Towards Life!

This is the end...

2008-02-19T06:12:00.000-08:00

Tears in my eyes, and a huge smile on my face,
This is good-bye!

Once upon a time...

2007-12-15T00:35:00.000-08:00

I wrote this about 3 years ago when I was graduating from IIT Bombay, and amazingly it still does make sense!

--

The Days that were and the days that will be!

There are gains for all our losses,
There are balms for all our pain;
But when togetherness, a dream departs,
It takes something from our hearts,
And it never comes again.

We might feel stronger and probably even better,
We might be even held in a grip of manhood's sterner reign,
Still we feel that something sweet
followed friendship with flying feet,
And it will never come again.

I count every tear that dims my aching eyes,
And I count the years that have flown by.
But the memories still remain
And these faces, these names will always stay the same
So as you go to the world unknown
Always remember that there is no place like home!

--

Where the streets have no name

2007-09-03T12:40:00.000-07:00

They tell us to pack your stuff, leave the past behind and move on. To my mind, that doesn’t take into account the most difficult part of the process. The ‘pack your stuff’ part. Yes, that’s the one.

The moment I put down the phone, I knew things were going to be messed up.

I knew I was wrong, and I had tried to defend it for long.

What was I defending?

I know. My confused mind, numb with greed, guilt and jealousy. Something that should not be defended. Something that should be smashed into pieces. With your own bare hands.

I didn’t. I was addicted to it. I was playing the same melodrama my mindless mind was making me play over and over and over again.

Everyday of my existence was defying the one thing I believed in - to not be one of those who live their lives in others eyes & minds. In their eyes of acceptance. In their nods of approval.

I felt the pinch now, as a flood of memories rattled in the vacuous corridors of my brain.

I could have and should have smashed the big bowl of inconsistency – my mind. But I didn’t. I gave in. I caved.

By 12.30 that night, and the fourth phone call, the bowl was filled with more filth than it had ever carried.

At 12.35, it exploded.

I didn’t say or do much that night. I felt empty. Broken.

The next day, I tried to pick up the pieces of my life from the strewn filth with heavy breaths of penance. And the next day. And the next day.

A month later I gave up trying and started smashing the bowl whenever it even showed signs of piling filth.

Every single day when I think back, there are these fleeting moments when I think of what my life could have been. And then I wonder... Was it worth it at all?

Nijam cheppe dhairyam leni vaadiki abaddham cheppe hakku ledu. Nijam cheppaka povadam abaddham. Abaddhanni nijam cheyyalanukovadam mosam. (One who doesn’t have the courage to tell the truth doesn’t have the right to lie. To lie is to hide the truth. Trying to make a lie the truth, is betrayal.) - From the Telugu movie, Athadu

Well, she won!

2007-04-08T23:07:00.000-07:00

I ran into Sarah yesterday saying 'If my husband cheats, it is his loss, not mine!' on television.

Not so long ago, she walked in to eat in our mess for 3 days in a row... and well... it suffices to say she managed to make heads turn...

More importantly, Rabbi Shergill is the second sardar after this one who can play the guitar. And he uses a capo!!!

Congrats to Sarah!

Revival, is it?

2007-04-06T06:40:00.000-07:00

Roughly two years ago, this was a blog that was updated everyday.

Then it stopped. Suddenly.

A million classes, countless exams, a job and a post graduate degree later, I decided that it is time to be really sarcastic one more time.

So, here goes...

My Life in Two Cameras (Episode 1: Rambling in the Morning)

2005-11-19T06:38:00.000-08:00

8.15 a.m.

A loud, long flush permeates through the expanse of IIM Bangalore, waking the crap out of guys sleeping like dolls. I emerge out of a sad ground-floor bathroom muttering curses and scratching my belly. It’s funny how everyone’s life begins with a flush – rich or poor, literate or illiterate – everybody’s life begins with that stupid flush everyday! I check myself out in the mirror... The Mole... The Long Nose... nothing new... I wonder what a world it would be if I was named the World’s Sexiest Man Alive for 2005! (Maybe I should actually fill out the forms next year.)

You know it's kind of neat that we live on the only planet that supports life, and it's kind of lucky that we're just the right distance from the sun so that we can lie out on the beach when we want to. And to say that something is so complex that it must've been created by something unexplainable is just a Microsoft® way of looking at the world. See this software? Yeah, it doesn't work very well and you'll never understand how it all really works, but it does work a lot of the time. Just use it. Trust us. We're really intelligent.

Now, tell me how that's any different than your spleen.

8.40 a.m.

A greasy, grumpy prof is rattling away something at breakneck pace. I try hard to catch the ‘and’s, the ‘it’s, and the pauses. Then he says something that I actually catch...

‘A quadratic equation can only have two positive roots’

He shrugs and looks around as if he was searching for the wretch who said it. He pauses, takes a deep breath and says...

‘Okay, a quadratic equation can have a negative and a complex root’

Now, tell me how that’s any different than a ‘flush’.

Today

2005-09-16T20:33:00.000-07:00

Today, is one of those days when I try to be mean and distant so that I don’t have to face the things I fear.

It is one of those days when I look around and think about the days when I never believed I would be here one day; when words of wisdom are taken, and taken seriously; when words dry up and silence speaks out loud.

It is one of those days when knowing someone more makes me dislike them even more; when I stand in front of the firing line and ask all the hypocrites to fire; when I own up to all the mistakes we have made; when it’s difficult to choose and there is so much to choose from.

But as they all say, this is still one of those days I will remember for ever!

The Mirror that sinned!

2005-08-24T14:39:00.000-07:00

I spend about four hundred and forty five seconds looking at myself in a mirror everyday. You want to know why? Well, it might sound surprising, but for me, a mirror is like a memory sieve; I look into that damn piece of glass, and flashes of my past rattle in the corridors of my mind like the sails of a boat stuck in a storm.

What does the mirror show you, anyway? That pimple that’s threatening to disfigure your face forever? That arbitrary arrangement of hair on your head that doesn’t ever go away whatever you do to it? That female on the charming poster reflected in the mirror you wish had fewer clothes on? Well, lots of things! But, what amazes me most is that some times your mirror is the only thing that brings a smile on your face that day!

So as I stare into my mirror at this moment...

[The First Flash]

Four guys are staring at an advertisement which promises scholarship to all the Parsi students at IIM B. One of the guys turns towards a shabbily dressed guy who in turn is busy watching the stylish movements of a blue skirt floating in the corridor.

