Brains.Yea.Heart.Nopes.

B.C Roy memorial Library , IIM C looks real big.They have got many dull books and journals in there.I think if we somehow use some kind of reverse engineering to reconvert all that paper in trees , we can have enough wood to make a zillion matchsticks.A couple of days earlier , as me and a friend were returning from the 'sales and distribution management' class , god decided to pee .It started to rain.Since no umbrella company's distribution channel reached the spot where we were caught , we had to run towards the library and get in there.I have watched a lot of hindi movies over my years.Escape the rain on a stormy evening and take shelter in a big ancient looking construction , there is a 72% chance you shall be greeted by a shaky lamp wielding "Ramu Kaka" who has been dead for the last twenty or so years.But not being in a movie , I was greeted by a grumpy watchman who looked at me like I was trying to smuggle three surface to air missiles and a couple of rifles into the library.

Anyways , me and my friend pretended like we were really interested in reading things like Harvard Business Reviews and got in and grabbed some glossy health magazines and fashion magazines to pass time.As a sidenote, this guy who was with me is a typical girl-chaser, desperate , dying to impress girls type of guy.If he goes to somebody's condolence meeting and meets the deceased's daughter there , he would tell her shes looking pretty in the white saree and ask for her telephone number and ask her out to a coffee.

And as we chatted in the library as the rain pelted outside ,he tells me he wants to move away from his parents after he gets married.He tells me parents have to realise that kids have their lives and flying away to better pastures is life.He tells me life is about enjoying and about pretty girls and luxury cars.He tells me all he wants is to enjoy life and grab all the luxuries of life.I should not have found it strange.In a way , he reflected a part of most of us.Anyways , the rain ceased , we got back to the hostel and the day ended without me getting murdered.

The next morning ,the Times Of India carried a news about a baby girl left crying on a Kolkata street while her mother boarded a city bus and left the poor child behind.The mother abandoned the little girl and the baby would be now taken in by some state welfare society unless someone adopts her.

And suddenly , all the talk in the library about being successful , rich , and corporate bigwigs came together with this news about an abandoned baby.And it was a restless combination.Imagine Rabri Devi and Laloo Yadav addressing a packed press conference.Suddenly Rabri stands up , throws herself into Laloo's lap, grabs him by the hair on his ears and kisses him passionately on his lips.If this is unsettling , I suddenly felt super-unsettled.

Now we guys cracked CAT and got into IIM Calcutta , so our collective IQ is higher than that of a bathroom slipper.After some years , most would be found in some air conditioned office , happily working on a laptop with a pretty secretary .Even I may manage an office with a rickety ceiling fan and a pentium II and a fat male secretary.Most of our lives may turn out to be about selling fairness creams which cause terrible skin burns to girls wanting to look like Nicole Kidman.

And in a way , we are so worthless and incapable.Now as a student of one of the nation's coolest business schools and a so called academic achiever ( not considering the one time i flunked in the class III hindi grammar test),that one cry of the little girl which must be resounding in some small room of Kolkata right now makes me feel so worthless.

We read about the baby in the newspaper over breakfast at the mess.We finish the tea , grumble about the potatoes in the dosa being half baked , wash hands and get back to room , listen to music,sing in bathrooms , attend lectures,do the assignments due for the next class , chat around , play table tennis in the evening and the next morning , the newspaper is thrown in a corner of the room.We are all brains who would pull out our hearts for smooth girls ,but not for a little wailing baby in need.

To be a leader in a true sense , we need a set of noble values more than a bright mind.A good heart than a fast brain.But the education system values a bright mind.The set of values is left behind in the little nursery books which carried innocent tales preaching love and brotherhood.The education system checks if you know how to light a bulb.It never checks if you WANT to fight the darkness.

If some person adopts that girl and takes care of her to help her grow into a self sufficient and happy lady, that man deserves to be in the papers more than the guys who pass out of business schools and spend their lives building soaps and condoms and shaving creams business. All I have done and achieved till now is for myself and my family.Will my sphere of contribution be limited to such a miniscule part of mankind ? I may have the brains to pull off a decent career, but when will I have the heart to move towards a meaningful life ?

Why am I unable to do anything to help her ? Maybe the fact that I am still dependant on my parents holds me back.Maybe I dont feel about it so strongly.Maybe I am just trying to fake how sensitive I am.Maybe all I want to do is write about it in this blog and slip the next movie in the CD player.I dont know.But any resemblance of meaning in this 'all brains no heart' life would appear only on the day I actually go ahead and do something to help such a baby in need.God.Sometimes all this seems as frustrating as having to watch Osama Bin Laden trim the hair in his nose.Someday Ill just have to break out and do what I want.

Hic.Hic.

Ok.You seen a lot of movies.You know how they jump back into the flashback sometimes.Jump into one right now.

_______________________________

FLASHBACK :
Venue :New Boys Hostel ( The hostel where Me stays )

Characters :

Me ( Age: 23 , The guy who writes this blog )

X ( Age: Looks like 33 , is 24 , Another IIM C student.Another New Boys Hosteller)

X : "Kya re , you dont spend long hours talking on your cellphone these days.Hope all is well between you and airtel guys ? "

Me : " Yeah I am just back frm a movie with the airtel CEO".

X : "Ok yaar seriously , we dont find you spending long hours roaming around the hostel , on phone with that shy smile pasted on your face .Is everything fine ? "

Me : "Yeah life is beautiful.I messed up things between me and her."

X (with the expression ramsay brothers would love to capture) : Oh shit.Shit shit shit.How did this happen ? "

Me:"Angelina Jolie proposed to me and I left her."

X : "Its ok man.Just come to my room some time.A chilled beer and you would feel better."

