The Sporting Spirit

No shame in saying that this title was lifted from the famous George Orwell essay from decades ago. I have always spoken of the positive impact that sport has & have encouraged people to take it up in any small way they can.

To put it down as a simple blogpost would never really do justice, to what playing cricket in my days as primary schooler & football from high school till date has taught me in life. Nevertheless, although I haven't played competitively for a bit, it has been a great year in sport & the ebbs and tides of a few key events has truly helped me battle some very interesting challenges at work.

Below I have listed down five very important tenets that I have internalized and has helped me become the person I am today.

The importance of being a Unit 
The motto of the Welsh national football team said it all. #togetherstronger
Appearing on the international stage after a long spell in the shadows, led by the talismanic Gareth Bale, the Welsh dragons seemed to be mellifluously in sync and behaved like one single fighting unit. Recording memorable victories over big names like England & Belgium, it reiterated my belief that a team that has one true focus and a fighting attitude can do wonders, making up for what they may lack in skill and talent.


Leading, with silent strength
Growing up watching Steve Waugh leading the Aussies to victory after victory had a strong impression on me as a teenager. I found striking similarities in one of India's greatest captains MS Dhoni. Both of them in their own right were also great finishers of the game. I have seen numerous occasions where both of them have turned games for Australia, India & CSK respectively where they single handedly absorbed the pressure around them & converted it into a positive work ethic.I have never seen these two gents ever lose their wits in the worst of situations & have always taken loss in their stride.


Never stop working hard- Form is temporary, Class is permanent
The Under Armour commercial starring Michael Phelps pays homage to a great athlete. A man who retired after being at the highest level of swimming a few years ago, came back in the 2016 Olympics overshadowing every other athlete & this is credited to his focussed hard work no matter what the circumstances.

Another fantastic story of hardwork comes from closer home, Hyderabad. PV Sindhu won a silver, losing a tight game to Carolina Marin. The stories of her work ethic and sacrifice along with the legendary Pullela Gopichand are inspiring.

So knowing yourself, your strengths-weaknesses, putting in a good shift everytime you enter the field and backing yourself every time will work wonders.

Build a strategy that suits the situation - one size does not fit all
I started following the fortunes of FC Barcelona and everyone who has been associated with it, during the days when Van Gaal was coach in the late 90s  He had a fluid strategy with a 3-4-3 setup and combined this with the right international talent such as Rivaldo, Luis Figo, Kluivert and local lads such as Pep Guardiola & Luis Enrique who are now master strategists in their own right. Van Gaal was a legend during his Ajay days as well, but we all know what has happened to him in the recent past.

A similar story of the Oakland As, made famous by the movie Moneyball. A strategy masterfully built based on an analytical pattern that the manager had seen, but this could not become a formula for success everywhere.

Always keep the big picture in sight - tags & odds don't matter
Whether you are a top seed or an underdog, tags don't really matter. It's understanding the bigger picture & making that the real driving force behind your team, that will push you that extra mile. 

Case in point - The West Indies cricket team battling against their own cricket board, showed up to the T20 World cup this year without even have their kits sorted. But Darren Sammy kept reminding his team that they had to win it for the people of the Caribbean, and boy did they do it in style or what ! Braithwaite in that last over seemed like a man possessed.

Chennaiyin FC, an ISL team gave their heart out during the semifinal against a stronger on paper Kolkata team and they kept saying just one thing - that they wanted to win it for the people who were suffering due to the flood situation. They went onto lift the Cup last year.

And finally the unbelievable story of Leicester City, a team that had fought relegation in the past few seasons and had no real chance at even making it into a Champions league position. Under the watchful eye of Claudio Ranieri, the team beat unimaginable odds to win the Premiership despite tough competition from likes of Man City and the other English biggies. This team again goes on to say that they did it for their fans and for the folk from the town of Leicester.

Sport is not fiction, it has real heroes with blood, sweat and tears that teach you innumerable lessons everytime it plays out. It is for you to observe, learn & adopt.

A holiday in the life of...

I had a couple of days away from work last week & decided to stay home in Pune instead of a quick dash down south because my folks had come over. I decided to spend those days lazing, reading copiously and eclectically of the internet, re-watch some classics & finish up certain mundane tasks that I've left undone for a while. So basically a holiday in the life of me reads a little like this -

Wake up at regular time.
Daydream over the morning cup of coffee while "intently" listening to what the Mrs says.
Flick on random TV channel for company.
Tablet in one hand and phone in the other, open multiple articles from StoryPick, Buzzfeed, Yourstory from across the Facebook & Twitter platforms.
Restart wi-fi when it acts funny.
Walk down to the grocery store multiple times or just accompany Ma since she doesn't know Hindi numbers too well.
Curse the TV for not having great content.
Eat healthy.
Powernap.
Partner the Mrs when she goes for a walk.
Redecorate (read: move around) furniture and other stuff to make the home seem upgraded.
Get Govt related documentation done.
Wonder what will happen to traditional businesses as some of them slowly fade away (I have an interesting story about how I hardly find any Stationery shops anymore, people either buy their writing paraphernelia and other novelties from the big stores or from the e-commerce sites).
Enjoy the newly acquired sofa.
Sleep early.

Just re-reading this post, I realize one thing . Its funny how a similar post from around 5 or 10 years ago would have been so different with regard to a few subjects while some of the core aspects remain the same.
I guess our perspectives about many acquired tastes (say Movies, Cuisines) in life change/erode/edit themselves as we meander through life, but the core values (say Morals, Habits) of an individual seem to have borderline recalibrations. The self remains a constant in the end.

You understand ?

