After looking at photos of various stadia for Guangzhou Asian games, one can only admire Chinese for their sustained excellence when it comes to hosting events involving national pride. Much have been written about management (or the lack of it) in CWG 2010, Delhi and how the enormous money was siphoned out of everybody's pocket in its name. A simple calculation would tell us that the money wasted in the whole fiasco could have made every Indian richer by 700 bucks ( 1 family size pizza , garlic bread , plus coke plus service tax)
This leads to a debate about the feasibility of the very idea of democratic governance and its apt comparison with the communist form that Chinese have.
The demography of India in 1947 and China of 1949 wouldn’t have much different. Both were pathetically poor and with highest illiteracy rates ever heard. While China opted for governance where it had a guardian who could use sticks to move everybody in right direction, India looked for mentorship.
People say that, only time will tell which option was good. But Hello ! until when should we wait to declare the result ?
To me, we have already been comprehensively beaten.
On 24th of this month, i.e., four days from now, I am looking forward to a democratic process, which if everything goes predictable, might just restore some faith in Democracy to some extent.
I am talking about Bihar Elections 2010. The six phase elections will conclude this weekend and counting begins on 24th. Thanks to EVM , the results will be out very soon.
I have lived in Bihar for 4 years and have followed the state politics ever since Lalu Yadav came into picture. (like many others of my age- Jaikar , are you reading this?)
My friends who stay in Patna say its now safe to go out and watch the night show movie with your girlfriend. Doctor’s don’t run away to Kolkata & Delhi to save themselves from being abducted for ransoms. Police don’t have to call Lalu's Kins before making an arrest. Mitsubishi show rooms doesn’t need to shutdown because some heavyweight is getting his son married.
Goons have either vanished or been locked. With so much money being poured in and with projects like MNREGA , perhaps , they now have genuine ways of making money.
The list is endless and they testify how much life and law & order has improved ever since Nitish Kumar came to power in 2005.
An engineer by training, he broke away from Lalu when their ideas differed. He became chhota rajan for Dawood and challanged Lalu in his own backyard.
As Rajdeep Sardesai mentions 'Nitish's succeeded in projecting NDA as moderate and development oriented party for which even Muslims are ready to vote. Something which even Vajpayee could not do'
He never mentions caste in his election speeches. His topics are development & responsible governance – subjects which were never heard of in Bihar.
Denying sharing space in Election posters & rallies with Narendra Modi was another of his master stroke.
While Lalu still has one liners like '2 rupay me aloo from Lalu' in his manifesto and he continues to charm. Rahul Gandhi lands in some random village and eats supper with under previlledged ones. He is a charmer too. The point is, If Nitish's clean governance idea beats Lalu's rustic charm and Rahul's helicopter politics, it would infact be a win for democracy. A model, where people learn by seeing& experiencing things and vote for leader of their choice.
While it’s close to suicidal for a journalist to predict election result, yours truly being mere an internet nationalist, can afford to do that. If not predicting, I’m hoping that the agenda of good governance supersede over everything , otherwise , there is no point in having democracy.
PS: Interim Version , Please ignore grammar & spelling mistakes
Friday, November 19, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
CWGdelhi2010, CNN et al
As I wait for my Delhi bound flight at Frankfurt airport, I feel much relieved and happy. Not just because I have been away for many days and have a family waiting for me. It's more because I am sick of seeing CNN reports on Commonwealth games.
Like everybody else, I was aware that the international media has not left any stone unturned to bash the Games. But having forced to witness it all the time was a serious pain (CNN & BBC were the only two English channels available in the Hotel) . Reports after reports on 'filthy' conditions, organizer's apathy on hygiene and overall lack of enthusiasm about the games aired on tube with unpleasant regularity.
A stray dog wandering into the tracks meant for sprinters made more headlines in prime time news than Barak Obama's by-election.
Empty stands of stadiums were noticed much more than BP's Oil leakage and Chile's Coal mine mayhem.
Be it the food served at the games village or pigeon drops in pool, the international media is going extra miles in demonstrating their determination of trashing New Delhi.
I am not a huge fan of CWG 2011. I hate it because it is reminiscent of Britsh Raj. After all, it is erstwhile British Empire games. The only purpose it serves is to give UK a chance to day dream of its glorious past. To me, it's nothing but a legacy of Jawaharlal Nehru which we couldn't get rid off. But if the attack is on country and its culture, in the name of CWG, it is hard to stand or understand that.
Despite the falling over bridge and projects missing deadlines, the show is ON. And So far there hasn't been any terror attack either. This much itself is huge achievement for a country like India doomed with hostile neighbors and 'homegrown' outfits looking for opportunities to exhibit their bombing skills.
Every foreign media report have sentences like 'After spending billions of Rupees.....' and 'The costliest games ever....' . Agreed, but we had to do that; we cannot invite the whole world without building appropriate infrastructures. We had to develop things from Scratch and hence more money was needed. Obviously , when the next edition of games happens in Scotland, the budget is one - tenth of Delhi games.Since the Airports, Metro trains and roads are functional since hundred years!
Why can't the BBC air a report on the newly built Terminal 3 of New Delhi airport? Is it because it is better than most of the airports around the world (Asian crowning glorys Singapore/ Hong kong / Bangkok counted) and the photo doesn't fit in the frame created to house snaps of snake charmers & beggars.
If Paris metro is choked with commuters or the Frankfurt airport goes chaotic during the peak traffic, no one blames. Why ? is it because these countries have glorious pasts marqueed with supremacy over the world at some point in the history and they carry the same image to this time?
PS -Even we had dominated the world some 5000 years ago but no one agrees to it :)
The day when India won 7 Gold medals to jump up to the second position in the medals tally, CNN was showing a report on how some poor people were uprooted from some place in Delhi and forcefully moved out. Beijing would have done 10 times more than that but there is a red line there which media can't cross and hence there was nothing aired or heard of.
The well groomed lads and long legged lasses of CNNs reporting live from some place 100 kms away from Games village interviewing poor families asking how the Delhi Government tormented them, should thank that they are in India. They can record any interview and dub them with their own sentences.
They have freedom and security cover to do so as they are under the vigil of one hundred thousand police men and Paramilitary forces deployed by the government to keep things cool.
Does the CNNs and BBCs understand the cost of doing that?
