The Tragedy of Trainings !!!!

I just came out of a two hours corporate training specially designed for technical consultants on a complex technical subject. Neither I had the least bit of interest in the subject nor was the trainer remotely intelligent to make the session a little interesting. Forget about the knowledge on the subject but the trainer was lacking in the basic communication skills and English vocabulary to make any significant contribution. First there were some projector problems which led to a delay of 15 mins. Later, the connection was slow and every screen took 20-25 seconds to open. I was bored to the limits within the first 5 mins of lecture itself when finally it started. I tried hard to concentrate but the speaker, I thought, had sworn to harass all the trainees with his vague examples and irrelevant references. And I could realize from the facial expressions (and the browsers open on the screens) was that most of the trainees were enduring it as badly as me. It was pathetic.
I thought about all the training sessions which I had attended since I started working, all were the same with a little bit of a difference here and there. People seem to harbor some basic rules about trainings like:

· Trainings are meant for the sole motive of completing the yearly mandatory quota of learning.

· Feedbacks are to be always given in positive light irrespective of the quality of training.

· For trainings conducted across locations with shared screens and telephone bridge calls; the speaker phones should be kept on mute and time should be utilized for chatting, joking and gossiping.

· This rule applies for the training coordinator and team leads as well.

· No questions to be asked to the trainer. This is to avoid the extra time that would be required if the discussion stretched beyond the planned schedule.

Leave aside any intellectual discussions; these trainings are a part of those mundane and unavoidable activities. The situation is more or less the same in most of the global IT companies.
Imagine about the millions of dollars which the IT companies are spending on training their associates. Efforts and money are invested in not only getting the best of infrastructure (read hardware, licensed software, high end training rooms) but also in getting best trainers from outside. In spite of all this, if the general attitude towards training and knowledge among the employees is so demeaning, then companies need to do a thorough revamp of their strategies first hand. I wonder what happens to the learning instincts of a person once he starts working. Is he so bored of learning already or does he becomes so perfect that he doesn’t need any more knowledge. Some of them might be genuine in attending sessions, but there are hardly any who can apply the knowledge in their work confidently. There is huge gap between what exactly is needed and what is taught. It is strange that no one seems to have done anything about this yet.
I remember our lectures in college. We didn’t have the high quality training rooms; neither did we have some world class, highly paid trainers. What we had was a decent but intelligent lecturer who loved to teach and who could make the session interesting. But it was enough and the knowledge was abundant. In the race to achieve and show everything high class, we are somewhere losing the basic interest in learning. To expect an effective and creative solution in such an artificial environment is a difficult task. But I hope that someday, companies realize this and try to make a change. I am all willing to be a part of that change.

Aaj phir aapki kami si hai..!!!

The first time I ever heard Jagjit Singh was by chance when dad got one of his albums “Silsilay”. A rare composition and a rarer association. It introduced me to the mesmerizing world of ghazals which were far away from the traditional urdu genre I was so used to since childhood. No harmonium, no ‘taal’ instruments – just strings, violin, piano and an occasional flute. But it was one of those albums which could instantly transform your state of mind and bring peace. I was fascinated. I was hooked onto it for around one year.
The next was when again dad got Jagjit Singh’s first album with his wife Chitra – the Unforgetable. It was one of the magical ones with all the eccentricity of the traditional urdu ghazals. But the voice of Jagjit Singh was so overpowering that even the simplest of the songs worked wonders. I was hooked again. The cassette didn’t last more than six months due to excessive playing.
From there started what I call “A life-long love affair” with the ghazals and the maestro’s creations. I still have most of his ghazals in my mobile and they will always be.
Here is the list of some of my personal favorites:
1) Ahista Ahista: The Unforgettable – This still remains one of his most respected and appreciated ghazals. The tune, the lyrics, the piano in between and most important – the voice – everything is amazing
2) Koi paas aya savere savere: The unforgettable - The rhythm of the song is like never heard before. Its difficult. Its heavy but its lingers in the mind for a long time.
3) Shyam se aankh mei name si hai: Marasim – This is one of the most loved and cherished albums of all times. It took Jagjit and Gulzar six years to compose this album
4) Aankho mei jal raha hai kyu: Marasim – there is a prose recited by Gulzar before this song. That and the tune of the song make it an incredibly mesmerizing composition.
5) Zhuki Zhuki si nazar: Arth – Needless to say anything else. Its overwhelming.
6) Sach ye hai bekaar hamein: Silsilay – I still don’t know which instrument he has used which keeps on playing in the background . .feels like falling of drops in a pond of water. The lyrics is awesome.
7) Woh khat ke purze uda raha tha: Marasim - Use of just two guitars – one higher and another lower notes, a flute and a Sitar. Nothing else. Incomparable.
8) Hazaron Khwahishein : Mirza Ghalib – One of the quintessential urdu poetry and impeccable music.
9) Tumko Dekha to: Saath Saath – The first one. Peaceful. Really a Ghana Saaya
10) Kya khoya Kya paaya: Samvedna – The coming together of two legends. Jagjit Singh and Atal Bihari Vajpeyee. Hear it and cry for hours.

A Wife's Plea . . .

Dear Hubby,
It has nearly been ages since I talked to you about us. In the entire process of getting married, I felt we talked about people and situations around us rather than just about ‘us’. So, let me start by thanking you for marrying me. By taking the sacred vows with you, I am whole heartedly indebted to you for this entire life and also the other lives to come (if they ever do). Now that we are deeply into our blessed wedded life, I wish to tell you some things straight from the heart

