirji?

And then we did something we thought we owed to the guy.

Ashish: Sir, itna jaldi process ho gaya ki vishwas nahi hua. Hume lag raha tha ki bahut time lagega aur…aur…dikkat hogi.

VK simply smiled.

Me and Ashish: Thank You.

I know, many police officers might be corrupt. And many of them might deserve the beating that media and others give them. But it is hard to be stuck in a dilapidated office for the entire life  while trying to while away flies as you enter yet another lost mobile FIR in the register on a March afternoon with no fan over your head.  It can be thankless. And hence we thought that we owed it to him. We thought that he made our day. We had walked in at 3:15 thinking that it will take till 4:30 by which time Airtel Office will be crowded and we will have to wait till next week. We thought that since he saved the day, we should tell him and make his day. May be it was because we were from ‘IT’ and so he was nice, but I don’t care. He processed the entire thing quickly without undue demands. I think amidst all those corrupt ones portrayed taking beatings from Sunny Deol and the likes, there certainly are better cops, if only for a simple case of lost mobile. To them…

3. Batao Na!

As I and Ashish exited Rave@Moti after buying a brand new NOKIA mobile (the one in the lower range which does what a mobile should do: make calls, receive ‘em and send messages), we saw a Nagar Seva (City Bus) standing right in front of the Mall while its Conductor shouted to get more people to board the bus. At the back of the Bus they had written: Batao Na (Do tell!). Now me and Ashish go ahead:

Conductor: Bada Chouraha, Parade, Tumhaare ghar ka Gate…aa jao bhai aa jao. Bada Chauraha, Parade…(sees us) Bhaiya Kaha jaoge?
Me: Nahi bataunga.
Conductor: Arey…kaha jaoge.
Me (looking back at him): Nahi bataunga.

It took him a second or so to relate. He smiled and so did we. A few minutes later we were on the Grand Trunk road looking for a Tempo when we saw the Bus drive by very slowly and saw the conductor again…

Conductor: Ab to bata do sirji… (and he smiled)

We looked at him and could only smile. Simple things bring these small moments of joy so that even when you are bogged down and defeated in life (with lost mobiles, bad interviews and Kanpur rush  or the concern to earn a good day’s meal by shouting self made rhymes to attract more people), you smile. You smile and feel that thing: Hey what do you know! I can be happy!

Saint of Lost Causes – 1

“There is always the speech.”
“The speech? Seriosuly? A speech.”
“Yes. It’s your inauguration speech. It is customary for all new entrants to make a speech. A sort of entry acceptance.”
“You do know I am mortally afraid of making speeches, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t use the word mortally.”
“Let’s talk reality and not semantics.”
“You will have to make a speech and that’s a reality.”

And she went away, just like she had come: out of no where. Although I was still not sure. Why a speech? You just move on and go in. Not that you have a choice but what’s it about speech? I thought it was some kind of a joke because it was known that I was really afraid of public speaking. I couldn’t even say a nervous ‘Hi’ to a crowd of ten or more from a high rise platform via a mic let alone address countless people from the dais. But the finality in her tone made it clear to me: I will have to give a speech if I wanted to get in. Otherwise they would leave me hanging for God knows how much time. So I embarked upon a journey down my experiences, memories and thoughts to get some material for the act. On normal occassions I could have googled a good speech but this was not a normal occasion. It was special, besides, I had a feeling that even Google did not index pages with the speeches for occassions like this one.

Why you should not let your sisters dress you up?

Hmm…

I am posting a lot of ‘Why you should not‘ stuff these days. But you know, this post is really worth it. Have a look and promise me you won’t allow your sisters to dabble with your wardrobe. Absolute horror. On the other hand, I do look like Satish Shah from Jaane bhi do yaaro.

Onion.

Further justification!

Never let you sisters dress you up.

Why you should (not) empty the bottle before going in the theater?

