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The Internet is just a world passing around notes in a classroom –
Jon Stewart

Tea !

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Indian tea. Chai. Available at every street corner. Well before the sun shows up. To long after he has disappeared into the Arabian sea !

It doesn’t take much to get this going. Tea powder. Loads of milk. Plenty of sugar. Traces of ginger. And voila, theres this ‘chai’ ! And as the sugar coat courses the alimentary canal, a strange energy pervades. Usually. Placebo or otherwise. That is fact.

Many have romantically described the humble tea as some kind of a ‘least common denominator’.

For everybody has tea. From the stock broker who makes a million as he twiddles his thumb and the slum dweller who makes an inconsequential sum amount after heaving his whole body and lifting inconsequential construction equipment.

Everybody has tea. From the office goer to the street side hawker. The college professor to the cop. Thugs to theologists. The player to the proctor.

The tag of ‘least common denominator’ seems to fit in perfectly.

Of course, the tea is served in the glass tumbler ! So much part of our tea drinking routine. So much so that the flavour of the tea also seems to come from the glasses that hold the tea.

Washed many times over in a day. Refilled as many times. Perhaps more ! The tea glasses are an integral part of ‘chai’ ! Adding their own twang to the tea.

But imagine. Imagine you worked in an office some distance away. Or at some obscene height in a construction site with no lifts ! Ordering tea in a glass is impractical.

Worse ( & more probable) if the vendor knows your overdue amount on the credit card and is doubtful of the return of the tea glasses…


Tea comes in a polythene bag, with plastic cups. Home delivery !

The same tea. With Tea powder. Loads of milk. Traces of ginger. Sugar coated. But in a plastic frame ! It may not have the glassy feel. Its still tea. Offered with happiness.

The next time your taste buds take to the sugar and milk like a first time MP making his first swindled million, take a moment to savour it more !

Popularity and preference sure point to tea power. Tea brings alive any discussion. On any topic. Business and recession. Life and culture. Body and fitness. Anything and anything at all.

Like the other day. An insipid discussion was in progress. About the important part plastic has begun playing in our lives. Insipid. Until the time the tea arrived. Brought from the local corner tea store.

In some time, we sipped tea. Out of a plastic cup. Poured out of a polythene bag ! You bet, there was a different ring to the discussion.


The group ranted and raved about plastic.

My mind was elsewhere though. The flavour of human ingenuity underscored the flavour the tea! Or plastic for that matter.

Oodles of doodles

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The speaker moves his arms. Wavy gestures and air filled lungs pump enough volume to reach the far corners of the room. Examples are cited. The future is invoked. Questions are posed. Frameworks are discussed.

There is a training program that’s on.

The participants are all there. Physically at least. Their bodies too large to disappear into thin air. They are all there. Their thoughts are a different realm though. Nobody can say for sure where thoughts are. Like a cyclone that’s much hyped but didn’t turn up.

Their hands are at work though. Heads almost hemmed to their notepads. Perhaps serving as the biggest of ‘motivators’ to the trainers and lecturers ! Construed as note taking, and such other activity of importance that adds to the self importance of the speaker.

In practice, doodles emerge.



Of cows. Huts. Planes. Ships. Faces. And the like. The cows could look like sheep whose harmone therapy went awry. And hut designs that could make a Pygmy cry. And that could be particularly ironic if the program was on something like ‘Getting it Right the first time” or something to that effect !

Perhaps not as ironic as having arrows and spears doodled all over, in a workshop while the junta is talking ‘Partnership’ !


At other times there are lines & shadings. Precise shading of intersections and empty spaces. Preciseness to the nano millimeter. That hitherto seemed capabilities that rested with American missiles that were launched from ships, traversing two seas and many mountain ranges to hit the hidden commode of secret toilets of Osama Bin Laden and gang.

Such impeccable designs. Sketched with such intensity and effort.

Have you wondered why ? Something seems to be at work here. A natural by product of sitting in a lecture or a training program.

Perhaps its about camouflage. Of pretense. Pretending to be attending, but actually away !

But why would students & participants take all the effort to draw such impeccable cows ( with hormonal treatment going awry ) and arrows & straight lines that could be used to teach geometry to infants.

There must be some research done on this.

Perhaps its all about the mind. Perhaps it helps shade a few shapes. And shape a few shades. Or maybe its to sharpen whats faded. Or fade whats sharpened. Contrasts. Colours. And the like. .

