गीत नया गाता हूँ!

कलयुग का दौर है, पाप है चरम पर 

कडुवाहट है भरपूर दिलों में पर रुख नरम है

शैतान और इंसान के बीच का भेद बूझता हूँ, बतलाता हूँ

गीत नया गाता हूँ!

कठिनाई है बहुत जीवन में, सरलता से गरल पी जाता हूँ

आज बेहतर था, कल बेहतरीन होगा और परसों जन्नत सा माहौल, 

इसी उधेडबुन में ज़िम्मेदारियों का बोझ गिराता-संभालता हूँ

गीत नया गाता हूँ!

अनदेखे कल की चाहत में, सुनहरे आज को नहीं भूला हूँ

कोयले सा तपा कभी, बर्फ सा कभी पिघला हूँ

इस तपने-पिघलने में भी अलग ही मज़ा है

मानो तो अाजमाइश, वरना सज़ा है 

जीवन का अपने बस यही फलसफा है

खोया है कम, पाया बहुत दफा है

इसिलिये ज़िन्दगी का साज़, मेहफिलों में बजाता हूँ

गीत नया गाता हूँ!!

जब कभी भी दिल के दरिया में उमंगों का सैलाब जगे

सोमवार का हाहाकार हो, चाहे इतवार का इतमिनान हो 

ओल्ड मोंक में थमस्-अप घोलता हूँ, मिलाता हूँ

गीत नया गाता हूँ!

संजीदगी से कहूँ कभी, कभी मज़ाक में ले जाता हूँ 

अटल जी सा 'अटल' तो कभी मोदी-राहुल सा गले पड़ जाता हूँ 

काल के कपाल पर, लिखता हूँ मिटाता हूँ

गीत नया गाता हूँ!

Almora - the real home!

Every time I visit my native place, I realize and leave behind all that is superficial about me.

Every time I visit my native place, I rediscover and meet the ‘real’ me.

Every time I visit my native place, I feel capable of loving more, sharing more, forgiving more and forgetting all that has not gone well in life.

Every time I visit my native place, I get it that it is possible to lead a satisfactory life even with rudimentary things.

Every time I visit my native place, a small battle takes place within.

A small whirlwind of emotions...

A small whirlpool of cosmic things...

The simpler me emerges victorious over the complex me.

The first light of the day pierces through my body and reaches the soul.

The intense sun rays during noon time soak up all the negativity.

The star-spangled night becomes my quilt and provides comfort and relaxation.

Every time I visit my native place, I bid farewell to worldly things and embrace the rustic life. 


I feel purged off and return to metropolitan life as a better guy.

Every time... Every. Single. Time. 

Never say die!

Winners get written and talked about a lot. Don’t they? They come, they conquer and then they move on to bigger and better things. Nobody focuses on or likes to talk about people who are everything else but winners. I am writing this short piece to put the spotlight on people who deserve it the most...people who are the ‘real’ winners in life. They work hard, miss the mark by a whisker or a mile, go back to square one and try again after some serious introspection. They may be continuously missing out on growth opportunities in life but they choose to remain hopeful and positive about future. They persevere to get that one elusive win and, hopefully with that, a better tomorrow. This spirit of never-say-die or tomorrow-will-be-better for that matter is something I respect a lot. It’s a rare quality. It’s the quality that is found in real winners.

It reminds me of the famous dialogue from the Hollywood blockbuster Rocky Balboa wherein the protagonist (played by Sylvester Stallone) says, "It isn’t about how hard you are hit. It's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done!” 

Isn’t it all about attitude more than anything else? Shouldn’t we be living our lives holding on to this aforementioned mantra? After all, life is not a battle. It’s a war which has numerous battles within. In the course of life, you lose some, you win some. Irrespective of the outcome, you stay in the war as long as you don’t give up. If we swear by this attitude, no loss can be heart-breaking for us and no victory can go to our head. We will remain grounded and continue to move ahead in life with great intent and higher purpose.

Roti, Kapda, ‘Gaadi’ aur Makaan!