“Hey! Did you apply for that scholarship?” he says, pointing at a piece of paper stuck on the notice board.

“What?”

“There is this Parsi Association that is awarding scholarships to guys like you!”

“Guys like me? As in, jokers in life?”

“No, Parsis!”

“What? I am no Parsi!”

“Cut the crap... You are Parsi! Who the hell has a name that ends with ‘Gurazada’? You are Parsi man!”

[The Second Flash]

“Hey, Pavan. Is it true that you are not a Parsi?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh... how surprising! With your long, pointed nose, and other features, I felt you were one!”

“And my name ends with ‘–ada’ like all the Parsis in this world!”

“Yeah!”

Someone wishes he was that pile of dung he almost stepped on that day!

[The Third Flash]

“You know Pavan, you remind me of some arbitrary cartoon character. Unfortunately, I can't remember that cartoon right now!”

“Have you heard of Bugs Bunny?” I hear myself say.

“I can also put up some comic faces to help you out,” I continue, this time pushing my always-anxious front teeth out and enact a bunny ‘doing’ another. The act comes out surprisingly well.

“No, Bugs Bunny is way too cute to be like you!”

Someone drops his act, chokes on a load of fresh air and dies.

[The Fourth Flash]

A bunch of people are seated at a dinner table engaged in small talk. One guy in particular, is over enthusiastic as usual.

“Hey, do you think I am arbit?” he says, suddenly.

Platoons of guys from the three nearby tables turn and start laughing.

“Shit! Did I say it out that loud?” he says lowering his head, and stares at the pile of green mess in his plate.

“Man, its better being a Parsi than being arbit!” he thinks.

I turned away from the gruesome images splashed in front of me, as I realized that my mirror has played spoil sport with me once again.

I felt the uncontrollable anger swelling up inside me, and in that burst of emotion, I picked up a stone and hurled it at the shining piece of glass that showed me things I wished it hadn’t... And at this moment, I swear on the broken pieces of glass strewn before me that I am not going to look into a damn mirror ever again!

Dunking! (A story in pictures)

2005-07-03T00:42:00.000-07:00

Relocated!

2005-06-28T21:19:00.000-07:00

“Can I know which room Abhinav Thakur stays in?”

“Intro!”

“Oh... ok... I am Pavankumar...” Thus went my first moments at IIM Bangalore. People around seem to be bent upon trying to scare the shit out of us ‘fachchas’, but well, as they say, it’s all for a reason!

One thing that sets IIMB apart from IIT is the frantic pace of life. I slept through all the orientation programs of IIT B, but I don't think that’s going to work here. (Reminds me of the times when we were dragged out of our rooms in the first year, to participate in the crossy!). Some of the orientation programs were actually fun, like, bumping into your batch mates blindfolded, enacting role plays about the corporate world, running all over the campus in groups, et al. I want to believe that the next two years is going to be as much fun, as these initial days.

Soon I will be taking courses I don't know a shit about, and well, all I wish right now is that I get time to update my blog frequently, and to distance it as far as possible from my life at IIM B!

For the want of sanity

2005-06-11T20:14:00.000-07:00

I stared in wonder as the sun quietly slipped down into the vast ocean, sprawling in front of me. The ambience was bright orange. As I gazed hard into the setting sun, my vision started to blur. I realized that tears were beginning to form crescents under my eyes.

I stretched myself with exaggeration and took a deep breath. The beach was very calming, especially as the sun went away for the day. The need to seek comfort in the actions of other people was strangling me and I started looking restlessly all over the beach for comfort.

“Hey, are you alright? You want a cup of coffee?” Siri asked, genuinely.

“No, I am fine... really... I am” I said, staring at the pier, about hundred meters away from us.

It was a woman. She was facing the water, hands outstretched, with her summer dress wavering slightly in the wind. The whole thing felt like a beautiful painting of the sun and sadness.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, as she turned towards me. I looked at her surprisingly long arms that ended in amazingly lithe hands. Something in her hands gleamed in the sunlight.

‘Why is she carrying a knife? What is she trying to do?’ I asked myself, as I mulled over the possible answers. I was trembling.

With great difficulty, she forced herself towards the ocean, her hand raised above her head with the knife shining in the dying sunlight.

Siri raised her hands and cupped them to her mouth. I inhaled a yell, as I felt the blood rush through my veins with fanatic fervor.

She knelt down in the ankle-deep water, and picked up what looked like a vase, next to her. She brought down the knife gently, opened the vase and poured its contents into the water.

I stood confused, even slightly angry, as I watched her say something to the water.

Then, it struck me.

She was saying goodbye.

I felt cold and cruel. I loathed myself for the fact that I had to invade one of the most sensitive moments of another person to get over my grief. I knew it was unintentional, and that I meant no offence, but I had done it. Nothing could change that fact. I just wanted to run to her and comfort her but knew it was just not my place. I felt my hands folding into a fist as I fought back tears.

A flood of anger overcame me with a potent force; anger for continuing to watch her in her private moments.

How easy it was to mix myself mentally with her pain.

How easy it was to run away from my own.

I felt my whole body collapse into a tense knot. And still, I continued to watch her.

She had finished talking to the ocean and taking a deep breath, she turned towards the pier. Glistening strands of hair were all over her face, as she made no effort to brush them away. I looked at her features muted by the sadness.

I think it was the most beautiful thing I ever saw in my life.

The 'Note' that mattered

2005-06-06T20:44:00.000-07:00

She had flowing hair, sometimes plaited tightly into a pony. She wasn’t particularly athletic, just graceful and elegant. She was your sell-your-first-born combined with your drop-dead kind of gorgeous; the kind that is illegal in most parts of the world.

She was the kind of girl everybody would love, if they could spend like five seconds with her. Unfortunately, no one ever did.

We were friends.

True... our public appearances were filled with fake laughs and I-don't-understand-what-you-are-saying-but-I-will-just-nod-my-head kind of gestures. But what we shared in private was much more meaningful than that.

We exchanged insightful little notes.

‘I can’t play outside because I get all sweaty and red in the heat.’

‘I ran the distance from your gate to ours in ten seconds.’

You get the picture.

And yeah, I was ten.