Nostalgia

Nostalgia or more simply put, a longing for "the good old days" seems to affect all of us due to different triggers. Music, Weather, Photographs, Phone calls, Travels are amongst many such triggers.

One such trigger for me happened to be "Cleaning". Yes, the mundane household activity that my beloved wife happens to think that I'm incapable of (cooking, planning romantic dinners, staying awake past midnight are other skills that she normally puts in this category). More about that another time, lets get back to what I was saying.

So today afternoon was spent, reminiscing about many events from the past and putting in place a mini library at home.

While rummaging through the box that had safeguarded these books I came across some amazing little things that reminded me of some fantastic times in Pune, Bombay & Barcelona (specific to the stuff I found). I remembered the people associated with these moments in time that I successfully froze in these objects & got busy sending the aforesaid folks a "hi, how are you ? look what I found " message on whatsapp.

So in chronological order, let me reminisce with you a few of these occasions -

So here is a pic of a tissue paper from Cafe Leopold in Bombay. It was my first time in Leopold & I badly wanted to go there after having read so much about it in Shantaram. The four signatures that you see on the paper are Chetan Shetty, Anirudh Krishnan, Ambujesh Yadav & myself. There was also a blogpost I had written about that day which you can read @ http://adityagn.blogspot.in/2009/02/football-cafes-and-movie.html



Another tissue paper, this time from the suburbs of Bandra. Toto's - the place with the Maruti Van that looks like it has crashed into the wall, plays some amazing music. This was a spontaneous trip with Chetan, Swathi & Prachi. Speaking of which, it is Prachi's birthday today & I sent her this as a gift. Nostalgia as a gift, interesting no ?



















This next one is a catalogue from the Monetary Museum in South Bombay. This was during a hot summer afternoon when Ambujesh & I just happened to chance upon this place & decided to walk in. We spent a good two hours there & were humbled by the quality exhibits on show. Bombay can do that you, surprises at every nook and cranny. If memory serves right, we went for a movie at Eros after that ? I don't remember the details though.

One of the better weekends during my days as a bachelor in Pune was going to NH7 before it was as big as it is today & of course the plays that were hosted here, which honestly were few and far in between. These are three tickets from the plays - " The Blue Mug" , "Death of a Salesman" & "Boy with a suitcase". Dilip Anand aka Pedro was the constant companion for all three, while my other two roomies : Himanshu & Pulkit joined for one of them. 

 My most favourite adventure so far. The single spontaneous backpacking trip to France & Spain. This is the bag that contained all the goodies that I bought at the FC Barcelona store at the Nou Camp.

Quite co-incidently, I was at a local South Indian store that sells everything that makes one miss stuff from Madras, Hyderabad or Bangalore. I found this copy of Gokulam, a children's magazine that I used to wait eagerly for every month. Stirred up so many memories of those days. Probably this magazine was the trigger to me developing the habit of writing.

\

So I wish you have your nostalgia moments & smile. I hope that this post may have struck some chords with those of who you may relate to these pictures. Drop me a line and say you smiled and thought of me. 

Androgogy & Haircuts

Wow, again I find myself apologizing to this blog for my absence. But, I know it will understand. It has seen me visit a few times to see if the visitor counter was ticking & to my surprise it crossed 30k visits around a month ago. So for all the good people who keep wanting to know what I’m upto, I salute you ! *graciously bows*

While I’ve been away, I moved houses again. Not too far from where I was staying, but this location chops of 10 minutes on the commute for the Mrs.

I got to see my nephews after almost 3 years, and it was super fun to spend sometime with them in Hyderabad. They have gone back to the US & I think I should find a way to keep in touch. Perhaps through FaceTime or some such new tech.

Football hasn’t made a comeback yet, but I’ve been building some stamina, so hoping to find some opportunities to play soon.

So here is something new that I’ve been doing for a bit now, I’ve started taking some classes. Its more Androgogy than Pedagogy, because the target audience is normally older than me. I try to instill in them a sense of direction, understanding  how their work can impact the organizations on a more macro scale & of course I bring my brand of crazy exercises for experiential learning. Makes for interesting weekends periodically.

Travel this year has been a damp squib, had so many plans but none of them have materialized so far. Trying to work something in, during the second half of the year, so that the year end appraisal with the Mrs goes off well. *winks*.  Wanted to do a little bit of Eastern Europe, but looks like Greece is imploding so may not be the best of ideas. Chennai/Madras should happen more often since the sister has moved there with Teach For India. *secretly fantasizes about SCUBA diving at Pondy*

Invested in a Philips trimmer a few months ago.  The barber shop in my locality has a first come first served system & on most occasions is followed. This one occasion, one of the local politicos *read Goon* happened to stride in. The barber gave the chest hair flaunting  - orange paan based liquid spitting barbarian precedence for an oil massage. This enraged the lot of us who were waiting our turn, and I for one stormed out vowing to never come back. This triggered the aforementioned investment.

So now, the Mrs & I have started styling what is left of my mane. I have become an expert at the crew cut & sometimes try a buzz cut as well while she patiently gives the finishing touches to my *coughs* master strokes. Might consider doing a few trials on some other people soon too, perhaps might make a career of it in the near future ! Who knows ?

#nowreading – Lord of the Flies

#nowlistening – Lag Ja Gale by Studio Unplugged

The year that was, 2014. Minus December.

Gah ! The last post here was 13 months ago. So how has life changed since then ?

Not too much I would think. The waistline has increased. The hairline has decreased. The wife is quite the scientist when it comes to the culinary arts & I, her willing guinea pig, thus the increase.

Three China trips happened. Also did a pitstop at Hong Kong. Loved the city, but methinks I went at the wrong time, in terms of weather. It was as humid as a summer day in Bombay.I also happened to spot Kollywood starlet Arulnithi at a certain touristy place & walked over to give him my best.