It is every common man’s dream to have the proverbial essentials in life - Roti (bread), Kapda (clothing) aur Makaan (humble abode).  Some driven-souls, with a stroke of luck, actually go on to realise the dream but, for most of them, it largely stays what it sounds like - a dream. While the first two components of this dream are relatively easier to come by, it is the third (makaan) one that takes a toll on our lives and saps us financially, psychologically and then physically. In a way, our entire lives revolve around attaining them. Though times haven’t changed much, the same common man - a little ambitious and enterprising now - has widened the scope of their millennium dream. The dream has one more addition to its equation now – a Gaadi (a Car).

Since all my blogs emanate from personal experiences, I will not go past myself here too to drive the point home. When I started out in this big bad world, I used to dream like any other common man. However, over the last few years, I realised that instead of wasting a lifetime in chasing the ‘dream’, it would be a good idea to achieve the ‘target’ (worldly things) at the earliest and be done with it. And then, while you still have time and will, set out for a new dream which is more meaningful and has depth to it. I have also wisened to the fact that our mind works better and evolves faster when we are not concerned about our next meal.  Now back to the little story from where I trailed off.

Communications Practitioner by profession, I have been working for almost nine years now. By dint of my hard work and the non-existent God’s grace, I have managed to do reasonably well in life. In the course of my professional career so far, I got married; bought a humble flat followed by a nice car and earned myself a not-so-healthy bank balance in the process. Back in 2007, when I began working as an Assistant Consultant in a fledgling PR agency with a meagre salary in hand, I used to have moments of serious doubts about my ability, career choice and growth prospects. A cloud of gloom would often pall over my confident stance of realising my dream. From there to reaching here - where I have all four - has been quite an eventful journey for me.

                                                       

Today, when I look back, I consider this as an achievement because it was not a cake walk for me. I feel contentment and proud beyond words.

When I was 21, I had set myself a target that I would own a house and a car by the time I was 30. There were times when I would be occupied with these thoughts for weeks. And then, gradually, I got busy with the daily grind and forgot about it completely. Never did I consciously take stock of things and checked if I was still on the right course. Fortunately, things started to fall into place for me. Incidentally, I bought a small flat about two years back which turned out to be my biggest investment in life. It was a WOW moment for me. I felt like I had arrived! There was a sudden change in my gait and I would walk with my chest puffed out. For me, it was something I could boast about with friends, colleagues and acquaintances. Even to this day, it ranks amongst one of my proudest moments. I mean little else can beat the feeling of owning a house - dimensions notwithstanding - in a metropolitan city.

One of the two items ticked off from the wish list.

During early stages of my career, I never thought that a car should be in my scheme of things. For the better part of my professional life, I had used a bike to commute from home to the work place; and I was happy with it. Like most youngsters, I used to love the freedom that came with it. The feeling of wind running against my face; easy maneuverability at traffic snarls and fooling around with friends occasionally on bike would give me a different high.

And then, like most people, I grew professionally AND became more practical.

I am a man who likes to be completely in control of his life. So, it used to irk me when Weather Gods would call the shots when I had to go for some urgent client meetings. It would sting me when my clothes got soiled because some goddamn spoilt brat chose not to slow down his car before a string of potholes on a rainy day. The Sun wasn’t kind to me either. It seemed all of them conspired against the common man who loved his bike. The process of keeping an extra pair of clothing daily while straddling my bike to office started to become tiresome. The very thought and possibility of being defied by weather despite best preparations would rankle me all the time.

Moreover, it would burn a hole in my pocket every time I had to book cabs at exorbitant prices for family members wanting to attend social functions. Soon I realised that the solution to all these multi-layered problems and the one missing piece from the puzzle called my dream is the same – a gaadi.

Once it occurred to me that things wouldn’t work out without a four-wheeler, I got down to business in no time. A bit of market research on car models falling under the budget and suggestions from friends helped me zero in on a premium hatchback that was and has been creating ripples in its segment, Hyundai’s Grandi10. It turned out to be my first car and I can’t even express in words how great and satisfying it felt that day!

Both the items struck off from the wish list now.

Also, it dawned on me how everything has fallen in place over the years and my dream of owning a house and a car came to fruition just when I was in the 30^th year of my life. Today, it’s been about eight months now that I have been driving to office in my car; and I must say, life has changed for better. There is more of comfort, style & ease and less of inconvenience and helplessness now.

