Thursday, August 28, 2014

An Open Letter to Open Letters

It has become a trend these days to “Write an Open Letter”. I too stand guilty. There might be good reasons behind but I find it a service in self glorification. I’ll tell you why.
Firstly these Open Letters serve no purpose of a letter. To whom they are addressed to, never (or next to never) reads them. It’s nothing but a fake letter. 99% of the time, it’s criticism of one or the other things about a person, suggesting him/her to do this or that; this way or that way. It’s nothing more than a barrage of harsh words. A façade is created just to sound interesting.
Mostly it is written to a person who is well known. Writer feels to piggyback. Editors of newspapers/new-channels also write them. Why? I ask. You could easily interview that person. Or write a normal article about him/her. Why the Open letter. I just don’t get it. Which can also prove me plain silly, if others get it.
I have tried Open Sandwich; Not good, Open Bus: It rained, Open Day at School; Got an earful, Open House Interviews; Thrown out, Open Relationship suggestion; Got slapped, Open top car; Bee attack, Opened a Company; Went near bankrupt.
So much of Opens have screwed me over and over again. It might also be the source of my hatred though I suspect not.
Just for my sake, next time you write a Letter, be sure to close it and post it. Don’t leave it open. Not good manners.

The three sisters

Once upon a time, three sisters lived in a jungle. Ana, Becky and Carli were born and brought up away from the society by their father, who was now no more. All three were virtuous and beautiful. They cared and looked after each other. Played around the whole day and picked fruits. Having grown up far from civilization, they knew no ill. They were three in one and one in three. If one got injured, other two felt the pain. So strong was the bond.
“Help me! Help me!” a cry for help broke the silence one fine day. Sisters rushed to the direction of sound. Smell of blood; someone seemed injured. They felt anxious. A human lay near the pond and a lion at a short distance. Both seemed lifeless. Ana reached out to the human, there was life. He was a young and handsome man. They carried him to the house and tended to his wounds. There was a sudden urgency and competition to care. Emotions were in the air.
None of the three slept that night, just sat beside him. For the first time they forgot to say Grace. Life was not the same. A week went by; the wound started healing, but still no consciousness. Ana and Becky quarreled over cleaning the room. Becky and Carli stopped talking to each other. As per Ana, Carli was trying to look after the man a bit too much.
No one tried to understand what was happening to them. Everything was so sudden. How a small discussion turned into a heated argument to a full-fledged fist fight was beyond understanding. Another week went by and he began to gain consciousness and was soon up on his feet.
All three were fighting for his attention. They even broke the last remembrance they had of their mother, a pearl necklace. Each one wanted to wear it for this special day. The man thanked them a lot. He was a hunter and was injured by the lion. He had passed out but not before shooting the lion.
He got worried knowing it’s been more than two weeks. He looked for his wallet. Opened it and kissed something. “What is it”, they enquired. Oh! My wife would be so terrified due to my absence. We love each other so much, you know.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

एक-दो दिन

वो ट्यूशन पढ़ने आती थी,
औ मन को मेरे भाती थी,
जरा जरा इठलाती थी,
कुछ ज्यादा ही इतराती थी।
मैं रहता था आगे बैठा,
वो पीछे बैठी हुई कहीं,
अपनी किस्मत से था चैंटा,
कि बात तो अबतक हुई नहीं।
घुंघराले बाल जो थे उसके,
कभी आँखों पे आ जाते थे,
कर दिए जाने कितने नुस्के,
शब्द हलक में ही रह जाते थे।
ऊब भरा एक दौर था वो,
दिमाग भी कुछ और था वो,
नंबर लाने में लगा रहा,
दिल से अपने ही दगा रहा।
हंसी कुछ उसकी वैसी थी,
कि तितली भी शर्मा जाए,
सुंदरता उसकी ऐसी थी,
नीरसता में बहार छाए।
कुर्ती उसकी जो रंग पीला,
मुझपे पक्का कुछ ऐसा चढ़ा,
आसमान फिर क्या नीला,
बुद्धि पे पत्थर जैसे पड़ा।
पहल नहीं पर मैंने करी,
कर्म में खुद को झौंक दिया,
चाहे फिर हो वो स्वप्न-परी,
दृढ़ प्रण कुछ ऐसा लिया।
पत्थर दिल पहुंचे कालेज ,
प्यार तो बस उससे ही था,
एक-दो दिन की देर थी बस,
किसी और पे जा अटका॥