Delhi 6 is a good movie. I saw it on Friday and liked it. The whole Kala Bandar thing held the movie together. Anyway this post is not about Delhi 6 but about something which happened before we entered the theater.

We went to Rave@Moti to watch the 3:15 pm show. We were at Rave by 2:30 pm, four of us: Me, Maami, Muski and Marda (alliteration intended). Since there was time we ordered Pizza and took a table while checking out the girls. As it would happen, Ms. Shradhha at the Dominoes stall could not deliver the pizza timely so we just took the two coke bottles and asked her to shift the order till after the movie. By this time our chaat from Bombay Shivsagar Chaat Shop was in and so was my soup from the Chinese Food shop. By the time we gobbled up the chaat and I had my soup we had completed drinking out of one of the coke bottles while the second one was still three fourth full. Since it was already 3:10 we had to leave the food court and move to the theater upstairs. But we could not leave the bottle behind. Now as a rule no eatables are allowed inside the theater unless you buy them from shops inside the theater. So what would you do?

Marda: Let’s drink the entire coke quickly?
Me: No can do man.
Muski: I am full of chaat and soup.
Maami: Me too.
Me: I got an idea.
Muski: What?
Me: One of us could slip in the bottle inside the shirt.
Maami: Naah, too visible. And they frisk you anyway.
Me: Dude, I am fat and so are you, we could pass it on as tummy.
Marda: Last time I checked tummy used to be round not cylindrical.
Me: Okay! Slip it in the jeans.
Muski: What?

Marda nodded in disbelief.
Maami: Makes sense.
Muski: You are not seriously thinking about this?

Me and Maami looked at each other with the usual ‘Let’s do it’ look while Marda sank into his usual ‘Can’t believe you’ stares.

Muski: Doooood! Your balls will freeze.
Maami: We will see.

And Maami slipped the bottle in – positioned right at the crotch. Marda was still in disbelief while Muski was grinning devilishly hoping that Maami’s balls will freeze and turn to powder as if attacked by Liquid Nitrogen. We proceeded to the theater entrance. Marda passed after frisking and so did Muski. I went to the guard who was frisking and just as he started his process (which is way too gay man) I started laughing as if he were tickling me. The lady guard standing with him started looking at me and passed a quick smile and turned back to laugh.

I passed through the security and finally Maami came forth. At first the guard frisked him in the usual manner. When he and the lady guard both noticed the bulge. The lady guard said something in his ear to the effect: “Kya hai woh?”

So what should the guard do? 

Guard: Bhaisahab, kya chhupa rakha hai aapne waha?
Maami: Kya chhupa ho sakta hai waha?
Guard: Yeh to aap hi jaane?
Maami: Kyun aapko nahi pata kya?
Guard: Arey matlab…pata hai par kya hai waha?
Maami: Aapko pata hai to kyun pareshaan kar rah hai mujhe?

Guard takes up the responsibility and moves his hands towards the bulge.

Maami: Dood! What the hell? Kya kar rahe ho?
Guard: Check kar raha hoon.
Maami: Kya check kar rahe ho bhaiya?
Guard: Are Sir, yeh…woh…sir woh…kya hai waha?
Maami: Hudd hai…kya ho sakta hai waha?!
Guard: Par sir yeh aisa…
Maami: Aisa kaisa? Jaisa hai vaisa hai!
Guard: Sir kya daal rakha hai aapne waha?
Maami: Kaisa jaleel sawaal hai yeh!
Guard: Sir, batana hoga. Security issue hai.
Maami: Security ka matlab kahi bhi chhune lagenge kya aap? [to us] Kya Gay-pana hai yaar?!

Meanwhile the three of us and the lady guard are laughing.

Guard: Sir, me aapko andar nahi jaane de sakta.
Maami: Kyun? Kya kiya hai maine? Ab yeh aisa hai to meri kya galti hai?
Guard: Par Sir.
Maami: Itni takleef hai to me pant khol deta hoon.

By now I am rolling on the floor. Marda is shaking his head like telegraph machine in action and Muski is making expressions as if he has been hanged.

