We didn't start the fire ... we just weren't there

On this year's edition of the annual Goa trip, we landed up in this place called "Lounge Fly, (thanks to 3 always drunk, late 30s, masti Bangalore guys we bumped in to at our shack, it is at Baga, near Tito's and a must go-to), Mim and me had this very interesting conversation with the DJ there.

It was about old music v/s new music. We were just casually discussing the music he was playing there, which was basically lounge and world music types, I must admit the music was realy good there. He asked me what kind of music do I listen to and "rrrreeeetttrrrrrrroo" was the quick reply, bands like The Beatles, The Doors, The Who, etc. He asked me why I listened to older stuff and not the newer stuff like the ones he was playing. I said "I said I donno ... I guess I don't like the music today's industry comes out with.. ". The conversation went on from there, he drew corollaries from there about how he thought people who listened to older stuff were people who were caught in the past and could not appreciate what was happening today, may be didn't want to accept the revolution that was probably was happening today.

It still gets me thinking sometimes, are we too scared to may be make a choice about today's stuff and are happy accepting what has already been declared to be "God-level"? Or are we just disgusted by the media and the over-exposure it gives to the shitty music of today gets rather than the good music that is churned out which is probably played on the radio at 3 in the morning or stacked away in some dark corner of the music store?

I guess, I probably just can't relate to today's stuff... to the commercialisation of it, thanks to the media. I'm sure the music of the yester years was also made with a grave commercial interest but I am not exposed to that aspect of it. I just see the music for what it is. We do hate hyped up things .. we want to read the "Da Vinci code" after the hype has died down ... we don't want to go to the INXS concert because it is too hyped (though they might have made some good music in the 90s).

Actually, its paradoxical I have been using "we" in the previous paras. "We" comprises of the smaller percentage of the (the retro-liking) population. Most guys as the "we" percieve are sell-outs. Sold to the circus the media is running. This takes me back to one helluva drinking session I had with Sid and Nitish at TC, Gurgaon. We were discussing about how it was so hard to find people who had the same interests as we did. The movies that we watched, the music we listened, the books we read, the sports we watched. The 3 of us are the retro types (Nitish, I'm taking the liberty of classifying you here!). We were kidding about how it would be easier to find friends if we were the Bollywood types :-).

It is each one to his own. I guess I like old stuff and most of the others don't. I am in the small minority that would have loved to be a part of the 60s, be there at Woodstock, be there when Beatles ruled the world (they still do ;) ), be a part of the revolution. Today's revolution??!!! We all are a part of ... but in a little more cosy manner ... in our armchairs.

P.S: The picture is of "Lounge Fly"... super place!

P.P.S: Finally .. TC in my post :-)

P.P.P.S: Sorry bout the long posts... just bored in life .. lot of time to think of junk

Love, solitude, a little more love, a little less solitude

I read two books by Gabriel Garcia Marquez recently and if you haven’t read any of him so far, well you should period!

Marquez invites you in to his world with open arms, shows the world through his eyes and in the end leaves you totally distraught. Mostly because you can’t believe the book is over and the second because of the simplicity and the beauty he explores. In both the books I read I knew the ending, but it ain’t gonna matter buddy. Marquez’s storytelling doesn’t let you drop the book. The story grows on you, in you, around you (like beer :)). Sometimes I caught myself smiling the whole day after reading a few pages of Marquez, when the books ended I had a lump in my throat.

In a hundred years, the way he brings out the “magical realism” is nothing short of, well, magic. He paints such an amazing picture of Macondo that you can actually see the children grow, smell the banana plantations and party with the gypsies. The way he brings out irony and cyclicity in his books is nothing short of stupendous. There is this story of these twins who are exchanged at birth, grow up to be identical in every which way you can think of, then go in opposite directions, then get back to being similar in every way when they are old and are finally, exchanged in their graves. It is just very beautiful.