The only blame I personally feel genuine (apart from the nuisance created by M/S Kalmadi & Co) is the empty stands and lack of enthusiasm. Yes, commonwealth games are not cricket matches that could pull crowd by itself. We hardly follow any olympic sport apart from hockey, Tennis and of late Badminton. And these events have fairly good number of spectators. Boxing is perhaps hardly followed outside Bhiwani and shooting is known to only those who pursue them in Chandigarh.
So when we don't even follow 14 out of 17 sports being played in , how can we have crowds? May be the Govt could have done better in creating some kind of awareness about the unknown sports like Netball & Lawn ball. They were unheard of and will remain like that post closing ceremony even though couple of Indian girls, at one point of time, were poised to pull off a medal there.
Like everybody else, I was aware that the international media has not left any stone unturned to bash the Games. But having forced to witness it all the time was a serious pain (CNN & BBC were the only two English channels available in the Hotel) . Reports after reports on 'filthy' conditions, organizer's apathy on hygiene and overall lack of enthusiasm about the games aired on tube with unpleasant regularity.
A stray dog wandering into the tracks meant for sprinters made more headlines in prime time news than Barak Obama's by-election.
Empty stands of stadiums were noticed much more than BP's Oil leakage and Chile's Coal mine mayhem.
Be it the food served at the games village or pigeon drops in pool, the international media is going extra miles in demonstrating their determination of trashing New Delhi.
I am not a huge fan of CWG 2011. I hate it because it is reminiscent of Britsh Raj. After all, it is erstwhile British Empire games. The only purpose it serves is to give UK a chance to day dream of its glorious past. To me, it's nothing but a legacy of Jawaharlal Nehru which we couldn't get rid off. But if the attack is on country and its culture, in the name of CWG, it is hard to stand or understand that.
Despite the falling over bridge and projects missing deadlines, the show is ON. And So far there hasn't been any terror attack either. This much itself is huge achievement for a country like India doomed with hostile neighbors and 'homegrown' outfits looking for opportunities to exhibit their bombing skills.
Every foreign media report have sentences like 'After spending billions of Rupees.....' and 'The costliest games ever....' . Agreed, but we had to do that; we cannot invite the whole world without building appropriate infrastructures. We had to develop things from Scratch and hence more money was needed. Obviously , when the next edition of games happens in Scotland, the budget is one - tenth of Delhi games.Since the Airports, Metro trains and roads are functional since hundred years!
Why can't the BBC air a report on the newly built Terminal 3 of New Delhi airport? Is it because it is better than most of the airports around the world (Asian crowning glorys Singapore/ Hong kong / Bangkok counted) and the photo doesn't fit in the frame created to house snaps of snake charmers & beggars.
If Paris metro is choked with commuters or the Frankfurt airport goes chaotic during the peak traffic, no one blames. Why ? is it because these countries have glorious pasts marqueed with supremacy over the world at some point in the history and they carry the same image to this time?
PS -Even we had dominated the world some 5000 years ago but no one agrees to it :)
The day when India won 7 Gold medals to jump up to the second position in the medals tally, CNN was showing a report on how some poor people were uprooted from some place in Delhi and forcefully moved out. Beijing would have done 10 times more than that but there is a red line there which media can't cross and hence there was nothing aired or heard of.
The well groomed lads and long legged lasses of CNNs reporting live from some place 100 kms away from Games village interviewing poor families asking how the Delhi Government tormented them, should thank that they are in India. They can record any interview and dub them with their own sentences.
They have freedom and security cover to do so as they are under the vigil of one hundred thousand police men and Paramilitary forces deployed by the government to keep things cool.
Does the CNNs and BBCs understand the cost of doing that?
The only blame I personally feel genuine (apart from the nuisance created by M/S Kalmadi & Co) is the empty stands and lack of enthusiasm. Yes, commonwealth games are not cricket matches that could pull crowd by itself. We hardly follow any olympic sport apart from hockey, Tennis and of late Badminton. And these events have fairly good number of spectators. Boxing is perhaps hardly followed outside Bhiwani and shooting is known to only those who pursue them in Chandigarh.
So when we don't even follow 14 out of 17 sports being played in , how can we have crowds? May be the Govt could have done better in creating some kind of awareness about the unknown sports like Netball & Lawn ball. They were unheard of and will remain like that post closing ceremony even though couple of Indian girls, at one point of time, were poised to pull off a medal there.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Dabangg
Dabangg tells us why Industry needs Salman and how much we missed him- the actor.
Ever since Dabangg's trailers began to appear on tube, it seemed quite apparent that it would be another typical salman khan movie. For some strange reasons, Salman khan has not been able to touch the heights of his peer khans Aamir & Shahrukh when it comes to matching on screen skills. This is more astonishing, because he started with blockbusters 'Maine Pyar Kiya' and 'Sanam Bewafa' and later 'Hum aapke hain kaun' catapulted him way ahead of other khans.
This happened until 1995 when SRK with DDLJ and Amir khan with Sarfarosh, Lagaan et al started pulling off spectacular performances with amazing consistency.
While SRK delivered 'Dil to pagal hai', 'kuchh kuchh hota hai', 'Veer Zara' and 'Swades' . Salman was busy sending sms to Vivek oberoi.
Aamir showcased his other skills in Taare Zameen Par and won National award. It promoted a feeling that if Salman hadn't possessed the great physique that inspired a whole generation to take up body building, He would not even been counted amongst the Khan trioka.
And later Saif Ali Khan (With DCH , Parineeta, Hum Tum ) actually started to threaten his position in the Elite Khan club.
But Salman always had a flair among masses. If you ask the front benchers , He was never away. They danced while theatre played 'le gayi le gayi dil meri chhamiya' in 'Dulhan Hum le jayenge' , Laughed when he danced drunk in 'mujhse shaadi karogi' and day dreamed when he hitched Govinda to woo Katrina.
The intellgentia meanwhile followed SRK on twitter and backed Amir's 10 pack of Ghajni.
Salman khan was forgotten.
It took a debutant director in Abhinav Kashyap to cash in on Salman's pocketed popularity and when he systematically planned to create the character of Chulbul Pandey, he in fact created a bridge between the masses and the sophisticated ones. Robinhood pandey is now setting new benchmarks and winning over more fans from the other side. Fans and critics are raving about Salman’s “old-fashioned masculinity” that has been combined with kitschy mass appeal. “Dabangg’s popularity has cut across the class divide and even those who are not hardcore Salman loyalists are flocking to theatres,” says one trade analyst, referring to box office collections at the multiplexes.