1)We are married now and I am staying with you for good. Please stamp this in your mind, heart and thoughts that no matter what happens I am not leaving you in any damn situation. Though there might be millions of people whom I adore and appreciate for their sheer mettle and guts; it is you with whom I find my peace of mind and love. So you have no choice but to bear me till the last breadth I take. I am here to stay forever.
2)I love working. Whether that means working in the office, washing the dishes, cooking, laundry, dusting, cleaning, anything. Especially I love to do it for you. I am honestly not complaining for it anytime in the present or future. But its only when I am dead tired or when all the other options fail miserably that I expect you to just ‘pitch in’ and help me. Otherwise, just a caring comment of appreciation is fine. I will do the rest myself. I really don’t want you to help me every single day. Really.
3)We really don’t need to do every single thing together. I am not at all angry with you if you feel like spending time with your laptop, or mobile, or newspaper, or anything. I am happy to read my own book and enjoy the time. Don’t be guilty. Don’t be awkward. Along with supporting each other’s interests, we need to grow as individuals as well. Isnt it ??
4)It will take time for me to do everything perfectly. In the process, if I fail sometimes here and there, please don’t taunt or shout. It feels like all the efforts so far are wasted and I will have to start afresh from the scratch and it hurts badly too. I know, u don’t like lots of my things as well and you can frankly tell them to me at night, when we are cozying in the bed. The message sinks in better this way.
5)Talk. Whatever you feel or have it in your mind, just say it loud. Even if you feel like swearing, teasing, loving, arguing, any damn thing from the smallest to the largest, just say it aloud and clear. It is too much of an effort to keep you asking and then keep guessing when you don’t speak. I am not going to get hurt and start crying just because you are being honest. Angry may be . .but just for a minute. But its worth talking straight away than keeping quiet. I think of millions of terrible things if you don’t tell me. You know that can spoil our entire day (and night as well).
6)I understand all your dreams. I really do. And I wish and pray and hope from the bottom of my heart that you achieve all of them. I am really sorry if it was not conveyed to you through my actions. So here I am stating it clearly. I will support you in each and every dream you chase to the fullest.
7)I genuinely care and respect all the people who matter to you. I may not agree with some of their actions and thoughts or may get bored sometimes. But I think that’s ok. No one is perfect. I care for them as much as you do. After all they are mine now as well. Right ???
8)I like to do my own things. So if I do certain things without consulting you or discussing with you, it doesn’t mean I don’t trust you or don’t respect your thoughts. Its just that I am used to doing things in a certain way and will take time to mould the other way. I promise soon enough you will be annoyed by the number of things I ask you. But till that time, just ignore me if I don’t listen to you sometimes. No doubt, this also applies to me. I will never question anything you do without telling me. I trust you. Completely.
9)Its not easy for me to let go of my parents and home so easily and immediately. If sometimes I do give a little more preference to my parents, please let it be. They have been my everything till you came. Its difficult to just de-prioritize them . .just like that !!!!
10)I love you. I really really really do love you more than my life. The hugs, the silly names, the happiness, the fights, the talks, the food . .everything is a testimony to our love. No matter what happens and however badly we fight, love is there to stay. Its when I am under your arms at night and you cuddle up next to me in the morning – warm, peaceful and happy, I realize its true strength.

Finally, this letter is still not done completely. I will find many more things to tell you in the years to come. Till that time . . . . . .

With lots of love
Wife

Bahulichya Lagnachi Goshta

This is the story of my wedding.
Written by my dad, this includes the story of the entire process, the preparations, the people, the incidences, the fun, the jokes, the eleventh hour confusions.
We in the family enjoyed it a lot. . i hope its funny enough for everyone as well.
Enjoy !!!

Proust Questionnaire

I love answering questions which make me think. I found this Proust questionnaire somewhere on the net. Lets see how do I fare in it. . .
What is your idea of happiness?
The idea keeps on changing. All those clichés about getting in the first rain, the roses, the first kiss, the cup of coffee at midnight makes me happy. People, places, weather, clothes, children is a sign of happiness as well. In spite of this, the greatest thing to give me happiness is the idea that I can be happy on my own. I do not need to depend on anything or anyone to make me happy. I can be happy anyways just like that. I believe that the greatest happiness lies in my ability to be alone.
What is your greatest fear?
To be non-productive or futile in any of my work. Life has given me so much in terms of knowledge, love and care. There is no time when I don’t think of giving it back to the people I care. I would die if I feel anything I am doing is worthless or I am not being productive enough. I am always searching for something to focus on so that I can bring out my knowledge, experience or wisdom in some form or other.
Which historical figure do you most identify with?
Sourav Ganguly. Of course he is already a history now.
Which living person do you most admire?
My Maid. In fact all maids. Hats off to them. I always wonder how they find the courage to clean other people’s dirt and shit everyday with such dedication.
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Being non experimental. I love my own comfort zone and rarely do I think of getting out of it and trying new things. It has cost me lots in terms of work and relationship. I am scared of even hitting some wrong keys on my computer or taking some different turn while driving home. I just don’t like to change.
What is your greatest extravagance?
Evening 5-7 pm, a cool breeze, balcony with a view of a hill or vast expanse of green land, a bean bag, a hot coffee and an excellent book.
Afternoon 2-4, a heavy downpour outside with lightening and all, a warm bed and a cozy blanket, a full meal with a chocolate cake desert, a 2 hour afternoon siesta
What is your favorite journey?
Anyone which starts by evening 5-5.30 pm and ends at 10-10.30. And which allows me to have the window seat by the car or the train or the flight.
Who is your favorite artist?
It has to be Gulzar. His words spill magic every time I read them.
What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Love. It has been the most talked about and most misunderstood virtue of all times. Love was, is and will be there everywhere in its over encompassing forms all over. Period.
On what occasion do you lie?
When I feel my privacy is being threatened or someone is getting too personal or too much inside my mind.
When I do lots of shopping and I don’t wanna let anyone know.
What do you dislike most about your appearance?
My broad forehead. I would have looked much better with a shorter one.
Which living person do you most despise?
All who don’t let go of things or emotions. People who hold on to bitter thoughts, grudges or hatred.
Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
Sahi. I mean – seriously. Full too.
What is your greatest regret?
That I was not born in Mumbai, that I didn’t opt for a journalism degree after my HSC, that I still don’t have enough courage to leave IT and pursue my dreams in writing.
What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Everything
What is your present state of mind?
Happy of course. I am always happy no matter what.
How would you like to die?
At the age of 65 when I am still very much healthy and active, peacefully in my sleep with the most content smile on face.
What is your favorite motto?
-: All our happiness comes from the ability to be alone :-

Ten Things Worth Living !!!

Yesterday I came across an article by noted film maker Pritish Nandy. He had written about life and things which make it worth living. How true, I thought that we never think about the small facts of life which keep our spirit alive throughout. According to him, he has made a list of ten things which he finds his reasons to be alive and ticking. Going by his this method, I decided to make a similar list for myself. Its so easy, just a 10 mins work – I thought. But when I actually got down doing it – I couldn’t think of even two of them. After a lot of scrapping and brain storming – I finally got down to the following 10 which I think everyone could relate to –

1) The morning news papers -
This may sound a bit unusual but I find this piece of paper as the most important thing of the entire day. Humans, I think, are here to grow and growth always comes from mind. Newspaper in the morning is my window to the world outside – to absorb, to learn, to understand and to think. It gives a healthy fodder for my mind to process throughout the day.

2) A mug full of milk –
This is yet another ordinary substance which makes life worth living. Imagine after a night’s long sleep, the first thing you put into your starved stomach is sweetened, thick milk topped with cream. It is and absolute bliss. Period.

3) Weathers -
Now people living in places with extreme weather can relate with me. The falling of leaves in autumn, the initial cold winds of the winter, the greenery of the rains, the smell of the newly grown grass, the fresh vegetables from winter. I have experienced this from close quarters and is really something worth it. One just cannot ignore the taste of a new raw mango and especially when it is plucked secretly from a neighbors’ courtyard. I will live again and again to enjoy it.

4) Travel –
Imagine sitting in a train’s sleeper compartment by a window seat, or in a car by the window seat. Soft breeze pass by you and if it’s the night outside you are altogether taken to a different world. I feel like life is such a long journey at such times. Villages, jungles, barren lands pass by and one thinks about life in similar terms – past, present and future. The stars, the trees, the road, the rivers and the lakes – all come together and you become a part of the vast universe. It is serene, it is divine.

5) Books –
Books are my God. I am wholeheartedly indebted to all those great and incredible souls who had the courage, perseverance and patience to write all those highly amusing pieces of knowledge. I read like a maniac and I read again and again. Places like crossword, landmark and odyssey are like temples for me. I would die to live long just for reading books.