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

The Human Langur

news item recently grabbed my attention. To counter the money menace around the parliament, men dressed as langurs were stationed in that area. It’s a known fact that monkeys fear langurs. Having grown up in a monkey abundant dwelling, I have a first hand experience of it.
Coming back to men dressed as langurs. This is one of the most ingenious inventions that I have come across; already falling out of my chair with laughter.
For one we could have gotten real langurs but given today’s age of political correctness, a law in Delhi bars this form of animal atrocity (but killing chicken is legal!). Fearing away monkeys is a glaring example of short sighted and quick fix mindset of our nation as a whole.
Better would have been to capture monkeys and relocate them to the jungles. But we are more concerned about chasing them away from VIP areas. One question, where will monkeys run to? You are right, areas where common population live. So we divert the menace from Parliament to other areas of the city. What an achievement!
Given the fact that I was attacked and taken away (long story for another time) by a monkey during my baby days (not funny), I embody some strong feelings.
What I would like my Govt. to do is to formulate a stringent nation wide policy w.r.t monkeys and stray dogs (similar problem). Not just Delhi centric. I have lived under the terror of monkeys all through my childhood and can safely say that it’s just not safe.
But with out lawmakers settling with shooing away the problem and turning the blind eye, I don’t expect much.

All party meet (Satire)

Indian Parliament is in grave danger.  The very existence of our Neta’s is under threat. I am talking about bad quality of food in Parliament canteen. How can we expect the lawmakers to function without good food?
Gauging the graveness of the issue, Venkaiah Naidu promptly called an all party meet. There was a huge ruckus. “One at a time please. One at a time”, he pleaded.
Mamta Banerjee: No gooood fooood, areeee baba. This is a conspiracy by Govt. to suppress the voice of people. Ei no cholbe. Ei no cholbe.
Sushma Swaraj: Kaisa waktavya prastutt kiya hai? We also eat here. Blaming the Govt. is like not getting the pulse of the nation.
Mayawati (gate-crashing): Idhar aa tu. You are right we are not getting pulse but in canteen. Paani jaisi dal.Yeh manuwaadi log. Yeh manuwaadi mansikta.
Rahul Gandi (facing the wall): Only one voice is being heared in the canteen. The voice of the waiter from Centrefresh (kaisi jeeb laplapaayi) advt. I feel it. My mother feels it. My chauffeur feels it. My gym instructor feels it.
Sumitra Mahajan: Dekhiye, as Tai, I want to give everyone time to speak. However big or small. Manager or waiter. I will go by set precedents on it.
Rajiv Pratap Rudy: I did not become a minister. “Papa ki toh lag gayi“, my kids are made fun of. I make jokes on Congress just to soothe some pain. Congress wont be allowed scrambled eggs given they are scrambling for LoP. They just ate a humble pie. Aren’t they full. He He. Sigh!
Jayalalita: I don’t have the pull on NDA as in the yesteryear. But if Govt. awards me the canteen contract, I will side with them  while deciding on dessert. My dream of Amma Canteen in the Capital.
Derek O’Brien: How long can I survive on Bournvita. I see hands of the cook dripping with gravy as he holds them up. But when food is served we get no gravy. “Where does the gravy go?” You have 30 secs to answer that question.
Mulayam Singh: We have been hit by inflation. Earlier we used to get bulk discount. Now we are just five. No discount. Ab per head jyada aata hai. Are these the acche din?
The argument went on for couple more hours. All that was agreed upon was the date of the next meeting.
Modi was seeing it all from spy cam. With a notorious smile he chugged at this laptop as he ordered a pizza. “Simple”.