When one of my friend suggested to watch Dabangg , I immediately trashed the idea. So , when I was watching the best Salman performance of all times, I didnt opt for pop corns, I had to eat my words instead ;)
Ever since Dabangg's trailers began to appear on tube, it seemed quite apparent that it would be another typical salman khan movie. For some strange reasons, Salman khan has not been able to touch the heights of his peer khans Aamir & Shahrukh when it comes to matching on screen skills. This is more astonishing, because he started with blockbusters 'Maine Pyar Kiya' and 'Sanam Bewafa' and later 'Hum aapke hain kaun' catapulted him way ahead of other khans.
This happened until 1995 when SRK with DDLJ and Amir khan with Sarfarosh, Lagaan et al started pulling off spectacular performances with amazing consistency.
While SRK delivered 'Dil to pagal hai', 'kuchh kuchh hota hai', 'Veer Zara' and 'Swades' . Salman was busy sending sms to Vivek oberoi.
Aamir showcased his other skills in Taare Zameen Par and won National award. It promoted a feeling that if Salman hadn't possessed the great physique that inspired a whole generation to take up body building, He would not even been counted amongst the Khan trioka.
And later Saif Ali Khan (With DCH , Parineeta, Hum Tum ) actually started to threaten his position in the Elite Khan club.
But Salman always had a flair among masses. If you ask the front benchers , He was never away. They danced while theatre played 'le gayi le gayi dil meri chhamiya' in 'Dulhan Hum le jayenge' , Laughed when he danced drunk in 'mujhse shaadi karogi' and day dreamed when he hitched Govinda to woo Katrina.
The intellgentia meanwhile followed SRK on twitter and backed Amir's 10 pack of Ghajni.
Salman khan was forgotten.
It took a debutant director in Abhinav Kashyap to cash in on Salman's pocketed popularity and when he systematically planned to create the character of Chulbul Pandey, he in fact created a bridge between the masses and the sophisticated ones. Robinhood pandey is now setting new benchmarks and winning over more fans from the other side. Fans and critics are raving about Salman’s “old-fashioned masculinity” that has been combined with kitschy mass appeal. “Dabangg’s popularity has cut across the class divide and even those who are not hardcore Salman loyalists are flocking to theatres,” says one trade analyst, referring to box office collections at the multiplexes.
When one of my friend suggested to watch Dabangg , I immediately trashed the idea. So , when I was watching the best Salman performance of all times, I didnt opt for pop corns, I had to eat my words instead ;)
Monday, July 19, 2010
The bumbay duck
'Are you bumbay ?'
A beefy fellow dressed as cab driver asked me outside the Manila Airport.
I interpreted this question as 'Are you from Bombay ?' , pardoned him for missing prepositions and answered 'No, I am from Delhi but I am the correct person you were waiting for'
I had noticed my office's logo on his shirt.
Ajit Agarkar was once named as the Bombay Duck , when he scored 6 consecutive ducks in India's 2003 tour of Australia.
Bombay duck is also a weird type of fish, perhaps found only in Mumbai.
This blog is not about either of the above two.
I jumped into the cab occupying the front seat. It was raining heavily and a cab-on-time was quite a respite.
'Are you bumbay ?'
The cab driver asked once again.
I repeated equally earnestly that I was from Delhi and Bombay is another city in India. I also wanted to add every Indian need not be from Bombay, just because you are aware of bollywood.
Okay sir, but you are bumbay ? right?
This irritated me. I replied in Hindi '...MC haan main bombay ka hoon , ab chala ..'
'No I am not' I replied politely still retaining the poise.
Thankfully he agreed.
I reached hotel and after a nap, hopped on to the internet. As a habit, I logged into yahoo messenger and checked the chat room for 'Indians in Manila' One yahoo feature I still use since the arrival of Google Talk. Chat rooms are the best ways of finding out the local eateries and availability of Indian restaurants.
The next day was not a working day in Manila, but the project team was working on weekend. As I entered the lobby of the building, the security fellow stopped me. In his grammatically challenged English, he asked me where I was headed for and if I were an Employee.
I tried to explain I am a consultant invited for audit. Which he didn't understand. He called up his senior and explained in Filipino that one Indian as arrived and wants to go upstairs. I noticed a sentence of English in between. Something like '...There is a bumbay here.. and should I allow him in..'
This could not be coincidence and I decided to find out the reason why Bombay was so popular here in Manila that I was being addressed as bombay-ite and not as Indian. I wished Mr Bal Thakrey was aware of this.
I logged into internet the moment I settled down. I opened the modern day Ved vyas called Google.com and learnt what does the word 'bumbay' meant.
"Derogatory (Filipino) slang term for Indians/Hindus"
As I was closing the window, there was a popup on yahoo messenger
'Are you bumbay?'
Note: Original post at
PS: Interim version, please excuse grammar & typo
A beefy fellow dressed as cab driver asked me outside the Manila Airport.
I interpreted this question as 'Are you from Bombay ?' , pardoned him for missing prepositions and answered 'No, I am from Delhi but I am the correct person you were waiting for'
I had noticed my office's logo on his shirt.
Ajit Agarkar was once named as the Bombay Duck , when he scored 6 consecutive ducks in India's 2003 tour of Australia.
Bombay duck is also a weird type of fish, perhaps found only in Mumbai.
This blog is not about either of the above two.
I jumped into the cab occupying the front seat. It was raining heavily and a cab-on-time was quite a respite.
'Are you bumbay ?'
The cab driver asked once again.
I repeated equally earnestly that I was from Delhi and Bombay is another city in India. I also wanted to add every Indian need not be from Bombay, just because you are aware of bollywood.
Okay sir, but you are bumbay ? right?
This irritated me. I replied in Hindi '...MC haan main bombay ka hoon , ab chala ..'
'No I am not' I replied politely still retaining the poise.
Thankfully he agreed.
I reached hotel and after a nap, hopped on to the internet. As a habit, I logged into yahoo messenger and checked the chat room for 'Indians in Manila' One yahoo feature I still use since the arrival of Google Talk. Chat rooms are the best ways of finding out the local eateries and availability of Indian restaurants.
The next day was not a working day in Manila, but the project team was working on weekend. As I entered the lobby of the building, the security fellow stopped me. In his grammatically challenged English, he asked me where I was headed for and if I were an Employee.