Love in the time of Cholera, is like an encyclopedia of love. Love is all its forms, at all ages, under all circumstances, defying time, society. Marquez becomes very cunning here, his protagonist Florentina Ariza sleeps with around 622 women with widows, with underage girls, with pretty much anyone he can find but you never judge him for it. You just are mesmerized by the love he has for all these women that there is no space in your heart or your head to think of anything else but of love. In fact in the end, he ends with the love of his life and he tells her he remained a virgin for her and you don’t hit your head but you just smile, because even his love knows he is lying but she appreciates his thought (mostly because it just sounds romantic J)

In both books, the central characters are women, strong, independent women. For me, a hundred years is about Ursula her struggles to keep pace with her husband, then her sons, grandsons and so on so forth, her sacrifices to keep the family together and sane. You are in awe of her character by the time she passes away. In love in the time of Cholera, it’s the head strong, strong willed Fermina Daza who casts her spell on you (Dominique Francon can kiss Fermina’s ass).

Another common thing about both the books is the way he plays around with the time and the way he presents time to you. In a 100 years, events keep repeating and you will be hit by the déjà vu effect at least a dozen times. In love in the time of Cholera, he keeps moving back and forth in time that you have to be very careful or you might land up very very confused.

There is actually quiet a huge debate about which is the better book, a hundred years or love in the time of cholera. My take, I don’t give a rat’s ass. They are both brilliant, both magical and the both blow the hell out of you. They are books which gave me different perspective. A 100 years made me a little less wary of time and love in the time of cholera made me a romantic.

If anyone ever meets Garcia Marquez, thank him profusely from my side.

Dhoom : 2 (Read Dhoom colon 2)

Imagine the most mindless piece of crap you have ever heard or seen ... triple that and you will approximately figure out how it feels like after watch this latest movie from the famed Yashraj films.

Cast
Bipasha "I'm a bimbo in this movie" Basu
Uday "what was my role again/ ha ha .. my jaw is broader than your left thigh" Chopra
Ash "stiff ass/ desperate to show my cleavage" Rai
Abhishek "need a shave" Bachchan
Hrithik "the new shirtless hero" Roshan

Genre : Mindless bullshit

Trust me, the movie is loyal to its genre from pretty much the first few scenes. Hrithik Roshan steals the Queen's crown disguised as her... better still Abhishek jumps out from underwater on a water scooter to rescue Uday from a bunch of goons who look no better than a bunch of clowns from Jumbo Circus ( the guys from Jumbo I'm sorry for the disrespect).

There is a intro song for all the cast. Ash's entry is special though it marks a total lack of comic timing and takes hamming to its abyss. Someone should tell her that wearing short skirts, showing cleavage and smooching on-screen will not the movie worth my 135 bucks.

The plot is a a cop-thief chase across two countries (India and Brazil) with some extras (Uday, Bips, oh yeah.. forgot to mention the ever so useless role of Rimii Sen) who are stuffed in to the movie needlessly. Ash, whose role is as predictable as the result of India's next cricket match, is a petty criminal who turns out to be working with the cops. And her misplaced likes ... oh God!!! you could shot her, I'm not kidding.. there would have been blood on my hands if she was in the hall.

If you came looking for style quotient, you'd be looking in the wrong place. Its just a lot of crass .. Abhishek with his shirts with floral designs, Ash with her wannabe Rakhee Sawant dresses and Uday ... he is just anti-establishment ... he is moving in the opposite direction of cool. Hrithik does look cool, I must admit. As Guru rightly put it "you can see midriffs all through the movie ... either Ash's, Bips' or Hrithik's". Bipasha's hotness .. drool ... drool ... has been, I can't think of a better word, vulgarly utilised ... there are sly shots of her breasts everytime the camera is trying to pan the shot.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the press has been bought... 4 stars from TOI, 3 stars from IBN ... utter rubbish ... if you ask me they shouldn't be given stars, instead they should be giving us stuff ... stuff like an AK 47 to each of us poor students, who fel for the promos, and shelled out 135 bucks to watch a story that even kids would not take seriously as a bed time story ...

P.S : why the colon in the title you ask? thats because you'd rather have your colon pulled out and torn in to 2 pieces and etched with the words "You dumfuck ... this is for watching Dhoom : 2" than watching the saddest ever excuse for a movie

Any given Saturday

8.30 a.m : Guys from the two classes assemble at Ram Mandir (near Rajajinagar entrance). Practise some catching and fielding and if the bully in you was having a good day you might even get a chance to bat.

9 a.m : After collecting Re 1 to the local goonda (paid as protection ... I donno why the fuck we paid him ... shyte we were a bunch of scared kids) and another rupee to Nara ( he got the ball and in the process ripped us off)

10 a.m : After much deliberation, it would be decided that the toss would be a best of five. The toss always crucial.. you had to bat first ... you just had to. The fights over the toss were customary almost our equivalent of the Hakka ... it touched you before hitting the ground... you didn't flip the coin well .... the excuses given to re toss ranged from trivial to deranged.