Human mind is complex in nature. It is dynamic and thus, never stays the same. So is the case with dreams. It keeps on changing. Sitting in the comfort of my home, one day it suddenly dawned on me that creature comforts were fine but life was not all about just attaining roti, kapda, gaadi aur makaan. Working like a machine and living a mundane life till we die paying our bills - life doesn't need to be like that. It can be like a good book instead. With chapters full of topsy-turvy episodes - events, adventures, fun, problems, tussles, adversities, overcoming the same with grit and gumption, learnings, benevolence, opportunities, spiritual acts and everything else that turns it into an absorbing affair. Our narratives should have a logical ending. It should be a tale worth telling. Someone has fittingly said, “Woh jawaani jawaani nahi jiski koi kahaani naa ho!”

With the millennium dream achieved, I believe I am perfectly poised now to turn a new chapter in my life. It feels like new vistas have opened up before me. A new sense of freedom and confidence has quietly slipped into my system.  I think I can do whatever I feel like. I can achieve whatever I choose to set myself out for. I can become whoever I want to be like. I have never felt this confident before in life. A life with great promise and endless possibilities seems to be beckoning me...only waiting for me to take notice and respond favourably. Guess what...I don’t intend to disappoint it!

P.S. – Upgrading from bike to a car has got me my fair share of problems and challenges. Perennial episodes of monster-sized SUVs (driven mostly by Yadavs and Chaudharys) with blaring music overtaking me from the wrong sides and stupid drivers (bikers/rikshawallahs/truck/ buses etc) - with absolutely no traffic sense - brushing their vehicles against mine every now and then with great impunity have become a daily ritual. Witnessing road rage and parking woes intermittently has now become an inseparable part of my life.  And I am living with it with borrowed patience not knowing how long it will last me. J

                                                                                                                                             

Roots Beckon!

For as long as I remember, I have always drawn enough joy and pride from the fact that I was born in the lap of nature. My native village, Brijwar, is located in Almora – one of the 13 districts of scenic Uttarakhand. It is placed on a foothill and is surrounded by a wonderful range of mountains. The journey from the arduous and boring landscape of cities to the breathtaking and refreshing views of my birth place is nothing short of an adventure. Once you reach within the radius of 20 kms, you can see the gigantic hills from a distance. The labyrinthine roads then lead you up to the top of mountains which then spiral downwards; and the routine continues for three hours (approx time taken to cover a distance of 100 kms on hills). Sudden mystic appearances of fog, rain and sunlight in turn on the way leave you mesmerized. Not aware of the scientific reasoning (clash of tectonic plates that gave rise to mountains millions of years ago), I spent all my childhood kicking my bottom wondering as to how mother earth had given way to such huge protruding alps. 

 Untill my graduation years, I used to visit my home town frequently but ever since I started working (for eight years now), the trips to Brijwar have been very few and far between. Fortunately, last month, we got a wonderful opportunity to go all bag and baggage with the entire family to the village. The occasion that called for the entire clan to be present was a religious ritual that takes place once every 30 years. It was expected to be big and turned out to be so. Most of the fellow villagers, like us, had moved to cities years ago for better prospects. In the past two decades, the exodus our village witnessed was alarming. Brijwar – once a home to over 150 inhabitants – has now been reduced to just 60-odd people. So, for this reason too, it was a heartening sight to notice the entire village back in its old glory and going full throttle.

  The religious practices continued for three days. All the denizens and guests participated in full vigour. Ceremonial dance and feast were organized; ritual killing took place (I seriously hope no animal rights’ activist visits this blog); other customs and practices were carried out in due manner; and pleasantries were exchanged. Now, I am not too religious a person and firmly believe it is the root cause of all the ills that are prevailing in the society today. However, I couldn’t help but notice the upside of it. Religion, as it is, and traditions help a great deal in keeping the social fabric intact. It keeps the society together and prevents it from falling apart. How else are we to justify the kith and kins and the distant acquaintances coming together here after years and in this magnitude? People join hands when it comes to performing pujas (religious practice), following centuries old rituals and traditions. Thus, it was a heartening sight.