I tried to explain I am a consultant invited for audit. Which he didn't understand. He called up his senior and explained in Filipino that one Indian as arrived and wants to go upstairs. I noticed a sentence of English in between. Something like '...There is a bumbay here.. and should I allow him in..'
This could not be coincidence and I decided to find out the reason why Bombay was so popular here in Manila that I was being addressed as bombay-ite and not as Indian. I wished Mr Bal Thakrey was aware of this.
I logged into internet the moment I settled down. I opened the modern day Ved vyas called Google.com and learnt what does the word 'bumbay' meant.
"Derogatory (Filipino) slang term for Indians/Hindus"
As I was closing the window, there was a popup on yahoo messenger
'Are you bumbay?'
Note: Original post at
PS: Interim version, please excuse grammar & typo
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Slumdog well wishers
We all have come across slumdog well wishers. They swarm around our cars at every traffic light, entrances of places of worship and railway platforms. Practically, at every place outside the air conditioned premises, any picture perfect Kodak moment is seldom devoid of the minions who flock around you asking moolah and usher with praise in return. They are well wishers residing in slums we hardly care about.
At few occasions I have seen the ladies offering coins to them, but otherwise, as general practice we avoid them.
'Paise nahi hain bhai ...' is what I always used to say, before somebody corrected me and offered a better excuse -
'maaf karo baba..' and thus prescribed a way out without telling lie.
I see a group of minions near the entrance of shakti peeth temple at my hometown. Accompanied with my mother, and few aunties (who had by now spoilt my wedding episode suggesting me how to perform one ritual or the another in proper way , besides laughing out loud over what appeared to be their joke -of-the-day) the occasion is to offer prayers for a great married life ahead.
I have been under exhaustive training for all kinds of unpredictable unpleasant situation of late plus, since, this was the 5th temple for the evening already, I don't sulk over the sheer number of slumdog well wishers I am about to negotiate over here.
I see a well dressed man standing outside the temple. He is offering money to everyone. From little ones aged 4-10 to old and crippled ones.
'Haan beta aage aao .. yeh lo
Haan tum bhi lo
Sab aao ... ek ek kar ke .. haan baba aap bhi aayiye'
Says Sethji while distributing his coin collection. It seems sethji's biggest wish has been granted and he is determined to pay it back to the needy.
While I realize I am really selfish, I notice my group of aunties are already inside. I follow them. This time it takes longer since there are number of idols to worship - one each for different incarnations.
After spending around 40 mins we finally come out. My mother offers prasad to the group that flock in, the moment we come out of the temple.
At least 5 of them approach me immediately after gulping the Prasad. I am about to shout at them. before I see somebody else do the same.
'Le saale le ...'
Le tu bhi le ..'
Aur le .. BC '
Even the most leaky philanthropists of all have limits. I grin as Mr Danveer Karna loses his temper and shuts the door of his car .
Note: Original post at
At few occasions I have seen the ladies offering coins to them, but otherwise, as general practice we avoid them.
'Paise nahi hain bhai ...' is what I always used to say, before somebody corrected me and offered a better excuse -
'maaf karo baba..' and thus prescribed a way out without telling lie.
I see a group of minions near the entrance of shakti peeth temple at my hometown. Accompanied with my mother, and few aunties (who had by now spoilt my wedding episode suggesting me how to perform one ritual or the another in proper way , besides laughing out loud over what appeared to be their joke -of-the-day) the occasion is to offer prayers for a great married life ahead.
I have been under exhaustive training for all kinds of unpredictable unpleasant situation of late plus, since, this was the 5th temple for the evening already, I don't sulk over the sheer number of slumdog well wishers I am about to negotiate over here.
I see a well dressed man standing outside the temple. He is offering money to everyone. From little ones aged 4-10 to old and crippled ones.
'Haan beta aage aao .. yeh lo
Haan tum bhi lo
Sab aao ... ek ek kar ke .. haan baba aap bhi aayiye'
Says Sethji while distributing his coin collection. It seems sethji's biggest wish has been granted and he is determined to pay it back to the needy.
While I realize I am really selfish, I notice my group of aunties are already inside. I follow them. This time it takes longer since there are number of idols to worship - one each for different incarnations.
After spending around 40 mins we finally come out. My mother offers prasad to the group that flock in, the moment we come out of the temple.
At least 5 of them approach me immediately after gulping the Prasad. I am about to shout at them. before I see somebody else do the same.
'Le saale le ...'
Le tu bhi le ..'
Aur le .. BC '
Even the most leaky philanthropists of all have limits. I grin as Mr Danveer Karna loses his temper and shuts the door of his car .
Note: Original post at
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Humpty Dumpty sat on the walled city !
Approaching the last fortnight of my bachelorhood, I decide to do something which I might not be able accomplish in my ’spoused’ days. I call up my college friend Vinay who has been my partner of crime for over a decade now when it comes to eating and generally, like yours truly, has zero guilt regarding calories and waist line while consuming jumbo meals
After a quick discussion we decide upon going to the Walled city and have dinner at Karim’s - which is the oldest mughal -cuisine restaurant in India.
We reach the walled city (also called Shahjahanbad- A part of Delhi that hosts Red Fort and Jama Masjid) way before the dinner time, so we choose to kill couple of hours acting tourists.
We go inside the Jama Masjid and Vinay enquires if the entry to the minaret is still open. Thankfully it is. We purchase the tickets and climb up the minaret which has stairs that were constructed perhaps during some cost cutting phase. Shah Jahan could have done better by putting in more steps. It’s like climbing two instead of one. That takes toll on your ankle and knee.
Since Jama Masjid is a functional mosque and not a heritage maintained by Archelogical survey of India, the walls are devoid of any graffiti. Which is a welcome sign.
I climb up the minaret and take few photos from my mobile until I am pushed down by several other mobile clad amateur snappers.
Cursing the ever increasing population, I come down and head for Gate no 1, which lead towards chawri bazar (while the other bifurcation goes to famous G B Road) Within 30 meters, lies my destination for the evening- The Karim’s
If the discovery channel is to be trusted, the mughal invader Babar didn’t like three things about India :
1) Garmi (hot weather)
2) Husn (Beauty) and
3) Naan
While we cannot testify the first two, I am convinced about the third one as I taste the first bite of the mughalai naan- which is seriously ahead of the punjabi avatar.
After consuming 4 such Naans , 1 kadhai chicken , 4 Mutton seek kabab and 1 plate of mutton burra I give up. Not because my belly cannot accommodate more food, but because the restaurant doesn’t accept credit card and the nearest ATM is quite far !