I was in mid-air; hands outstretched, eyes focused, and lips curled. I latched on to the ball with all my might and hit the ground with a loud thud. I lifted my hand, my fingers closed tight on the ball, and waved to the small crowd that had gathered to watch the event. I was elated.

“Wow! That was charming!” she said.

The world came to a stand still.

She was standing two centimeters away from me, firing successive rounds of her charming smiles, without mercy.

“Oh!!!!” I said.

“So how have you been?” she said, slanting her head to one side.

“Well... I have been good... and I must say you did a great job growing up!”

“Yeah... I tried my best,” she said, “But I have always missed you. You know, I still have the note you gave me when we vacated our old house. Those were good times... really!”

“You still have that note?” I said, in disbelief. “I thought I was just a forgotten memory”

“Oh, you are more than just a memory!”

And then she smiled, again.

God.

Help.

Me.

And so, certain things don’t end with a note and a void.

That’s kind of neat.

'New's....

2005-06-03T19:56:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I gave my blog a new look. Thanks to Shashi for the initial idea and to Champu for inspiring my search and a lot of html help! I must have browsed through like a thousand templates, tested my pea-sized brain lots, and finally settled on this one very simple, yet so beautiful thing - The eye!

Long Story... Cut Short.

2005-05-31T14:01:00.000-07:00

The six of us ensconced comfortably around a circular table at the center of the restaurant which had an immaculate centerpiece decorated with flowers... a profusion of bold yellow, emerald green and clear blue. And as it always is in those stylish Mumbai restaurants, the ambience was beautiful; glamorous. The whole setting looked like a picture too perfect... like a painting heralding the entry of spring.

We ordered our first set of drinks and juice. We talked. Things none of us would remember after that day; things we wouldn’t care to remember. Small Talk.

On instinct, I turned around. It took a minute.

Her hair was shorter now, her glasses hipper. But her smile was all I needed to see... it... it was exactly the same.

When you run into someone from the past, there is an initial moment of surprise. Then, a train of memories runs over you, at a frantic pace.

Memories of the time when you played through your doors because you weren’t allowed outside in the heat; the mornings when you sent her flowers; the night you were caught making out behind the community hall.

Of how difficult it was to lie, when you looked at her in the eye.

Of how a smart, strong girl like her took precisely a moment to forgive your worst demeanors. Even when you knew, it was your fault.

And of how you were sure you actually felt your heart break.

I stared at her.

I wanted to grab her and run.

She had made me believe I deserved nothing more. That I wasn’t worthy of more. Not attractive enough, probably. Not good enough, obviously.

It was getting cold.

Two strangers walking in the street. By chance two separate glances meet.

Memories of the times when you stared into those eyes so blue that they looked like some one colored them with a crayon.

Of how you were selfish and possessive, that one time, and it wasn't okay.

Of the time you waited on the thick dew-covered grass.

And how you were left in the cold, looking at those big blue cold eyes.

And how heavy and humid the air was.

And how you managed to get on to your bike, and managed to get home.

She left the restaurant accompanied by three other people. Husband and in-laws, probably.

I walked to her chair, now empty, put my hands on it, and waited.

Y and P walked up to me with comforting words and broad shoulders.

And then I returned... through our silence... to my life.

ONE

2005-05-17T08:26:00.000-07:00

The young man stood at the edge of the street, listening to the muffled sounds of a generation trying to keep its pace with life. Shifting his bag to the other hand, he stared down the road that stretched endlessly into the horizon like a guide into hopelessness. A cough rolled away into the din.

The gray-stubbed derelict stirred. His body decorated in intricate patterns, with dirt. His mud caked feet numb from the years of wandering. He stared straight, with his yellow eyes and the purple half-moons beneath, at the young man... who saw the derelict stir, from the corner of his eyes. He knew he would come. He knew he would whine.

“Would you help a poor old man?”

He heard the derelict rising. His hand held on to his chest by a sling; a dirty cloth draped around his waist. The hum of life in the fast lane rose up towards the Heavens.

He looked to the tramp. He was staggering. Falling. With a blind, sudden rush, the young man rushed to him and dragged him to the bench against the wall. He quickly pulled out a ten-rupee note from his wallet and stuffed it into a stench soaked pocket. Then, he picked up his bag and boarded a bus... he nestled in a corner, pretending to sleep. When the bus finally reached his stop, he walked home. A good four km. Because the ten rupees had been meant for an auto.

*

The world was in chaos. People were killing. People were dying. The papers poured the cries of desperation, agony, and pain into the drawing rooms of the world. The young man picked up his newspaper glancing at the headlines screaming death. At a remote corner of the newspaper, deprived of attention grabbing headlines, was a small news item. About an old derelict waiting near a bus top… set on by strangers… sprayed with kerosene… ignited.

*

Would you help a poor old man?

Roll Number 14 (Part 1)

2005-04-20T20:56:00.000-07:00

Chapter 1: Will I make it?

Not many know that I gave my first interview when I was four years old. However, it is painfully common knowledge that I flunked it! It began one humid afternoon, when I was face to face with the interview board from Hyderabad Public School, Begumpet. If people knew that the HPS (B) guys had supplied copious amounts of fruit juice at the interview and that I had relished and usurped as much juice as I could in the ten minute wait to the interview, I would have been spared from many a resentful glance! When I faced the interview board, however, things weren’t as relishing!

“How many chocolates are these?”

“Nutrine,” I said, staring at the chocolates as if I was seeing them for the first time in my life. I didn’t understand why some body would offer me chocolates to count them! I mean - Numbers are to Count and Chocolates are to Eat! Cumbers are to Nount and Ehocolates are to Cat!

“Can I eat one chocolate?” was all I could say! My parents would later tell me that my face was never more innocent than it was at that instant!

“Yeah, sure. Take all of them!” I guess the interview board understood my logic!

“What color is this?”

“It is color… color… color… I have one brother!”

“Okay, I think that will be all. Thank you, Pavan!”

“Hmm… can I have some fruit juice outside?”

I still don’t know why nobody answered that question!

***
Four years old. Didn’t clear a written test. Kicked out of an interview. Well…that was my resume, without the bullets… The resume of a four year old, who was trying his best to get into a decent school… with the minimum possible effort!

My parents had given up a lot of hope. I didn’t know if the amount left would be sufficient to deter them from sending me to Big Aunty, the big aunty who coached kids for the HPS – with a Big Stick! Big Aunty with the Big Stick. Aig Bunty with the Sig Btick. I don’t think I need to state it, but - It scared the shit out of me!