बात चली

लब पे लगा के मैखाने को,
झूमा मैं हर गली गली,
रखनी मुझको छुपा के थी पर,
रात चली तो बात चली।
ताश के पत्ते हाथ में आकर,
नोट की गड्डी खुली खुली,
अड्डा किसीको पता न था पर,
रात चली तो बात चली।
सुट्टे के धुएं के छल्ले,
निकले जैसे हो नली नली,
घर पहुंचा खुशबू लगा के था पर,
रात चली तो बात चली।
नाच गान औ मनोरंजन,
तोते संग थिरकी थी तितली,
पैसे बटोर वो चली गयी पर,
रात चली तो बात चली।
रात की बात रात के संग,
कैसे कैसे थे मन मचली,
उड़ गया मैं जैसे कटी पतंग पर,
रात चली तो बात चली।
गुम हुआ था ऐसी मस्ती में,
तसवीरें थीं सब हिली हिली,
इधर उधर कर देता मैं पर,
रात चली तो बात चली।।

Man from the Dark: Prologue

Late again, he thought parking the car. As he managed his tired body out, the night clock at town square hit a dozen. “Where is the key?” he grumbled. A min later and turning all the pockets inside out, he bent down and fetched the emergency one from under the mat.
He lit a cigarette. It was a modest one bedroom apartment, with not much furniture to speak off. There was an old sofa, couple of chairs and some dusty books on the book-stand. Few shoes spread across the floor. As he washed his face, his eyes stopped at the mirror. Twisted eyebrows that once made him fancy to the gang, seems to be mocking him. Sagged cheeks, bulging belly, drooped frame. Who could say he was just thirty-five.
He touched the mark just below the neck; it looked like a bullet hole. He dismissed it and came out. It was another lifetime. He quickly ate the dinner and hit the bed. Tomorrow again the day will start early.
A familiar sound woke him up. “No it can’t be, maybe just a dream”, he thought half asleep. Again the same piercing sound. How can it be? He regained his thoughts and moved swiftly to the door. “I couldn’t be mistaken. I have lived too much through this to be confused. It’s definitely a gunshot”.
He took out the revolver taped under the shoe rack, Not for such a situation. With caution, he peeped outside. Nothing in the gallery. The elevator gate was trying to close but seemed stuck. He was too well aware what it meant. He could see a lifeless leg stuck in between. He went to the back window and saw someone rushing towards the North Exit.
He slid through the railings and swung in action. With light speed and tremendous flexibility he was on the ground in no time. Straight from the 10th floor. He chased the figure, trying not to lose the sight. There was no dramatic “Stop or I will shoot you”, as he knew too well that it rarely helped. Also he had no appetite to shoot. Not anymore.
He followed the person through the alley into an abandoned warehouse. He was panting. It would have been 5 kms run at least, and it has been 5 years. Shaking off the slumber, he kept the concentration on. There was a small door towards the left with a shadow coming out. “Gotcha!” No sooner had he stepped inside than he heard the door closing behind him. He knew just then, his life was about to change. Again.
“You are a hard man to find Mr. Dev. He looked through the bullet proof cage, as the man with the pointed nose spoke to him calmly. I got an assignment for you. Before you say anything, I must add that it concerns your daughter.
“What is he saying?” Dev showed emotion, after a very long time, after that torturous night 5 years ago.
“She is alive and so is your wife”, he said putting out the cigarette. That very moment Dev knew this was an assignment he couldn’t say no to.

आजादी

न लेते इजाजत जीने की,
कर छाती चौड़ी सीने की,
अब सुकूं में पूरी आबादी,
है लहू बहा, ली आजादी।
अब मर्जी अपनी चलती है,
हवा मुफत में मिलती है,
खुल कर करते सब संवादी,
है लहू बहा, ली आजादी।
दादा नाना से पूछो तुम,
स्वाभिमान रहता था गुम,
पूर्णिमा भी लगती आधी,
है लहू बहा, ली आजादी।
काले गोरे का भेद मिटा,
बर्फ की सिल्ली, भगत लिटा,
देते प्रताड़ना अत्यादि,
है लहू बहा, ली आजादी।
रात पहर था सोने का,
अंत हुआ था खोने का,
हर ओर हुई थी उन्मादी,
है लहू बहा, ली आजादी।
दंगे फसाद भी खूब हुए,
आगजनी और धुएं धुएं,
जान माल की बर्बादी,
है लहू बहा, ली आजादी।
क्या महसूस हुआ उस पल,
गर पूछ सकूँ बलवानों से,
निकला सूरज, या थी आंधी,
है लहू बहा, ली आजादी।।