Thankfully the desert is complimentary. I finish up what is another special at Karim’s - The ‘Habshi Halwa’ without any culpability of having consumed enough calories which could well be the humane intake for the whole week. This ‘Bakasur’ meal has brought an abrupt end to my six month old resolution of calorie constrained diet. After a long time, I face a situation when I am thirsty but I am so full that I cannot take a single gulp of water. I want to walk but my legs are numb- I have been so much busy eating, I missed out to change the posture of my feet.
After a while we come out of the restaurant. I’m sure Vinay is also feeling like Humpty Dumpty that might fall and might need all the kings men to put the pieces together.
It’s quite late but there is something about the lanes of the Old Delhi that has its own magnetic effects.
I take the risk of missing the last metro and go inside one of the narrow lanes- the lanes that have witnessed so much. From Nadir shah’s barbarism to execution of Guru Teg Bahadur to Killing of Bahadur shah zafar’s sons.
It’s so much full of road side eateries selling meat that it gives an impression as if everybody is on a kill-and-sell spree.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, I bump into one of the entrances of Chawri Bazar metro station where the mere display about arrival of Connaught Place bound Metro train forces me to quit this tryst with history and I take the escalator down with a firm decision of coming back at the next opportunity :)
Note: Original post at
After a quick discussion we decide upon going to the Walled city and have dinner at Karim’s - which is the oldest mughal -cuisine restaurant in India.
We reach the walled city (also called Shahjahanbad- A part of Delhi that hosts Red Fort and Jama Masjid) way before the dinner time, so we choose to kill couple of hours acting tourists.
We go inside the Jama Masjid and Vinay enquires if the entry to the minaret is still open. Thankfully it is. We purchase the tickets and climb up the minaret which has stairs that were constructed perhaps during some cost cutting phase. Shah Jahan could have done better by putting in more steps. It’s like climbing two instead of one. That takes toll on your ankle and knee.
Since Jama Masjid is a functional mosque and not a heritage maintained by Archelogical survey of India, the walls are devoid of any graffiti. Which is a welcome sign.
I climb up the minaret and take few photos from my mobile until I am pushed down by several other mobile clad amateur snappers.
Cursing the ever increasing population, I come down and head for Gate no 1, which lead towards chawri bazar (while the other bifurcation goes to famous G B Road) Within 30 meters, lies my destination for the evening- The Karim’s
If the discovery channel is to be trusted, the mughal invader Babar didn’t like three things about India :
1) Garmi (hot weather)
2) Husn (Beauty) and
3) Naan
While we cannot testify the first two, I am convinced about the third one as I taste the first bite of the mughalai naan- which is seriously ahead of the punjabi avatar.
After consuming 4 such Naans , 1 kadhai chicken , 4 Mutton seek kabab and 1 plate of mutton burra I give up. Not because my belly cannot accommodate more food, but because the restaurant doesn’t accept credit card and the nearest ATM is quite far !
Thankfully the desert is complimentary. I finish up what is another special at Karim’s - The ‘Habshi Halwa’ without any culpability of having consumed enough calories which could well be the humane intake for the whole week. This ‘Bakasur’ meal has brought an abrupt end to my six month old resolution of calorie constrained diet. After a long time, I face a situation when I am thirsty but I am so full that I cannot take a single gulp of water. I want to walk but my legs are numb- I have been so much busy eating, I missed out to change the posture of my feet.
After a while we come out of the restaurant. I’m sure Vinay is also feeling like Humpty Dumpty that might fall and might need all the kings men to put the pieces together.
It’s quite late but there is something about the lanes of the Old Delhi that has its own magnetic effects.
I take the risk of missing the last metro and go inside one of the narrow lanes- the lanes that have witnessed so much. From Nadir shah’s barbarism to execution of Guru Teg Bahadur to Killing of Bahadur shah zafar’s sons.
It’s so much full of road side eateries selling meat that it gives an impression as if everybody is on a kill-and-sell spree.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, I bump into one of the entrances of Chawri Bazar metro station where the mere display about arrival of Connaught Place bound Metro train forces me to quit this tryst with history and I take the escalator down with a firm decision of coming back at the next opportunity :)
Note: Original post at
Thursday, May 13, 2010
I see you
I’ll start with an earnest confession that the title of blog has no link whatsoever in the text that follows.
The reference is from the movie ‘Avatar’ where Navi’s of pandora were seen to be using this phrase to greet each other. Interestingly, the same sentence was trusted for verbal expression for sentiments of all kinds. Be it saying hello to your dad or while proposing to your love interest!
Humans are more complicated. We need appropriate stream of words for every occasion.
And, at times, the language barrier increases this manifold. As Indians, we bump into such situation without crossing international borders.
Some alteration of words here and there and you might run into prospect of losing the actual plot.
e.g. A genuine hindi sentence ‘Ram swaroop ne chori ki , falswaroop Jail gaye’ would sound meaningful to only those who understand ‘falswaroop’ means ‘as a result of’.
X-box generation would question back if Ram swaroop did the theft how come Falswaroop had go to jail :)
To substantiate my point further, I‘ll include the below excerpt from my one-day-to-be-published biography :)
This happened when I was in high school (1996). We lived around Assam-Meghalya border near Shillong. I used to go for mathematics tuitions to our teacher’s house every evening. One day, my teacher had gone out of station unplanned and thus the tuition had to be cancelled for the day.
‘Aap baitho , sa kha ke jao ..‘ (Naga version of what should have been ‘Aap baitho , chai peekar jana)
His wife asked us to stay for tea.
They were a Naga family settled in Meghalya.
Like everyone of us who is not from north east, I was amazed to see that their first language was Hindi!. The fact that they looked so much similar but still don’t speak same language and had to converse in Hindi was close to unbelievable.
In some moment , she came back and served Tea. She had also brought a bowl full of some ethnic snack alongwith. I had no clue of what it was, and felt awkward to ask for the ingredients.
Perhaps she read my mind.
Her sweet reply was something I would first write in Hindi so that you could appreciate the crux of the theory that I was trying to build in first few lines of the blog.
“Beta sharm-laaj na karo , kutte ka bachcha pakaya hai , taste karo”
Actual version :
“sharam bhi nahi hai , laaj bhi nahi hai … khao kutta ka bachcha khao … “
I don’t remember how did I managed to sip Tea and gracefully gesture good bye that day.