Throughout my stay in village, my mental faculty worked at two levels. One was observing what was happening around and the other one was filtering the information and running it parallel to how things used to happen back then in older times. Since I had the luxury of time, I dwelt on these matters and wallowed in the past at length. Everything flashed before my eyes. How we would go in groups to distant places to fetch water from natural resources. What fun it was to play childish games while at it. It was nothing short of an adventure going to neighboring villages on foot to meet near and dear ones and trekking arduously to reach a temple of our family goddess which was about 10 kms from our village. The nearest telephone booth was three kms away and the electricity was yet to reach our part of the world. Compared to the same, we have water taps in each and every house today, roads have become better and the transport system has improved. Mobile ringtones can be heard from every corner of our village and electricity is in abundance.

Earlier, the farmers were largely dependent on their produce for their livelihood. Now, the educated and competent ones are vying for winning local elections, applying to schools for teaching assignments and turning tradesmen.  While all these development and forward-looking thinking is good, the rustic charm which has always been known as the hallmark of hills is found amiss these days. The villages are becoming more like the cities. People are fast turning into smugs. There is less of kinship, mutual love and respect and more of one-upmanship. I have no idea where will it lead us to and what fate we achieve eventually.

While all this seem to be deterrents, I try not to get affected by the same. After all, there is a long-standing connect with the roots that I find hard to forsake. The majestic mountains, free-flowing tributaries, eye-pleasing terraces full of rice, maize and spices; pristine air and favourable weather – how can one not miss them? The feeling of staying connected with one’s roots surpasses everything else.

Previously, my grandparents used to take care of our ancestral house but my grandma moved with us last year as it became increasingly difficult for her to manage without my grandpa who passed away a few years back. The house is lying vacant now and there is a sudden sense of isolation that has crept into my being. The feeling of drifting away from the motherland is rampant more than ever now.

We stayed at our village for about a week. When we left for plains, a part of me wanted to scream out in pain but the better sense muffled that voice. While coming back, I quietly made a promise to myself that I would be back soon and keep up this wonderful relationship that I share with my native land for as long as my body will allow me.

We may have come to Delhi for better prospects and leading a comfortable life but somewhere in the quest of attaining sophistication, our lives have become more complex as we have lost the simplicity in the process. Today, I might be a well-settled professional living in a metropolitan city and given to creature comforts but I still think I draw more satisfaction from rudimentary lifestyle than anything else. The serenity it brings to life is beyond words.

My heart is set in Almora and its country life. I think I am and will always remain a rustic at heart. As they say, you can take a rustic out of their village but not village out of a rustic. :-)

Egglomaniac!

“Egg main aur egg tu….dono mile iss tarah….aur jo tann-mann mein ho raha hai, ye toh hona hi tha!” My dear fowls (folks), I have a confession to make tonight. Yes, right. Confession. And the confession is that EGGS drive me crazy and how! After having eggs, I tend to lose control on my nerves, behave erratically and sometimes just ramble on. I can’t even get a song right whenever I am five-six eggs down. You must have seen for yourself how I struggled through the lyrics of a popular Hindi song in the first line of this paragraph. Tonight, my fowls, I am high on 14 eggs and feeling a little inEGGriated. While my senses are a little eggy now, I want to seize the moment by declaring my love for what I reckon is a blessing for mankind – Egg.

I am not worried or in the least bit embarrassed that people will judge me after this rambling tonight. I know I may wake up tomorrow with egg on my face. Some prudes (vegetarians) may scoff at me but what the heck! It’s a small price that I will pay to connect with hundreds of fellow egg-lovers on social media. They would definitely understand and relate to my emotions. Frankly speaking, I don’t give a chicken’s arse what the other half will think. And anyway, someone has rightly said that you can’t make an omelette without breaking an egg. So, let it be.

My love for eggs began when I was a child. So young I couldn’t even boil an egg to save my life. Today, I can’t thank my parents enough for initiating me into eggs. But the love was never this intense. It evolved with time and age. In fact, my fascination and love for eggs started with hate first. When I was a kid, my dad would mix egg-yolk into my milk and then ask me to gulp it down without creating a scene. His rationale was that it was healthy for growing kids. Though I would buy his theory, I used to find the pungent smell of raw egg-yolk repulsive.  For my parents, I proved to be a tough egg to crack. They would have hard time dealing with my tantrums. Then my mom came up with a solution. She asked me to drink my glass of milk (with egg yolk) with my nose pressed closed. Sensing I didn’t have much of a choice, I would meekly follow the instructions. Though it took some time, I developed a taste for raw eggs in my milk.  