Me : "I feel fine.And I don't drink."

X ( Ramsay brothers expression recreated ) : "you dont still ! You are 23 kid ! And after what you have been through , you have to drink! ."

___________________________________________

OK.FLASHBACK ENDS.THIS IS NOW.

I do not drink.I do not drink.I do not drink.

You heard it right.A 23 year old boy who does not drink.But I am normal in other ways.I do not wear a pink skirt and I dont wear lipstick.I have a decently manly voice and a if I dont shave , you can see that I have facial hair too.Just that I dont drink.Then why am I branded a sissy Mama's boy for that ? Not that I have any problems with that.Just curious.

The first and only time ,I 'tasted' some vodka at my IIM C freshers party at the hostel.Allegedly,I sang loudly,danced vigorously to every C grade punjaabi song played , ripped my shirt away ,and danced till 4 in the morning till the sound equipment guys drove off with their stuff.

The next morning , I got up at noon ,picked up the cellphone , called mom , told her I drank , apologised for that, and since then not a drop of liquor has passed these lips.

Not that I go around being a walking "Say NO to drinking" poster ,preaching the ills of drinking and how it makes men beat their wives and drive their cars off bridges.But I dont drink because

I dont see any sense in doing that.I love my liver.I love being in control of my senses.

At the hostel parties , most guys drink a lot of booze.A guy got drunk , smashed a bottle on the floor, then jumped on a table to dance , then fell down from the table on the glass and cut his foot.Another guy here got drunk at 2 in the morning, and felt real romantically inclined after that , and then went to the girls hostel to confess how much he loved a particular lady , and the lady almost pushed him off the third floor and called in Calcutta police.Sounds fun but not if you are the drunk one.

But still , guys and girls drink.Why.Bollywood ? Yeh , the macho guys in the movies always drink.And additional bollywood points if they drink directly from the bottle.In the movies , they break up , and drink.They lose a job , and drink.Mom dies , and they drink.They are happy , they drink.Yeh , movies maybe.

Scientists in some lab found moderate drinking is good for the heart.You want to save your heart ? Eat less of those Bread Pakodas , run like a dog in the mornings , do not run after girls .

My uncle says a chilled beer in the summers helps him cool off.You want to cool off ?I will turn up the AC , I will put Ice packs on your head , I will put you in the refridgerator.

Devdaas said drinking helps drowning life's sorrows.Dear Dev ,(putting an arm around his

shoulder) ,we need a light and clean heart to drown them.You lost your K..K..Kiran, oh I mean Paro,and I lost mine.But you did not own Paro , and neither did I own her.Drop the ego.We came in alone , will go out alone.I know what happenned between me and her , and I dont want to escape from it.It happenned.She was there and still would be somewhere.She may be reading this , and I am happy I have learnt all attachements cause misery.You love , but have no right to own anyone's life.Life moves on.The sun still rises, frogs still croak , the internet still works , I still screw up my grades.So dear Devdaas Kumar Ahluwalia ,just step out ,smell the roses , listen to "sohniye" by Juggy D at mindblowing volume,laugh a lot , do good and realise that come what may ,life is a joy to be lived and spread love , not necessarily gain love.

So Why drink ? I dont wanna lose control.

I dont wanna actually get drunk and grab my finance professor by his collar and shake him and yell "Why did you give me a C , sir !!!."I dont wanna get drunk and grab the departmental store guy downstairs and shake him and yell "Why do you charge money from me when I buy something from you , buddy ?? " I dont wanna get drunk and run out on the street and grab the first girl I see and shake her and yell " See , my parents are doctors , I am their only son ,I am I am at IIM calcutta , and whoover you are , please marry me , miss !!!

But I may have missed something.There may be something great hidden within that bottle.A lotta people drink , and they feel good about it.My dad drinks , most guys at IIM C drink , my uncle who spent 11 days in hospital with a liver problem due to drinking drinks, a lot of IIM girls drink and Devdaas drank. So something has to be there.And if there is ,I can always lie to my mom.I can actually drink without letting her know. Then I may not spend the next hostel party sipping coke around quiet south Indian girls while drunk guys go around ripping shirts , falling off tables and kissing each other.Any purpose in drinking? Hic.Hic.

Listening to: Red Red Wine - UB40.( Talk about coincidence )

LOC : Life out of clothes

1912: Titanic sinks.

1945: Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombed.

1975: Indira Gandhi imposes emergency in India.

2005: Washerwoman at New Boys Hostel , IIM C goes missing.

Our washerwoman is missing.Its been more than a week now.She has not turned up at our hostel.

Dirty clothes lie crumpled in the plastic bucket just outside the door of my room , gathering dust.The wooden racks in the corridor which lovingly held freshly washed shirts and shorts , dripping water onto the floor , now stare at me with empty arms. I lie in my room , staring at the ceiling.Looking at the blades of the fan cutting imperfect circles.Reminds me of how the drier of the fully automatic washing machine at my home used to rotate in those gracious rounds.

I hear someone outside.Is she here ? Is she ? I jump out of the bed and step out in the corridor with an eager anticipation.Its a cat , trying to grab something from the plate kept outside , in which I had those incredibly shitty Maggi noodles yesterday night.She looks at me .Meows.Crumpled clothes in the bucket.Empty drying lines.I sneak back into the bed and stare at the ceiling.

My mind drifts off to those days.Seems like yesterday.Carefree.Covered bodies.Freshly washed clothes smelling of detergents.How happy I was.Used to carelessly fling the dirty pair of jeans in the bucket kept outside.And the next day it would be there.Washed.Neatly ironed.A few burns.But far from a burnt sandwich.Vintage days.