11 a.m : The match finally starts amid much rowdy like yelling and sledging which would put sailors to shame..

1 p.m : The first innings done ... we would move towards the closest Iyengar bakery to suck on an ice lolly (Re 0.50) while discussing how the first innings had gone and the strategy for the next innings would be built ... its not like we stuck to strategies ... but you just had to discuss them ... smart asses that we were

4 p.m : The match done ... celebrations .. more abuses ... lot more abuses ... treat our selves to a sugar cane juice .. and head to Madhur's house, which was a 2 minute walk from Ram Mandir ...

6 p.m : Reach home .. get yelled at by mom ... for wasting another day ...

Those were the days ... they really were .. carefree .. they were the absolute epitome of carefree ... not a bloody fucking care in the world .. just pure unadulterated cricket ... pure fun ... in fact, they were not at all wasted days ... they are days I cherish ... cricket ... friends ... masti .. abusing ... can't ask for a lot more ..

I can't help smiling everytime I pass by Ram Mandir ... it reminds of me a sort of innocence ...even though we saw some quite ugly incidences there .. I once saw a man getting kicked repeatedly there .. I remember cycling back home like crazy that day ... I was shit scared ...

It also reminds me that almost everyday a little bit of my innocence is lost and how someday I will look back on today and think about how "those were the days" ...

The grass is always greener on your side.

Where do we go now ... where do we go ..

Mumbai is one fucked up city man.

Today, we were taking an auto from the airport to Juhu. On the way, this random guy (with a kid) was fighting with another auto guy. Our auto guy tried to break up the fight so the traffic could move. I donno what was exchanged between our auto guy and the guy, but the two landed exchanging abuses. Our auto guy got in and started moving. Suddenly, I saw this guy hanging on to the top rod of the rickshaw hanging with one hand (and the kid in the other) trying to kick our auto guy. The guy lost control fell down with the kid and the auto ran over his leg . Our auto guy just fled. I just remember screaming "paagal hain kya tu" (are you crazy??) when the guy was hanging with one hand and after the whole episode turning back and seeing the guy fallen down on the road and the kid was in tears.

What must have the kid gone through? I still can't get that picture out of my mind... Why did the guy do it?? To satiate his ego??? Revenge?? But why?? And why at the cost of the kid's life??? What the fuck was wrong with the guy??? What the fuck was he thinking?? And why the hell did he risk the kid's life???

Later, that evening I went to classmate's birthday party at a plush louge bar. People drinking, dancing.. tyring to chill out!!!

Which one of this is life??? The one were people have three fucking hundred bucks a drink to blow up on an intoxicant that gets you to the place you want to be OR the people you see in slums that you and me can never imagine living in while on your way from Panvel to Dadar??? Are all of these people trying to figure out life or have they accepted it as it is???

I think we get very used to the suffering we see around us and start giving excuses for it. Thats life isn't it, we say. They deserve it look at the way they behave, is another popular one.

Look deep inside. Is this true?? How can we live with ourselves, when we see people living like this?? There are movie stars in this city, businessmen who can buy half the city just by snapping their fingers.. how can they live with themselves when so many people barely have clothes to wear and food to eat??

I guess I'm just drunk ... in a fit of a rage on what that guy did to the kid and I'm blowing up ... probably tomorrow I'll be one of those fucking phoneys sipping on my scotch in a high end place ... but I hope I never forget today and I hope I remember that life is not what you show but life is what you give and take from others in terms of the intangibles .. in terms of love and happiness. I read in Shantaram that life is an illusion and all we see is not reality and today I understand the statement in totality. I don't want to figure out life ... I want to live it ... but with honesty ... with integrity ... in a manner that on my death bed when my whole life is flashing in front of me I realise that I have made a difference to a few lives in a positive way ... and these dried up tears are vindicated.

Hostel California ... the rebuttal

Its amazing how you are put with some 35 guys pulled out of all different corners of the country, are asked to live together and before you know it you start living like family. You are into each others rooms, spaces and bathrooms (as yucky as that sounds).