Closer home, we stayed at a lovely Plantation Trails bungalow in Coorg for anniversary in Feb. Its a dreamy place, where your home is nestled among acres of Coffee Plantation. We had our own butler who was a local Kodagu lad and he treated us with some super local delights. The Kodagu highlands, the sights, the sounds and the food was top draw, marking a memorable first year for us.

During the monsoons, we visited the East. I've heard so much about Calcutta, where Amma spent a few years growing up, that I had to explore the place. Purnima found us a fantastic place to stay in Alipore. We did the regular touristy stuff. Park street happened multiple times, so did Victoria Memorial. We were gasping in the old world charm of Jorasanko Thakurbari, home of the Tagores . Later that week,  we were also hosted by two friends from NITIE/L'Oreal, Pinak & Madhuri. We spent the afternoon with the family & Pinak's father, Mr.Ghosh has such an infectious joie de vivre about him. It was at their home that "Death by Rajbhog Rosogulla" (literally) also almost happened.

It was onto the highlands of Gangtok & Darjeeling then. Charming monasteries, the thundering Teesta & some good times. Two pieces of advice though, always check for landslides, because we ended up spending 4-5 hours stuck in traffic & always hire SUVs for inter-city travel in these parts.

We also extensively used the Railway network for this trip, so it was a whole lot of sleeping in middle & upper berths.

Sometime in June, we also moved. Just a lane away from our last home, but this one is a little less expensive in terms of rent & is on the 6th floor. So it comes with a great view of the Aundh treeline, but becomes like a brick kiln during the hot season.

A few months ago, Paati passed away after a long battle with illness. My mother's mother was one of the most giving people I knew. A teacher of Carnatic music, a doting mother & a fighter, I stayed with her as a baby. It was a tough time for all of us. But I'm sure she is in a better place and watching down on all of us.

Amma & Appa have moved into our new place in Hyderabad and both seem to be having a good time there. We keep doing weekend trips to Hyd, the wife & the sister love the Pool & Garden area. We also once had ourselves a triangular series table tennis tournament, in the sports center there.

So that broadly speaking has been the year that was 2014. Instagram is in, with selfies becoming the trend. The ISL has shown that Indian schoolboy defending when paired with World stars can make for a very entertaining game of football. Hope I get to play more too.

Lets hope for some surprises in December & a whole lot of adventure in 2015. I also secretly promise myself to be more regular here.

A pipe dream

All humanity is equal. It is this strong belief that has led to me to think time and again about the less fortunate. In an era, when helping the less fortunate seems to a fashion statement, the work done by some people across the nation that I've been reading about is nothing short of inspiring.

I travel 35 kms everyday to the outskirts of Pune, to an area where rural India collides head on with industry that employees well educated people from all over India. But the gap between these pockets of shiny vast campuses & rural infrastructure keeps widening as we move further away from the city.

 I've been fortunate to interact on a daily basis with such people, and the gap is quite evident. Basic necessities they tell me are still hard to come by. Running clean water, electricity, dependable public transportation, healthcare etc are most of the issues that their families deal with constantly.Cityslickers, such as most of you reading this would have faced this, perhaps two-three times a year, that too not all together.

The Government clearly tries and fails on a daily basis, due a multitude of reasons which I don't even want to get into. (too many people doing too much Government bashing, with far more depth & data, so I won't get into that). But can this be the fortune at the bottom of the pyramid that the new age entrepreneur is slowly starting to focus on ?

Transportation opportunities are capitalized today by seven seater autos that seat upto ten, a highly disorganized space. Fast, omnipresent & cheap they are becoming more & more the parallel bus service of rural India. I'm hoping to see the day, when this becomes the hunting ground of the numerous taxi startups that are mainly focused on trips in the urban jungles today.

Forgive my ignorance or lack of data, but this space seems completely open for big guys and startup to jump in. With the likes of Aravind Eye Hospital and other examples that can be easily replicated, this spot is up for grabs.

Clean Water & Electricity, which is personally my area of interest and possible future activity is full with stories of everyone from Matt Damon to the local engineering institutions jumping in for a piece of the action. Biogas plants, Solar offgrid, Small Wind & Hydro, standalone products. The technological spectrum is varied and so are the business models, which means that its a case of  "the more the merrier" for these areas.

Also I'm keenly watching Education and Rural BPOs stories to see what sort of opportunities they are going to bring about in the future. I am strongly of the opinion that for the upliftment of this oft-neglected market and for sustainable livelihoods in these areas, impact investing & low cost innovations are the answer.

But the will to explore and execute is going to be the biggest challenge (even for me).

I'm still here

Its been 13 months to the day that I wrote here last. Its been on my mind, but somehow I just didn't make it here. So much has happened since that last Park Guell post. Wow ! If one could measure life from one blogpost to another.

But anyway I'm happy to be back. I'm now married. I shifted a job profile at work. I now make haircare products for a living as opposed to saving the world. I live in a huge house and pay a bomb as rent as opposed to that just enough sized room I had rented as bachelor. I have lesser hair on my head too.

In these few months another Paris trip happened, multiple Bangalore trips happened. Visited Palakkad for the first time to get married. Goa & Madras happened after the wedding. The wife also happens to be quite the wanderlust, so thats good.

It took an early morning bus ride across old Pune from the station to Aundh to get me to write. The absolute charm of roads without traffic and the shafts of sifting sunlight between trees made me wish I was born a decade ago, when all my cities had more tree lined roads. I find it quite mysterious how I can enjoy the company of people one moment and turn into a reclusive fellow the next. Today morning was like that. It was just me, the conductor and driver on the bus for almost half an hour.