Guard: Theek hai. Kholiye pant aap.
Maami: Arey! Ajeeb besharam aadmi ho bhai. Ladke bahut pasand hai aapko?

The Lady Guard is laughing, blushing and is awestruck all at the same time. Only a woman can handle this multiplicity. Maami reaches for his pants when the Lady Guard, her left hand on her mouth and the right on the side to help a stitch, asked the guard to let go.

Guard: Arey par kaise?
Lady Guard: To aur kya? Nanga karvaoge unhe (and she giggles as if she half wanted to see Maami naked).

The guard shook his head and turned to Maami: Jaeye bhai sahab.

Maami: Arey? Kya ho gaya? Dekh lijiye. Ladke dekhne ka shauk hai aapko. [and he moved in triumphantly while still looking at the guard. The guard is still looking at the bulge. The lady guard isstill aching with laughter and I am still on the floor, in tears by now.]

Muski helped me up and the four of us, shocked at what we just pulled off, walked inside the theater.

Why you should not smoke with your nose.

[Onion Post Rating: R]

This is an incident from two weeks ago. At around 2:30 am me and three friends, let’s call them SMM, SD and ABA, were at ABA’s room and the smokers were smoking. As it would happen, experimentation started. Please note that LIQUOR was not involved at all.

SMM: Hmmm…I think I will smoke right through my nose.
ABA: Hee hee hee. Seems like a good idea.

And then SMM stuck the cigarette in his nose and took a deep breath after closing down the second nostril with his thumb. And…

SMM [smoke coming out his mouth and nose]: Aw shucks! Aww…aww. oh Aaawww.
SD: Having orgasms mayte (‘y’ intended).
SMM: Awwwwesome.

SD took the SAME cigarette and took a puff – with his mouth. Yuck!

Me: What the hell!!! He just put it in his nose.
SD: What the !@^%#!!! I completely forgot! Yuck.
SMM and ABA: Hee hee hee hee.
SD: Fuck!

After about a second or two…

SD: Hey can we smoke through our ears?
SMM: Hee hee hee.
ABA: Try it. Hee hee hee.

And SD stuck the cigarette in his ear.

ABA: He he he you fool.
SMM: He he he. Nothing. Last time I heard the wind pipe did not go up to the ear moron.
SD: Oh…so the wind pipe is involved?

I, ABA and SMM looked at SD in disbelief.

Me: Dood. Basic Biology. Human Anatomy.
SD: hee hee hee. Anal Tomy Hee hee hee.
Me: What the hell?!

Then SMM took the SAME cigarette from SD and took a puff.

Me: What is wrong with you guys? He just stuck it into his ear man.
SMM: Aww…fuck..Awww!
ABA: Hee hee hee. Hee hee hee.

SD: Only one thing left now.

Me and ABA understood what he was talking about.

Me: No…You are not doing that.
ABA: Oh do it do it please.

And SD dropped his pants but before he could get on with what he was thinking of doing I pounced on him.

Me: You sick bastard! What the hell man.
SMM: The windpipe doesn’t go up your arse SD.
SD: Oh Yeah! How do you fart then?
SMM: Hee hee hee. Pagal hi ho gaye kya? Where’s the cigarette anyway?
SD: The moron made me drop it.
ABA: Fuck! Where is it?
SMM [sniffing]: Whoa! What’s that burning smell?
Me: Dood, the whole room is up in smokes. You fucking chimneys [mock baby like voice] What ishh that bulning shmell. Schmucks!

SD: No really. This is not just tobacco.
ABA: Yeah. It’s like plastic or something.
Me: Yeah! Oh no…Oh no..no no no!
ABA: What the hell?! My book is burning!!