Monday, August 25, 2014

Septuagenarian

Fag end of life introspection,
Look back at years went by,
A crisscross and dissection,
Septuagenatian does with a sigh!
Loved by all, apple of eye,
Childhood was a sweet dream,
Chocolates, candies, apple pie,
Only I had to make a scream.
Teenage rebellion and growth,
Fancy the girls, hormones high,
Decide career, thing to loathe,
Lots of studies, those times dry.
Next decade was crucial,
Found earning source to live by,
Entered into life bond marital,
Some or other things, I did try.
Kids filled the time next,
Social bonds spread along,
Nothing I was left bereft,
Name and fame came along.
Hard to rein the kids rebel,
More spouse time, silent talks,
Health issues crop, I dwell,
Start of medicines, long walks.
Last decennio took it slow,
More of calm and less of high,
Next gen out of mould grow,
Septuagenarian turned am I.

Delhi Elections: Make or Break

Power struggle in Delhi has intensified. Impending elections in sight, Centre is trying to woo the voters with clean-up drive across the city. Detractors see inability to rein inflation and absence of knee-jerk reforms to be Govt.’s undoing; huge promises to outdo the fact that they just can’t be fulfilled in such a short span.
Amidst all this, we have failed to notice something substantial, which for me could shape Govt.’s future. The DDA flat allotment. In the past there has been rampant corruption in this much subsidized property allotment.
This DDA draw would be an acid test for the Centre which is ruling Delhi by proxy. Any whiff of corruption and the fortress will come crashing down. People will give Govt. time to fix inflation, poverty etc, but deliberate corruption, they just won’t accept.
Govt. would be well aware of this. It’s interesting to see what protocols it puts in place so as the lottery goes through without rigging. It’s a humongous task given much entrenched corruption across the spectrum. This would also be the first major test for the Govt. against the power dealers and brokers.
Most of us will bet the Govt. to fail. Come on, for once, prove us wrong!

By-Election Result: What it means?

By-election results surprised quite a few. It was first major vote since the General elections earlier this year. Some even called it a feedback on 100 days of the much celebrated Govt.
Outcome seems far from promising for the ruling party. Grand alliance in Bihar have triumphed. Karnataka and Punjab are also not a good omen.
Besides General elections, the biggest achievement of the PM seems to be bringing together the cut-throat foes in Bihar. To gain some perspective we only have to look back
There has always been a consolidation against the ruling party, however the ideological differences may be. JDU-BJP alliance of the past; NC joining NDA Govt. are just some examples. Late 70’s saw anti-Congress forces coming together only to fall apart. Such were their opposing beliefs. It was not until Vajpayee’s management that different ideologues learned to work together under the Common Minimum Program (CMP).
The CMP coalition method perfected by Vajpayee has come back to haunt BJP. Now that Congress has become irrelevant, regional parties have found a new foe. What confounds me is that the once anti-Congress parties have become anti-BJP. Perhaps they were always anti-ruling. It’s what gave them their anti-establishment credentials; a channel for much abused poor to vent out its anger.
The future seems even trickier for BJP. It has got a feel of Congress’ shoes. What a collective onslaught feels like; the fort getting attacked. It never saw a bigger victory and it will have to see even bigger opposition.

दिल

कितना कुछ पाया तूने,
सब कुछ क्यों अब खोता है,
सुख ही सुख है मुख पर,
पर दिल जाने क्यों रोता है।
बातों ही बातों में जब,
रातें सब कट जाती हैं,
दिन खर्राटे भर सोता है,
पर दिल जाने क्यों रोता है।
चिंताएं हुई सब खाख खाख,
अंतर्मन भी अब पाक पाक,
अमृत की खेप को जोता है,
पर दिल जाने क्यों रोता है।
खिला चाँद, छन छन रोशन,
हर कोना कोना होता है,
चांदनी में भीगा मन तेरा,
पर दिल जाने क्यों रोता है।
मादक मदहोशी छायी है,
यौवन मद-मस्ती आई है,
रूहानी शाम का न्योता है,
पर दिल जाने क्यों रोता है।
सुन्दर स्वच्छ निर्मल शीतल,
जैसे प्रयाग में लिया गोता है,
धुले पाप सब, मुक्त हुआ अब,
पर दिल जाने क्यों रोता है।
कोई बात है जो टीस रही,
जाने अनजाने कुछ तो हुआ,
समझ कुछ नहीं आता है,
औ दिल बस रोता जाता है।।