What was the point of this post ? Nothing I guess. Just to say Hello, I'm back. A blog dying is almost like some small part of the person becoming invalid. So this is my desparate attempt to revive my blog that has been a good friend for the last 8 years of my life.

Gaudi & Parc Guell

Before reading on, I urge you to read up a little about Gaudi and his works.

So like all geniuses, Gaudi walked really close to the line between genius and mad man. Barcelona's street cafes are full of stories of his eccentricity and perfectionism.

But this is not about the man himself, this is more about Parc Guell. Parc Guell was commissioned by Eusebi Guell, one of Gaudi's ardent and most regular patrons. It was meant to turn out into a housing estate eventually, but apart from Gaudi, Guell and their lawyer friend, no one really was interested in moving to a barren hill top.

After a tiring walk up the Avinguda Vallcarca, you come up to the escalator which gets you to an entrance of the Parc. As I entered, I found a Trinidadian man, playing the flute for alms. Upon further enquiry he said that he had learnt it from an Indian guru many years ago.

You get to see sweeping panoramas of Barcelona from this park. A long and winding road leads you to the main the entrance and the eccentric halls and admin offices with an unmistakable Gaudi mark on them.

The mosaic dragon is probably the most famous sculpture in the park. Above it are the halls that were meant to be open living spaces. The way the ceilings are done also have Gaudi written all over them. There is a certain style of art, that Gaudi decided to blur his architecture with.
Basically he breaks ceramic tiles and repositions them together like a jigsaw puzzle giving it a superb finish.

The park has many ups and downs that finish at the cross at the top of the park near where we entered, completing a full circle.

So in a way, Gaudi's Parc Guell is like life itself. Long and winding, with interesting people and music, with stops to see and admire, with sights that perplex you, with places to relax, with uphill climbs and most importantly with the feeling of accomplishment and freedom at the end.

Gaudi. Genius.Mad man. Soon to be saint ?

The Horrors in Lanka

“ Father, you fed me with these hands, why did you leave ? ”, an absolutely unconsolable girl asks the corpse of a man. “Why has everyone left me ? “ wails a woman sitting amidst a few bodies that lay astrew half clothed and some half bodied.

We all know Sri Lanka. My knowledge of it growing up, was that it was once ruled over by Raavana, many years ago. As a teenager I got more interested in the likes of Jayasuriya, Aravinda De Silva who let their blades do the the talking and Muralitharan his fingers.

It was during that time that I heard about Prabhakaran and the Tamil tigers. The naïve teenager that I was, I brushed them off as just another terrorist organization wreaking havoc with the locals in Northern & Eastern Sri Lanka.

Then I chanced upon Kannathil Muthamittal. Obviously it was an extraordinary story of a girl in search of her mother, but the backdrop of it was something that stayed with me after the movie finished. This prodded me on to read more about the goings-on in the land.
Civil war I read had taken a severe toll on the life of ethnic Tamil civilians in the area that was named Eelam, a separate Tamil state by the Tigers. One often heard names of cities like Jaffna and Kilinocchi being targeted by the Sri Lankan Army as counter offensives to the rebel forces attacks.

But just as in most parts of war torn Africa, the controversial West Bank, Northern Sri Lanka too was making the civilians, regular people like you and me pay a hefty price. The latest documentary evidence of War Crimes was Channel 4’s dossier called Sri Lanka’s Killing Fields which I had the misfortune of youtubing and watching after reading a rather compelling report on an e-paper.

And in Sri Lanka’s case it has stretched for more than half a century, from the days of Solomon Bandaranayake in 1950s. A struggle that was initially democratic but one that slowly and surely become violent, leading to its ghastly end in May 2009. The media reports that almost 250,000 people were displaced and 100,000 killed. Numbers & News reports. These numbers and news reports have no meaning to the aforementioned woman and child who mourn the loss of their loved ones.

The International Community condones and cries out for justice. As always, that’s all they do. I clearly remember Norway trying to broker some peace agreements between the two sides, somehow I do not seem to recollect what happened or what it led to.

The course of events is as disturbing as it is outraging. Systematic executions, rape, mindless destruction and possibly the attempt of marginalising or maybe even completely erasing a race of people from their homes enrages me to no end. I can’t even start describing how angry, sad and helpless I felt while watching the videos. It is quite evident for what the UN and other international bodies are saying, that the Sri Lankan Army is guilty of war crimes and crimes against humanity.

Its one thing when you are killing the enemy, which in this case for the Army was the LTTE cadre. But to go after makeshift hospitals and refugee camps in No Fire Zones is stuff of unadulterated evil. So much carnage in a nation that is predominantly Buddhist only further reinforces the fact that it is the men that are evil, not the religion or an ethnicity.

It is high time for the fiends responsible for this to be brought to justice at the Hague. And these proceedings go, I know that will take a long time, but in the end, I hope and pray justice, justice for the innocent prevails.

Contradictions in Rhyme

*This is a little piece about a very early morning/very late night walk that I took not too long ago*

The cold dawn was a delight,
The wincing dog a fright.

The emptiness of the land made it tranquil,
yet sudden bursts of noise proved it fragile.

The sharpness in the air was fresh and crisp,
the dewdrops on the leaf edge's looked they wanted to leap and take a risk.

The orange streetlights stood majestically tall,
But they knew that at sunrise, their reign would fall.

The newspaper boy with his bundles cycled hard,
as the white haired figure stretched himself quietly on the yard.

At the distance, the pinkish orange hue rears its gorgeous head,
the young woman rolled around playfully and went back to bed.