The HPS (R) guys didn’t supply any juice at the interview! I felt undernourished. I missed the juice and the other snacks. I had nothing to kill the wait for the interview and my mind was rumbling with “under the table”, “over the table”, “I have one brother”, “My father is a scientist”, fed unendingly by my parents.

Left Ear – Dad. “Under the table”, “Over the table”.

Right Ear – Mom. “I have one brother”, “My father is a scientist”.

It was finally time to go in, and the first thing I did was to clear my head of all the things fed to me since the past two weeks! The “under the…”, “Over the…”, “My father…”, “I have…” were all packed and bundled, and thrown out of the interview room, before I entered it!

The panel gave me a chocolate as soon as I entered. And Boy, was I happy! This was a panel that understood the world my way.

Numbers are to Count and Chocolates are to Eat!
Cumbers are to Nount and Ehocolates are to Cat!

“How many are these?” one of the panel members said, sprinkling some beans on to the table.

“One… Two… Three… Three on this side, and, One… Two… Three… Four… Five… Five on this side” It felt like Einstein-discussing-relativity!

“Very Good. But, How many total?”

“Total…total… Three on this side and Five on this side!”

“Yes, Three plus five is?”

I glanced left, then right, then into the face of every panel member. I didn’t understand these guys any more. In the four year world, three plus five is… three plus five is… three plus five! There is nothing more to it!

“Three plus Five,” I blurted out, confident that there could not be any other answer!

“Okay! How many brothers do you have?”

Hah! Different people had posed this question to me on different occasions, at different times. I could rattle the answer in my sleep… The only problem was, I was awake, and there was no fruit juice!

“I have no sisters!”

“Okay, but how many brothers?”

“I have no sisters. I have one cousin sister”

My father was staring at me in disbelief. I was stuck on a sister. Damn, I have always wanted one, but I guess an interview is not the place where one delves into such revelations!

“Okay, so you don’t have a sister”

“Yes,” I was munching a chocolate.

“What color is this?”

“It is a Blue Colored Triangle”

“What?”

“Blue… colored triangle?”

“What!”

“Triangle”

“What?!”

Your answers dry up when someone asks the same question four times, in four different tones!

“Okay, Pavan. It was nice meeting you.”

“Thank You, sir,” said my father, relieved. And I think he really meant it.

***

A letter confirming my selection arrived two weeks after the interview. I was happy because I got the first roll number of my life. Roll Number 14. I didn’t know at that point that I would be “Roll number 14” all through my life!

My selection was a rage in those days. People were surprised, pleasantly, of course. People were angry, at their rejected kids, of course. More than anything, it gave hope to thousands of parents; every parent who looked at his kid and thought, “Now where did this one come from!”, now stopped and thought, "I think he stands a chance!" My parents debated on my selection endlessly. There was no problem with that. The problem is, the debate continues until today!

April 10th - The day I jumped, again!

2005-04-10T09:32:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I cannot sleep. Sometimes I shiver uncontrollably. Sometimes I don’t have the energy to stand but, I jump. Sometimes I cannot eat. And Sometimes, I like being “sick”!

I just discovered that prior to and post the results of an important exam, I fall “sick”. The only difference being - I am happy to be “sick” after the results. When I look at the past few days, memories of chanting “A, B or C”, much to the chagrin of fellow believers at temples come flooding back to me. I can laugh at it now, but I realize that the situation could have been disastrous, if the initial results were any indication. I was kicked out of A, K and L (as expected!), and the desperation to see anything other than “Sorry…” was increasing by the minute.

On the day of reckoning – April 10^th – a sultry Sunday afternoon, the anxious eyes of my mother and me on the computer, the words, “You have been selected for admission to PGP (2005-2007 batch), IIMB” splashed on to the screen… and suddenly on my life! Everything else, the spacious room, the ceiling, the colors, the world outside… everything, everything became non-existent. And for some absurd reason (animal instinct!) I, I started jumping! There was a two-legs-in-the-air jump, a one-leg-in-air, one-leg-on-ground jump, a both-legs-on-ground, hands-swinging-wildly jump, and many more. Anyone practicing for the Olympics High Jump would have been embarrassed by the variety and the heights of my jumps. I don’t remember how many, and I do feel silly for that shameless display of happiness, but well… every son gets at least one chance to make his parents proud, and I just had mine!

Boy Meets Girl

2005-04-03T19:52:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, you don't have anything to do; anyone to share; and then you notice a couple - a cute couple. You make up a story, a story that has been told many times before; you narrate it again, because you wish the ending were different!

For five and a half years, I have tried everything I know to make my relationship with m work. But, finally, it’s apparent that there is nothing to be done. It is finally, actually, over.

When my marriage ended years ago, it was a maelstrom of emotions. Anger. Desperation. Sadness. Pain. But, I survived – stronger than before, and with very few scars, and, remarkably, I think, an amazing lack of bitterness.

During the five and a half years there were times when we were on the verge of ending things, and one of us would say, “but it would be such a waste of a great story.” it was a joke, of sorts. A way to break the tension, or defuse the situation, or just stop the “serious” conversation so we didn’t have to talk about ending things any more.

The “story” was a reference to the story of how we met. It is one of those questions that is always asked of couples, “So, how did you guys meet?” and, we had such a great answer for that one. We “met cute” as they say in Hollywood. A scenario reminiscent of sappy little romantic movies. Years of near misses, and, eventually, a hit.

And so, for the last time, I will tell the story of how we met.

About nine years ago, I worked for TCS, and my office was in the rotunda of the beautiful capitol building. Having an office in such an amazing setting had one major drawback – no onsite parking. So, capitol employees had to park at a remote lot and ride a shuttle bus that dropped employees at various office buildings in the complex.

I saw him occasionally on the bus. A tall, blonde guy. I thought he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen in real-life. I would catch myself actually staring at him – but never working up the courage to speak. My mood was markedly different on the days I saw him on the bus – I had a huge smile plastered on my face when I waltzed into the office on those days. It became a joke in my office – “oh, she saw the guy on the bus!”

He came to be known as “bus guy” in my office. I sustained significant ribbing.