Which perhaps is what one can get out of a training ! Whatsay ?

Doodles seem to be here to stay !


Flab

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There has been a new wind that’s been blowing at home. And the wind is about losing flab. In fact, cutting flab dramatically !

Before you say, ‘oh no, not again’, stay with this post. The flab fighting on the body isn’t headed anywhere close to a photo finish. Its a lost cause. A non-starter. Lets move on. The quicker the better.

This post is about the house. The house, you see, has accumulated flab. Over the years. Possessions galore. ‘Possessions galore’ can seem to be a pompous boast of a vain man.

Only here, the possessions that are being talked about are not exactly ones that a wealth manager smile. So.

What would this wealth manager say, if he was shown cupboards of books, files, magazines, folders, paper clippings. etc.

Some dating twenty years. From the days of Narasimha Rao and Ronald Reagan. Old magazines. India Today. Time Magazine. Business Today and the like.

Artifacts picked along the way. Like, the odd stationary bill from a store that’s since been gulped down by a mall that intimidates by the sheer size of its parking lot !

A menu card from a fancy hotel. Flicked to rekindle in an unforeseeable future, the memories of a special evening with special people !

Overhead projector sheets from the first corporate presentation made, which seem today to be almost the time when the dinosaurs hatched their 11the egg.

Discussion notes from organisations organisations who helped pay the bills in an earlier time. Copies of mails. Approvals and such else. Heaps of study material. ‘Extra reading’ printouts . Notes from training programs that have long been forgotten.

Wedding invitations of friends who have now progressed to attend Parent-Teacher meetings and now organise dinners based on the tuition teacher’s calendar !

Bus tickets. Train tickets back home. Travel pamphlets from Bangkok to Bombay. Shimla to Sivakasi ! And beyond !

Books & small artifacts. Some picked specifically as memorabilia. Others accumulated in intense lazy stupour. Of course, each pregnant with a story of its time and place. As the hand ran a cloth to drive the dust away, a million memories got dusted too.

Four racks in the cupboard were emptied with the ferocity of Bruce Lee felling opponents in ‘Enter the Dragon’ ! Strange noises et al ! The remnants of the tearing, throwing and mowing remained on the floor for sometime.

Not very later, gunny bags of the ‘old newspaper’ chap held them. With grimace and glee ! Twenty odd years of accumulation. Carefully clipped newspaper cuttings. Innocently flicked menu cards. Carelessly kept old bills. Study material from a different age. Reviews. Publications. Occupying four racks of the cupboard. Moving along the many houses. City to city.




All gone. It required two trips on a bicycle like this. In a four hour span. They were gone.

We live an age were Google is a verb. Space is a perpetual constraint. Dust beats the Gods in omnipresence. And of course, the daily day offers new possibilities for life and living, much unlike any time before. Perhaps, the nimble mind, without baggage will soak it all up well. So is the case with homes ! That logic beat nostalgia’s seductive presence !

Net result : All gone. You would have expected the missus to have jumped with joy. Happy she was. But, she was a tad upset too.

For all of this yielded her a mega sum of Rs. 129/- ! The care with which these were preserved and the 20 year time stamp on some, seems to have had her imagining something like an inheritance from Bill Gates or someone !

‘Rs.129. Huh’. Was all that was heard.

So much for flab !



Whose name is it anyway ?

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Sporting a tattoo that an actor wears. Or growing a goatee like a cricketer. And setting hair like a footballer. They are all easy to do.

Of course, its going to be difficult to sculpt a body like Silvester Stallone or John Abraham. Not forgetting ‘size invisible’ ( or was it ‘Zero’ ?) like those thin lasses. Those are tough asks.

Easiest done is to imitate a ‘star’s outfit. Still easier is to wear a t-shirt bearing the man’s name ! Walk into a store and pick up a T-shirt which says a famous mans name !

Its kind of ironic though. Pay YOUR money, which the credit card company will send to YOUR address in YOUR name. To wear ANOTHER man’s name. On YOU ?!? How interesting !

Of course, this is so common ! The eye brows wont arch one bit if a man with ‘Ronaldo’ written on his T-Shirt is spotted hitching a ride on the streets of Daman.



Or for that matter, if ‘Torres’ is spotted at the Madurai railway station !



The stars themselves, are known to wear those low caps and big sun glasses to hide their identity in public. Perhaps trying hard to melt into the crowd. Becoming more common than common.