The few stars that one could see, slowly faded out,
the frail radio produced white noise, as if it were still in doubt.

Everything at this hour appeared to be aware of its impermanence,
The moments seemed unafraid of the future tense.

Endeavour

*Caveat : Made this up in about 15 mins on a bus journey back from work*

Endeavour endeavour,
Give up never.

Closure and Completion
Success with determination.

Numerous are the snakes in the world,
Who will try to get your head in a twirl.

Ignore their hissing tongues,
For they are filled with venom.

Brush off those praises,
they come only in phases.

Don't mind those setbacks,
They are but small thorns in your tracks.

Make everything a memory,
for objects come with a date of expiry.

Be nice to people,
They will one day help you when you are feeble.

Believe in a cause,
Be steadfast in your thoughts.

Take one day at a time,
For the underprivileged, do spare a dime.

Let the world your actions behold,
And your legend for generations will be told.

Endeavour endeavour,
Give up never.

A Red Afternoon

It was a hot afternoon in the middle of May. He hurriedly opened the window, for ventilation. It also diluted the smell inside the room. Wiping the few pearls of sweat from his brow, he looked calmly around at the mess. Blotches of red could be seen on the floor & the platform. It was dead silent. It was done. He would not think of the consequences.

He silently opened the tap and washed some stains from his hands. Slowly discarding his t-shirt, he rubbed the stains off it. He had had enough of the nagging, the complaints, the constant taunting. Today he decided to take matters into his own hands. He had spent all morning preparing himself, mentally more than anything else, while she had gone out for her regular Sunday morning walk and groceries.

The next thing he wanted to do was clean up the bloody damn mess that it was. He sprinkled some water around the room and started wiping away the stains of the event. A few objects in the room had been strewn about, even though he had gone about the whole thing in a meticulous manner. He set them straight and in their place. He looked at the knife while picking it up, breathing heavily. His mind was blank. He had almost inflicted some cuts on his fingers. He took the cleanest cloth he could find around and scrubbing the sides of the blade, he placed it into the rack from where he had taken it.

He did not feel any remorse or regret. He understood deep inside that this was the only way he could shut her up. He could not and would not discuss this with anyone he thought to himself. But it was a victory of sorts.

After the cleaning and removal of all traces, he stood there staring at his doing, like a gladiator who had slain his enemy after a tough battle. “My masterpiece”, he said to himself like Aldo Raine in that movie, Inglorious Basterds . He moved to allow himself a glass water, when he heard some footsteps coming in through the gate.
Suddenly the air of stillness was disturbed. He panicked. Gritting his teeth, he finally surveyed the room for any traces of anything that would implicate him. Then picking up his slightly damp t-shirt in one swift movement, he waltzed into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

He sat on his bed. He sat on the edge of his bed, to be precise. Beneath the unflinching exterior, his heart was pounding. Slowly stroking his French beard, he was conjuring up a million scenarios in his head. He had promised himself to not worry about the consequences of the action, but he was now a little scared.

A few minutes had passed. The moments were unbearable. Then a sharp scream pierced the silence. It was his wife’s voice. The door opened, they stared at each other for a second. Then with a doubtful smile on her face she shouted, “ Aye, did you make that rasam ? ”.

The Bald and The Beautiful

There was once a study that I read, it said that only 34 % of human males do not worry about how they look. This little blogpost is for a small percentage of the remaining 66 % who tend to fret about their receding hairlines, pimples and paunches.

Ok guys. I know how it feels, to wake up and realise that suddenly you are going to be one of those guys who will be referred to as “the baldie”, “takloo”, “abbe ganje”, “dei sottai” and all those nasty things. I will start getting such compliments in a few years. But do not feel bad or disheartened. It is just another way for society to make fun of people they can’t really comprehend like geeky Nobel laureates, business gurus with paunches or those selfless social workers with crooked teeth.

Have you noticed how most of the cleverest people you know around are bald ? Yes, do a little mental survey. The hair roots I am told tend to get loose because of the heat generated by the brain. So more the brain usage, more the balding. They will tell you its genetics. Nuh uh ! You’re just plain smarter than the rest of them with those hairy mops.

Also there is an advantage that most of the scientific minded will readily agree to. When designing automobiles, there is a concept that one has to keep in mind called Aerodynamics. As with the automobiles, the same concept can be applied to humans. Imagine the air resistance with all that hair on your head. So naturally, it is safe to assume that all bald men are more aerodynamic than their gelled hair counterparts.

Case in point, the Mahatma. By my calculations, if he did have a head full of curly hair by the time he did the Dandi march, he would have taken exactly 3 years and 2 months more to complete his march and would have been 23 % more tired after every long walk. Lesser load, more aerodynamics.

Do you really think Ronaldo would be able to get past all those defenders with such mercurial ease if he had a mop of hair disturbing his vision and adding to his load ? Nope. Never.

Let me stop giving examples of famous people and talk about normal people like you and me.

Example #1 : Man A has hair. Man B is bald. 2 mad dogs start chasing them. A and B start running. A’s hair starts falling from the sides of his head and he has to adjust them to achieve maximum speed, dog catches up. Cut to the climax , A is next seen screaming in the doctor’s office while getting a shot. B meanwhile just takes 6 seconds to achieve maximum speed, and effectively evades the pursuing mentally disturbed canine.

Example #2 : A & B live in a place where it rains a lot and don’t have the greatest of immune systems. It rains on A, his hair gets wet. He gets a cold, then a fever, then again visits the doctor. B meanwhile walks happily in the rain without any such consequences.

Example #3 : The Personal Care market is booming. Metrosexuality is now quite normal. The good shampoos/gels/oils cost anywhere between Rs.50 – 200 these days. A decent barber charges Rs.50 for a haircut. Combs can start at Rs.10 and go all the way upto 200 for the fancy hairbrushes. So who gets to save more, A or B. Simple isn’t it.