ABA’s brand new grand worth of Fluid Mechanics Book with plastic coated cover was on fire. He took SD’s pants and put it on the book as SMM tried to empty an entire Coca Cola bottle on the Book, the pant and ABA to put the fire off. The movement had ‘weaponized’ the coke and so instead of simply emptying on the book and others the cold-drink went fizz all over the room – in my eyes, on ABA’s laptop, on SD’s crotch and on the floor.

SD: I have been violated.
ABA: Shut up moron. My book is destroyed.
SMM: Hee hee hee. No coke left and the canteen is closed.
Me: Phewww. Let’s put the lights on.

And I took a step towards the switch. The coca cola, spilled on the floor did its part and I was on the floor with a resounding thud. As an after effect the laptop, on which we were planning to watch Punisher – 2, closed down and the room went completely dark.

ABA: What happened?
Me: Shit happened. This is what it is. Ho kya raha hai yaar yeh sab.
SMM: Wait. I will switch on the light. Where are you?
Me: Fuck! You are standing on my hand. Get off!
SMM: Eh! Sorry.
SD: hee hee hee. Masti aa rahi hia.

SMM searched for the switch board and in the process kicked something. Suddenly I felt as if my hair was wet.

Me: What the hell now? What is this stuff.

I stood up with effort pulling the small hair I have on my head when the light’s went on. I looked at the spillage and saw a bisleri bottle. I went to examine it meanwhile SD looked around for his pants.

SD: Oh no! My pants have a hole. ABA moron. You put out the fire with my pants.
ABA: Don’t shout for your 5 pence pant. That book was worth a grand peabrains.
SD: Shucks. How am I supposed to go to my room now.
SMM: In undies. Hee hee hee. This is fun!

I sniffed the bottle and my hair and life was sucked out of me.

Me: What the fuck man! What the hell! Sickos. Fuck.
ABA: What!
Me: Dood. You pee in Bisleri bottles!!! What the hell.
SMM: Yuck! [apparently he was standing on the spilled liquid]
SD: Oh..this gets better and better.
Me: Shut up. ABA dood. You are sick. The toilet is five steps outside your room man. Fuck. I will have to take a bath. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this. Fuck. Arse.
SMM: Hee hee hee
SD: Hee hee hee
ABA: eh..hee hee hee. What can I say bro? Hee hee hee.

Smoke coming out of every conceivable hole in my body, I stomped out of the room.

End of.
Onion!

PS: Yeah I know that the actual spelling is ‘dude’.

Why you should not profess love after saying it’s all about sex.

[This is not supposed to be funny and hence it isn't.]

Sid and Shef are walking down a road at night discussing love. The discussion was started by Sid who wanted to drive it towards their own relationship thereby expressing his feelings towards her but it becomes a bit too intellectual and…

Shef: So you mean love is just a rationalization?!!
Sid: Yeah I mean…basically…yeah. A rationalization of our urges which when uncontrolled become obsessions. A balanced chemical reaction inside the brain.
Shef: Your viewpoint is so…what’s the word…mundane.
Sid: Yeah, but it is a viewpoint and stand by it. It all boils down to sex.
Shef [shocked now]: Sex? I can’t believe you think that this is the way it is. [Shef is definitely upset].
Sid: Hey, I don’t mean to upset you. It is juts my opinion.
Shef: It is complete bullshit. So when I say I love my father what the hell does that mean wiseass?
Sid [dumbfounded]: Uh.oh! Ummm…I think I..
Shef [enraged further]: Come to think of it, what does it mean when you say you love your father?
Sid [totally confused]: Ummm…No I think that’s the way it is when it si about a boy and a girl.
Shef: Oh yeah! So what about brothers and sisters?

Sid: No I mean boys and girls as in… [Shef cuts in between]
Shef: You are sick! [Sid completes his sentence in slightly lower voice and Shef does not hear it]:…you and me.

Shef: And what when someone says they love their dog?
Sid: Hey…cool…cool…we will talk about this later. Let’s drop this for now.
Shef: I don’t want to discuss this with you at all. You might be smart and all but you are wrong about this.
Sid: Look cool down okay. Sorry if I offended you.Well okay! I guess it is time to go.
Shef [Cold]: Bye.