Eventually, I noticed his car, which happened to have a license plate with three letters on it. Aha! in addition to giving me a clue each day as to whether or not he’d already caught an earlier shuttle, this gave me a lead as to bus guy’s true identity – his initials! Using the state employee telephone directory, I learned bus guy’s name, where he worked, even his office phone number! But, true to form, I did nothing. The extent of my efforts was to look for his car in the morning to see if he had already taken the shuttle. If I didn’t see it, I would wait, hoping he’d arrive and I could take the shuttle with him.

I eventually left TCS, without ever speaking to him. Several years passed. I had a new career. A boyfriend.

One day, as I walked through my office, I noticed a familiar-looking man sitting in our lobby. Unable to place his face, I asked a co-worker, “whose guy is that in the lobby?”

One of my friends answered, “Oh, that’s my friend, m. we’re having lunch today.”

“He looks really familiar to me, but I just can’t place him,” I answered.

“Well, maybe you can figure it out tonight – he’s going out for drinks with all of us after work,” she said on her way out the door.

That evening, after several drinks, it dawned on me: it was bus guy! How could I not have recognized him – my dream guy!

As I made my way to the bar for another round, I found myself standing beside him. He turned to look at me and said, “you know, you look really familiar to me.”

“Oh,” I said, “I know where you know me from. You work at the capitol. You drive a black Honda city with your initials on the license plate.”

Although I am sure that it wasn’t the case, it seemed that everything ground to a screeching halt at that moment. I am sure there wasn’t a sound in the bar.

He stared at me.

“um, excuse me. I have to go.” and I grabbed my drink and high-tailed it to the other side of the bar.

Words like “stalker” and “restraining order” bounced through my mind as I drowned my embarrassment in my glass.

“Smooth move, ex-lax,” the seventh-graders in my head taunted.

I made my way to the bar for yet another drink. When I turned, I found myself face to face with him again.

“Listen,” he started. “About what you said a little while ago. um, there’s something I should probably say….”

“Oh, god,” I stammered. “Listen, you probably think I am some sort of nutcase…”

“Actually,” he interrupted, “what I was going to say is…well, I was just wondering if you still drive that white Maruti?”

He smiled.

And then, there was no sound in the bar again.

As time passed, we learned of our long-running series of near misses; that we were “this close” to meeting each other about a dozen different times. That we were at the same parties, or the same concerts, or we knew the same people.

And, so it began. I always thought it was destiny -- that “hit” after all those near misses; that we were supposed to meet and end up together.

Now, five a half years later, I look back and wonder…what if it was the misses that were destiny.

Musical Musings (An interview by Ro)

2005-03-10T18:34:00.000-08:00

At some point in the past few days, I was party to an interview. No, I wasn’t the one who was interviewed. Neither was I the interviewer. Well, I was just the audience. The only rock journalist IIT Bombay has ever seen, Ro, interviewed Golu, the ex-bassist of FFF, bassist 40 Hz and not-so-popular solo artist. Now, what is fun in that? Nothing really… Then why do I post this? Jeez, stop asking such questions and just read on!

Ro: “Oi guys...tell me one thing... Do you know which band actually started the standard arrangement of rock music, i.e. , the whole idea of having a rhythm riff on one guitar with bass vocals and drums and then having 1/2/3 lead pieces in between the songs? In fact, at the moment I can’t think of any other arrangement! Maybe you guys should come up with something new...people have been playing the same style forever and its time for a change ;)”

I am Jack’s Idle Brain.

Golu: “FFF has already created the trend of forgetting lyrics, screwing up guitar strings, losing drumsticks, taking nbd in a corner and balding in youth....what more do you want than that????”

Ro: “Yes, but that’s an answer to something like "Ozzy ate a bat on stage, Morrison simulated masturbation on stage, Subbu was left out on stage...what have u guys done?" what about the music Dheeraj?...the music????

I am Jack’s Truth of Life.

Golu: “Shame on you...what do you mean what you guys have done. We at least affected the music scene in IIT:
1. Now, every bloody group trying RATM is singing “killing in the name of” at AD. (Yes, this is verified info)
2. As far as I remember, we are the first people to play a medley at acoustic dusk (well, Chamad people played between “twist and shout” and “la bamba”…but that’s not counted). And now this year there are 3 medleys being played!

On top of that, you don’t have to go do hero stuff by being the first to use ten thousand cymbals or 15 stringed guitars or double necked bass... just play what you like and it will contribute in its own... that is the problem why you bloody budding rock journalists will just be budding through out.

As Frank Zappa said - Rock journalists are people who can’t write, interviewing people who can’t speak, for people who can’t read.”

Ro: “Aargh! Now u r thinking like viral...saying things, which are totally unrelated and out of context and missing the point totally! (Sorry viral!) I only mentioned that it is high time someone changes the musical arrangement in rock songs and it might as well be FFF! If the goals and dreams that you have set for FFF cannot break through the standards set by others (others who are no doubt legends) and are merely restricted to globally-used by locally-new acts...then I am a little disappointed. No doubt, FFF has changed the music scene in IIT...but frankly, the FFF that I know of has much more talent that you apparently perceive Dheeraj. I am truly saddened to learn that of all the people in the band you are saying this!

No shame on me Dheeraj...shame on you! As a punishment...in the next cover photo of FFF on Rolling Stones your face will be replaced by the face of Britney Spears and word will be spread that you secretly worship John Mayer!

And Puhhhhleeeez.....rock journalists are like....so cool!!!!”

I am Jack’s Shrinking Groin. (Another truth of Life!)

Golu: “That’s it. Initially I was sure you had a small you-know-what. Now, I am sure it has dropped off...You have become a chick who likes pink color and paints her toenails on the weekends.

Well, if you are saddened to know that I am the person in the band saying this, its because I have finally realized there is no use jumping around like *censored* (initially it was "Choots") and trying to act cool. Look at Knopfler and his son. Look at Floyd. Look at Clapton. Of course, you will also find examples of people jumping about. Anyway, the point is basically that I am finally maturing into a true musician. Unfortunately Ro, as Narendranadh would say, “You are far behind amma”. Or, as Viral said, “Stop drumming about on your bed and get a real kit.” Then you will soon realize that you don’t have to change any *Censored* (initially it was "fucking") pattern! Just enjoy what you do.

As the great seer Anthony said, “You change the key from C to D, you see to us, its just a minor thing”.

And, rock journalists are the saddest people in life. Ok not all, but you definitely are!”