Example #4: Anyone who has studied high school physics will agree that shiny surfaces tend to reflect more heat than they absorb. So that makes bald people more immune to hot places such as our wonderful country.

So being bald makes you more athetically agile, literally cooler and life just gets more economical. Some more money to spend on the girlfriend/wife or yourself. And if you get bored of looking the same all the time, experiment with your facial hair.

Another point I would like to reiterate to the 66 % of the people who worry about their looks. Don’t let anyone tell you that you won’t look good if you go bald. Bruce Willis, Jeremy Piven, Jason Statham & Mark Strong immediately come to mind . Jason was also an Olympic swimmer, and Usain Bolt ran like a bolt of lightning, aerodynamics at work people !

So the next time anyone says something about the lack of hair on your head, you know what to say right !

Disclaimer : The contents of this entire post are meant to be taken in a lighten vein and the author means no offence to anyone famous mentioned in this post. Not like they care anyway.

Moments, Things and Times

Middle income group, middle class values. Engineering. Post Grad after CAT. There was the heavy metal phase, there were the college fests. Those times when you just sat and pondered. My special place was the road going to Whisper Valley from Jubilee Hills from you could see a huge expanse of Tolichowki and beyond.

The eternal conflict between doing good for the world and being selfless, that 8 letter word, IDEALISM and doing what was needed REALISM.

The muses, the ones that made you feel like a better person, the ones that were there during those testing times. The need to express. The need to be heard. Making sense of all the scribbling. Imagining the future. Friends that you drifted away from. Friends that kept in touch. The long aimless walks, the sweaty t-shirts. The joy of the mountains. Discovering strangers on strange journeys.

Cold nights. Colder mornings. That favourite pair of shorts that ripped after football practice. Jazz. Aldous Huxley. King Arthur. Thiruvalluvar. Carnatic Music. MMTS Train rides to the last stop and back.

The dreams of meaningful work, of insouciant travels, of excitement, of adulthood. Wordly worries. The fragility of life. The futility of stress. The attachment to materialistic things and cities. The time-space continuum and all of us mortals. Also change/transformation. Although gradual, maybe.

After Hours

If I have in love with nature, it has usually been during sunrise. If I have ever fallen in love with cities, it is after 1 am.

When the world sleeps (Like that lovely song in Tezaab), thats when those who have nothing step out. I do have a roof over my head and love my sleep, but well since I'm on leave for couple of days, thought I would catch a late night movie. Not half bad, that Transformers movie, I think the Special Effects guys did a terrific job.

We were getting back in my car, the roommate was driving for a change and I was taking in the scenery. Gorgeous it looked, almost like a painting. The orange shafts of light, the roads that shimmered because of the light drizzle, the streams of rain drops that looked spray lines doing a waltz with the wind as one looked up at the lights, it just took my breath away.

I remember late nights in Hyderabad when we would drive back after a long night during our college fest days. Damn ! What I would give to have those days back in my life.

Bombay ! Man, was she different at night or what ! Almost the exact opposite of what she was during the day. No crowds, silence, people walking fearlessly and the notorious face of its underbelly that one could see without any qualms. The young SoBo crowd hung around the posh setups of Colaba, while the taxiwallahs were there to make their bread and butter. You could often find the heavily made up women putting up their wares for display at the Churchgate and CST stations. I was especially fascinated by the "mobile teashop on a cycle concept".I even remember striking up a conversation with Tamil tea wallah while returning from Marine Drive one night.

Pune, is quite different. It hasn't the sensational architecture, but it has a subtle old world charm to it. The Old Poona-Bombay highway which is my lifeline to the city is wide and a speed demon's paradise. I have done this stretch a million times and it is truly like driving in heaven on this road at night. The food joints are few and far in between, and you start finding such places are being in the city for a while. But you learn to live with its laidback attitude.

Its 2 in the morning, I am headed to another favourite of mine, Madras by the afternoon flight, so I'd better get some sleep. But I'm still looking outside my window in awe of how this tranquil moment has filled me with such content.

I'm buzzing with so many thoughts inside my head, but can't find anything concrete enough to document. The mind needs to rest. It is excited. I know it.

Warped

I can blame work or my lack of sustaining an inspired moment for not blogging for almost 45 days. Even now, I can't think of something concrete to write. So I decided to spit out a string of random thoughts that are running through my head right this moment. Might be absolutely uninteresting. You are warned.

Shrewsbury biscuits
Running against the cool wind stroking my face
La Dolce Vita
Sliding tackles on the football ground
The promise of an imminent holiday
Kalyana sapudu at authentic tambram wedding in T.Nagar
A late night walk on the roads of Ameerpet
Hot coffee (made by me)
The lasagna at Polka Dots, Aundh
The Dilbert comic strip pinned up at my desk and about how Scott Adams reads my mind
The Zorb Ball
The Jabulani football
My next list of to-buy books
My next 1 TB hard disk for that matter
Memories of Xin Tian Di and Shanghai

So much to do and so less time. Tsk Tsk.
Now Playing : Roger Sanchez - Another Chance

The Unambitious Man

The sky was populated with puffs of grey crowded next to each other as far as the eye could see. In a crack between these thundering clouds, six or seven shafts of golden rays shone down, steadfast and shimmering.

To many people, it was the just the beginning of monsoon & the rains. To me, it means a whole lot more work. More mud mixed with cowdung, more dustbins filled with semi-solid content. I wish Patil Sahib would give me more than one pair of those nice rubber gloves per month. I should check Geeta Tai's tin box when I visit her this weekend, maybe if I have collected more than 100 rupees I can afford that raincoat. But yes I also enjoy the rain when I'm in my room having chai.