6) Movies, music, paintings – Arts in general.
Do I need to elaborate anymore? Arts are like nourishment for one’s mind. It gives creativity, imagination and enriches life. Definitely worth a life.

7) Acknowledgement, acceptance, appreciation –
An appreciation mail from a client, an encouraging pat on the back from dad, a happy look of acceptance in the eyes of a loved one, a comment from a teacher for you hard work, a clap by your team after a match win – all these form ever lasting memories to be cherished for the entire life. Appreciation is the single factor which makes you work harder and heart always has a craving for acceptance from the loved ones. It is worth living again and again.

8) People –
A distant cousin who shared pranks with you in childhood, a best friend whose face pokes into your conscience whenever you pass any of the numerous tea and snacks ADDAs spread all over the city, the thought of that one special person when you held hands, grandma with her wrinkled face but the world’s most beautiful smile, your first child – two hours old in the world but who has already filled your life with all the joys that a life has, mom and dad smiling encouragingly as you go for the board exam. Sheer bliss to be alive and living.

9) Morning 3 am and a mug of hot steaming coffee -
Its when you are working on an important project, or studying for the exams next day or it’s a friends night out or its just a girly gossip session throughout the night. Coffee tastes different. Its sweeter and its effect lasts longer.

10) The face –
You wake up in the morning after a bad dream, you open your eyes and turn to your side and you see the love of your life – you spouse cuddled next to you – happy, still and peaceful. What else could you ask for ?? I know – just another chance to live it up like this again.



That’s it. That’s life worth living for me.

Shobhaa Atya

The most preliminary memories I have about Shobhaa atya are about her coming to work in hot summer afternoons clad in dingy sarees. She was a maid by profession, a Muslim by religion but one of the liveliest people by heart I have ever seen. Tangled hair tied in a coarse bun, stained teeth due to constant chewing of beetle leaves, soorma in her eyes and the saree pulled-up way above her stomach – she resembled some “daain” or the witch from old age children stories. Even her tongue was not very sweet as she had a very vernacular accent mix of hindi, Marathi and urdu. But she had distinctively compassionate look in her eyes which made her human and famous among the kids. She called my dad as “dada” or big brother and that way she loved me as her niece.

My grandma (aaji) was a staunch jain old woman and she had strict rules about the general cleanliness and behavior at home. In spite of that, she had no reservations in having Shobhaa atya as a household help. Often, aaji would rant at Shobhaa atya for taking uncalled leave or coming late but many a times I also saw both of them sitting together for a “Paan” session after work. Shobhaa atya worked for lots of homes nearby and she brought lots of hot and breaking news to aaji which would be discussed in details. They would gossip for hours together and aaji would make her tea or lemon juice accompanying paan.

The reason my aaji would never leave her was her discipline in work. The utensils and linen were left gleaming clean after Shobhaa atya had her magical hand rubbed over them. Even the floor and the courtyard would be left spotlessly clean and fresh after her work. Occasionally she also cleaned the water tank and the extra linen like sofa covers, veils and bed-sheets. I would always wonder how a significantly shabby woman like her is able to clean my home so neatly. Half of the times her saree would be wet due to constant working in water. She had cracked feet and wrinkled fingers but she never cared.

Shobhaa atya had an adopted girl named Salma. As Salma was exactly my age, Shobhaa atya would often ask for my old frocks and skirts for her. We played together often and I used to bring her home from her nearby school. Sometimes I used to handover some food, toys and frocks to Salma for which Shobhaa atya would be filled with pride and gratitude for me. I loved to watch her clean the utensils. Her wrinkled hands moving on the pots and plates along with water was a site to remember. There used to a typical rhythm to her work – whether it was her scrubbing shirts and sarees or dipping them in the bucket full of water and moving them round and round like a twister – everything made a pleasure for eye. And I also loved to listen to her words – which I found most amusing. “Ohh salmaa – ja na woh, thoda kaam karun ye” was her usual way of calling her only child.

She stayed at our home for 13 days when my aaji passed away. She cried the most and didn’t take a penny of the work she did in that period. She got Salma married at the age of 16 years. We shifted to our new home and I lost touch with her. At times I got news about salma – that she is having 3 babies and she is staying with shobhaa atya. But later I lost it completely.
It was a couple of days ago that I got a chance to meet Shabhaa atya after so many years again. I had some work with one of the residents of our old colony. While talking, my host, the old uncle sarda told me that Shobhaa is still working at his house. On my request he called her and within 5 mins Shobhaa atya came running down from nowhere. The moment she saw me she just held me into a tight hug. She caressed my cheeks and ruffled my hair. I could see tears flowing down her eyes and she was happy like a mother to see me and more than happy to hear about my wedding.
After the initial moments of surprise and happiness, I observed her in detail – she was more freckled now with the wrinkles showing under her eye and on her neck. But rest of the appearance was exactly the same.

The red teeth, the soorma eyes, the hair and the wet saree tucked a bit high - she had not changed a bit and even her accent was the same.
She immediately started telling our host about the bygone years – about how I used to help her in her work and play with salma. One thing she kept on repeating about me “Kiti motthi zali ki ata lagin pan karte”. She also told me about salma – that she had 6 girls from her first husband which she divorced and now 2 boys and 1 girl from the second husband. Our host joked that soon Salma will be making an entire cricket team. I told her that I was getting married 10 years after her daughter salma. I could not help but wonder how things change and situations change but some people never change. Shobhaa atya promised me to come for the wedding 2 days earlier and I am sure she will be more than happy to help my mom with the house cores. I hope to see her soon – because some people remain in your heart for a lifetime.

This is not an obituary!!!

Snowy weighted less than half a kilogram when we brought him home for the first time. He was sitting quietly in a jute bag on my lap while Dada and I carried him on my scooty. Timid, soundless, tranquil and completely white – he gave us the impression of a beautiful angel. How vulnerable he looked; how delicately carved. I feared he might not be real, he might not even move when we reach home. He was the first dog (and probably the only one) we would have. But since the first day itself, he never behaved like any of his counterparts. He was there all the time eating, sleeping, playing, snoring, fighting, enjoying . . . growing with both of us. He was our brother, our very own little, stupid bro.
He started coming out of his basket bed when he was just 2 months old. With his little feet, he used to walk till the kitchen door. He slept under the dining table and would wake up with a shock when the pressure cooker would blow its whistle. He wasn’t even able to jump up the bed till he was 6 months old. I used to take him up to sleep with me. . but with his strange sounds at night he would wake us.
Once he started jumping on the bed, there was no stopping him. First thing we would notice in the mornings were his silly groans - his tricks to wake us. Next was the time for the scratching, the licking and the biting. However silly this may sound, but it had somehow become a part of our lives.
Mom was never fond of dogs in the first place, but she was the first one to take him completely more than us. From cleaning his shit to feeding him food she did everything. She was the first one to even scold him at times he went anywhere near the “Devghar”.