I am Jack’s Hard drive. I remember everything. Because, when great people talk, you just shut up and listen!

Fuel For Fantasy... What else!!

2005-03-06T05:42:00.000-08:00

“When you are a little kid, you are a little bit of everything. Growing up is the process of giving those things up. One by One. I guess we all have one thing we regret giving up. One thing we really miss. That we gave up because we were too lazy or we couldn’t just stick it up or because we were afraid!”

There have been numerous occasions in my formative years as a musician (no, that doesn’t mean that I am an accomplished musician now, but well, I have FFF!) when all that I wanted was to give it up. My first (and the last!) music teacher (a very blunt man!) was no delight, either. He never thought I had talent. I never thought I had talent. It seemed like every one around me was just always better. Then there was this summer of 2000. All of a sudden, I started to play. It was like… I could do no wrong. And then, I had made my decision! I would sacrifice (my academics!), endure humiliation (playing “nothing else matters” to a bunch of straight-laced Tamilians, was not what you could call, fun!), and just try to play things right. After about six years trying to ruffle some strings and waiting for those arbitrary set of notes to make sense, I realize that music is not about competition, it is not about who’s better, or who’s worse. It is about music. And that’s it!

Music and I were as far apart as can be, for the first 18 years of my existence. I was this hopelessly confused child, trying to find out where I would fit in. I wanted to be a star; I wanted freedom, maturity and status. It was, like, I wanted to live to keep my friends jealous. And I guess music didn’t fit into this scheme of things. My only brush with anything musical was the tv-to-cassette recording equipment I had purchased, with my pocket money, more out of curiosity than for the love of music. Obviously, the recording stopped soon after I had recorded my first album – The first countdown show on Doordarshan!

Miracles occur when you least expect. For me, getting into IIT Bombay was one of those. Call it chance. Call it error. But I entrusted myself with the responsibility of learning the guitar. Rising up before me was a new era. An era of freedom. An era of adventure. An era of fun. An era of bad (extremely bad!) timing. An era of bruised fingers. An era of broken strings. And above all, an era of music!

For the first two years, nothing I played was artfully done. No song was played to completion. No song sounded even remotely similar to the original. There was no direction. No inspiration. My second year at IIT ended with me getting a distortion pedal (thanks to Sidey!). As I plugged it in and started playing, I realized the responsibility of being a musician. Music didn’t mean you play a guitar like a drum kit. Or vice versa. It is exploring the frontiers of uncharted regions you never knew existed. It is a quest for something more meaningful... Much much more meaningful!

Somewhere in the midst of my seeking out to some very forgettable fellow musicians (some very enthusiastic sardars, and some dopey eyed RB’s!), there was a chance meeting with this guy (let’s call him Sidney, for some very obvious reasons!). Now, he could play Creed’s “What If”! I couldn’t. He had a guitar that shone like lightning. I had a guitar that was broken at precisely three places. He looked shy. I was anything but shy. Let’s face it. It looked like I had reached a dead end. Then… he played stuff. I played stuff. It took me about 45 seconds to figure out that this guy was a much better musician than I was and I realized that it is much easier when you have nothing at stake. If you can call that one hour a jam, then that was it. And that what was I wanted!

Close in heels with my tryst with Sidney, I had the chance to meet this trio, Viral (a nickname obtained by removing the unnecessary alphabets from his original name), Zubin (I never knew why this fellow didn’t get a nickname that stuck!) and a guy called Golu (again, for some very obvious reasons) on a fateful night. The bassist, Golu, is one of those guys who is pretty desperate looking for someone to play with (or to play for!), without anyone ever knowing that he were desperate. No, he didn’t need charity. He just needed the tabs! Viral on the other hand, had a simple life; the grass was green, the sky was blue, the good guys were good, the bad guys bad and the chicks, they were great! If it wasn’t for the unrelenting assault from Golu, he would have ensconced safely in some boy (or girl!) band with aplomb. The awesome vocalist IIT Bombay ever saw, Zubin, believed in giving each song everything he had. Sure, maybe the output was sometimes lopsided and maybe there were better singers, but for him – it was perfection. He believed in giving every song his own feel, and if the world was after him, he hired an auto straight to Goregaon. Looking back, it made as much sense as anything that night. It felt like I had paid my dues. We didn’t really accomplish anything that night. Nothing of real importance anyway. But through the years that lay ahead… there would be a thousand other nights, just like that one. Stupid, ridiculous… and glorious.

The fact that these four guys were total strangers to me five years ago, is something I won’t regret forgetting. Within a week of our practice for my first acoustic dusk (Sidney the sweetie that he is, played the synth, which I feel was the biggest mistake we, as a band, ever made!) I watched our band gel together. I realized something about these strangers that was pure. These were strangers I hardly knew. Strangers who were just like me. We were all sharing the same feelings. The same fears, the same loneliness. We were just starting out, and there was only one direction to go. So we went – together.

Technically, this is where I should write about what happened to FFF since the first acoustic dusk. But, there are no words when it comes to speaking about what FFF has done to me, musically and otherwise! ( I know it is cliched, but it works for me!) Every time I want to write some thing about these incredible guys, I just end up watching all our pics and all our videos, yet again! Maybe someday I will gather myself to actually write what I feel... Maybe I will!

Dreams!

2005-02-08T10:51:00.000-08:00

INSPIRED BY "ALICE IN CHAINS" AND "PINK FLOYD"

The Sun shines on me but
I cant fine the time to let things be.
I sit, thinking of something
I am scared to face the dying nothing.
I will live tomorrow, in a sea of sorrow.
I will wallow, and dreams i will follow.

You might laugh at my disgrace,
But i will aim my smiling skull at you.
"Son, you have a choice", they say
But I am okay anyway.

We are all God's children I must say
I still believe yet I am mistaken.
I am tired of infantile claims,
I am sorry but Your redundancy has stains.
Forked tongues are whipping my back,
How long until I crack?
I will live tomorrow in a sea of sorrow.
I will wallow, and dreams I will follow.

My encounters with the Alien Tribe!

2005-02-08T10:42:00.000-08:00

Unmaskable Stink and Dadar Station. These were what greeted me as I stepped on aamchi mumbai soil two days ago. Things hadn't changed much, the city as dirty as it was , as crowded and noisy it was! Amidst the shouts of "dheemi local aahe.. dheemi local jaahe" that irritated me as before, I reached Kanjur Marg and then the Main gate in no time. I walked into the "chai dukaan" that was once a routine for me and well, the glasses were replaced by bigger ones and the chai didn't taste half as good as it used to be. Well, something had changed!