The next wave came when, a few months later, we started getting one boiled egg daily with our breakfast. I took an instant liking to them when they would be served piping hot with chatpata masala sprinkled over generously. I was amazed to learn that raw eggs, if boiled, can result into such a tasteful delicacy. Also, it was the time when, like every other kid, I used to think for long hours about the chicken and egg situation. And like every other kid, I never reached any conclusion as to which of the two existed first and which caused the other.

In due course of time, I was introduced to omelette in different forms – Fried omelette, Half-fried (sunny-side up), Spinach Omelette, Iranian Omelette, French Omelette, Greek Omelette and, of course the very own, Indian Omelette. Also, I think the list will be incomplete if I do not add the mouth-watering Bhurji (Scrambled eggs) to it.

I remember quite vividly how during my primary schooling, I had fooled one of my best friends, Ashish Pandey – a vegetarian, into believing that eggs which I would get from home were not begotten from fowls but from machines in factories. I had to do this because otherwise he would not partake of my egg bhurjis and omelettes. He developed a liking for the eggs soon and I would happily share my lunch-box with him for years to come. He did feel bad for some time when I confronted him with the truth one day but that was that. Today, after all these years, our bonding has become even stronger. We recall that episode with great delight and just laugh it away.

Today, I may have graduated to Chicken and Mutton but the love for eggs is simply unparalleled. For a long time now, my favourite advertisements have been the ones by NECC that have beautiful lyrics “Sunday ho ya Monday, Roz Khao Andey” and I hate, even to this day, that story where the stupid and greedy guy killed the goose that laid the golden egg.

Sometimes I romance with the idea of investing all my savings one day into owning a huge poultry farm spread over many acres on the suburbs. I will then have an uninterrupted supply of eggs. Of course, managing thousands of fowls would be a tough task and having all of them creaking non-stop would be a nuisance but that is ok. After all, he that would have eggs must endure the cackling of hens.

On other days, I daydream of living it up in my ideal world where there is abundance of eggs, no bird flu and easy availability of good chefs who know how to experiment with eggs. I am sure such a society can never have a bad egg (dishonest man) and all the good eggs (agreeable & helpful men) will have equal and enough opportunities to flourish in life. I almost begin to revel in that surroundings but, more often than not, the worldly things and duties bring me back to the real world and add to my frustration. Frustration of living in a world where epidemics like bird flu can break out any time.  Bird flu means culling of fowls. No fowls means no eggs! For an egg-lover like me, this is only next to world coming to an end. Such a thought sends chill through my spine and I forsake thoughts of investing in poultry farm. How can I risk putting all my eggs in one basket?

(Deep silence for 20 minutes.)

On second thoughts, I think I spoke too much tonight. Excess of everything is bad. Isn’t it? We shouldn’t over-egg our pudding if we really want to enjoy it. I suddenly realize my fascination for eggs is bordering on obsession because I just observed that most of my sentences had idiomatic expressions related only to eggs. Hey fowls, I suggest you stay away from eggs else you might become my reflection. Wait a second…..when did I become observant? And how come I am sounding preachy? Guess the drugs (rich intake of eggs) are wearing off and my faculties are returning to normalcy. I think I will stop now. You all are educated, intelligent, seasoned and sound people. Preaching you will be like teaching your grandmother how to suck eggs. Gosh! This is going out of hand now. I think I am walking on eggs at the moment.

Hope you liked this blog. If yes, then three loud cheers and numerous eggs to life! If not, I frankly don’t give a chicken’s arse. Go fry an egg!

Draping Rape Mentality?

By the time you start reading this blog, reams of papers, hours of airtime on news channels and the ever-expanding world of social media will have covered the topic – that too at great length. Yes, I am talking about the social documentary made by BBC on ‘Nirbhaya-episode’. It is interesting to notice how this documentary has affected people in two completely different measures. On one hand, it managed to hit the consciousness of people and made them reflect over their other side while on the other hand, the film simply rubbed off so-called custodians (Political representatives and Law Enforcement Bodies) of our society the wrong way. Quite apparently and sadly enough, majority of the latter didn't even bother to go through the movie once before forming the ill-judged opinions.