Snowy was a miraculous dog since birth - one of the most amazing miracle he did was to wake up dad at 8 am. Dad, who would not see the sunlight till 9.30 am, started getting up at 8 am only with snowy’s insistence. Many times he would sit next to baba on the bed and start making strange sounds if baba didn’t wake up. If that didn’t work then he would start scratching Baba. Often we feared that baba would slap him hard for this, but surprisingly Baba would happily wake up watching his innocent pleading face.
He loved to chew Dada’s towel and many of them were converted to rags the moment Dada kept them lying on the bed. He loved to go out. If anyone of us touched his chain even by mistake, he would start jumping and scratching and barking so wildly that we had no choice but to take him out for a walk.
He was quite moody when it came to eating. His favorite food was undoubtedly the egg. He could smell it from even a kilometer and the moment Aai took it out from the refrigerator – BOW WOW BOW BOW !!!
The next was the malai cham cham. I don’t know how but he was crazy about this one sweet. He never ate other sweets likes like shrikhand, barfi, laddu. But cham cham was his favorite.
He loved the family. He was the first one to greet anyone with his jumps and licks who came home. People who initially ran away from him became immensely fond of him after snowy made them forget their apprehensions with his unconditional love. Chhotu uncle was his favorite and the moment he entered home, snowy wouldn’t let him rest for long. It was when Chhotu uncle would play with him for 10-15 mins, he would leave him in peace.
Like all others – he hated to take the bath – to get all wet. So the herculean task was always left to me. It would take me around 2 hours to wash, shampoo, dry and then make up his hair. At the end I would be left highly irritated with all his white hair sticking to my cloths and he would be left doubly irritated that he couldn’t bite me or harm me in any way for unabashedly ruffling his body and hair. What he would do was just look at me with an expression best left to both of us.
He was a constant joy to be around, even when he was sleeping – an adorable ball of clean, soft white cotton curled under the sofa or dining table or in front of the door. I often used to get told for picking him up while he was fast asleep. He was the biggest driving force for Aai and Baba when we siblings left home – I for my job and dada for his studies. He was always giving and giving.
He was considered in each and every thing concerning our family. My cousin had once even named him as Snowy Ukhalkar. We were planning all sorts of things to do for him for the coming winter. But he had been ill since two weeks and from Aai’s phone calls it seemed it was something serious. We were travelling from Pune to Akola and the occasion was 2 days before my engagement. I was worried but I hoped that we would meet him . . that he would be alright.
But all my hope was brutally crushed. He didn’t wait. He was gone already when we reached.
Snowy. Our snowy. Gone ?????? It was something dada and I, both couldn’t digest. It was just a couple of weeks ago I had met him on Dashera. How could he be so ill to not even wait a couple of more days ?? How could one day he just decide to leave us and go away somewhere never to return ?? This was insane, this was cruel, this was unreal.

It took us almost three hours to come to term with the situation. But I thought it would take us the entire lifetime to come to terms with the fact – snowy no more.
Mom and dad tried consoling us – his life was measured and he lived a happy life. But all this seemed vague and insufficient explanation. The basic question was not why but was why so soon, why so unexpected???
I guess I am still trying to find out the answer. I know I Know – he was just a dog. But this argument doesn’t stand for me anymore and neither for my entire family. He was after all a life – a happy, jolly, soft, pure white life !!!!
I wish I had got a chance to take him up in my hands and squeeze him in a tight hug . . .
Love you Dheboo !!!

Mad Acts of pleasure !!!

Sometimes, madness is the beginning to incredible pleasure . . . .

Year: 2009

Occasion: "Scintillations"
The annual awards function and cultural event.

For me, the participation in Scintillations was just a way to get some change in my routine life. The event was Mad Act where one actor from each unit was to act a famous character in a small skit of around 20 mins. It was just around 10 days from the D-Day and the script was nowhere to be finalized. People involved were busy in official commitments and to manage everyone at the same time for practice was a herculean task. Initially, I was apprehensive – this might turn out to be a boring experience with a vague script and unknown people. But, I went ahead with my fingers crossed.

The first meeting was pure IT istyle with all the introduction and formality part thrown in. But, some people strike a chord somewhere. Even if some of us had come to find an excuse from work like me, some were seriously involved in theatre since their college days. They were the driving force for kick starting the practice with zeal. Just within half an hour of discussion, the characters were decided and the basic script was finalized. That was quite a feat in itself and I couldn’t help but appreciate the sheer mettle of our caption/director to judge the group so fast and settle down everything. It was a positive sign.

Bless me!!! I was the only girl in the gang of seven guys. There was an Akbar Hyderabadi, A Gadadhari Bheem, A.K. Hungal, Amol Palekar, Baburao Apte and Sachin Tendulkar and between them – I, Dee Dee from Dexter’s laboratory. Just the inclusion of such a weird list of characters created a feel of humor and to add to it was the theme of the skit which made it hilarious.

Initially, only some basic movements and dialogues were written. But, as the practice progressed, there were some on the spot additions and improvisations which started to change the entire mood and feel of the script. People who were bit conscious earlier, started to open up throwing away all the inhibitions. The comfort level soared significantly which helped the characters to evolve in their own style. There was a huge arena of possibilities now; which I could imagine and if all went well, this could be one of the most memorable experiences of my life – emotionally as well as intellectually.

While practicing, there were mistakes; there were retakes and big chucks of laughter thrown in between. After 4 days of practice, everyone seemed to forget that they were there as a part of competition from different units. Instead, all were immersed in one common motto – to act, to enjoy and to make this a great skit. We started to come on time and wait till late nights for practice. The pleasure and joy was palpable and contagious wherein all put their best to make it a success.

Our director Amol Palekar was the biggest driving force behind the entire scene. He acted the best and made others act to their best. The ways and styles with which he could enact each and every dialogue were truly amazing. With his energy, humor and dedication he would make it sure that we enjoyed what we are doing and still are serious enough to work hard – just like the real Palekar. The result - our skit was turning out to be an outright comedy.

Then there was Akbar, though a pure Marathi – he could act like he is a Hyderabadi by birth. His ease on the stage was magnetic and his constant jokes were a hit. Though he made mistakes and forgot his lines, it made up for a greater laugh and brought in lots of improvisations. Together with Palekar, he used to give the entire team a food for fun and laughter. I never thought I would get a friend for life in him.

Sachin, Baburao, A.K.Hungal, Bheem all brought their individual charm to the skit. I felt I should shoot the practice session because I knew one day, more than the actual performance, I am gonna miss the practice session the most. We were a great team and I wanted to hold on to the bonding.
Finally we were ready to perform on the D-Day. We were wandering throughout the grounds without a single worry – our skit was perfectly ready. It was remarkable to watch our team get ready in their costumes - Akbar, Bheem, A. K. Hungal and specially Baburao with his dhoti, topi and old bag.

We all were set and the skit was announced.
20 minutes of sheer pleasure. Period. What an experience that was. There was no stage and no audience – we were as we have been in the practicing room – natural, comfortable and humorous. It was after the performance that we realized we were a hit. The audience was laughing for the entire skit and the mood was ecstatic. We rocked. We surely did!!!!