And now.I look at the shorts I am wearing.It a recordbook of my culinary exploits over the last four days.There is this fresh ketchup stain I pasted near the right pocket half an hour ago.Thats what happens when u try to dip a sandwich in a ketchup bowl kept in your lap while trying to catch a "mithun-da" action movie on the computer.They should have told me before mithunda yelled "Ma kasam!!!" so loudly that i spilled the ketchup onto my shorts.Oh , there is also this "Shahi Paneer" gravy stain on the left side.Or is it the cheese that fell from the pizza ? I have to scrape it off and taste it to know the answer.There must be many more footprints of what I ate ,all over my shorts.But I think you are already feeling full.

But the good part is that I dont see any stains on the tee shirt on my body.Because I dont see a tee shirt on my body. When your washerwoman is missing over the last seven days , dignity is something you put on the pillion seat of the scooter of life.Dignity can wait when you dont know what you will wear the next time u step out of the bathroom.

Just one light yellow chequed shirt lies in my wardrobe.That can cover me up for tomorrow.Day after tomorrow ? The question threatens me with an future projected scene involving semi nudity in the class.A topless me in the class, though hopefully appreciated by the girls , wont exactly generate a lot of accolades from the professors.I have to cover my top when going to class.That worries me.

I called home in the morning.Ma has told me something about putting in the clothes in a lot of water and letting the clothes stay in water for half an hour and then putting in a lot of detergent and then washing them hard and then taking the clothes out and wringing them and then letting them dry.Looks as easy as Bangladesh beating Australia.Oops.Now that they have actually beaten the Aussies, ill change it.Looks as easy as making Salmaan Khan keep on a shirt over an entire movie.Im sorry , but I am just too obsessed with clothes right now.

Ill have to come out of this inertia soon.Ill will have to carry out my debut "clothes-washing" innings soon.Otherwise I have an alternative plan.I will wrap around a newspaper.And since I am at a Business School , The Economic Times seems an apt one to cover myself with.Business Dressing ?

Listen Miss.washerwoman , I would smile on your sense of absentminded-ness if you burn a gateway through my favorite blue shirt.I would knowingly leave a minimum of five rupees in the hip pocket of every trousers i put in for washing.If i get the time , I will help you in washing on the weekends.I will get you the most wonderful detergents which will keep your hands as soft as a baby's bottom.I will give you extra cash on every diwali , christmas , Ambedkar Jayanti , Guru Nanak Jayanti, Makar Sankranti , Maha Shivratri , Holi and Hanuman Jayanti.But please come back.I need you.The new boys hostel needs you.

The Dove flies away

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Seduction ?

"hell, u r so artificial...trying to get one of your blog reader dames into bed with u, eh? "

This was a comment to my last post.I am smiling.sacchi.Actually this is the problem with our lifestyle these days.Achieve this.Grab that.Win it.A life of progress.A life where you are constantly judged and compared.Where the purpose of life is to be better than the others.And what stokes all this ? A single word which holds around 93% of life's problems and woes -

EGO.

I mean it friends.EGO.Why did our friend post the above comment.Because he wants to belittle
me.Because belittling me would make him relatively higher.Thats the problem.We are no more
content to be ourselves.We are always comparing and judging.

Live your life.Life is not a race.You dont have to be better than others.Just be what you are comfortable being.

And I am amazed by the technological assumptions the comment implies.How can a fellow female blogger get into my bed ? Does she e-mails herself and I download her and take her printout and put that in my bed ?

But I am really not angry.Life is too short to carry hate in our hearts.Infact I am sorry if my writings have sexually aroused you anytime.I just write to bring a little more joy in this world.

And another reason I am happy is that monsoon in Bengal is about to set in.Heat is costly affair.I have spent a lot on buying Real juices , frooti packs , coke cans , aquafina bottles after coming to calcutta this time .A lot of cash has flown out on them. My dad thinks im into buying drugs to spend so much.My ma thinks Im into buying booze to spend so much.ma,papa,its just juice ,coke and water.

But now that the monsoons are coming ,spending would relax.The campus looks great when it rains.The lakes look great with all the water falling into them.Lush green trees.All the birds.The cool breeze.All the water coming into my room through an open window. Me spending half an hour sweeping it out.Beautiful.

And I have started jogging in the mornings.Ok.Just two days since I have started.But I intend to
keep doing that.With the wonderful campus , its wasteful to sleep open mouthed in a dinky room
till 9 in the morning.Its like listening to radio when you are a Michael Jackson live show.

That reminds me,they are making small Michael Jackson toys in America , so that kids can play with him ,for a change.But seriously if MJ is innocent, the poor man is being too bugged.Its wrong to trouble him for being a celebrity.

Sweat dripping off the elbows.The wet tee shirt clinging to the back.The "Om" locket around my
neck flaying wildly as I jog.Its real good going jogging .And then I reach the little bridge over the lake.I plop down on its wooden planked floor and stay there before I decide to jog back to the hostel.And I see quite a few of our professors.In shorts.With their kids.Wives.Its good to see them as normal people with kids and a family.They aint just interested in flunking me in all the finance courses.I pass a professor on my way.He is with his little grandchild.He is showing him the flowers along the path.I say a hello.He smiles back.And suddenly , for that moment , we are not teacher and student.We are just two human beings at different stages of our lives , enjoying the bliss of mother nature.Its good to shed our roles and just come across as two natural human beings.

Oh,now I can see real dark clouds through the window .Baras Jaa pyaare Megha .( Non Hindi guys : Shed some water dear cloud ).

So now I have to study.Till later friends.Be good and do good.Life is beautiful.And I dont want to seduce you.I swear.