Governors Transferred: An Irony

Governors, their sacking, their transfers, their role and their political relevance is being talked about a lot these days in India. Recently one respected Governor was transferred from West to East. He resigned citing insult and inability to move. Controversy ensued.
I am not going to touch upon the usual politics but about something else.
The person mentioned has been a distinguished politician with an illustrious public life; has been a minister several times in his life. He would have his valid reasons not to move, but what I fail to understand is how the transfer was an insult? Why cry foul about the transfer?
These are the very politicians who when come to power start transferring officials at their whims and fancies. IAS/PCS officers are transferred in bulk without reason. Aren’t these officials insulted? There have been cases of honest IAS officers transferred over 50 times without reason. Now that the political class is crying foul, it should introspect about what it has done to the public servants over time.
I sympathize with the said person; it’s never easy to move. But do politicians ever think about the similar pain of honest public servants? It’s ironical to see the political class raising a hue and cry now. Are we all not equal? Is Governor more/less important than any other public servant? But I guess this is a question for another lifetime.
I would like the Governors not being transferred but not before apathy of honest public servants ends. Till then I reckon its payback!
PS: I am of opinion to make the Governors tenure synchronous with the Parliament.

Thursday, August 21, 2014

The Rat

“Déjà vu”, I wondered as I entered the wash-room. The lid to the drain pipe was off. It has been going on for a week or so, or maybe not. “Maybe, its due to the water flow”, I dismissed and moved on.
Next day, as I was about to take a shower, a small black figure rushed from the corner, into the drain pipe. My worst fears have come true. Ladies and gentlemen, it was a rat. I have a history of living in a house with heritage, with cellar and stories replete. Along with it, was a small matter of continuous supply of rats. That the house was surrounded by vegetable market and sweet shops didn’t help much either. Hence my rat phobia. I once even woke up to feeling of something chugging at my hand, only to find it to be real.
Entire day at office I was engulfed with the thoughts of it crawling up my bed, jumping on me as I was asleep. I tiptoed into the house. Just as I was about to enter the kitchen, it ran off between my legs under the sofa. I tried shooing it in fear with the longest stick I could find, but to no avail.
“You should try the rat kill”, I got a suggestion. I rushed to the medical shop downstairs and bought The cake of green!. I splintered it across the house as directed. After an hour or so, as I rose for water, all pieces had vanished. “Bingo!” I rejoiced. Just then I noticed some activity under the sofa. I got the idea.
Couple of days went by with me living in fear. I didn’t see it anywhere, and hadn’t the courage to move the sofa. I came back after a long night in office. As I entered the kitchen half asleep, I noticed a small figure under the sink. Not sure if it was dead or alive. “Shoo…Shoo…” No movement. I threw a paper ball. No movement. 15 mins went by as I tied the dust band to the broom and somehow managed to move it out of the house.
It was then that I noticed something. Maybe it was a long day; Maybe it was just a hallucination. I saw tears dried up around the rat’s eyes. Was it real? I don’t know. But it made me uneasy. I am not able to wipe it off. The image of those dried tears juxtaposed with him roaming around the house. I had just poisoned a living creature, which could have died a painful death for all I know. Chilling!

सवा तीन रात के

गुमनाम अँधेरा छाया है,
चाँद भी खिल न पाया है,
नीरस मन बिन बरसात के,
सवा तीन बजें जब रात के।
झींगुर मधुर ध्वनि चेते,
कुकुर भी जैसे गूँज गान,
रोग अनिद्रा मारे जोर,
सवा तीन बजें जब रात के।
कोई फुटपाथ पे है सोया,
कोई बिन आंसूं के है रोया,
सब मारे हैं हालत के,
सवा तीन बजें जब रात के।
पंखा सर सर कर चलता,
जैसे सन्नाटे को दबा रहा,
डर लगता हल्की आहट से ,
सवा तीन बजें जब रात के।
पानी पी-२ कर बहला मन,
उत्तर दक्षिण, दक्षिण उत्त्तर,
संजीदा बिन ज़ज्बात के,
सवा तीन बजें जब रात के।
घोड़े दिमाग, दौड़े सरपट,
चेतना पहुंचे चरम सीमा,
सोच पाये पार संसार के,
सवा तीन बजें जब रात के।
ध्यान लगा, तो परम पहर,
अशांत तो काली रात बने,
मृत जीवित हो अंतर धूमिल,
सवा तीन बजें जब रात के।।

Friday, August 15, 2014

Haiku?