For me, it was a moment of assimilation – what had started as just a fun activity for me had unquestionably turned out to be one of the most memorable journeys. The entire process had not only given me friends for life time but a benchmark to look back to whenever I get involved any such initiative further. There was a lot to take home from the moment but I was just basking in the achievement. The time had given me such an expected result that I was sure to be in the same mood for days to come. And I was hoping the same for others too. And more than anything else, it was humbling to realize that we had performed as a team – not as individuals.

Today after more than a year after the event, the memories are still fresh. I feel like asking Palekar his expert comments when i practice for this year's skit. I see the difference in attitude when i see other people practicing for their skit. I often run into Palekar in the office canteen and all I can remember is his typical way of saying his dialogues. I meet Akbar and I share the same jokes in Hyderabadi accent. I can see Baburao walking briskly with his bag and I imagine Sachin with his bat and gloves.

Sometimes madness really is the beginning for great pleasure. I started the madness and the delight has yet not died.
This memoir is especially for all the mad friends I made so that they don’t think twice before acting mad once in a while. . . .

I Wonder . . . .

Sometimes I wonder . . are relations really meant for eternity ??? Am I really honest to my own emotions??? Which are my true emotions – the resentment i feel for my friend of 8 years even if she does something for good or the affection i had felt for her long ago even after she had hurt me with all her might.

Sometimes I do wonder . . can girls really make good friends ?? even after spending 8years together since the first day of college, I feel a stranger sharing my room, my bathroom, my clothes and even my bed. She is my room-mate for sharing my room, but she is a complete stranger for sharing my feelings.
In contrast I talk to a colleague in the office, we have known each other since just 2 months officially, but while chatting at the lunch table and making fun of each other, I feel we have known each other since ages.

I wonder . . is this going to last longer or is it just a fluke !!! Am I being honest to my feelings or am I searching for a solace or an assurance for my way of thinking. Is it real or is it virtual ??

At home, I fear to ask simple questions about food, laundry, her voice on the phone or the volume of the TV and I avoid discussion on subject even slightly important than electricity bills, paper bills and house rent while at office I can whole heartedly pass personal comments without being misunderstood or feeling guilty about it.
I wonder . . How do I evaluate this change, this contrast ?? How do relations take such a 180 degrees shift if they are meant for eternity ?? Am I responsible of the shift or am I just a pawn ?? Why do relations grow so deep if they have to go through such unexpected twists and turns ???

I wonder . . what should I take to the deeper parts of my memory - the fun and love we shared which now seems like a distant past or the present resentment, hatred or the indifference ???

I Wonder . . .
I really do wonder . . . !!!

Peepli, Shivaji and our Society !!!

Much is being written, heard and seen about Anusha Rizvi’s and Aamir Khan’s current brain child – Peepli [Live]. Isn’t it ridiculous of the people to make such a stupid controversy about farmers and their issues ??
A film is a form of art. Period. Whether one believes in the ideology the film portrays is a different matter altogether. One should always view it as art or as we say a “Kalakruti” in Marathi. I believe that a Kalakruti should be analyzed simply on artistic grounds it is created with, not on the grounds of social norms, ethics or what is acceptable or likable to a certain group of people.
Natha is a poor, simple farmer. As even his basic needs are not satisfied with the meager income he gets from farming, he is forced to commit suicide. I wonder why people fail to understand or comprehend that poor farmers have to succumb to suicide because they DON’T HAVE MONEY . . they don’t DIE FOR MONEY. How silly and ridiculous it is for all those well educated and so called leaders of the farmers to claim that the movie is maligning the farmers of India !!!
Common guys !!! Everyone is aware of the grave sufferings of the poor farmers of India. If one film is showcasing the plight so strongly and aggressively, it’s a feat which should be whole heartedly supported.
The same issue can be discussed with reference to lots of recent films. Film makers in India are given such a constricted freedom of expression. They are constantly in a pressure that their creation can get into one or the other conflicts in the name of so called social rules. They are losing their liberty to express a story the way they like or feel. The other day, director Girish Kulkarni had an interesting comment to make on a discussion panel on IBN Lokmat. He said that a film cannot be labeled as bad only because the idea expressed is unacceptable or unlikable. It is absurd to ban a movie or protest against the producer, directors only because you don’t like the movie. This is clear cut “Hitlershahi”. It can happen that an artistically excellent film can be a flop only because of the idea expressed is controversial or ahead of its times. But that’s no reason to ban the film or propagate against it. It shows the immature state of the society. This can also severely damage creative instincts of the great artistes. In a way it comes in the intellectual progress of the society because the brilliant minds are not allowed to wander and think freely.
Take for example the book by Mr. James Laine’s book on Shivaji Maharaj. I haven’t read the book yet and I don’t even know what is causing such a big hype. Whatever may be in the book, Shivaji Maharaj is such a great and larger than life personality that nothing, I mean nothing can change the perception after so many centuries. How does it matter whose son he is. . he is great and we all love him.
No one is going to give a damn about where Shivaji came from. Those who are genuinely interested will come to India to Maharashtra to find out. And it then depends upon us, our maturity and knowledge of our history to put forward the best picture to the world. But it seems highly unlikely that we will put forward a united and balanced picture given the current arguments that are making the rounds.
Finally it all comes to one thing. We as a society are still very immature to handle and accept greater intellectual transformation.

Mind, Love and Desires

These are some of the excerpts from my Chhottu Uncle's diary !!!
Worth a read and Worth a thought.
I am still unable to realise the entire depth of these words. . may be some of you can help me out.

To bring about a totally new mind
It is definitely possible to bring about a totally new mind. But there are certain indications, certain necessary characteristics which do bring about that quality of newness. They are affection or love and integrity. Most of us do not know what it means to be affectionate. To us, it is a word which we casually use without much significance. Love is of course something very carefully guarded, something with which we ar not so familiar, though we use the word so glibly, so facilely - love of the country, love of truth, love of life and many many loves that we talk about; and I do not think it has anything to do with this. The ingredient - if I may use that word which is absolutely necessary is the quality of affection and integrity. I don't mean by integrity any form of pattern of belief, nor do I mean it as integrity according to the experience through which one has to live; but I mean that integrity that comes about when you begin to observe every movement of your own thought and when no thought is hidden. You do not wear a mask, you do not any longer pretend to be something other than what you actually are; and therefore there is no discipline, no fancy, no worship; and out of that comes the external sense of integrity I mean that kind of integrity, not the man who has belief and lives according to that belief, not the man who is sincere but with certain ideals, not the man who follows a certain discipline or tries to bring about an integration emotionally or intellectually. Such efforts do not bring out integrity. On the contrary, they increase conflict, misery. Whereas the integrity that we are talking about is the quality of seeing the fact every minute, not trying to translate the fact in terms of pleasure and pain, but letting the fact flower without choice, without opinion - out of which seeing comes integrity which is never altered. Now these two, affection and integrity, are necessary.