And the common man, wears the celebrity name on his sleeve. Actually on his back ! Mankind indeed finds numerous ways to stay busy. But such are the ways of the world.

The eye brows only half arch. That too, in irony. Looking at this ‘Ronaldo’ netting the small fish on a Goan shore !


While the stores rake in the big money, counterfeits rule the pavements. Hollering hawkers, are known to sell such counterfeits to highest bidders.

Just the shirts. With the names, of course ! The stars dont come as part of these deals.

For they have been auctioned long before. To clubs, who were highest bidders too. But that’s a different story. Of a different auction !


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Diwali is here !

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Diwali is here !

Tons of sweets beckon. Unknown taste buds get rekindled. There are lights that glitter in distant balconies. The next door neighbours door sports festive diyas. Roads teem with people. In threes. Fours. Neighbourhoods out to buy. Clothes. Crackers. Food. Gifts. Appliances. And such else that highly paid marketing folks have engineered.

Discount sales are the order of the day. DhanteRas comes up with some serious Gold prices. Prices that would have left the goddess of wealth beaming !

There are lights, lamps, rangoli and ‘traditional’ dress to work. The lines between ‘Fashion Show’ and ‘Fancy Dress’ run thin.

Children crank up the volume on the cracker front. And of course, have a blast of a time, enjoying the get-togethers and gala times. With toy pistols and such else. Imagining themselves to be some action film hero. And fashionable villains. But these are besides the point.

Diwali is here !

Television has ‘Diwali ‘ specials. Same serials in brighter colours. Same film heroes. Same heroines. And those news channels, those same views from the same chaps. Chaps who come on TV to give ‘points of views’ on anything from Terrorism to Ostentation to Culture to anthropology to..yes…Diwali too.

The corporate and government types get ‘gifts’. Of walnuts and fruits. Of sweets. And such else. AND SUCH ELSE.

Perhaps it would be befitting, if the world got whats most required for it ! Perhaps a spirit of giving. A smile. A moment. A kind word. An acknowledgement. And such else. Simple deeds that touch people deeply. Deeds that acknowledge that there is a world of human beings and human thoughts.

These are besides the point.

Diwali is here !

Diwali messages from banks, insurance companies, mobile operators, holiday homes and such else hit the inbox with such recurring ferocity that the ‘delete’ tab feels the weight of the world.

And yet, there are long lost friends. Recent colleagues. Blog world friends. Forgotten relatives, who send in a word. Make a call. Words that perhaps are soaked in possibilities and new beginnings. Hope is permanent fixture here. But these are besides the point.

Diwali is here !

Its supposed to be the festival of “Victory of Good over Evil”. There is conversation at the get-together. Whether the emphasis on ‘Victory of Good over Evil’ has to be on the ‘good’, ‘evil’ or on ‘victory’ ! Thats besides the point. Diwali is here !

Like the elderly uncle who said, “The emphasis has to be on the sweets !”

So here are some wishes that go out to the world. On this blog too.

For happiness. For cheer. For wisdom. For kindness. For health. For giving. For reflection. For time. For life. And for living. For Good.

Happy Diwali people. Diwali is indeed here !

What is this ?

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The nephew was here. And the past week was perhaps the fastest to slip away in a very long while !

Between playing, running around, providing for, and keeping a watch, there was very little time to do much else. He flew back yesterday. The marks that he left behind stay. Like the fingerprints on the TV, as he tried to knock it down !

With children, there is constant wonder. About the simple things in life. Things that adults have either taken for granted, or have an ‘established view’ in their minds. Established and firmly set.

One of the constant questions that seeped through this babble, was ‘What is this ?’ ! Pointing at several things. Including : Moon. Sun. Horses. Sea. Car. Bike. TV. Mountain. The missus.

In any case those are the elements that resonate very well with him. The last one included.

( A little short of two years, he hasn’t yet gone to Facebook to engage in very intelligent games like..”take this quiz to find out what kind of animal are you”. Or something like that. Thankfully.)

For now, it was easy to answer those questions. Giving him the labels. As he points to the moon, and asks ‘What is this ?’, you say : ‘Moon’ ! And he goes ‘moooooon’.

He is satisfied. But it sets me thinking. As to what really the moon is all about ! Or the disappearing hills around Mumbai, which he exclaims with a ‘WoW…Mooounnntaaain’ !

He still hasn’t got the complete hang of pronouncing all words and sounds. While in most parts the mispronouncing is hilarious, in other parts it is very, well, philosophical. What would you say, if he pronounced ‘purse’ as ‘curse’ !