That tin box on top of Geeta Tai's steel cupboard has been my savings bank for many years now. I trust her like a mother, infact she has taken care of me like a mother ever since Aai succumbed to TB.

That is also when we came to this city, Poona. I love being here. Of course it is very strange compared to our village. In the village I was very popular, I was the smartest boy in school and helped my friends with their homework also. Bansode Master said that I should grow up and be an engineer and help people. In a way, I still help people, I keep these roads clean, no ?

I have made some good friends here also. Ganpat is the closest. He works with his father at the food stall in the Railway station. His father lets me have vada pav and chai for free sometimes, he is a hard working man. Ganpat is also hard working and kind, he lends me money sometimes. When both of us have some free time, which is rare, we walk to MG Road. There we see many girls, who look like Bollywood heroines. Maybe one day I will find a nice Maharashtrian girl like that, but she should not wear jeans.

I don't get to see many movies, but I regularly see advertisements and songs because some shops on the roads have these big televisions on their showcases. I also watch 20-20 cricket there. I saw World Cup also like this. But I couldn't see the last few overs because the shop had to be closed. But I knew we won because many boys outside my chawl were bursting crackers and shouting all night. I went outside and walked a little bit that night, everyone was happy. I also was happy. But I was also thinking about all the garbage from the crackers that would have to be picked the next day.

I live on the terrace of my chawl and often stare at the sky. When I was a boy, we could see many stars, but now because of the smoke of all these cars I can't count more than sixteen. My aim is to buy a cycle within one year, and cycles don't give out smoke, so I won't be adding to the smoke. Ganpat says that I should want more and pray for better things in life. Only then I will become rich and have a room of my own in the chawl.

I can't tell him this, but I don't want all those things. I'm happy like this. I have a job. That job gives me enough money to buy food everyday and put some money in the tin box. Sometimes people see me and move away, but some people appreciate the work I do, I feel happy when someone appreciates me. I give chanda for Ganpati every year. Once I saw a man trying to beg for money near the station, he wore torn clothes and looked very thin. He had come from Konkan region a few days ago, lost his bag and did not know what to do. I felt sad for him and asked to come and join me in my job, he reluctantly agreed. I somehow convinced Patil sahib saying that he was my relative, I know I lied but it will help someone so its ok. He now earns 83 rupees everyday, he thanks me everytime he meets me. I feel proud that I helped someone, I think I will get some punya because of this act. I think I will tell Ganpat that earning punya is more important than money. Maybe he won't laugh at my ambitions then.

Vada pav - Maharashtrian snack
Chai - Tea
Chawl - A mansion with many single rooms rented out to different families
Tai - sister
Aai - mother
Chanda - donation for festivals
Sahib - Sir, means of addressing someone respectfully
Punya - good deed
PS:This was not entirely a work of fiction

A Forgotten Home

He had done stints in Mumbai, Hyderabad, Bangalore and Pune for many years now. Marriage, a lovely daughter and strenuous projects had kept him wrapped in a tiny cocoon. His parents visited him often, he never let them stay more than a week. He had a funny explanation for that, he always said that he had become a creature of habit and that they didn't fit into the scheme of things. They didn't mind, they loved him to death, they were glad their son and his family were doing well.

He had setup his employer's Mumbai office. He was their star. He loved being in the spotlight for them, he defended them untiringly on many occasions in the face of dire litigations. He had given his weekdays to his work, and his weekend to his wife and child. It was always what he dreamt of, when he walked those cobbled, tree-lined roads of his business school.

But as in all stories, this one had its shady characters too. While he was busy giving it his all, there was this man, lets call him Mr.Shady . He plotted, with a few dim-witted colleagues to whom he offered key positions, to usurp the Mumbai office from our protagonist. A plot was hatched, large amounts of money were illegitimately transfered, and cutting a long story short, an honest man was framed. The top bosses naturally looked for scapegoat,and he was their easiest way out of a huge media debacle.

He felt quite disoriented at what had happened. Its like that feeling of moving on a fast boat and suddenly being jettisoned into the water. You don't quite know how to react, but your instincts atleast tell you to swim ashore, and thats what he tried to do, prove his innocence. His friends, who had vociferously tried to state his case in the board meeting had but one choice. To help the man that they admired, recuperate and maybe fight back.

The wife and daughter were on put on a flight to Chennai, a few days earlier. He left after that fateful day. He arrived in Chennai, to the chaos of the airport that he remembered distinctly from his flying visits to city for meetings in the last few years.

But this time it was to be different, he told himself. As the cabbie pulled closer to his ancestral home in Mylapore, he was quite surprised at how much the city had changed. Where was the Madras that he had left behind ? The political slogans on the walls now made way for wonder murals from the rural landscape and Tamil literature. All the roads were flanked by magnificent posters and hoardings. The buildings all bore smart signs of multinational and big local brands. The old British names of most roads still remained. He liked that. A huge number of new snazzy restaurants had popped up. It was almost a different city.

Secretly he wondered, what all he might have missed in his days out of Madras. He reached home in the wee hours of the morning. When most cities look at their gorgeous best, the orange splendour of the rising sun, the cool air that lingers and the few people that are scampering about doing their morning chores. That being said, Chennai was an early riser.

The ghosts of the last few weeks had taken their toll, he resembled a man who had come back from a war, a war that his side had lost. The wife and child were still asleep. He left his bags near the bed, and decided to head out to have filter kaapi (coffee) at one of the many stalls on the main road which were crooning Ilayaraja songs from the 80s, a sound that he could easily relate to. Now this seemed more familiar territory to him.