–

Sid thinks overnight, about Shef and their relation and all. He strolls down to his friend Adi’s room and expresses everything. Adi urges him to talk to her and so next day he goes and meets her in the lecture Hall complex after the class finishes. The faculty members and students are still around.

Sid: Hey! How are you?
Shef [coldly]: Fine.
Sid: Look I wanted to tell you something.
Shef: What?
Sid: I love you.
Shef [shouting furiously]: What!? Meaning you want to have sex with me!!

The crowd of students and faculty members stops and starts looking towards the two. There is pin drop silence as if the lecture hall complex was a cemetery.

Sid looks around, embarrassed and tries to smile as a few friends giggle. Shef realizes that she was a bit too loud. She looks around and then runs away. Sid runs after her.

They never talk again [until I get more stories that is].

Lesson: Never propose her after saying love’s all about sex.

Onion.

Chhabbees

I started writing this poem a few days before January 26, 2009 as voice-over for a video I had planned to shoot.  The poem is intended to be of 26 lines or 26 sections (if it gets to that). Right now it is incomplete and has 24 lines. I hope to complete it soon and bring out the video by August 15, 2009. The video is supposed to be an inspirational one while also showing the problems one faces in the India on streets. It can also be a collection of photographs (with the mentioned theme) appearing in appropriate succession. Collaborators are welcome!

[Incomplete]

Baat seedhee hai, Dilme angeethi hai,
Thodi rakh kuchh angaare, aur sapne dher saare
kabhi saans meri lau le aati hai,
jise thandi aahe bujha jaati hai,
par me jeeta jaata hoon
log poochhte hai kya karte ho jeene ke liye,
intezaar hai, intezaar se kaam chalata hoon.
bhookha nahi rehta
gham khata hoon, aansoo peeta hoon
har raat sone se pehle sochta hoon ki subah hogi
har subah uthta hoon ki shayad subah ho gayi,
shayad subah hogi
meri tarah har subah patri par jaane waalo ke liye
pan masala bechte, dibba saaf karte chhore-chhoriyo ke liye
signal par bheekh maangne waalo ke liye,
kachra beenti aaurato ke liye,
Mantralay par lage tirange bhar kapde ko taraste logo ke liye
khali kabro me sone waale mazdooro ke liye.
Kis farishte ka intezaar?
Mujhi par to hai Subah-e-farda ka bhar
Afsar ka kya hai, kaam khatam paisa hajam,
Satyamev Jayte Vande Mataram
Jo karna hai khud karna hai,
Khud jeena hai khud marna hai.

India Inspired: RTI Memories

Soochna ka adhikaar

Jump

The Guitar Reflections

Looking out of the window

It is a Spanish guitar. A Signature … tropical. It has been around for almost a decade now. I never devoted myself wholly to it. I always played an image of the guitar. To put it in simple terms – I am no pro. I started learning the guitar on it. But before I proceeded to anything noteworthy, I gave the guitar to my brother. That made way for a new guitar. A fake Gibson … But I do not wish to get ahead of myself and so I will begin at the beginning.

I had completed my eighth standard when my father sent me to a music class not so far from our home in Indore.  This guitar was given to me for this class. I even remember the shop we bought it from: Jingle Bells, the one stop shop for anything musical. The night before we bought the guitar, I had to go to a doctor first for a chest checkup because of my frequent chest pains. The ailment, which has since then repeatedly disrupted my life, remains undiagnosed. The doctor did his checkup but my mind was elsewhere like always. I was NOT present. And he sensed it.

‘Arvind, you are not here. What are you thinking?’
‘Nothing Sir.’ And I looked at my mother who smiled and my father who said: ‘Concentrate on what is at hand.’ But I was thinking of guitar, waiting to lay my hands on it. So I did not take my father’s words into account – a mistake I repeatedly did in my teenage. And I was never present for the task at hand and so I screwed many of them.

