49 minutes extra

My work place is finally close to my life place. May be half-an-hour if I walked, but more assuredly 11 minutes on the subway. For the last 3 years, while I commuted to work for an hour to my old work place, I hated waking up early to make it in time. I hated cutting my sleep short - din't know by how much - but it was short. As if somebody cut short my dream, while I was making it in my sleep.

One fine sleepy night, unbeknownst to me, I learnt to connect my dreams (like stitching film reels together). I stitched my dreams as a quasi-reality-fictional-supernatural-futurisitc series of shortcomings, frustrations, angst and despair.

So what happened when my dream of you met the reality of you?

When every single night I had been dreaming of the Sun, why did I always wake up in the morning, and not feel like as if I just had realized my dreams? Why the remorse?
A friend emailed me this morning "Buddy, you can now sleep for an extra 49 minutes:)".

Yes, my old-work-place self would have appreciated those valuable 49 minutes of missed laziness in the bed. It was 49 minutes less of the Sun in a day; the Sun that was not mine.

When you were finally just a week away from moving over to my life place for good, I remember admiring the length of time I had been waiting for you, for this time. It was time to bid farewell to my sad dreams. And despite its nature, I felt sad, I would miss them.

What I had dreamt for all my life, was walking down the airport-international-arrival-aisle. This will be my mortality bound eternal sunshine.

My fantastic world

Facebook - The birth of the need: This is how legally approved voyeurism must look like. It's a community of culprits and victims with each member able to choose and change their role whenever they please. This creates a wave of behavior patterns that I think are worth noting. I would like to assume that I represent an average FB addict. Because frankly, despite the possibility, there's really not a lot of things that an average person does on a regular basis on the net. Internet, is pretty much like the genie who appears whenever you rub the lamp. And it waits there to grant your wish. It was easy at first, becasue you had this huge pool of unfulfilled dreams that needed attention. Later on, it starts getting unnerving when you have such a powerful option by your side, and you realize that you are not making use if it, there by losing out to all other Aladdins of the world. So while I did check out some wicked chicken recipe, watched some netflix, surfed on the lonely planet, I really don't want to do this over and over everyday. That's where FB comes in.

The Analogy: Anybody who has lived in a big city knows how scarce privacy is. You lose out on it as soon as you open the window of your apartment to get some fresh air in. Theoretically, I can live without opening the window, and it will also keep the dust away. But I like the idea of opening it every now and then, so that my neighbor across the street can see my place. Although I don't know my neighbor, but it matters gravely to me of what I think he/she thinks of my place. So even if I keep the entire apartment shabby, I make it a point that the small part of the apartment that is visible, stays beautiful and desirable.

Reaction oriented Action: A friend of mine got recently married; somebody just had a baby; somebody is not feeling like studying today - all such important news keep flowing in, as I run through my latest news feed on FB. Some friends want me to watch a video, so they scream "Amazing", "Incredible", "Must See".


A friend of mine posted pictures of him and his wife traveling the world around. I don't know why he is doing this. He has 400 friends listed on his FB. The couple look absoluely de-coupled and bored. With no additional comments provided to the uploaded picture, I would believe that he wants me to admire the scenic backdrop. When I first actively joined FB, I had these strong urges to tell my friends what I actually felt like. But although I think my married friend is looking glum, my comments now sound like "Lovely pic!". Yes, I am a FB socialite. I lie openly so that my social life lives on. Actually another 20 of his friends felt more/less the same way, so they 'liked' it as well. This got my friend into a mad spree of posting dozen more such pics. But telling the truth would never meet the purpose. Not only will I possibly dent our friendship, and hence lose out on a potential fan to support my present and future FB scribbles, I am afraid it may just push him down the wrong side. By quantifying the comments, my friend gets to know that while 19 of his friends liked it, 1 friend has openly abused him. Lo-behold, I shall then be the social network outcast.
As I learn and experience the FB culture with every passing day, I realize that people really do not want my honest opinion when they post a pic or when they tell you what's on their mind. Funny - I thought the game was : you say what's on your mind, and I'll say what's on my mind after reading what's on you mind! They don't want a debate; and they don't like delving into a thought. All they want to know is, if you are a fan.  This is not a platform to express yourself. It positively stops you from doing so. It's useless and essential in the same breath, just like the real-world society. And hence we note the futility in realizing a space in this world (virtual or real) where we can act and react seamlessly. Both these societies are democratic with an over impetus on quantity over quality. It is run by the theory that if 51% of people think that 2+2 = 5 then that's the new law. 