The latest on the news section is that the documentary has been taken off the YouTube channel for it has the ‘potential’ to weaken the very foundation of our 2000-year-old rich culture. It is feared that our sensitive social fabric can fall apart if the naïve people are exposed to the interview where a rapist is voicing his thoughts. It will boost immorality and depravity in society. Really? Is the electorate of this country that fickle-minded? Are they stupid enough not to tell a right from a wrong? Please don’t kid me as now is not the right time. At least, I am not ready to buy this theory because I know for a fact that we are talking about the same electorate that, in 2014, had voted out a 15-year-old government that was screaming corruption and have set the other one right recently because it had started to show signs of arrogance and laxity.

Another stupid argument against the broadcast of the video doing the round was the fear that it would add insult to the rape-victim posthumously and her name should not be maligned further anymore. Wait a minute. Now, Please. Wait. For. A. Minute. Jyoti (Nirbhaya) wasn't insulted on the fateful night of 16th December. Her name didn't turn to mud because of what the rapists did to her. It was the failure of OUR society as a whole. The harrowing incident only highlighted how hollow our social system had become. Nirbhaya succumbed to the rape-inflicted injuries and left us all with many questions the answers to which we haven't been able to find ever since. So, it would be really sad if we ban the documentary on such flimsy grounds. It will be like draping over the rape mentality instead of laying it bare before the society. The need of the hour shouts out do the latter because now, more than ever, the society really needs to look into the mirror to notice that a part of them is fast turning into a monster.  

I will be lying if I say that I wasn't expecting the ban. Haven’t we witnessed the similar episodes earlier too? Episodes where things that didn’t appeal to the mindset of our so-called moral brigade ended up being censored! I won’t blame you if it reminds you of what recently happened when the AIB Roast went viral but I don’t want to digress here as we are dealing with a bigger (and a lot more serious) issue.

Why is there so much of intolerance, resentment and haste in our democratic society? If you ask me, the haste with which the custodians of our society resented over the entire episode first and then made efforts - showing the low threshold of intolerance - to get the video taken off the social media has taken me by surprise. Here, I am not using the word ‘shocked’ deliberately as the expression has already exhausted its true relevance and meaning long back to explaining what transpired on the night of 16^th December, 2012. I consider using the same to convey feelings for emotions other than that completely useless. Today, at this very moment, I feel anger, frustration, pain, sadness, numbness and listlessness. And I am sure I am not the only one reeling under such strong emotions.

If this documentary doesn’t evoke strong emotions in you, consider yourself a zombie! Take a look. Mukesh Singh (the convict) reportedly said, “a girl is far more responsible for rape than a boy”. He further defended the heinous act by saying, “When being raped, she shouldn’t have fought back. She should have just been silent and allowed the rape. Then they would simply have dropped her off after ‘doing her’, and only hit the boy“. I mean just hear out not just what the convict is saying in his defence but also what has largely gone unsaid. Look at the thoughts and language the defence lawyers are using to counter the allegations. It speaks volumes for what briefing they would have given to their ‘innocent clients’. More so, it reflects the parochial attitude of our patriarchal society. Shamelessly and conveniently, the two defence lawyers have put the blame completely on the victim (now deceased). Their sick mindset and even sicklier thoughts would rankle in your mind. This may also give you a sense of déjà vu. Simply because you must have already heard similar voices (thoughts) before….from the ones who are part of your social circle. Sickness, we must admit now, is deeply rooted in our society’s collective psyche and it’s about time efforts made at the grass-root level to bring about a positive change. But, the first step towards change is a little difficult because it begins with 'acceptance'. We need to accept first all that is rotten in the society. The next steps, comparatively, will be easier to take. Right education is what is required. Families and schools will have to play a major role in bringing about this change in the stinking mentality and laying the foundation for right attitude. If it happens, well and good. Else, we don’t need to worry too much about the future. As it is, our nation has already gone to the dogs!

P.S. – While I was in the throes of writing this blog, one celebrated clown on Times Now channel during ‘prime time’ was crying himself hoarse on how NDTV Group (on BBC Documentary) has sacrificed journalism at the altar of voyeurism just to gain TRPs. Case of pot calling the cattle black?