We went to buy the guitar after the checkup but found that the shop had closed. We finally bought the guitar the next day. That was one of the happiest days of my life.

Every morning I would go to the class from 8:30 am to 9:30 am and I would return home and watch Disney Hour on DD-1 from 10 am onwards. That was the fun of summer time, you did not have to worry about not having cable because even though DD-1 had started failing its viewers, they did take care of their young audience. And this was the reason I never got around to practicing. I would go to the class, come back and get lost in the wonderful world of cartoons. After that, throughout the day I engaged in anything but finger zinging. And then next morning I would go back to the class. My master would scold me for not practicing but that never had an effect on me. I still wanted to learn guitar but somehow I screwed up the chance.

Time passed by. Summers ended and so did the classes. I could play some songs on tabs.  No chords. I had not progressed. So I would satisfy myself with Hai apna dil to awara and National Anthem. Before I knew, I had completed eleventh standard and one day we shifted to Bhopal – the saddest day of my teenage. Indore has a charm that no city can match. I am sure everyone can say so for their hometown. I do not wish to offend anyone but there is no dearth of dislike I have for Bhopal even with its lakes and clean aura.

It was summer time again and my brother had completed sixth standard. My thoughts went back to the guitar but now there were two of us. Someone suggested a tutor for Guitar. He would come to teach both of us. He was actually a professional Sitar player and generalized his expertise to anything with strings. Almost immediately I saw an opening for a new guitar. Two people can’t learn much on one guitar. The spoiled kid took over and my master obviously wanted to teach in parallel so I convinced my parents to get me a new guitar. Why me? Because I am the elder one. My brother, the good kid also said that he would rather try to old one. And so I got a new guitar, a fake Gibson. It was stylish, had a sheen which made it look better than the old one and it had a belt. I was happy again. The classes went on and I progressed to very basic chords. Somehow I never liked the new Guitar. It never gave the sound which the old one gave. It was sort of stiff and the sound box was not vibrant but close and too compact. It was almost as if the Guitar was my own manifestation – stiff, non-vibrant and closed. Anyway, preparation for JEE and my lack of commitment pushed the Guitar into background again.

I came to IIT in July 2004 only to realize that it would have been great if I had learned how to play. Music Club was the place to be and guitarists were seen with interest by everyone.  Later in my fourth semester I took up the guitar again, brought my fake Gibson to campus and started learning it under my new Master: Paul. He lives in Type 1 quarters in IIT Kanpur – son of an institute employee. I progressed to basic chords and all was going well when suddenly Paul found a job and I lost motivation.

I got involved in other things, a lot of them. And the Guitar stayed at my home. Neither my brother played it nor could I given that i was in Kanpur. The fake Gibson in my room kept to its black cover. Dust settled on it. Once in a while other guitar enthusiasts took my guitar to their rooms and started learning. But I never took it up. I would go and visit Satti and Chaachi, my friends, occasionally. They were into the guitar and were self taught. They were my inspiration only I could never take it entirely.

We shifted from one home to another within Bhopal. After one such shifting, I came home from campus for a week. I was looking through my old stuff that was to be arranged when I saw the old Spanish.  I thought I would try my hand at it. I took it out and found that the bridge had been ripped off the body during shifting. Somehow I felt bad for this forlorn forsaken guitar. I immediately took quickfix and tried to put the bridge back. Foolishly I removed the strings although that was not required. But after I had fixed it, I was supposed to put the strings back too and I started doing that. But I looked at the strings: all rusty and thinning at places. I felt bad for the dilapidated condition for the Guitar and requested my father that I be allowed to go and buy a pack of new strings.

I bought new strings and new set of plectrums. I changed the strings, oiled the tuners and played the guitar. As good as new, as good as it was! They needed change and it was then that it struck me: Every guitar needs new strings once in a while, every guitar needs a bit of cleaning, tuning and every guitar needs its deserved share of music. Everyone needs a change once in a while.