Prelude: Remember the happy innocent stone age of internet world when shady smoky chatrooms were the cult? Places where you established your identity with "22/M/Ind". It was so hard to get to sell myself with just these 3 attributes. My options, I thought, were limited. But then came deceit - why not let's behave like a spirit and get into "20/M/ny" or maybe "18/F/UK".

The world's changed - we are no longer dceit hungry - we like the voyeur inside.

I can't wait for tomorrow.

Of passengers and intents

Thanks to Arghya, Aditi, and Abhinav!

Somewhere around 1:30 am on a Friday night at the backyard patio of Duke of York, and roughly 2 pitchers of high-priced Stella down the throat, out came some novel observations.

Story#1
Try catching an international flight to India from whenever to wherever. The waiting lounge, as you shall observe, brings out the essence of India. A polite airline staff serenades out an invitation for all the priority guests (aka people who do not want to compete) to board the flight. Nobody pays any attention. It takes them 2 full seconds before realizing that in India (i.e. for Indians) "priority is what you make of it". The mood swiftly changes; A cursory glance across the lounge reveals many faces. Don't be fooled by the looks; these are professional athletes when it comes to aircraft barging-in. They know that it is different from hopping onto a local train or a public bus in an Indian metro city. It's a different race track altogether. That's exactly where the difference ends though. The competition remains the same - a bulging middle class scared that resources might be scarce.
To bring a bit of light hearted giggles into this tense environment, we have a few naive foreigners double dreaming of Yoga n Kamasutra, who are about to be caught completely unaware .
The air goes quiet; you can see fathers clutching their child's hands and mothers holding on to the extra bulky carry-on luggage. Old Uncles firmly gripping their walking sticks. All nervously seated to the edge of the cold steely lounge seats. The staff takes a deep breath.
"We now request passengers.....seat # 22A - 34F...."
They might as well have politely requested passengers to demonstrate the meaning of Aakraman!
Off they go now. Trampling on everything that comes in their way; a single minded determination to barge-in through the gate, to a glorified finish line where a sweetly smiling Air-hostess is going to whisper a soft namaskaar....aapka swagat hai. We have paid for this ticket, damn it.  And we surely shall not be the last ones to enter.

Story#2
Domestic Indian flights (compared to international flights) are far better in terms of sheer diversity of intent. Broad categorization would allow 3 distinct families. First up, you meet the small number of suavely polished gentlemen and elegant ladies who constantly twitch their noses, and let out sighs of disgust. They are extremely irritated at seeing this huge population create havoc.
This brings us to family#2, the ire of family#1. Here you will find the typical train going family with tiffin boxes full of paranthas and pickles and anything and everything that will help them survive this physically demanding 2 hour flight. A fusion of smells of different cuisines takes to the air as soon as the pre-recorded voice lets you know that the seat belts may now be cut/slit/burnt/hammered. Family#2 can simply not live without each other. And it so cruelly happens, every single time, that the airline ticket gods try to sprinkle the family members across the breadth and width of the seating chart. The sheer delight at finding your family member, thousands of miles up above the earth, is a speechlessly divine feeling. And as soon as the needs of the stomach have been taken care of, they set out in search of their loved ones.
And finally, there's the third kind. Typified by a young hetro-sexual Indian male who is travelling alone. Prior to departure, as soon as this person gets to his seat, he starts praying with all earnestness. Wishing true, and wishing hard for the empty seat next to him to be occupied by none other than the most ravishing, hot lady in the passenger list. And more often than not, just when the wait is about to turn futile, and the flight is set to take off in a few minutes, in she walks. A la Pamela  Anderson, down the aisle, looking for her seat #. The prayers start banging on God's temple doors. She slows down as she nears the coveted seat, and then suddenly for no plausible reason she chooses to sit right next to the old toothless man 2 rows ahead. And as if that weren't painful enough, the dream of our hero is brought to a cruel end when a bulky, grumpy middle aged businessman decides that he cannot do without the company, and chooses the 'seat of desire'. Sleep time.