Note : This is a migrated post from
The reference is from the movie ‘Avatar’ where Navi’s of pandora were seen to be using this phrase to greet each other. Interestingly, the same sentence was trusted for verbal expression for sentiments of all kinds. Be it saying hello to your dad or while proposing to your love interest!
Humans are more complicated. We need appropriate stream of words for every occasion.
And, at times, the language barrier increases this manifold. As Indians, we bump into such situation without crossing international borders.
Some alteration of words here and there and you might run into prospect of losing the actual plot.
e.g. A genuine hindi sentence ‘Ram swaroop ne chori ki , falswaroop Jail gaye’ would sound meaningful to only those who understand ‘falswaroop’ means ‘as a result of’.
X-box generation would question back if Ram swaroop did the theft how come Falswaroop had go to jail :)
To substantiate my point further, I‘ll include the below excerpt from my one-day-to-be-published biography :)
This happened when I was in high school (1996). We lived around Assam-Meghalya border near Shillong. I used to go for mathematics tuitions to our teacher’s house every evening. One day, my teacher had gone out of station unplanned and thus the tuition had to be cancelled for the day.
‘Aap baitho , sa kha ke jao ..‘ (Naga version of what should have been ‘Aap baitho , chai peekar jana)
His wife asked us to stay for tea.
They were a Naga family settled in Meghalya.
Like everyone of us who is not from north east, I was amazed to see that their first language was Hindi!. The fact that they looked so much similar but still don’t speak same language and had to converse in Hindi was close to unbelievable.
In some moment , she came back and served Tea. She had also brought a bowl full of some ethnic snack alongwith. I had no clue of what it was, and felt awkward to ask for the ingredients.
Perhaps she read my mind.
Her sweet reply was something I would first write in Hindi so that you could appreciate the crux of the theory that I was trying to build in first few lines of the blog.
“Beta sharm-laaj na karo , kutte ka bachcha pakaya hai , taste karo”
Actual version :
“sharam bhi nahi hai , laaj bhi nahi hai … khao kutta ka bachcha khao … “
I don’t remember how did I managed to sip Tea and gracefully gesture good bye that day.
Note : This is a migrated post from
My Name is Khan!
Since the Delhi Metro is still 2 months away for Gurgaonites, coming out of Old Delhi Railway station premise, I am aware that I am doomed with the misfortune of relying on taxi services to reach home. And thanks to the condition of public transport or rather lack of it , its the only option available. The taxi-walas know it very well and the demand of Rs 1000 for a non AC 50 Km ride is fairly usual. Those who are awake about the cost effective ways of reaching Gurgaon need not listen to the audacious invitations from these taxi walas at all. A call centre cab from Karol bagh hanuman mandir is the cheapest or may be rather hire autorickshaw if you have luggage (and are fond of traveling on dedicated service) They charge half the amount you pay for the taxi.
Loaded with three big suitcases, I chose the second option. I muscle pass several taxi walas who look disappointed upon losing a leaky passenger as I nod in negation. I hear ‘This is the cheapest, sector 56 is so far don’t you understand …go find the alternative, good luck’ as I come down from the foot over bridge. Although they pretend to look least concerned and disgusted, they still linger around for some time until I give them a real hard sullied look.
I reach the autorickshaw stand and immediately get surrounded with several prospective service providers. Many of them pull back the moment I announce 400 as the maximum amount I’d pay. One of them agrees and this finally elates me. He takes my luggage and organizes them into the space at back. I occupy the my seat waering a victorious smile for having saved at least 500 bucks.
I notice the driver is wearing a cleanish sherwani and sports a thick beard sans any mustache. He looks very posh and different for an autorickshaw driver. I get an overwhelming desire to ask if he is really a driver, since, he seems to be lacking the rustic maneuvering skills that’s needed to cut through the Chandni chowk traffic.
What if the autorickshaw is loaded with RDX and he is a inflammable terrorist instead ? What if I am caught at one of the police check post ?
I get worried with every passing moment. Meanwhile, we cross across the Eid gah and move towards karol bagh.
‘This is where it all started’ He breaks the ice.
‘What?’
‘Eid gah , the communal riots of 1947.. it started here..’
‘Oh .. i didn’t knew that’
‘It started when a group of Hindus and Sikhs who had migrated from Pakistan, initiated a stream of hatred towards us. They could not stand how come we lived peacefully and with grace when they were butchered and humiliated at the other side’
Partition stories interests every one of us. I nod and listen to him further.
‘This place had dense Muslim population -mostly rich and employers, so it was quite safe here- The reason why we didn’t decide to migrate. We heard about the riots in other parts of the country but we were confident that nothing would happen to us’
‘We also helped the migrated families with food and medicines. We arranged for tents in the Eid gah ground’
‘All it needed was a rumor that some Hindu girl was abducted my local Muslims and forcefully married. Attacking us was lucrative too. Even the police wanted their share of money so they supported the mob’
Images of autorickshaw wala pull a knife saying ‘and then I decided to take revenge and now you are my victim #…’ crosses my mind for couple of seconds and then I listen further.
‘We shifted to Meerut to my brother’s place until it subsided. When I came back, I learnt my house was occupied already. A court case followed. I was later compensated. 90 Lacs.. Imagine.. 90 lacs at that time. It means at least 200 crore of today.
‘Khan saab .. now this is too much .. if you are that rich, why are you driving an autorickshaw’
Images of autorickshaw wala pull a semi automatic gun ‘I donated all the money to Jehad…’ crosses my mind until he replies
‘Thanks to my wife. We didn’t had child. She prayed to Haji Ali.. Take all our money and bless us with son
‘Haji Ali obliged but within a year I lost heavily in my business and then I never recovered’
He goes on with his how-he-lost-his-money story for 30 more minutes non stop , until I realize we are nearing the Gurgaon Toll plaza.
‘Khan saab , turn left after the toll gate’
‘Ok sure’
After a silence he again speaks up
‘Do you know, not every khan in India is a real khan. The khans are the descendents of 13 original Khans who had come from Iran and settled in India. Although every Muslim is loosely addressed as Khan saab these days’
‘So how do I recognize, if he is for real?’. I ask the first genuine question of the entire journey.
‘Ask them which zahi they belong to .., Zahi corresponds to the bloodline of 13 original Khans. If they don’t know their zahi , they are not pure.