I don’t want to give a sermon. I was cleaning my fake Gibson today when everything came back and so I thought I should write it. I am writing something serious after a long long time and I am happy with the introspection the guitar led me to. As far as the Guitar itself is concerned, the old one is still at home. The fake Gibson is out for takes. I think I will give it to the Girls. Their guitar in the hobby room is all broken and stringless.

When I had time I didn’t chase things. Now I have other priorities.  And I have learned this – prioritize properly and chase those things before priorities change. I thought about why could not learn the guitar and the answer to that question was actually an answer to all my ‘Why couldn’t I?’ questions. I wanted to learn how to play the guitar but I never wanted it badly. When we never want a thing badly, we either end up not getting it at all or even when we get it, we never recognize the value of it and in the end lose it.  Pursue the dreams, want them as if life depends on them… badly. And then one day we will find that we have finally broken them.

Onion.

Exposing Taxi Services at IIT Kanpur

Video Scoop on IIT Kanpur Taxi Scam. For action and fun! Credits: Vidit, Suji, Jolly and Yours Truly along with SIS Guard Arvind Bhaiya and an unassuming Taxi Driver – Rakesh! You can see the videos here too.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

–

The video action above happened on February 17, 2009 at around 9:30 am as a follow up to the post appended below:

This incident happened on February 16, 2009 in the night. The showdown will take place at 9:30 am in the morning at Hall 9 Gate on February 17, 2009. be there to watch it By the way the incident is described by the complaint below.

Cheers!

–

Dear Sir,
Greetings! I am Arvind Kothari, a dual degree student in the Department of Mechanical Engineering, IIT Kanpur. I am mailing to lodge a complaint with the Taxi Service providers. Three services: Amit Travels, (Surender) Yadav Travels and (Rajpal) Yadav Travels which can be approached at Internal Numbers ****,**** and **** are into a sort of scam.

I have to pick up three US nationals tomorrow from Kanpur Central at 11 am for a Student Gymkhana Lecture. I called all three services for booking a taxi and all of them told that no car is available. I talked to Mr. Sujania on this because the Gymkhana Lecture and Discussion Club comes under his council. He said that this has been a problem quite some time now. Taxi Services operating inside IIT Kanpur do not book for destinations within Kanpur but would go readily to Lucknow. In order to check, I called all of these taxi services with name Rastogi living in H-201, Hall 9. I told them that I have to go to Lucknow Airport since I have a flight to catch at 12:15. I asked them to come at 10:30 am. I gave them my true mobile number which is **********. I could do that because earlier they had point blank refused for car and matter did not go on till exchange of mobiler numbers.Surprisingly all of them agreed. One of them suggested that I should leave at 9:30 or else I will be late. So much for advice. The idea is that this is a scam. Long distances pay more but that does not mean that these service providers will stop serving campus residents for short distances. I am hopeful that if you are able to make it to Hall 9 at 9:30 am tomorrow morning, you will be able to see three different cars there willing to take Anshul Rastogi to Lucknow. I firmly believe that this matter should be handled.

I am mailing because I was told by Mr. Sujania that you have recently taken over as the Chairman of the Transport Commitee. I humbly request you to take this matter up.

Thanking You,
Yours Sincerely,
Arvind Kothari

–

They conspire

An incident from last year.

–

So I am sitting in the library reading Mitch Albom’s yet another masterpiece: Five people you meet in heaven when suddenly I see Chakresh Mishra walking towards me. We make small talk and then he asks me if I had talked to Atul Jain recently. I hadn’t but I said that probably in March end of the start of April we had had a small chat on the phone when he was planning to come to Kanpur. Chakresh said that he had tried Atul’s number a few times but to no avail. I suppressed an urge to tell him how Atul now had a girlfriend in Delhi. Instead I ask him if he had been dialing the correct number. He said he was pretty sure. I gave him the number I had and that was different than the one he had been trying. He updated that number in his cell phone, made a thank you note and went on for his own reading. As he was climbing the stairs to the third floor, I felt a sudden surge of energy, as if withdrawn from Chakresh or more like withdrawn through him; may be a sort of an inspiration. I write that it was more like through him because the energy withdrawn didn’t mean that Chakresh had himself lost something in giving this inspiration to me. No, it wasn’t that way and that’s possible only if he was a pipeline of some kind, some portal of inspiration. This guy knew what he wanted to do in life and the great thing was that he was trying to accomplish that aim. I on the other hand was fuzzy and neither did I have any about what I wanted in life nor did I try to understand why this was the way it was or what to aim for.