Yeh-lo-drama

What follows in the blog is in no ways connected to the posted article link.

http://ibnlive.in.com/blogs/sagarikaghose/223/54036/from-three-idiots-to-a-nation-of-idiots.html

So one fine day in the near future..
Chetan Bhagat wins the copyright issue against Mr. Hirani and the bad boys of bolly. On a stunning blue moon night where everybody was forced to tell the truth (as ancient Aztec wisdom goes), the Supreme court held the special court session in front of the famous India Gate. The color of the moon on a clear sky forced the truth out, as the country watched stunned on prime time television. Bhagat was given the recognition that was due, and rightfully all the profit generated from the movie was ordered by the court to be forwarded to his SBI (State Bank of India) IIT-IIM -Deutche Investment Banker account.
It is a massive victory for Bhagat who now can fearlessly work on his passion without having to worry about malicious people stealing his ideas. And as has been the norm since Indians started following Bhagat, who appears to be influencing more young brains than his famous namesake ever did (as noted by NY Times), we watch the country of a billion (average age 27 yrs) waiting with bated breath for him to e-pen down another of his literary wonders.
In a break away move, Sonia Gandhi's pseudo government has worked overtime during the weekend and put through the 'bhagat' bill at the the house of commons. The bill gets approved, as the country witnesses the latest addition to the fundamental rights of being an Indian citizen - The right to be honest. The Department of Honesty Enforcement (DHE), created as an after thought, has been entrusted with the task of ensuring that every Indian understands it, believes it, and respects it.
Bhagat, who fully supports the 'Right to Honesty Act', discussed at Barkha Dutt's NDTV Big Fight, that since the task was so noble and difficult, it would be apt to set the best brains of the country to work on it. And since it is obviously known where the best brains of the country are developed, it is but natural to assemble an army of the elite.
The making of the working committee was far too diffcult and it was only thanks to UTV who came up with a 11th hour fresh brain wave to launch an Indian Reality show that helped the country find the 5 most brain-iest people in the country.
The working committee was formed, and they took exactly 3 weeks to crunch the numbers and do the analysis and slug out a model that would work in India, for India, on Indians.
A few of the major findings of the working committee special report are as follows:
1. In a vast country as ours, the most commonly understood language that everybody speaks and understands, is that of money. The new honest-o-meter (work under progress at IISC) will annually handsomely reward the top 10 honest people in this country. Reliable sources advise that a special panel of judges including Sonali Bendre, Narendra Modi and Susan Boyle, shall make the honorable decision to pick the honestest Indian in year 2010. Sahara TV, Star TV and Sony TV are queuing up in front of DHE to file charges against each other for potential copyright violations, telecasting rights, and obstruction to honest work.
2. "We all were born honest, and somewhere in the path of life, we lost it. " If your belief in honesty was lost as a result of a past action of dishonesty of which you feel to be a victim of, then the Indian government encourages you to bring the issue to a special court of law and justice which is answerable only to the DHE. Reliable sources advise that IIT Delhi, IIM Ahmedabad and Deutche Bank are planning to file a copyright violation against Bhagat at the DHE approved special court.
3. Establish temples of Honesty to enrich the young minds - Indian Institute of Honesty. In line with the theme of 'education for the elite' and faith in the 'panch pandavas in Mahabharat', it is proposed that 5 IIH centres be created to provide state-of-the-art learnings on honesty. Reliable sources have advised that Lehman Brothers and Bank of America have openly offered to sponsor the creation of IIH. Day Zero recrutiment is ensured to candidates who complete this 20 month course successfully.
Bhagat meanwhile is going through the 'much vaunted' and 'often craved for' writer's block symdrome. The doctors at AIIMS have been unable to offier any relief. Sources reveal that Bhagat plans to go through a 2 week intensive course at the Internationally acclaimed 'Anu Malik's Centre for Inspiration and Creativity' to help himself return to his normal ways.
The working committee, as a token of appreciation for DHE, have proposed a novel punishment structure to ensure that people do not abuse the 'right to honesty'. Those found guilty will have to submit their Indian passport to DHE, and will then be flown to any of the new US International airports.

Mish mash Gymnosophy

Yes, approaching 28 earth years of life.

Convoluted and confused. It's a bit difficult, if you are me. For as long as I can remember, 28 was to be the magical age by which I would have all (or most) answers; a point of time - a pedestal from where upon things would be clear. That was my single rationale for sustained ignorance, my crutch for so many years now. Divine intervention is urgently required within the next 2 months.

Hurried and hassled. Try this for instance - simultaneously watch 'Shool' + watch Devdutt Pattnaik trying to rationalize the 'myth behind Indian culture' with clear bias evident . Simultaneously read Chetan Bhagat's horrible, pathetic and sad writing which NY Times terms as 'popluar writing' that has got Indians back to reading+ enjoy the company of 2 sweet friends celebrating their 1st anniversary of soceital acceptance of life with each other + endure persistent parental and peer pressure to get me married.

If life were cumulative, all that should have added up to zero independently.

Also, per Mr. Pattnaik's assessment, this self urge for wanting to do nothing (philosophically teremed as 'staring at nothingness') apparently is part of the inherited intangible Indian male DNA.