Peaceful and unbathed

I would say after thermal underwears and toilet papers , air conditioner is the most pleasant invention on the planet. The way the machine whirrs and spews cold air is pure bliss.The electricity bill aint.But you dont even need to fill it up with water like a cooler. There were no air conditioners at my home till 3 years back.I used to look out of the window of my school bus at all those air conditioners in the windows of the big houses on my way home.I used to look at them , then towards the sun setting at the horizon and pledge that someday I will grow up to buy an Air Conditioner. Papa decided it would be my good luck if I earn enough to manage a second hand rickety ceiling fan with a couple of blades twisted and a little rust.He did not take any risks and got the air conditioners himself.

And these wonderful gadgets purr in all the classes here at IIM Calcutta.So even if I sit between a fat girl with a hint of beard and a guy who allegedly tried to kiss another guy during the new year hostel party , attending classes is a pleasure .

These days I am beginning to spend a lot of time alone.I feel very peaceful and content these days.I am making a conscious decision to be what I am.And that makes me stay away from a lot of people with inflated egos I used to be with earlier just to be a part of the group. To be oneself , the most natural yet hardly followed thing. We got a total of seven lakes here at IIM C . We even got a little wooden bridge over one of them , just like those drawn in little nursery class books.The water is barely around 10 feet down from it.We even got ducks in the lake.I am beginning to spend a lot of early mornings sitting alone on the bridge and looking at the water , the ducks , the trees , hearing the sounds of splashing water , crickets and a lot more . Real lovely place , after a dance bar maybe. A couple of days back, me and a friend went over to the bridge after dinner and sat there for around two hours.We discussed a lot of issues ranging from degrading Indian culture to the lack of female professors to how appealing must Saddam Hussein look in a mini skirt. And I talked about "her" maybe for the first time after things broke up between us. I am not moping around.

But the episode has left me a lot more mature.I am no more the "Slurrp ! See a non-male goes there ! " type guy you tend to be after living through four years of engineering and one year of IIM . Thankfully , this experience has taken me further away from the type of people who fall for external attributes . I was reading this magazine earlier in the day where a guy comments he wont mind swapping girlfriends with his buddy ! Man , i pity you and your girlfriend.Romeo would have strangulated that guy . And even "she" was not a girlfriend to me anytime.I hate that term.

Simplicity and truth are the most treasured attributes for me and meeting people with such qualities is always a pleasant experience , especially if they are rich ladies . If you have seen Roja the movie , that kind of character , so innocent and simple , yet with an inner strength.

Simplicity in this artificial and plastic world. As common as condoms in a monk's shopping list.

Anyways , now that I am out of that thing with "her" , and even she has made it clear I mean as much as a music system to a deaf guy , I am feeling like before - content, single and gay.The tamil guy who moved into the next room looks real hot. You gotta check out his legs.

And I missed the strategic management class yesterday.I did want to attend it. I was waiting for my turn outside the hostel bathroom some 20 minutes before the class. A guy who must be around 6 feet , maybe more , walked up behind me and growled ,"See kid , I have to bathe first. The maximum I can do is to let you join me".

I had a pink bath mug in my right hand , a yellow bucket in my left.I was wearing just a towel around my waist.I looked up at him.To soap the back of a guy with dense chest hair and a gym membership sounds like an once in a lifetime experience , but I let him bathe first. Alone. So i got late for class. And hence I had to stay in my room when a heavenly AC was spewing paradise in Lecture room - 3 of the Academic block , IIM Calcutta.

Anyways , I really got to take a bath now before the 6 footer spots the bathroom before I get in. And in case that happens , I am carrying my nail cutter which has this little hidden knife to the bathroom along with the pink bathmug and the yellow bucket this time. So here I go. If I do not return , please drag that 6 foot guy with the thick chest hair and gym membership to the court. Let justice prevail.

Of sunny and Idli

I pasted newspapers on the window glasses this morning.Keeps the sun out.Its so hot and real humid here at Calcutta , slap the air and half a glass of water falls down.So the papers keep the sun out. And I just have to look at the window to know that Essar has lined up 1.5 bn $ for its telecom plan and to know that B.C.Jain Jewellers at Camac Street , Kolkata have a ensemble of dazzling solitaires at discounted rates now.

I have watched some three movies over the last two days.LA confidential , Van Wilder , Page 3.There is something very fine about watching movies on a computer rather than on a Television.

Arjun , the "imaandaar" son of an ultra "imaandaar" school teacher master Dinanath , has testified against Saleem Pistol ,who has risen from a rag picker to become a terrifying underworld baddy.To avenge the testification , Kareem Rifle , who is the big brother of Saleem Pistol , picks up his sword and takes off after Arjun. Arjun is standing in the queue at the local mother dairy to buy a litre of double toned milk.Kareem Rifle spots Arjun and charges towards him. Arjun spots Kareem Rifle running towards himself with a sword in hand.He panics , pees in his shorts, collects his milk polypacks and then runs.Kareem Rifle is after him.both running on a busy mumbai street.Panting.Sweating.The distance is closing between them.Kareem Rifle is too angry and charged up to let Arjun go and make a milk shake with that milk.Running over parked cars.vegetable carts.Arjun is tiring.Kareem Rifle is almost there.He makes a final lunge , floors Arjun, gets on him , yells horribly ,and pulls back his sword to chop down Arjun.

A baseball Cap wearing Sunny Deol tells me he wears "Jo pehne So comfortable" brand innerwear all the time because its 100% cotton and makes him feel like hes wearing nothing.Thats what commercial breaks do to you.When the sword on Arjun was about to come down and I was trembling with the anticipation of spurting blood and double toned milk , I suddenly have to acknowledge the underwear Sunny Deol wears.Thats the good part about watching movies on a computer rather than television.