And so it has been easy. To answer the ‘What is this?’ with just labels. And have him being reasonably satisfied with that. In some time, he isn’t going to be satisfied with just those labels.

He will dig for more. I hope to ready with answers, by then.

For instance, I am reasonably sure that someday he is going to ask me with a slant of disdain ‘what is this’ at how the world has been treating the environment.

Oh yes, as he pointed to me, and asked : ‘what is this’, i gulped.

“Kaaaviiii” is what he went with. The next time, he points to me and asks that question, i hope to have figured out a few things.

Seems like quite an ask though.

Giving !

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It is morning. Its still raining. The flowers on offer are too tempting to resist. Bright white ones. With those dots of yellow. All kept in a red bucket. Fresh from a pond close by. Theres not much aroma. But they are a treat for the eyes.

***

Theres a knock on the door. And a young innocent school going kid stands on the other side. She smiles. And proceeds to state that she is from the 10th floor of the same apartment.

“Its the Joy of Giving Week uncle”. So she speaks. In a well rehearsed presentation. The request is simple. She is collecting old newspapers from each house in the apartment. She wants to sell it and ‘GIVE’ the proceeds to slum children living close by.

She sure should have given slum children something. For all the newspapers in the apartment would have added to decent sum.

More importantly, she sure gives hope. That all is not lost. That people still do think about the man living down the street. And are willing to go knock and open many doors. The mind is young ! Nothing can be more encouraging.

The Joy of Giving week is here ! Actually, its slipped into its third day ! It sure does merit an extra thought ! And some action too.

In the modern day, fast http://premier-pharmacy.com/product-category/allergy/ paced world, to stop and look is at a premium. Giving is still further away! Perhaps its time, to make a start. To stop, look and give ! Perhaps its time to commence by giving !

Whatever. Clothes. Eyes. Appliances. Books. Sweets. Whatever ! Perhaps its important to add there : Time, hope and such else too. And maybe they are the ones on real short supply !

So people, here is the message. To all those that give, give more ! And for all those that have been thinking about it : try giving !

The Joy of Giving week is here. And we are three days into it ! Make a start this week. And carry it all along ! Perhaps you can let the world know by sharing it too. You never who it will propel to action !

***

Ah those flowers. They were beautiful weren’t they.

The smile and joy that emerge after sometime, evident from their wide grins and shy nods is but a logical visible consequence.

A consequence of something as simple as a small conversation over a pack of cookies that were in the car..! It has always caused unceasing wonder, that such smiles indeed reside in otherwise sad faces.

The beauty in those smiles.. well.. they beat the beauty of the flowers. All the time !

Its not the drum !

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Its a big hefty drum. With a red cloth to cover. Perhaps to cover its might. Perhaps to cover what lies inside. These are distinctly rural men. You can see it in their looks and the ease with which they heave it on to their shoulder, lean on to the other side, and let the beats do the talking!

Beats that you are unfamiliar with. But resonating with what you know so well. From your own land. You wince. As memories of another time flow. In some time, there is music. Here, these three drummers whip up your heart beat.

At the other side, the charcoal embers laced with incense powder fumes! At yet another, amidst the crowd, there is palpable expectation.

In a short while, hips, legs, head and all other parts of the body sway to the beats. In a synchrony that begs to find a new word. A word better than ‘synchrony’ !

The hands. Oh yes, the hands hold those pots fuming embers !

Your heart skips a beat. As the drummers and the dancer get into a jig now and then. Un-rehearsed. But flawless, for all of it is in the flow of the moment. You wonder, how he heaves such a big drum on on his shoulder, creates music, does a jig in response to the dancers steps. Smiling all the way.

You wonder how those dancers hold those hot embers yet stay connected to each step of the drum beat. So graceful. And so complete. Smiling all the way.

You get goose bumps. Dancer after dancer. Some are artistic. Others mesmerise. Yet others hold the eye. All in seamless flow.

You notice that the pictures that you attempt to click are getting blurred. The angles are missing. There is a lot of shake. You wonder whats wrong with the camera. And realise that the cameras just fine. Its just you moving to the beats from those big drums.

To you, it appears that the real dance is the one that’s on in each persons heart. As people smile. Clap. Cry. Go moist in the eye. Laugh. Cheer. Click. Record. And of course, dance.