Love is not a sentiment
Obviously love is not sentiment. To be sentimental, to be emotional, is not love, because sentimentality and emotion are mere sensations. A religious person who weeps about Jesus or Krishna, about his guru and somebody else is merely sentimental, emotional. He is indulging in sensation, which is a process of thought, and thought is not love. Thought is the result of sensation, so the person who is sentimental, who is emotional, cannot possibly know love. Again, aren’t we emotional and sentimental? Sentimentality, emotionalism, is merely a form of self-expansion. To be full of emotion is obviously not love, because a sentimental person can be cruel when his sentiments are not responded to, when his feelings have no outlet. An emotional person can be stirred to hatred, to war, to butchery. A man who is sentimental, full of tears for his religion, surely, has no love.

Why are our desires never fully realized?
This is a very important question to go into because, as you grow older, you will find that your desires are never really fulfilled. In fulfilment there is always the shadow of frustration, and in your heart there is not a song but a cry. The desire to become -to become a great man, a great saint, a great this or that- has no end and therefore no fulfilment; its demand is ever for the "more", and such desire always breeds agony, misery, wars. But when one is free of all desire to become, there is a state of being whose action is totally different. It is. That which is has no time. It does not think in terms of fulfilment. Its very being is its fulfilment.
Think on These Things

Life of a model !!!

This is a blogpost by Shobhaa De' . . .


There came a masala story which had the hungry media vultures scampering – an ageing model’s tragic suicide. Hardly headline news. But there it was, on every channel and newspaper. Poor Viveka Babajee hadn’t received even half this level of coverage during her lifetime as she struggled to keep up appearances, keep body and soul together, in the big, bad and coked out world of Mumbai modeling. She was considered over the hill and ‘finished’ within the glam fraternity – that in itself is a killer judgement. Combine her downgraded professional status with personal traumas, and you have a tragedy waiting to happen. For newshounds, this is another sensational tabloid scandal involving a pretty woman, a rich boyfriend (or many) and a lifestyle that shocks those outside the charmed circle. What most press reports aren’t saying is that what really killed Viveka was not a thwarted love affair but corrosive insecurity and despair.
It is a common story. Some girls can handle it better than others. Some manage to escape. Some don’t. Viveka didn’t. But look around you and you’ll find several walking wounded models struggling to stay afloat…. stay alive. The route taken is familiar – get discovered, get to Mumbai, get assignments. The first two or three years are generally heady and brilliant. The money rolls in, wealthy admirers pile up, lifestyle options multiply… and with luck, Bollywood beckons. All this before the girls reach their sell-by date ( 25 at the outside). Once your shelf life is over, the assignments dry up and even those panting middle aged, married men move on to younger chicks working the circuit. The first sign of desperation is when such a sought- after girl finds herself in the social wilderness and starts looking for lolly from other sources. She has bills to pay, loans to service, and an image to protect. Creditors start breathing down her neck… and with the heat getting a bit too hot to handle, the girl panics. Most times, she is miles away from home, living by herself in a suburban flat without support systems of any kind. She makes alcohol her best friend. In order to keep meeting her new ‘best friend’, she lets it be known she’s open to attending parties thrown by strangers – for a fee, of course. There are shady ‘party agents’ who round up hard up models and small time actresses for clients (mainly prosperous traders from Punjab, Haryana, Delhi) but at least the booze is in plenty even if the money is pathetic. Then come the shadier proposals to spend a weekend in Goa or Dubai – the money is not big, but it covers shopping kharcha. What the hell, a girl’s got to have the latest cell phone and ‘IT’ bag.
From this stage to full time hooking takes no time at all. The stakes are further lowered – but what is on offer is far more addictive – coke. Party girls in frilly frocks are always welcome at power evenings that need a strong glamour quotient – that is exactly the model followed by organizers of sporting mega events worldwide. But there is a catch - the cocktails that keeps these evenings in high gear do not flow out of glasses. The powerful hosts behind these parties know there is but one hook to get these girls to hang on - cocaine – lots and lots of the white stuff. Champagne and coke become the preferred mix. Throw in sex with strangers, and what starts off as a ‘fun’ thing, soon turns into the blackest nightmare ever with no escape. Dirty weekends grow into four and five day orgies. The protagonists are usually society’s top drawer men – industrialists, movie stars, ex-sports people, tv producers. And of course, the fashion crowd from Delhi-Bangalore.This is where girls like Viveka descend into a private hell from which there is no ‘out’. They are literally and metaphorically at a dead end. Strapped for money, strapped for love, strapped for security on any level – they turn the searchlight inwards in search of salvation. Some find it, most don’t.

Viveka’s suicide is being compared to Nafisa’s. And, no doubt there are unmistakable parallels. The main thread involves their respective backgrounds. It was hard to believe Viveka’s family is originally from Satara – a small, obscure town in Maharashtra. That makes Viveka a Maharastrian-Mauritian! What was a girl like that doing in a biz like this? Perhaps she was lured into it with promises of big time success. Ditto for Nafisa, who was also a misfit in the murky world of modeling. Both girls were above average in looks and intelligence. Yet, both got mixed up with men who gave them grief and treated them badly. Both chose a violent exit after giving up on life and themselves. Their contemporaries are made of sterner stuff – some have married ( and divorced) foreigners, others have switched to choreography and event management. Photographs of Viveka’s friends at her funeral, tell their own story. Shockingly enough, some of the girls who showed up to pay their respects clad in pristine designer white , posed for the cameras like they were at a fashion week showing. What should have been a somber occasion was converted into a celeb circus. Viveka’s funeral provided some much needed eye candy and a few photo-ops to the starved media. So much for the current crop of ramp scorchers. Then are still others who fled India and left their old world behind. I was surprised to run into the lovely Shyla Lopez who now lives in Moscow with her Russian husband and a young son. Did she look happy?? Ummmm…. I’m not sure.

Ye Re Ye Re Paausa !!!

Rains have started and my heart is craving to go home.
That’s how it has always been. Even after living in Pune for 3 years , I eagerly wait for the rains to come to my home in Akola.
Thankfully it has already started to rain in the dried lands of Vidharbha . . and most of the dams are filled with waters. Al least this year the Vidharbhians are spared of yearly water problems which get worse during the summers.
Just last year, at the beginning of July, the percentage of water in Katepurna dam was around 16% and the authorities had the tough job managing it for the entire year. The solution – supply water once in 4 days. The 4 days then became 5, and 6, and 7 and then finally during summers 10 days. The authorities divided Akola in 7 parts and distributed water accordingly. Every day in the newspapers, people checked the water percentage just like they checked the temperatures or the gold/silver rates. Many of them were forced to buy water. People living in apartments had to carry water to the 5th, 6th floors. There were news that’s if it doesn’t rain soon; the dead stock of the dams would have to be used. All this with temperatures soaring up to 47-48 degrees and load shedding more than 7 hours a day, life seemed miserable.
But finally the almighty was generous this year and the dams were filled even before the end of season. Credit must go to the people and of course the authorities, who intelligently managed the water crisis. I am not writing this just because Akola happens to be my home, but the spirit of the people living there is really commendable. One can get cool breeze during night even in hot Rajasthan, as the sand cools when the temperature drops. But in Akola its like being constantly inside an oven. The winds are rare and they are hot even at 9 pm. People constantly sweat. Housewives, working women even small children get a problem of low blood pressure, dehydration due to constant water loss from the body. My mom would constantly crib on the phone about heat. Even my dog snowy would spend entire day under the cooler or under the bed. Coolers – Yes !!! Coolers are necessity. Using them even for 24 hours is not sufficient. And what use they have when there is load shedding for seven hours, in such a situation, imagine the water scarcity and one feels like leaving Akola for the good. If this is a condition of people like us; I get goose bumps even if I imagine the state in which poor people live. One has to live there to experience this.
The rains have given temporary relief from some of the problems. At least people will get sufficient water. But the problem of load shedding still remains. Once the rains are gone. . temperatures will be still high in October. One just needs to wait for the next summer. . and the story continues.