No commercial breaks.How I love being concise.

But Sunny Deol and his "i feel nude" innerwear notwithstanding , I am loving this term. We can actually choose electives and study what we like.Thats a very good thing.Makes this term much more interesting.

And I have been reading a lot about Rapes these days.Its bad.But every male is being branded a part time rapist.See , not all of the males have boiling hormones.If I try to help a lady struggling with her shopping bags in a mall , she thinks my sole motive of existence is to impress her,and ask for her telephone number and address, and to turn up at her home on some rainy night and then to end up sleeping with all the females in her household.I mean , I know women have been living under a cloud of threat.But what do I do , wear a "I-wont-rape-you" tee shirt ?Anyways , what me worry.But if anyone thinks every male have this desire impress females , I am not a male according to his theory.

Some guys have better things to do than to think of girls .So relax ladies .Atleast I dont care.

A friend who reads my blog commented im beginning to sound like a misanthropist these days.Oh its perfectly fine.You dont need to drown youself in yourbath mug for not knowing the meaning of the word.Its one who hates the entire mankind.Thats news for me.I dont plan to throw acid on girls or to trip old men or to plug chewing gums onto the backsides of innocent citizens.But yeah , I am beginning to feel very comfortable with myself these days.Like I have no need to be a part of any group.I am becoming more and more of myself with each passing day.I am shedding all the pretensions and masks each of subconsciusly wear.Its like I need no one as an emotional support or to complete me.I am very fine with my solitude.Just give me some music and I can spend decades in my room alone.Maybe that makes me a little socially withdrawn.But I have two goals in life.One is to see Ashwarya Rai tie a rakhi on Vivek Oberoi's wrist and walk off into the sunset with me.The other is to lead a peaceful life where I dont have to be someone I am not. And just being myself brings me closer to the latter aim.

Someone just put on this south indian song at pretty ear-drum challenging decibel levels here.That reminds me , a lot of South Indian students have moved into the rooms around me.We call them "Idlis" here at IIM C. Nothing offensive.We are all Indians. Just that we call them "Idlis".All in good fun.And they are free to call us North Indians "Mattar paneer" or "Bread Pakoda" or anything. So I don't want any "Aiyyo , I swear on Rajnikanth Saaar , I weel keel you machaaan !" kind of comments now. But this sudden cultural exposure has been good for me.Suddenly I am one of the fairer guys on my hostel wing.

Anyways , I have to watch "Zeher " now. And guess what , without any Sunny Deols and "Jo pehne so comfortable" underwears.

On the Jukebox : Ek Na Ek Din - Lucky Ali

Life is Intense.Hard.Serious....Seriously ?

**************
See , I do not really care if anyone reads this.I have my fun writing.But still ,if you read my blog and do not comment ,this is not on.I am a vegetarian.I wont eat you unless I am real hungry.We can be friends and I can actually help you get a job some day.So do leave a comment ,just anything ,be it about your desire to kick me in the crotch real hard.Which anyways ,you cannot do online.
**************

"Life is not a cartoon film abhinav! You have to learn to be serious. Grow Up !"
-- Old chinese proverb.Recited to me by everybody around me.

Huh ? serious ? I am serious.I am seriously serious.wait a minute.why do I be serious ?

Looks like there should be shops selling the "british-stiff-upper-lip" all over the world from the backwaters of Kerela to the red waters of the Red sea.It would sure run up seriously roaring sales.

Maybe the world thinks being serious is the same as being responsible.A guy who looks grimly stiff must be very particular about his work.The world thinks that a guy who looks straight faced is thinking about something deeply important and philosophical.In reality,he may be serious due to the constipation hes been suffering from.Or maybe from diarrohea which makes him shit like a camel.If you look serious enough to be paid to haunt a house ,you are thought to be responsible.

Infact , its the way kids are brought up around here , enjoyment is linked to all the useless things.Pappu enjoys playing cricket .Pappu's mom orders him to burn his cricket bat and study how gandhiji screwed the british.Pinki laughs a lot while playing with her Barbie dolls.Pinki's mom comes in , wrings the neck of her doll and tells her to find out more about the pythogoreas theorem.Little Sachin loves driving his cycle around the colony streets.Enter sachin's mom.She bans the cycle.Orders him to read about the water cycle.

Its like if you are enjoying , if you are laughing , you are not making yourself into a breadwinner.The entire Indian society is designed to make enjoyment a very ridiculed thing ,just after Saurav Ganguly.

So Pappu , Pinki and Sachin grow up to be fine young men/women/whatever who think anything they enjoy is basically as useless as a porous condom.Success is not about enjoyment.Its about sweat , struggle , competition , hard work as hard as a steel condom.

And this makes success mutually exclusive with enjoyment.If you want success,dont waste time in enjoying.

Pappu , Pinki , Sachin all would die one day . Poof . Gone. Hey guys , you left your dollars , cars , mansions , flat screen televisions , microwave owens all behind down here.Do I call the Blue Dart guys to send all this up there ?

When it all has to end a day ,whats the point in living life so intensely ? Why take it so hard ? Why crib about your job , about a broken relation , about a wrong that has happened.By the way ,my computer seems to have got too slow these days.Fuck.Anyways.Life is not about living in the past or future.Live in the moment.

All of you will die .If you drink cheap wine or eat too much of fatty stuff , you will die soon.I would die too ( Daactar , main marna nahi chahta !!).And what am I waiting for ? For life to throw up something one day which will make me happy for long ?
I dont think life would do it.Theres nothing which can make anyone perenially happy.You get a big car , and you want a big car with automatic transmission, you get that , and you want a big car with automatic transamission and a CD player , you get that , and then you get real fat and the doctor advises you to cycle to work.Without generalising the "I want a car" funda ,desires would never end.And no outside thing can make you happy forever.So stop waiting you cribber.That moment you are waiting for would come and die down and you will set off in the pursuit of the next one.