Right there. As the drummers whip up the music. And the dancers catch it from thin air. And throw it right back at the drummer.

Perhaps everyone is connected to a different time. Perhaps a different place. Perhaps a longing to recreate that time and place, now. In a different distant city. Perhaps its a nested joy in being one with similar minds and very similar longing.

You realise that you are in a trance. Soaking in the unfamiliar drum beat, the dance and the fragrance. And something more.

There are you are. Aware. Unsure. At peace. Strangely happy. As those rural drums get the city dwellers dance in joyous abandon !

Later on, you lie in bed, thinking of the evening. The drums, the dance and the beautiful women and handsome men. You realise, that you can describe all of that.

And you are aware, of something else that was there about the air. An undescribable part. You know that its there. Yet, it eludes description. You try thinking about it.

You are tired. And you choose to leave it at that. Half asleep, you mumble to yourself, ” perhaps it is Durga. Perhaps its just the dance”.

You realise that sleep envelopes you. You know you will sleep like a log today. After a very long time.

And as you slip into sleep…you mumble…”Perhaps, perhaps… its just the drums.”

(Written after attending the Powai Durgotsav ’09. Danuchi Dance. Friday. 25th Sept ’09. All snaps from the event)

Powai Durgotsav ’09 !

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Durga Puja has been a festival of intrigue and great happiness. The pomp, the revelry. The gathering. And ofcourse, art and culture. All are on display here ! Check out last year !

At Powai there is this wonderful recreation of the ‘Sun Temple’ at Konark ! Here are some pictures ! All structures here are made out of Plaster, thermocol and wood. And to be dismantled in a weeks time !

Yesterday, there was ‘Anondamela‘. Where people sold stuff that made at home. ( stuff as in ‘food’)!


For a southerner like me, to see chicken Kababs and Fish fry sold in the same venue where there is a ‘puja‘ on, to put it mildly, is strange. But then, when they are sold and they look delicious, they are to be had ! You bet they were delicious.

By the time we reached, there was gathering on stage. And was this mention by a gent ( i don’t know who he was ) about the Times of India carrying a bigger photograph of the Powai puja, than the one at Lokhandwala.

I wonder why that should matter. About being better than Lokhandwala ! Or about… TOI….But quite a lot of people were happy. And they all clapped. Sure there must be reason.

They have an interesting array of programs on the menu over the next few days ! Do catch a glimpse !



While the pictures speak for themselves on what you probably will find there, i can tell you, the festive air and the spirit of the Pujo are to be experienced to be believed !

Lakeside ticket to Mars !

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Theres Powai, in Mumbai. And theres a lake out here. Called, what else but, Powai lake ! Fortunately, it has not ( yet ) attracted the attention of politicians or they would have named it after a great grandson of a bloke in power, who is yet to be married !

That’s another story. Yes. No politics here.

The lake is an artificial lake, created in 1799 ! Its part of the ten major lakes in the country that have been identified for revival and improvements. Blessed be those souls who made such an identification.

And God bless the other lakes !


And more importantly, its a beautiful visual treat. And yes, its close to home !

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The Indian Institute of Technology has been in the news. For a variety of reasons. The IIT-B was founded in 1958 ! And has produced some fantastic prodigies ! Who contributed to get the alumni building and such else! Where Gulmohar, the cafeteria rocks.


The campus of course has wonderful settings. With fountains, walkways, lake views, and of course, the wonderful Powai lake !


There are stone benches. To sit down and catch the breeze laden with moisture from the lake. For the mind to stay http://healthsavy.com/product/synthroid/ open i guess. And the eyes to catch the pretty girl. Or handsome boy, for that matter !

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NASA is carrying names of some people, on a microchip. My nephew’s name is going too. And this nephew of mine knows a thing or two about colours too.


For a young thing that’s barely getting to walk, the Mars must be over the moon ! What a gift for him, and that too, courtesy, this blog ! I am not sure of my nephew but i sure am over the moon !

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We met again. The bloggers. Like the last couple of times.

What could i do ?

I had to write about the Powai Lake, IIT and the gifts my nephew got ! Everything else has been blogged about.

Here.
Here.
Here.
Here !

To Suranga ( of the ‘colourful ticket to Mars’ fame) , Vivek, Manju, Sucharita and Harekrishnaji, a big thank you.

The next meet is in December. Tomorrow, the car goes for servicing. The trousers will go for pressing. I am getting ready. I sure will be on time ! The next time !