I had consciously made a decision to walk my way from the main gate to H7 reminiscing the fond memories that were associated with virtually every nook and corner of the campus. And then I walked into the campus, the suspicious eyes of the watchmen all over me, and looked for my fatfati - the mean machine whose rumblings were heard by the IIT Bombay denizens for 3 years. After a desperate search I found that my mean machine had finally found its rightful place, amidst a bunch of metallic crap that was strewn along the main gate. I paid my last tributes to the bike(!!!) and trotted towards my hostel!

I had almost forgotten that H7 was at the other end of the campus and my aching legs brought back the memories of the long walks from H7 to the department to attend lectures.(Now when did I do that? ;)). "Hostel 7" said a well lit hoarding that greeted me and it felt good to see that the hostel council was slowly but surely working! I walked into the infamous "Marine Drive" and the words "The lady of the lake" that adorned the lawn were now painted a conspicuously bad blue! While I walked into my erstwhile wing, I was invited with "Shine on You crazy Diamond" and it sure felt like heaven. After listening to thousands of similiar sounding telugu songs for the past 8 months, the voice of David Gilmour soaring over the complex musical arrangement felt amazing. The wing was fast asleep as usual and I ensconced comfortably in Kekde's room after the usual pleasantries and a horrible breakfast. I had a long tortuous day ahead of me; I was out to shake the existence of people who must have almost forgotten me. Then I set out to mutilate the two targets I had set for myself, The Academic Office and The Chemistry Department.

The Academic Office: The acad office never failed to enthuse me all my years at IIT as it was the traditional government office filled with the "babus". The only difference was that the babus here (read ma'ams) for some indecipherable reason needed tea every 30 mins. And yes, when I walked into the office it was deserted and on enquiry I got the same old reply "Madam, chai peene gayi hai.. aayegi". Well, somethings dont change.. do they! After an agonizing wait, the Madam's walked in led by the unforgettable Mrs. Joshi, and I was asked in a thick Marathi accent, "Kia Chahiye?". I mumbled something to the effect of "Transcripts" and after being hurled all over the acad office and the cash section, I was finally told to come back at 4.30 or the next day! I went in at 4.30 sharp, only to wait for half an hour more (the ma'ams went for some tea you see!) and then was told to come the next day saying "Saab nahi hai, kal aayega.. subah aajaana 11.30". Bloody hell, these fellows would never work! Promptly, I brought out the actor in me and thanked the chapraasi and the madam profusely for the trouble I had caused ("what could they do if the saab wasn't there!!") and then asked them if they could take it a step further and get it done that day it self. I told them that there was nothing they couldnt do and that I was ready to request anyone who came in the way between me and my transcripts. I guess I had come off very well since I was asked to wait another 5 mins and then there they were: my transcripts, signed and neatly folded!

"Pavankumar? last cpi kitna thaa?" Well, I couldn't help blush at this question and answered something to the effect of "I dont remember" which derived an amusing look from the madam. I didnt give her enough time though and flooded her with all sorts of emotional statements (including "your timely gesture saved my life and a lot of time"!!) and I guess I took it too far as she said "Koi baat nahi beta.. jindagi mein mehnat karna aur khoob tarakki karna!". I got the cue, said the final word of thanks and then walked out of the acad office hardly hiding a grin and my mind filled with the memories of my escapades with the profs of my department.

The Chemistry Department: The department I will be associated with my entire life; The department that taught me that patience is a virtue; The department that gave me 3 friends I will never forget; The department that made me a fine actor!! And, as I set foot into the department to extract letters of recommendations from the "dementors", I was filled with an awe, a sense of belonging and it felt really strange because I never knew I could have such feelings about my department!

The first person I ran into was our very own Kotia;

Kotia:"Hey Pavan, kaisa hai? kyaa kar raha hai?"
Me:" Kyaa karoonga sir.. aise he aagaya, MKM sir se milne"

Kotia: "Don't tell me you are going to the US"
Me: "NO SIR, I could never do that to the poor americans. I gave CAT and am gearing up for the interviews."

Kotia: "I always knew you would shine if you left the department. Aise kyun re? as long as you guys were in the department, no body did nothing... now everybody is something!"
Me: A silly grin... what else!!

At this point the ethereal Rajashri (by the way she sports a new pair of spectacles!) walks in:

Rajashri: "Hey kaizala... I mean kaisa hai re tu? Kyaa karta hai aaj kal? "
Me: " Good afternoon ma'am. I am giving JEE coaching these days!"

Rajashri: "Kya hai re tu.. tu mereko na kabhi samajh mein nahi aaya. life kaisa hai, cool?"
Me : I had half a mind to say "hot" but well mumbled out some niceties and saw them off quickly. I had to save myself for the three people from whom I wanted reco letters!

Prof. M. K. Mishra : I walked into my lab least expecting MKM to be there, but what a pleasant surprise it was when i found him checking his mail (as usual!) in his office.

Me: "Hello sir, How are you?"
MKM: "ohhhhhhhhh.. hello Pavan. Congratulations!"

Me: "amm. umm.." interrupted by VKS
MKM:"ok pavan, I have to leave. I am very busy today and if you are still there when I am back then we can have a chat."

Me: " sure sir, I would be obliged!" (The words "I am busy" rang in my head for a long time. Yeah, MKM hadn't changed and for the first time I was starting to doubt whether he would be giving me a reco or not!

Anyways, I did catch hold of him at the end of the day when he retorted that he was glad I was still in the lab(like I had another choice!!!) and then after a light banter I handed him the Letter of Recommendation form which he filled and gave me the next day! The most tense part of my ordeal was over, now I had to get hold of two other recommendations and I walked towards the office of the much dreaded S. N. Dutta!

Prof S. N. Dutta: He was typing away to glory when I entered his lab and then I walked in asking his permission.

Me: "Good afternoon sir"
SND: "ahem ahem.. buhum.. bahamm"

Me: Standing there like an idiot for a min
SND:"ek minute baba..paper ka kaam kar raha hoon"

And after about a minute he turns to me. There is no sign of recognition in the parts of the face I could see uncovered by his beard and moustache!I wait for a sec and finally

Me: "Good afternoon sir, I was a 5 year MSc. student... graduated last year."
SND: "ahem ahem.. buhum.. bahamm"

Me: "Sir, I gave CAT"
SND: "SO?"