Anyway, the point of this post is not my aimlessness. What I wish to express here is that I believe that everything and everybody is a source, of great mental energy. Everything around us has a story with elements in it that are meant to inspire us. Everybody has a story to tell and everybody has something to teach us whether consciously or unconsciously. It’s up to our own faith as to how much we decide to take from or through those around us. They on the other hand can consciously try to help us but even if they decide on the negative or do not decide at all, they can’t help but help us. If only we were ready to help ourselves.

[Incomplete]

…

Clicked by Onion on March 4, 2008 at DE, IIT Kanpur. Caption: Faceless dreams of soporific eyes.

Vimalnama

I work at the Students’ Placement Office of IIT Kanpur as a Student Associate. A lot of other friends work there along with me. This is a small incident from the life of one of them: Prateek Vimal – the Overall Internship Coordinator. His post never had the word overall. He was just an Internship Coordinator until one day when he let slip his emotions after facing an HR. Since then he has been over all the females that have been to the Office and hence he is now ‘Over all’ Internship Coordinator (OIC). The incident:

//Action

Vimal is in the office with few others when the phone rings. Vimal jumps and takes the receiver… there’s a girl on the other end. Let’s call her MM. Vimal talks to her. She needs some help with applications et cetera. Vimal helps her out (or so he told everyone).

Later in the evening, another Student Associate, Anusha, walks in:

Vimal : (Bihar all over or overall) Hi, kaaaaaisi hain aap!
Anusha: Hi! I am fine. Kya chal raha hai?
Vimal: Aaj aapki batch ki ek bandi ki help ki maine.
Anusha: Oh! Sahi…good
Vimal: Bata dijiyega unhe…maine madad ki thi.
Anusha: :O
Vimal:
Anusha: Samjhi nahi
Vimal: Bahut nasamajh hai aap.
Anusha: huh!

Later, everyone else walks in. Vimal announces his feat to everyone.

Vimal: Aaj maine inke (points at Anusha) batch ki ek bandi ki madad ki.
Chacha-Jadoo-Gangu: Toh?
Vimal: To kya! Madad ki maine. (To Anusha) Bata dijiyega unhe ki maine ki thi.
Anusha: :O Kitni baar bolega? Bata doongi.
Vimal: Arey unhe pata chalna chahiye na ki kaun tha.
Anusha: Theek hai baba.

Later, ANusha is ready to leave the office:

Anusha: I will take leave now.
Vimal: Kyun? Kahaaaan jaa rahi hai aap?
Anusha: It’s my friend’s birthday.
Vimal: Bhoo ij this phrend?
Anusha: Eh… (Everyone’s looking at her now)…MM
Vimal: Unhe bata dena aap!
Everyone: Hey Bhagwan!

//Cut

//Scene 2 – Action:

A few days later MM walks in the office for an interview. Vimal is in his seat when she passes by and then…

Vimal (jumping up from the seat): Arey…suniye!
MM (shocked): Huh! Haan…
Vimal: You had called SPO earlier.
MM: Yes
Vimal: I had helped you
MM: Okay (leaves for the interview)
Vimal (scratching his head): Arey…koi response hi nahi! Kya bakwaas hai.

Everyone else:

//Cut

Aage hai…

Onion

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Clicked by yours truly on January 2, 2009 at 0200 hours.

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