Naari Shakti !!!!

An unusually nasty news story caught my attention in the Pune Mirror today. A young educated wife had lodged a complaint in police that her 26 years old educated engineer husband in co-operation with his parents was harassing her for dowry. She had been verbally insulted and often beaten badly. This in spite of the fact that the family was financially well settled and the husband was a project manager in a reputed IT company.
I wondered where the fairer sex of this country has in store for her in spite of such a huge cry over women’s reservation bill. What was striking was the fact that the girl herself was working and financially independent.
I discussed this with some of my male friends. What I got was a couple of indifferent sighs. One of them thought it was a family issue and should not be printed in paper. Imagine!!!! Whats the use of all the education and women empowerment we talk about ?
This is still an extreme case but such type of incidences are still largely kept under wraps. Women find it risky to talk about it fearing scorn from the family members and husband. Even in many so called happy marriages there are factors that are unreasonably expected from women only.
For Ex. One of my colleagues was telling me “My husband and me both work in equally demanding jobs. We both have our projects, deadlines, submissions, deliveries. But when it comes to home it is me who has to do it all. I have to entertain the guests. I have to be at home at 6.30 pm to attend to my in laws. I have to invite all my husband’s relatives for dinner and lunch even if I have a crucial work schedule in the office. I have to look after all the weekend chores. Why should only I neglect my work when its equally important for me ??” she was asking angrily. I asked her whether she has talked to her husband about this issue and she is quick to reply “Never. I had agreed to this before marriage.” So while her husband enjoys his evening cup of tea idly on the couch, she has to look into the kitchen. But I couldn’t understand if she was so unhappy about this arrangement, how could she even agree upon such conditions in the first place.
well you got it right . . . this has been the way since ages.
THE BUCK STOPS HERE
Often we see that the in-laws take pride in telling everyone that their “Bahu” is a working woman with a fancy pay package. But they rarely acknowledge the responsibilities that come with the high paying jobs. Whenever she is late from office, she is gifted with indifferent looks and rude comments.
One of the working couples I know is settled in Australia. Equally busy schedules and equally demanding jobs. But even from there, she has to call her in laws, ask their well being and sometimes even provide financial help from her earnings while her better half spends his own earnings on parties and wine.
One of the biggest arguments, I have observed, is about the religious rituals and family functions. Even if both the partners are working and living away from home, it is the daughter in law, the “bahu” who has to get leave from her office and attend the functions. She is expected to come for the husband’s brother’s mother-in-law’s sixty first birthday even if she has project deadline to meet. Before she leaves she has to take care of husband’s food and laundry for the time she will be gone. When she returns she has to find her home in mess which she has to clean herself. All this while her partner looks after his owm CAREER, his office his work. Hey !!! Doesn’t she work just like you ??
Well most of the times the husbands retort irritated, “But to look after the home is also her work” . Well I want to tell all such husbands to shut their stupid mouths. Looking after home is women’s work because they have made it so. Its more of a choice rather than a rule. Just watch out for the day women will stop doing all this.
It is surprising that these type of comments come from educated men, but more surprising is the fact that even women tend to ignore them or take it in their stride. There is still a lot of “Chalta hai. What can we do??” kind of attitude among women as well. Well I want to urge all these women to get out of their shells. ‘Chalta hai kyuki tum chalate ho’. Women like us should strongly object to such unjustified expectations they are conferred with. After all it’s as much their partner’s responsibility as their own. Agreed that these are smaller facets in the broader sense of picture. But such things have a great impact in changing the old male domination we are subjected to since ages. Eventually it impacts the maturity of the society and even influences the generations to come.
I hope some of my “Pati Vrata” friends read this and comment their thoughts on the post. No matter even if they are anonymous.

Nibandha - Maza Dada !!!

I just had a small chat with dada. He was asking about my credit card details. The chat was over and out within a couple of minutes but it instantly reminded me of an old incident when dada had asked Baba to get one credit card so that he could purchase some online games CD.
It was my insistence during the “Baarsa” that my little brother be called Rahul. Kartik was just a formal identity for the school. I vividly remember the sibling fights we had, which mostly revolved around TV remote and video games. The fights generally ended with him scratching my arms and me hitting him on the back. Gradually our fights became less frequent. I thought we are getting mature, but later I realized Rahul had surrendered to my continuous bullying and bugging. Before I could have the intelligence to understand it, Rahul was growing and was doing so rapidly. The restless, aggressive and stubborn Rahul gave way to a more calm, mature and humble Kartik. He was exemplary in his studies, often getting more than me. I loved the praise good academics brought. But Kartik never had any attraction for the success; it came to him as naturally as his humility and intelligence. . something that was mandatory not something to be proud of.
He had varied but quite unusual interests since I can remember. I have never seen him chat with friends for hours on a typical “katta”. I have never seen him come home with dirt splattered all over after a long game of cricket. He had been a homely guy, spending most of the time on computer, scrabble, carom or the old set of mechanics which required intelligence and creativity more than physical exercise. He was the one who instantly claimed his authority over the new computer Baba bought when he was just 10 year old. Since then, it has been his world all along.
I was sailing through my own sea of feelings and he through his own. One day suddenly after his HSC results he came in front of me . . tall, lanky with his curly hair and brooding frame and to my shock . . the adams apple too !!! I wondered where my little brother with a squeaky little voice disappeared. He was suddenly talking about career, studies, life . . love, relationships as well !!! That was quite a shock for me. I tried to gulp the swift jump he had taken. And I was also feeling I had missed such a crucial phase of my bro’s life. But he was there nonetheless and I could clearly see the transformation and feared the day when he will leave us behind for conquering some new horizons.
Kartik was strong enough not to let his emotional self show the day he left for his college in Goa. My brother studies in “BITS PILANI Goa Campus” I would brag to my friends. But within the three and half years he spent there, he gave us lots of more reasons to brag. We never talked daily or for that matter even weekly. But whatever conversations we did have, I could realize the way he was growing. He had gradually become dada. We used to joke that since we brought our dog Snowy, I became “Taai” and Kartik became “Dada”. But jokes apart, he has been a real dada in all sense. I have talked to him about some of the most serious and private subjects of my life and has got some of the most amazing and most unexpected and the simplest advices. But never mind his genius; whenever we are together, he is the same small kiddish Rahul who loves “Ambyacha Rass” and “Purnachi Poli”.
I think that’s what makes him so unique. . his simplicity. Today when I think about him working in Juniper Networks with some of the most intelligent minds of the country about 1200 km away from home in Bangaluru, I can still be sure that when he calls home first thing at night, he will say “Aai mala gharchi athavan yetey”.
Keep it up Dada. We all love you.