And youll miss all the fun along the street and keep dreaming about the massage parlour at the end of the street.

Hey , just put on this number "piyu bole" from the movie parineeta.Nice little melody.Anyways.And I am downloading "harold n kumar went to white castle" , some kind of cross over flick.Lets see how it turns out.Back to the gyaan.

So lighten up.

Work hard but grab the fact that your happiness aint in any screwed 18 hour job or any moment you are waiting for.Your happiness is right here.Smile a little.Smell the roses.Smell my socks.

You think Im some spoilt and pampered and insensitive brat yet to face the hard spiky life ? You think I dont have any worries ? You think I dont have any bleeding memories ? have you ever heard of this deadly ailment - limphoosircoma of the intestine ? Though I am not suffering from this , I have my share of heartaches.I have probably a lot more pain in my ass and heart than most.But its when life threatens to screw you that you need to smile and laugh more.Its not like im puttin up a fake attitude when my insides wants to cry.

Im not escaping my pain , i have embraced it , understood it ,taken responsibility of it ,and left it behind.Being miserable is so easy.I refuse to be miserable and serious and intense.

Not that I dont have any skeletons in my cupboard.I have enough of them , im planning to donate about a dozen to medical schools in Bihar.But I know skeletons would keep running into my cupboard.If I have to be happy , its my job. I cant let life decide about my happiness.So if I keep waiting for reasons to be happy , I wont be happy.A light heart is not a by product of circumstances , its the best way to live when the circumstances wanna push you down.So I am happy.Without a reason.You too smile right this moment.Ouch !You got a real stupid smile.

Life should be cartoon film for me.Do I need to grow up ?

bakwaas while downloading...

Ye world hai na world , isme do tarah ke log hote hai , ek jo finance mein major karte hai, aur wo jo marketing mein major karte hain.

And I have decided to major in marketing.This is the week where we have to decide upon a lot of electives for our specialization in MBA.And marketing it is for me.Between , aint "chhup chhup ke" from Bunty and Babli a catchy song ? listening to it and loving it.Apologies to my side roomie , but I am turning up the volume.Oh yea , about the specialisation.I think I would prefer a marketing job to a finance one.I can stuff free detergents or wafer bags in my shirt while returning from a HLL or Lays office .Wat do I steal from a financial firm ? balance sheets ?So marketing it is.So if a couple of years later , your door bell rings just when the India needs 8 runs off the last three balls , and you open the door to find a guy selling aluminium foils with
extra freshness at very reasonable rates , don't smash his head with your baseball bat , it may be me.

The good part about being at the hostel is that even if you want to play Bappi Lahiri at 4 in the morning , nobody can hurt you provided your room door is bolted strongly from the inside.Hmm..even "Nach Baliye" from Bunty and Babli aint bad,a little more decibels wont kill anyone , ever heard of anyone dying of ear-drum attack ?

But know what , its real humid here at calcutta.I dont wear a shirt when I am at my room.Salmaan bhai zindabaad.Infact , ill take a bath after the download of "Kya Kool Hai Hum" completes.I saw "Devdaas" yesterday.Paro.Paro.Paro.Paro.Abe chuck Paro Shahrukh bhai.I feel Devdaas could have been saved had his home TV carried ESPN.Poor guy did not know how to pass time and then that nutty Chunnilaal gave him that Bagpiper bottle to make a complete nut out of him.Huh , look at this.man man man.DC posts "Silence is the wavelength of the soul".Just this.This is a complete post.And more than 15 comments.Is the entire world going spiritual save me ?Am I the only one listening to this stupid song "cheeky girls" while the rest of you are dipping yourselves in the books of OSHO and discussing social and other deep rooted issues ? I better change the song to a more respectable "chadti jawani-ketchup mix."

And I will take a bath now.Then I will catch up with "kya kool..." and then I have to go to the dinky shop opposite the campus main gate to get a SIM card.I must have lost 273 tablespoons of fluids just travelling to that damn shop from my room.That guy thinks I want to smuggle a nuclear missile to Saudi Arabia.He is asking for all kinds of documents except my death certificate.

By the ways , the good part about Calcutta is that the girls here a lot more decent and pleasant than those at Delhi.Like I went to a multiplex at Delhi just before getting back to Calcutta.Im not the one to "hang around" such places much ."Hang around", as the youngsters these days call it.I have never been to a discotheque , do not drink , do not smoke , don't have a girlfriend , don't like fast food.You get the idea.I am like an audio cassette in a CD case.Like a 1979 Ambassador on a road reserved for luxury cars.Like a pajamas clad guy in an Allen Solly showroom.

But I went to this multiplex.A lot of young girls around.High class girls.Sunglasses.Piercings.Colored hair.Looked like brand ambassadors for the Indian undergarment industry.It embarrased me to just look at them.Low waist jeans.The "chaddi" straps peeping out.Skin tight tops."not-so-innocent" one liners across the fronts.Smoking and drinking girls.Colored hair.I am told this is modernism.The bold and independent girl of today.

Men are bad.Real bad.Just spend half an hour in any Delhi market place and you would feel ashamed about the way women are treated by the Delhi men.But those multiplex girls make me ashamed too.