Sun came out
I woke up and did the routine
Sun went down

Friday, August 8, 2014

Lucy Movie Ending Explained

After a long time I saw a movie that made me sit down with a pen and paper. Although I have pondered over expanding brain usage in the past but never really went down the road of What if 100%? Lucy went that way and I must say I liked what I saw.
The ending kind of seems puzzled (deliberately so like other movies of this genre). What happens at 100% brain usage can’t anyways be fathomed by us mere 10% souls. 100% goes beyond dimensions and into the meta-physical. Let me try and explain the ending or what I could make of it.
1. Disappearance of Lucy
Lucy already was able to control her body and also matter by that time. Since body is also made of matter, disappearing/disintegrating sounds not that difficult. As she explained earlier maybe she went faster than speed of light which opens all dimensions but invisible to us. As to what happened to her post that is what we will explore ahead.
2. Why make the Super-Computer if all that was left was a pen-drive?
Seems silly on the face of it. Seems like director tried to simplify for the audience and hence the pen drive. Or maybe Lucy thought for current world pen-drive would seem easy to grasp.
What happened was Lucy started merging matter around her as she needed energy. Energy equals mass time speed of light squared. A lot of energy to upload all knowledge she could gather from the starting of time.
Energy was needed not just to create the processing unit for that knowledge but also to convert it into a format understood by normal humans. The pen-drive seems simplistic but it could not have been a simple pen drive. It would need to store huge amount of data maybe TB powers 100 for all we know. All knowledge gathered as she moved through time.
That computer was just for processing data to be able to store into pen drive. Hence computer destroyed itself at the end.
3. If she is so super human and could control time. Why did she die?
Here’s the catch. She did not die. She imbibed herself to all dimensions. She had no need for the body. She can’t feel pain. No happiness. More like a robot. Hence she gave up last piece of vulnerability. Her body. She became omnipresent. Across dimensions, across time, across worlds.
4. Everything she gained was due to her brain. How would she survive now without her brain?
Tricky! She would have what was required. Brain is also matter. She converted her brain along with her body into some other form, which we even don’t know. The meta-physical, omnipresent form. Can be equated to our understanding of God. Invisible to us.

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

Another sunset, Another sunrise

16th May 2014, the day Indian General Election results started trickling in, was my last day with the firm I was working for. This was not my first resignation and given the dynamics of today’s job market, won’t be my last. Yet there was something unique about the current group I was working with.
This was not just a 9-5 job for me. This was a lot more. The project, the team and myself, bundled together. I worked long hours, yet never felt tired. There was a push each morning to reach office, not only due to excitement and challenge of work, but also due to urge to meet people in the team.
“The gang of 3″ as we came to be known, had great discussions, sometimes bitching about others, sometimes bitching about ourselves and sometimes just gazing the sky. I got a sister here, I got a brother here. It became a home away from home. We had our share of fights. But it was all fun.
I crave for the morning breakfast one used to bring, the evening snacks that other used to get. I can’t forget the pantry arguments, the women empowerment, the battered men talks, the usual gossip and trash talk.
How can I forget the HR bay and rolling eyeballs, the bachelors and their frantic search, the embezzlers and their gusto. The hyper guy in our team, I still worry he might get an attack; you were also a nice guy to work with. The kids that were there, I relish my time explaining you things. I must admit here, most of the answers I also didn’t know. I used to make them up albeit convincingly.
The boss of our team, I admire him a lot. Since he was the boss, so as a religion I cribbed and back-bitched about him. But was a good head to work under. I leaned a lot sitting next to him. The most important thing that I will take with me is how to keep the diverse group sane and happy.
I will miss you all, and would like to keep in touch, wherever I am. I could apologize for anything and everything untoward but then again I meant it all ;).
Signing off,
Arpit Garg