‘Pure as in No contamination, original blood?’
‘Yes ..’
‘But you mentioned they came in group of 13, I assume they were unmarried. So the offspring’s have some Hindu blood from the mother. Isn’t it so ? How come they are pure in that case?
The autorickshaw pulls at my apartment.
‘See…. the bloodline is driven by males…’
I stop him immediately ‘Yes , but biologically speaking , its also from females ? right ?
‘Yes .. but females are like Fertile land. Do you ever mention the mango fruit as mango-and-land fruit?’
This out of place metaphor stumped me. I am speechless as I pay him the money. I have met a superior pedigree, I realize. Perhaps, one such pure Khan.
Note : This is a migrated post from
Loaded with three big suitcases, I chose the second option. I muscle pass several taxi walas who look disappointed upon losing a leaky passenger as I nod in negation. I hear ‘This is the cheapest, sector 56 is so far don’t you understand …go find the alternative, good luck’ as I come down from the foot over bridge. Although they pretend to look least concerned and disgusted, they still linger around for some time until I give them a real hard sullied look.
I reach the autorickshaw stand and immediately get surrounded with several prospective service providers. Many of them pull back the moment I announce 400 as the maximum amount I’d pay. One of them agrees and this finally elates me. He takes my luggage and organizes them into the space at back. I occupy the my seat waering a victorious smile for having saved at least 500 bucks.
I notice the driver is wearing a cleanish sherwani and sports a thick beard sans any mustache. He looks very posh and different for an autorickshaw driver. I get an overwhelming desire to ask if he is really a driver, since, he seems to be lacking the rustic maneuvering skills that’s needed to cut through the Chandni chowk traffic.
What if the autorickshaw is loaded with RDX and he is a inflammable terrorist instead ? What if I am caught at one of the police check post ?
I get worried with every passing moment. Meanwhile, we cross across the Eid gah and move towards karol bagh.
‘This is where it all started’ He breaks the ice.
‘What?’
‘Eid gah , the communal riots of 1947.. it started here..’
‘Oh .. i didn’t knew that’
‘It started when a group of Hindus and Sikhs who had migrated from Pakistan, initiated a stream of hatred towards us. They could not stand how come we lived peacefully and with grace when they were butchered and humiliated at the other side’
Partition stories interests every one of us. I nod and listen to him further.
‘This place had dense Muslim population -mostly rich and employers, so it was quite safe here- The reason why we didn’t decide to migrate. We heard about the riots in other parts of the country but we were confident that nothing would happen to us’
‘We also helped the migrated families with food and medicines. We arranged for tents in the Eid gah ground’
‘All it needed was a rumor that some Hindu girl was abducted my local Muslims and forcefully married. Attacking us was lucrative too. Even the police wanted their share of money so they supported the mob’
Images of autorickshaw wala pull a knife saying ‘and then I decided to take revenge and now you are my victim #…’ crosses my mind for couple of seconds and then I listen further.
‘We shifted to Meerut to my brother’s place until it subsided. When I came back, I learnt my house was occupied already. A court case followed. I was later compensated. 90 Lacs.. Imagine.. 90 lacs at that time. It means at least 200 crore of today.
‘Khan saab .. now this is too much .. if you are that rich, why are you driving an autorickshaw’
Images of autorickshaw wala pull a semi automatic gun ‘I donated all the money to Jehad…’ crosses my mind until he replies
‘Thanks to my wife. We didn’t had child. She prayed to Haji Ali.. Take all our money and bless us with son
‘Haji Ali obliged but within a year I lost heavily in my business and then I never recovered’
He goes on with his how-he-lost-his-money story for 30 more minutes non stop , until I realize we are nearing the Gurgaon Toll plaza.
‘Khan saab , turn left after the toll gate’
‘Ok sure’
After a silence he again speaks up
‘Do you know, not every khan in India is a real khan. The khans are the descendents of 13 original Khans who had come from Iran and settled in India. Although every Muslim is loosely addressed as Khan saab these days’
‘So how do I recognize, if he is for real?’. I ask the first genuine question of the entire journey.
‘Ask them which zahi they belong to .., Zahi corresponds to the bloodline of 13 original Khans. If they don’t know their zahi , they are not pure.
‘Pure as in No contamination, original blood?’
‘Yes ..’
‘But you mentioned they came in group of 13, I assume they were unmarried. So the offspring’s have some Hindu blood from the mother. Isn’t it so ? How come they are pure in that case?
The autorickshaw pulls at my apartment.
‘See…. the bloodline is driven by males…’
I stop him immediately ‘Yes , but biologically speaking , its also from females ? right ?
‘Yes .. but females are like Fertile land. Do you ever mention the mango fruit as mango-and-land fruit?’
This out of place metaphor stumped me. I am speechless as I pay him the money. I have met a superior pedigree, I realize. Perhaps, one such pure Khan.
Note : This is a migrated post from
Vegetarian Omelet
Looking at the breakfast menu, I am feeling terribly repelled. The list includes -ham omelets, beef omelets, ham and beef sandwich, bacon and beef omelets. It seems , almost all the permutations of beef, bacon and ham are mentioned spoiling the merrit of eggs which I always thought was the main omlete- ingredient.
I was born vegetarian. I remained vegetarian until I was 4. My Brahmin parents, having produced offspring while living in West Bengal, had tough challenge at hand - of bringing up the child ensuring he doesn’t taste fish. An exam, which they failed the moment I consumed my first Catla fish at our house owner’s place.
Of course I received my share of punishment but that didn’t stop me. I graduated to better levels of goat and chicken to start with, followed by more exotic ones like Reindeer in Finland to oysters in Manila (I was told it does wonders to your carnal skills!) to shark in Jakarta.
I ‘eye’ one of the smiling waitresses and she comes to me. Interestingly this way of communication remains the same, notwithstanding the type of place you are in - beer bar or breakfast table.
Thinking about a suitable word, I simply ask
‘Do you have ‘basic’ omelet’
‘Basic?’ you mean bacon omelet?’
‘No, the one that is sans bacon/beef/ham’
‘For a while sir ‘
Which is a filipino substitute for ‘I’ll be right back’
In India, Non vegetarianism means chicken tikka masala , tandoori chicken and mutton rogan josh. Fish and crab find their way here and there and period.