Wearing surface area challenged clothes which wud put most Indian Garment mills out of work is womanhood ? Showing off your underwear strap just because a certain "Dj doll" decides to let the nation know wat she wears beneath her knickers in a music video , is womanhood? Wearing a "if u got it - flaunt it " tee shirt is womanhood ? Drinking and lying to your parents about it is womanhood? Wearing tight clothes which show off your figure with geometrical precision is womanhood ?

Wearing a simple salwaar kameez but being proud of your womanhood is.Wearing thick glasses but not having to lie to your parents is.Tying hair in a plain "choti" but helping an old woman cross the road is.Being another Kalpana Chawla is.Having the courage to be what you are instead of trying to follow Kareena Kapoor is.Womanhood is not about flaunting your figure , its about having the heart of a woman.

I was really appalled at the ways of those girls at the multiplex in Delhi.They cant inspire shayars and ghazals anymore.Only music videos.

Maybe Im an MCP.Maybe Im too backward in my thoughts and to make matters worse , I have the IQ of your bellybutton.Maybe its global warming forcing those girls to show so much skin.But just tell me - What part of liberation of women is in low waist jeans and showing "chaddi" straps ?

Anyways , the download of "Kya Kool.." completes."Chhup Chhup ke" is playing again on the jukebox.Real cool song.Do check it out.If you like it , remember me when you are dying .If you find it pathetic , I dont care.So time for a "snaan" , or a bath for the linguistically challenged. So till next time , bbye , be good , do good , remember to zip up your pants before going out , and chew with your mouth closed.

The two golden hearts

Big tears.Not the drizzly ones which just make your cheeks wet below the eyes.But big tears which travelled along the cheeks in clearly defined streams , left the surface , dropped straight down and plopped down on the clean sparkling airport floor.My parent's tears.My sister's tears.Me too.But not before my parents and sister.I held the tears before I could turn down the security check counter where I was out of my family's view.I know I am being a little too sissy about my stay at home ending.But thats the way I am.I cry easily.

I left Delhi this morning and a couple of hours later ,landed safely , here at IIM calcutta to start upon my second and final year of M.B.A.

I have set up the room . The clothes have been shoved in the almirah.The curtains have been put up.The computer has been set up.And I have got this table fan which whirrs and throws pretty good air.Its just so good to have it in this stuffy heat of Calcutta.

But I'm missing my family now.Would be fine once the classes start from tommorrow.But not now. Really want to sneak into the kitchen at my home right now , and scare my mom by shouting in her ear.And then she would turn and say "munnu ! tu kisi din heart attack dilwayega mujhko! ".She always says this when I do such stupidities.What would my Dad be doing right now ? Maybe he would be reading the newspaper.I always want to read the newspapar when hez reading it.I pull the newspaper and he pulls it back.Then ma comes in to settle the issue and we divide the newspaper pages.Im happy with the sports page usually.And then my sister would come in and call me a lazy bum or something to that effect.I would call her a stupid girl and then she would say that getting into IIM has gone to my head.I was surprised to see her cry at the airport this morning.She rarely cries without my hitting her.

Why do I have to be away from them.Oh yea,this career's sake.So that I earn a lot of money and make them more comfortable and proud of their munnu.I understand.My being here is the best thing for our family.But for those of you who are with their parents , dont let the moment go unrespected and unrelished.Maybe its only when we move apart that we realise the value of being together.

A Family is the most natural blessing.Maybe we have become so used to a ma working in the kitchen , to a dad reading the newspaper , to a sister teasing us that we don't notice them anymore , and search outside for someone special, something special .But nothing can ever come close to the love your parents give you. I look at my right hand. This hand has been through quite a lot.This hand slapped a guy when I was in class 6 ,caressed a glittering trophy when I was adjudged the best student in class 11 , high fived other hands when we joked at the college hostel.

But still the most natural and loving thing this hand must have done is to curl around my ma's finger.

The love in a mother's heart.That cannot be found in any investment bank , in any dollar note , in any degree .We guys search the world for trophies and medals.But the best and most natural form of joy you can get is in feeling the unconditional love your parents can give you.You will always have to return to your parents to see that glitter of true love and caring in their eyes.You may sleep on huge beds with lavish furnishings in an air conditioned room.But the timeless feeling of relaxation , without any work or tasks to worry about , is when I place my head in ma's lap and she strokes my hair lightly.

Neend kahin bhi aa sakti hai , par araam to ma ki god mein hi milta hain.

Have you ever talked to your ma about the moment you took your first step ? The twinkle in her eyes , the soft excitement in her voice , the slight smile on her lips , recounting that moment after all these years is something else.Different that any other joy.Its like her soul is
completely immersed in the unbridled joy of the moment when you pressed your soft and tiny foot against the earth on your own , for the first time.

So just remember that somewhere , those two people , are still wishing for your happiness with all their hearts , and still waiting to stroke your hair with their now frailer hands , and still feeling joy at every smile of yours.

People , you may have created empires , businesses , nations but those two people have created life. They have created you .

Life may be about achieving huge targets , getting into IIMs , getting a job in New York , buying fast cars . But life is also about watching your ma fold clothes , about sneaking behind her and surprising her,about pulling your sister's ponytail , about making your family laugh by acting stupid , about helping dad in cleaning the car , about mom calling me and asking me not to run down the hostel stairs too fast.

Life is not about a few big moments , but a million small ones.

So please go out , win the world , be a famous man , but please don't ever forget to care for the two golden hearts of your ma and dad back home, beating just for you.

Treat boys and girls equally.Ladka ladki barabar hain.

A long time ago , people used to watch a channel called doordarshan.If you still watch this channel , please contact the Discovery Channel team.I hear they are making some kind of documentary on "eccentric personalities and their eccentric preferences" , and they will love to feature you.