Fighter to the core

Life is indeed beautiful. But for Gajanan Ukhalkar or “Chhotu Uncle” as I fondly call him, this beauty has come after a continuous fight for survival. After facing a critical paralytic attack, a railway accident and a severe heart stroke, today at 50 years of age, he has the strength to be the best employee of Bank Of India, Nagpur module.
Chhotu uncle was the first child to my grand father Shantaram from his second marriage. He says his only ideals have been his Baba and his illiterate step mother “Mothi Aai”. “I learnt a big lesson about life from my mothi aai – never compromise with the pains in life. Even being an illiterate, she coped up bravely with her husband’s second marriage. When I came to permanently live at her home, she loved me unconditionally and raised me as her own child. That made me realize the true potential of compassion and love” quotes Chhotu uncle candidly. While working in Bhandara as an employee of the Bank of India, he suffered an attack of infective polyneumatics which made his entire body paralytic. But following Mothi Aai’s foot steps he fought hard to come out victorious from the despair. But this victory was short lived.
When he was going to Shegaon from Akola on Feb 25 1995, he met with a railway accident where he lost his left leg and right hand. It was a big blow this time and future seemed dark. But due to shear fighter spirit and inner strength, he could recover fast enough to join back his job within five months of the accident. Incredible it may seem but within just 6-7 years, he won the Best Employee award from Nagpur division. The most miraculous part of his recovery was that within just two months of his accident, he trained himself to write with his left hand with an exceptionally beautiful handwriting. Now he is even capable of typing an entire mail with his only hand.
The third time, destiny tested him again when he suffered a heart attack at the age of 45. But continuing his quest with the destiny, he underwent an angioplasty and worked hard to bring his weight under control even if he has lots of restriction on physical exercise.
Being a devout spiritualist, he says his spirituality has been a major force in his entire battle for life. He is greatly inspired by the teachings of the Ramkrishna Mission.When today I read some of his articles on spirituality, peace, love and care, I can realize that the knowledge is not just from his reading, but from the wisdom he has accumulated from his experiences through thick and thin.
His sister in law or his Vahini sums up his life “Chhotu has been a dear younger brother to me. Whenever I look at him, I am instantly reminded of the shear strength he carries along with the love and compassion for all. May this strength be with him forever”.

IT SUCKS !@#%$#$

IT life sucks . . I mean it really. And I have been meaning it really since the last 2 years 7 months 3 days 2 hours now. But the fact remains the fact. IT sucks. And it’s when the nerves in my brain are stretched to the limit of breaking that I again need to talk and talk and write and write about how depressingly pathetic the IT life is (AND MY LIFE IS !!!!). This is the only way for me to relax my nerves a bit and get the feel of who am I and what am I supposed to do. Time and again I am reminded of the passion of my life (WRITING . . OF COURSE) and time and again I come to hate myself for not pursuing it more zealously and vigorously so as to finally get out of this IT mess !!!!!

Godd Help Meeee . . . . OH Sorry !!!

Is there any editor out there in the court of the Lord !!!!
Help Me !!!!

Aamir . . not quite such a perfectionist !!!!

It was really surprising to read about the public spat between two veterans Aamir Khan and Javed Aktar in the Copyright Act Committee. More surprising was the statement Aamir made about the lyricist not contributing much to the success of the song. I believe that the lyrics form the crux and soul of the song. It is the basic foundation on which the music is laid and later on the star performs. If there were no soulful lyrics who would like to listen to the songs. There are numerous examples of well shot songs with big stars which have gone terribly flop because the lyrics were not good. Take for example Aamir’s own songs from the film Baazi, other than “Dheere Dheere Aap Mere” all other songs were not even average hits because their lyrics were not good enough to even attract the listeners. Aamir is the person who gives utmost importance to the script of his films. His hard attempts for supporting the script of Lagaan and developing the story of Taare Jameen Par are well known. So then how can he disregard the contribution of good lyrics in the success of the songs?? I know some of the old classic songs by heart and hear them regularly. Some of the old melodious classics like “Ajahuna aaye balamwa”, “Yu hasrton ke daag”, “Zameen se hamein aasaman par” etc are my favorites. But I still don’t know to which film they belong and who are the actors or so called “STARS” in the songs. The songs mesmerize the audience for generations to come only on the basis of lyrics and music but not the stars. I strongly believe that Aamir should think about his public statement once more and give proper credit to the lyricists.

Know - Don't Know !!!!

It was sheer luck that i came to know about the Kabir Film Festival that was held at the National Film Archives of India on 14th and 15th of November. i had missed the first day of the festival when i came to know about it, so i decided to go for the second day's events. There were two documentaries to be screened namely " Kabira Khada Bazaar Mei" and "Hadd - Anhadd". The director Shabnam Virmani aimed at finding the relevance of the ideology of Kabir in today's contemporary society. Well i don’t know whether the objective was successful or not but i was completely awestruck by whatever unfold before my eyes. It was my first opportunity to watch a documentary and in the process I was completely occupied by the cinematic pleasure and the knowledge it imparted. The documentaries were followed by a Q & A session where the director and the veterans present had a very interesting discussion. With a such a fabulous creation loaded with a sensitive subject, people were bound to discuss it in depth. As the discussion progressed, I was gripped with a sudden feeling of insignificance, because after a particular point, nothing made sense and all was going above my head. I badly wanted to be a part of the discussion and accurately understand the technicalities and the intricacies of film making and the simultaneous thought process that went into it. But I realised, I am too amateur to be in the same league as others. I return back crestfallen. I called my dad. Baba, being an ardent theatre artist since 25 years; I knew he would have answers.
After patiently listening to my puzzlement, he told me that my feelings had more to do with me as a person than me as an artist. There are three areas of human knowledge.
• Area 1 - Things we know, that we know.
• Area 2 - Things we know, that we don’t know.
• Area 3 - Things we don’t know that we don’t know.

Among these, the things we know that we know forms even less than 1 percent of our entire circle of knowledge while things we know that we don’t know constitutes around 2 percent. The rest of the 98% are things we don’t even know that we don’t know. In the process of mental growth and intellectual upbringing, we should always try to increase the things under area one and reduce the things under third one. What I had experienced in the festival was that I had realized that I don’t know a certain thing. Actually i had brought one thing from area 3 to area 2 , which in turn is a promising realization for me as an individual as well as an artist.I realized i am on the right path of growth and development. It was really such an inspiring feeling to think of my lack of knowledge as a step towards growth.

I have started reading more and more about Kabir after that incident and I feel encouraged. But with it now I have realized one more thing – the more u gain knowledge, the more insignificant u feel. i.e. the more you know – the more u realize that u don’t know anything.

So back to level zero again.