The grand Kapaleeshwarar temple that stood over the area of Mylapore unflinching and majestic for centuries now, still instilled in him the peace & calm that it did during his quick pitstops at the temple during his examination days. He decided to take a trip down memory lane, quite literally. He quickly went home, asked his neighbour if he could borrow his Hero Honda Splendor, which the neighbour, a family friend for many years obliged with a smile while warning him of the bad brakes. He nodded and in his excitement, zoomed off. He quickly made his way to what can be only be described as something that everyone who ever visited Chennai would relate to, the Marina beach. The Marina beach brought back a great many memories to him. This is where he had first discovered his talent as a batsman. This is where he had first brought the girl he had a liking towards for a walk and some cut maanga. The place had been through a major makeover, it was now a swanky promenade, and there were people old and young going about their morning walks.

He took a turn at the Ice House junction and headed for the bylanes of Triplicane. Triplicane was where his closest friend from his college days ,Ram lived. This is where most of the "combined studies" sessions happened. Triplicane, it seemed to him, had frozen in time. The bylanes were still narrow. The buildings were still cramped. The cows still took first right to stray along the roads. He felt a little disgust with himself not keeping in touch with Ram and wondered where he could be.

He drove past the Zam Bazaar market & the road took him to Bells Road and Chepauk. Ah ! Chepauk, how many test matches had he begged his father to take him to, before finally the dream came true on his 15th birthday. He remembered the entire match very vividly and made a mental note to himself to thank his father as soon as he reached home.

He quickly remembered that Ratna Cafe was also nearby, so turned out and headed there since he felt some hunger pangs setting in. He ordered some idlis, and looked around as everyone seemed to be busy conversing in hushed tones. As he sat there, waiting for his idlis to arrive, a flurry of thoughts rushed through his head.

His work had kept him occupied for so many years. Apart from that his wife and child were the only things he thought of. What he might have missed in over a decade he could not imagine. But the early morning trip down memory lane made him realise that things were not that bad. Yes, he was screwed by a company that he had given a good ten years to. Yes, he was unemployed and disgraced. But he was in familiar land, among familiar people. People who knew who he was and would support him through everything. He decided to start life afresh. The meeker side of him held him from fighting back against the big bad corporation, but the Forgotten Home seemed to give him strength.

And as history would have it, he fought back and successfully at that. But success had a whole new meaning to him now.


Mylapore - A locality in Chennai, known to be a cultural hub for many centuries.
Cut Maanga - Slices of Raw mango with some chilli powder sprinkled on them, a snack often sold on the beaches in Chennai

Today, is this how life will be ?

Today, we have a million dreams
But not enough time, to chase after them.

Today, we have technology that makes the planet a smaller place
But where are the people that really matter.

Today, we don't need eighty days to go around the world
But where are the adventures and strange lands that once excited many explorers.

Today, we have the financial means
But where is a justifiable end.

Today, we have swanky big houses
But what has happened to the space in our hearts.

Today, we live lives of comfort and luxury
But still manage the ailmemts that our grandparents never even knew.

Today, we have those plasma screen televisions to watch sporting tournaments
But when was the last time you screamed your lungs off at a stadium.

Today, is this how life will be I ask
But obviously no answer will come.

And he declared War ... on mediocre cinema

I have been seeing some very clever cinema in the last few months, but this one has forced me to come out of movie-critic retirement. It just forces one to stand up and take notice, both in terms of pure film making quality and in terms of what lies ahead for audiences to devour on the Indian screen.

Yudham Sei by Mysskin is an intense, gripping, irregular but relevant movie. It feels like an unputdownable book despite being quite slow paced in the first half. With a plotline about the enormous capacity of male perversion and stellar performances with no real superstars in the movie, it made for fantasy cinema, in my humble opinion of course.

There won't be any spoilers in this blog, I will more specifically talk about the movie watching experience. You will be thrilled if you are one of those people who relishes clever writing. The first half is quite haphazard and gives you only a few pieces of the puzzle and leaves you begging for the intermission to get over real fast. There are very few scenes which I would call over the top, except for the otherwise stoic Cheran flooring 8 rowdy-types with just a knife from a nail cutter.

The Neetu Chandra number is unnecessary but I guess it does fit into the script, and maybe Mysskin felt to just take his foot of the pedal just before the climax of the movie.

Acting is top notch. Cheran does his role to the T, I really cannot picture anyone else who could have pulled it off. On hindsight, maybe one really can't for any brilliantly portrayed roles. But in my opinion, it was Y. Gee Mahendran, Lakshmi & Jayaprakash (Dr.Judas) who really grab at your heart. The old couple tonsured heads and all make for a frightening last few minutes.

There are two particular sequences in the movie that I totally loved. The dying words of Dr.Judas, where he says to JK - " They came at us, a family with no inclination towards violence with their power, illegitimate, political and financial ; pushed us into a corner. They chased us till we could run. With their limited mental capacities if they can commit such crimes and get away with it, imagine what we with our intelligence are capable of. Now we will do the chasing. They can do the running."

The other clever reference to Mysskin's inpiration - "Rashomon" through Cheran is subtly hidden in the conversation, should make the Kurosawa fans smile.

My advice - Take your brain to this movie, enjoy the puzzle solving process with the protagonists of the movie and do not miss a minute of it.

Intelligent plotlines seem to be the flavour of the season after Aadukalam & Yeh Saali Zindagi. Maybe they will not fare as well as their blockbuster counterparts from the respective industries, but I'm sure that a Sudhir Mishra or a Mysskin will be remembered, or for the fanatics like me REVERED in the generations to come.