People become your friends, your fellow philosophers and your guides. You eat together, drink together (and you do a lot of that) and try hard not to sleep together. You make fun of each others quirks and adjust with each others idiosyncrasies. You party, laugh, smile, cry, crib, fight with those guys and at the end of the day you know that in a new place they are all you have.

During the birthdays it is my self assigned responsibility to pour water on the sad soul who was born on that day and when I look down amidst all that chaos, screaming, running for your life, violence I smile and think to myself for the next one year they are family!

Hostel Theory 1
At any given point, there is atleast one guy who is sleeping in the hostel.

Hostel Theory 2
At any given point, atleast one guy is singing in the hostel.
Corollary
At any given point, you want to punch atleast one guy in the hostel. ;).

Hostel California .. well actually Bombay

Its been 2 months (almost) since I've joined the hostel. Its been a great learning experience so far, and when I say learning, its more in terms of learning about myself (I know thats a lot of gyaan, but thats one of the things b-schools teach you :) ).

The hostel is a wierd environment. The concept of "space" is a mirage. There are people all around you ... sometimes in your face (which can be fucking pissing off), sometimes uninvited into your tiny little world and it can make you feel claustrophobic to the extent of feeling asphyxiated.

On the other hand, you could be amidst 13 people and feel lonely. And trust me its one of the worst feelings. You have so many people around you and still you are looking for that one person who can let you in and make you feel ok.

I have been pampered. I always chose the people around me. I always spoke my mind, and the girls and the guys, took my shit. This "trait" has already got me into the bad books of a couple of guys. I'm not going to change simply because I think this way my life is simpler. But I have to adapt and this is hard, especially when you have been in your comfort zone for so long (thanks to those sweet people who bear with your idiosyncrasies).


P.S : I'm doing ok ... don't read too deep into this :)

These were a few of my favourite things...*

Mom's food
Beer with dad
Fighting for the remote with sis
Coffee/chai with Mim
Jayamahal with the girls
Kinara with the boys
Pecos with the gang
Rainy days in Bangalore
My winter clothes
My bike
Weekends
Lazy Sunday mornings
Sunday afternoon naps
My bathroom
The morning after rains in Bangalore
Ending my sentences with maadi
Coffee breaks at work
Benne dosa and coffee at CTR
Payslips


* in no particular order

I miss Bangalore.

The vada-pav diaries

Its been little more than 10 days in Moombhai now. For the uninformed, I'm in SPJIMR (supposedly it impresses women here ahem... ahem) doing my MBA in systems.

Its my first time in a hostel, first time away from home, first time away from Bangalore, friends and family. My room is quite small (and for Sid.. no it doesn't have wooden flooring). We have an appartment system. Each appartment has 5 rooms attached to it. It even has a washing machine ... fancy eh? My roomie is from Lucknow, we've hardly interacted but he seems promising. The one hour we chatted was about religion and considering he is Muslim it was rather enlightening. We have some really interesting people in our appartment too. We have a Major (yes the army one), who has worked in the army for 7 years and he sings the national anthem while having his bath. I have my issues with it, but don't expect me to pick up a fight with a guy who can operate a gun.

The last ten days have been more about interacting with the seniors. I got ragged.. nothing serious, it was fun actually. We had a lot of presentations to make, we made a b-plan, one about an IT company in India and lodza other stuff. We had lot of quizes too, and apparently I'm the quiz stud in my class... I know its not saying much, nevertheless heartening. The sad part though there are just couple of rock lovers in my class... most of them are Hindi types. My Hindi is improving by the day (I once caught myself thinking in Hindi), esp. my Hindi swears and I'm bloody proud of it.

The course is bloody hectic, sleeping for more than 4 hours is a luxury. But so far, its been good fun. I've been working hard (thats another first) and hope to continue it. And I'm missing most of the football world cup which is a total bummer.

We had our freshers party yesterday and it was a total blast. We danced till 11 (thats another first, I danced without getting drunk for the first time), went back to the hostel drank till 3 (had whiskey ... another first) and then left for the Versova beach. Got back to my room at 6 :D. KICKBUTT!!!

The course so far has been an "out of my comfort zone" experience. In like 12 days, I've already learnt a lot and more importantly I've learnt a lot about myself.

P.S : Thats a snap from our freshers' party. I'm on the far left.

P.P.S: I miss the girls, never thought I would.