Me: "I cleared the written test and I am preparing for the interviews.. I just came to express my regards and thank you for the support given to me in my graduation days"(Bloody hell I was here for the reco!!!!)
SND: "tum kaun hai re baba.. I dont remember youand what is this CAT?! ahhammm.. buhumm"

Me (half-dead): "Sir, I was a student of MKM, Praket's batchmate!and CAT is an all India entrance for an MBA degree sir"
SND: "ohh Prokeit.. hmm... Mishra's student? kaun??" And then, suddenly he remembered me!! ( I thought he would never forget me, for the shaandaar DD I scored in his course. I guess he will remember me from now on as the student who dared to ask a reco from a prof who didnt even remember him!!)

SND:" Pavan na.. kyaa karta hai tum aaj kal? dekho baba, I think you should not depend on CAT alone, you should give UGC and GATE exam. You should also apply for a PHd abroad. See actually people become very narrow-minded.... blah blah blah!!!!!! If you want I will give a recommendation for your further education..blah blah blah.." Now what did he say? he said RECO.. right.. I heard it.. I heard the golden words.. and by this time SND was saying "I think you should apply to Cornell, Wisc Mad, PSU, UChicago, and some more. Shouldn't be difficult since you are telling me you hav a good GRE score."
Me: "Sir, I have heard what you said and I will definitely download all the applications and will get back to you within a day or two" (HA HA HA HA HA)" Sir, for now, could you please give me a recommendation letter for IIMB? They asked me for one and I think I have interacted with you for a long enough time"(HEHE.. this I told to the guy who struggled to remember who I was!!! )

SND:"ahumm ahumm.. I would be happy to.. but I don't know what you did, so write out a recommendation letter yourself and give it to me. I will make it error free sign it and give it back to you!"
Me (Looking at the old man's feet) : "Thank you very much sir." I never believed somebody could give me an open reco but well I thought this was my day!! I wrote up a decent recommendation for myself and he duly copied it and signed it but not before he rattled on about the future prospects of doing a PHd. He said things about how the pay package is very huge and how I would need a back up plan if the CAT thing didnt work! My mind was whizzing past all the info about his students and their achievements. I guess Praket's name came up twice during the discussion but well I guess I just wanted to go search for the last reco!!

As I trotted out of SND's room my gaze fell on the last room in the corridor, the words read out
Prof B. L. Tembe.

Me: "knock, knock.. can I come in sir?"
BLT: (Looks surprised)"yea.. pavankumar.. come in. come in!"

Me: "I hope you are not busy sir!"(I am pretty darn sure that he was talking to himself before I entered, but well as long as he is a lukkha I didnt care too much!!)
BLT: gives a look which says "How can I ever.. ever be busy!!"

Me: "Good afternoon sir. How have you been sir?"

BLT: "so pavankumar. what are you upto these days?"

Me:"I have been good sir. I have had a pretty rough year and finally I have managed to clear the CAT written test. I am preparing for the interviews."
BLT:"Ohh.. I see.. very good.."

BLT: "Is this the same pavankumar who was here 2 years before?? I think I never heard you say that you had a lot of work to do.. "

Me:"I know sir.. but off late I am getting bored if I dont work! Thats the way it has become!"

BLT:"Ohh.. very interesting!! and how did you clear CAT?"
Me(desperate to get the request for a reco out of the closet): "I pulled out some hours in between work and sleep and studied for CAT"

BLT:"So you are capable of hard work.. nice to know.. and can I know why you didnt work for the 5 years you were with us? "
Me: A silly grin! damn what can one answer to these kind of questions! I knew that I screwed up.. only if he would let it go!!

BLT: "hmm.. were you on time when you attended classes here?"
Me: "Whenever I did attend the class I was on time.. I am very particular about this kind of stuff sir!"

BLT: "yea I know. Your interest for chemistry is world-famous!"
Me: "No sir. It ain't like that.. "

BLT: "Quite unbelievable!! Even you are progressing somewhere in life!!".
Me:" yes sir..I guess I am far more responsible than I was in my IIT days!"

BLT: "nice to know.. so what are you doin here? Is this a personal visit or you are here for an interview?"
Me: "No sir, this is a personal visit. I wanted to thank all the people in this department who have contributed to my success so far sir! And the person I first met is you sir."

BLT: "Nice.. nice.. so why do you want to do an MBA? think that I am the interviewer and answer!"
Me (laughed out loudly!!): "Sir. this is not going to work.. You know me too well.. and I can't lie to you sir. I cant say that I am a hard working person yearning for a degree that would fulfill my dream of setting up an albeit small, but well managed firm!!"

BLT(also laughs out loud): "Yea true!!! though it sounds nice to the ear.. I dont think I can still believe that you have changed so much in one year!"
Me(desperate to change the subject): " yes sir.. sir I wanted a favor from you. Could you please give me a letter of recommendation for IIMB?"

BLT(shocked at the sudden change of subject, but I was there on serious business you see...I had very little time and a lot of CD's to burn!!): "well.. why do you think that I should give you a letter of recommendation?"
Me:" Sir.. I never said you should sir! I just came here to say thanks.. and I would be thankful to you whether you gave me a reco or not sir. It is just a formality I need to complete and I thought who would be better than you, the person I have interacted with the most in the department! If you believe I dont deserve one I guess its your choice sir.. I will just follow what you say!"

BLT:"Impressive.. a very good answer! I give you an A for this and also a reco. Does the reco have to be an open one?"
Me(with greed in my eyes):"I really don't have a say in this regard sir. It is your wish sir!"

BLT:"Ok.. I will work on it today and give it to you by tomorrow morning.. Prepare well!"
Me: "I can't thank you enough sir.. blah blah blah"

Phew!! I was relieved that I could gather three recos in no time!! I had walked into SND's room expecting a blast but well, as it turned out this is one more person I will be indebted to for life! It is sheer irony that SND spent more time with me than MKM did and I dont think I will ever forget the heart-felt happiness that I saw in SND's eyes when he heard that I managed to clear CAT! On the whole this visit reaffirmed my faith that the Prof tribe is indeed an alien one.. ...