And I have to tell you this.My home did not have a satellite cable connection till May 2004.I think cable TV entered indian lives sometime in early 1990s.But all the TV at my home carried till the summer of 2004 was doordarshan.Two channels.One.Two.And then back to one.Lets not get into the reasons.But the talk of the colony used to be Mrs.Malhotra's extra marital affair,the aggarwal family feud, and the absence of cable TV at our home.

This channel , doordarshan , ran a regular news bulletin. The news there was read by women as sexy as Uma Bharti and men ashot as a cold coffee.And that was typical doordarshan.Women as plain as they get.It usually ran movies from the 1970s and the 1960s.The ones which proudly attached a little "eastmancolor" under the movie name.So while my friends watched Shahrukh stammer his way to glory , I watched Dilip Kumar ride a "taanga" in "naya daur".While salmaan attempted to destroy the indian shirts industry by promoting a "say no to shirts" campaign, I watched Manoj Kumar lose his eyes , legs and arms in every second movie.And while Karishma Kapoor wiggled her butt to "sexy sexy sexy" before drooling husbands and angry wives in cinema halls , I watched a saree-clad , no-noodle-straps, yet radiant Waheeda Rehmaan.

But thats not the point.The point is the break between the news bulletin.The time when those government sponsored advetisements came on.Say NO to drugs.Say NO to drinking.Say NO to "kandom" less sex.And say NO to girl discrimination.It showed stuff like a girl saying "bapoooooo main padna chahti hoon " , "main apne feet pe stand karna chahti hoon" , "main daaactar banna chahti hoon".These advertisements ended with the girl smilimg and clutching her degree victoriously.And then the message flashed :

Stop discriminating between boys and girls.ladka ladki barabar hain.
Treat boys and girls equally.

And I plead with the world around me.Treat boys and girls equally.

Take away the huge advantage girls get at every step of life.

Stop this "man"handling of boys.Stop treating the "UNFAIR" sex ( thats boys ) unfairly. As a sidenote , an american boy's skin is as white as snow.A south Indian girl's may be more like coca cola's color.But shes still said to belong to the fairer sex.Anyways, Let me explain the ways boys are treated unfairly.

There may be villages called daaruhera and jharsa where men drink "desi" hooch till midnight, go home , and beat their wives till the wine shop reopens.But I have never been to that village and can only write about what I see.

Have you ever driven a blood red BMW at 160 kms per hour with the car stereo playing some altaf raja song ? Neither have I.Instead I have to use a combination of auto ride , bus ride and hitchhiking to get to home each evening.Talk about asking for a lift.I stand near a barber shop after a day of hard work with my sleeves rolled up and tie loosened.I stick up my thumb to every passing vehicle.I keep an expresssion as if my wife is to have a delivery in three minutes and I need a lift.Still I have to wait for almost half the duration of a soccer match before some guy on a shaky scooter decides to stop for me.

And then this girl walks up next to me and stands there before the barber shop , seeking a lift . And the next leather clad guy on his monster bike screeches to a halt almost grazing my toes , let the dust cloud settle , looks back at the girl and asks "need a lift ,miss ?".She leaves with the uzbekistan wrestler clone.And i keep on my "I need a lift" show running.

Scene moves to the DTC bus.I am a small guy.So a lot of girls are capable of mashing me and stuffing me to make a stuffed vagabond parantha.But still these broad shouldered , biceps flaunting girls have these ladies seats reserved snugly for them.I have to stand in the crowded bus and struggle to keep my nose away from the armpits of the guy to my left and to keepmy butt away from the "dance master"-ish gay looking guy on my right.

Now for the interviews.Me in a starched white shirt.Navy blue trousers.A necktie.I walk in.The interviewer looks like a cross between a crocodile and kadar khan.I hand in my certificate file.He hardly looks at them.How many types of fan regulators do you know about ? , he asks with a frown. But saaaar , I am a computer engineer , I protest.He looks at me like his cellphone has more grey cells than my head.Havent u studied electrical engineering in term 3 ? Now I cant tell him that I got 37% marks in electrical engineering and dont know much about a fan , forget its regulator.I am out before you can spell regulator.

The next candidate in is a girl.White starched salwaar kameez.Enchanting smile.Pretty eyes.Heavenly ears.Wonderful nose.Even the hair in her nose would have looked marvellous.She walks in.The crocodile-kadar khan cross looks at her and forgets about his overweight and loud wife.He smiles widely.She sits down.She hands him her file.He goes through it with the interest of a teenager going through a porn magazine for the first time.OHHH , you have learnt Bharatnatyam ?? !! Tell me about it , miss ! And the next10 minutesare about the "mudraas" and whatever ways they twist their bodies in Bharatnatyam.And then the interview ends.No fan regulators.She is selected.I get ready for some other crocodile clone some other day.

And the list is endless.I am running out of time so would have to stop my outpouring about the gut wrenching discriminationI as a boy have faced till now.But believe me , its for real.And getting really real by the day as I watch the world around me.By now , the women liberation movement supporter in you would be itching to send a mob of angry and agitated broad shouldered women to my place.I swear I have never been to Maharashtra.I swear I have not accepted a nickel from the RSS.Neither do Ikeep a passport sized picture of Bal Thackrey in my wallet.I dont even have a trishul hidden under my bed.So as I get ready to leave office now ,you guys just remember the Doordarshan advertisement.

Treat boys and girls equally.I have to go now.An hour and a half later ,I would be found standing before the barber shop , sticking my thumb, asking for a lift from passing scooters and mopeds, in this unfair world.

*****
And yea.My lovely sisterly angel (angelicsoulsback.blogspot.com) has got All india Rank 1 in the IIT master's entrance.And without any unfair advantage.A huge congrats to her !