The quest to find Chicken -oriented food while traveling abroad, is a difficult job since eating non vegetarian outside India also means ham , beef and bacon. A reason why l love uncle colonel Sanders more than either of my two biologically related ones. Thanks to him and his KFC franchises , we are blessed with guaranteed supply for chicken worldwide.
She comes back in some time and replies ‘You mean the vegetarian omlete?’
Now the ‘Vegetarian omlet’ is new word to me. I am not sure if I am astound, intrigued or simply baffled. Confused, if its like plain dosa or chila , I ask for explanation
‘Does it have eggs?’
‘Of course sir’! She smiles..perhaps naturally for the first time
I agree to the prospect of eating the vegetarian omelet.
I notice , my new omelet avatar is taking more time than others. I began to read newspaper , trying to cultivate a quasi genuine interest in exploits of some local pugilist hero Manny Pacquiao, while seeing others happily finish their breakfast.
Finally my vegetarian omelet arrives . The waitress puts it on the table and goes back to bring the pepper, flashing another of her prescribed illuminated smile.
The vegetarian omelet looks very thick & rich. It seems at least 6 eggs have been squandered preparing it. I cut a piece of it and realize I have opened the Pandora box as different types of vegetables pop out from that opening!
Tomatoes, broccoli, a look alike of capsicum and lot of other bizzare things which I ‘ll now name as unidentified food objects (UFOs)
I look around and notice these UFOs have landed on every other plate, which, actually simplifies my calculation of the recipie -replace bacon by baigan and switch to vegetarian omlete!!
Note : This is a migrated post from
I was born vegetarian. I remained vegetarian until I was 4. My Brahmin parents, having produced offspring while living in West Bengal, had tough challenge at hand - of bringing up the child ensuring he doesn’t taste fish. An exam, which they failed the moment I consumed my first Catla fish at our house owner’s place.
Of course I received my share of punishment but that didn’t stop me. I graduated to better levels of goat and chicken to start with, followed by more exotic ones like Reindeer in Finland to oysters in Manila (I was told it does wonders to your carnal skills!) to shark in Jakarta.
I ‘eye’ one of the smiling waitresses and she comes to me. Interestingly this way of communication remains the same, notwithstanding the type of place you are in - beer bar or breakfast table.
Thinking about a suitable word, I simply ask
‘Do you have ‘basic’ omelet’
‘Basic?’ you mean bacon omelet?’
‘No, the one that is sans bacon/beef/ham’
‘For a while sir ‘
Which is a filipino substitute for ‘I’ll be right back’
In India, Non vegetarianism means chicken tikka masala , tandoori chicken and mutton rogan josh. Fish and crab find their way here and there and period.
The quest to find Chicken -oriented food while traveling abroad, is a difficult job since eating non vegetarian outside India also means ham , beef and bacon. A reason why l love uncle colonel Sanders more than either of my two biologically related ones. Thanks to him and his KFC franchises , we are blessed with guaranteed supply for chicken worldwide.
She comes back in some time and replies ‘You mean the vegetarian omlete?’
Now the ‘Vegetarian omlet’ is new word to me. I am not sure if I am astound, intrigued or simply baffled. Confused, if its like plain dosa or chila , I ask for explanation
‘Does it have eggs?’
‘Of course sir’! She smiles..perhaps naturally for the first time
I agree to the prospect of eating the vegetarian omelet.
I notice , my new omelet avatar is taking more time than others. I began to read newspaper , trying to cultivate a quasi genuine interest in exploits of some local pugilist hero Manny Pacquiao, while seeing others happily finish their breakfast.
Finally my vegetarian omelet arrives . The waitress puts it on the table and goes back to bring the pepper, flashing another of her prescribed illuminated smile.
The vegetarian omelet looks very thick & rich. It seems at least 6 eggs have been squandered preparing it. I cut a piece of it and realize I have opened the Pandora box as different types of vegetables pop out from that opening!
Tomatoes, broccoli, a look alike of capsicum and lot of other bizzare things which I ‘ll now name as unidentified food objects (UFOs)
I look around and notice these UFOs have landed on every other plate, which, actually simplifies my calculation of the recipie -replace bacon by baigan and switch to vegetarian omlete!!
Note : This is a migrated post from
Game India, match (in) Pakistan
Now that Sania Mirza has confirmed herself on twitter, this alliance is pretty much on.
Sania Mirza weds Shoib Malik. Truly speaking, This is none of anybody’s business. But being a celebrity and the darling of Indian media for half a decade or so, Sania Mirza is now doomed with prospect of being at the receiving end of all sorts of opinion by everyone who can opine. Your’s truly is one of them, therefore, I am contributing my share of bytes too:)
I started following Sania Mirza , when she made headlines for the first time as a 12 plus year old who reached the semi finals of US open - girls singles.
It was 1999 i.e., days of Anna Kourniva- erstwhile eye candy of Tennis. Me and my then- room mate (alter ego of mine) declared her as one from the BHMB category and Anna of India. This is much before 2004 when she first erupted into the tennis scene after winning the WTFhyderabad open and reaching 4th round of grand slam, before losing against the eventual title winner - Serena Williams.
Sadly , this euphoria was short lived. Alike many other sports celebrities who promised heaven before vanishing into abyss, Sania faded too. But unlike others , interestingly, she didn’t lose one bit of media -coverage any day.
Be it first the fatwa for flaunting forbidden flesh , or her lovely remarks like ‘ I would better be called a youth icon rather than a sex symbol’ or her controversial photograph of shoeing the National flag.
She continued to drop sets against -Ovas of Russia and williams of US but her nose ring ensured that she appeared in the page 3 if not at the sports page. (and not to mention the male- washrooms)
Just when her namesake Saina appears to finally replace her as the and role model for Indian sports women, Sania has hit the headlines again. Which, if-you-ask-me is unfortunately for the worst reason till date.
Love knows no boundaries. And it doesn’t involve the grey matter, etc etc. I know all that. Perhaps that’s the reason she is not noticing the dent she is creating on the Indian Muslim fraternity. By giving another reason to the saffron hardliners to put question marks on their integrity.
I am not sure if this was the best example to showcase the people -to -people contact thing the moderates are endorsing with Aman is asha campatign (After having waited patiently for the 26/11 anger to subside).
I know couple of families in Delhi who have daughter-in-laws from cross the border. And if I could quote their words, these Trans boundary matrimonial alliances are something they have started to avoid during the last decade and half. Although, the primary reason is to avoid the constant police scrutiny which they face otherwise, but some percentage of this fact is also true that they can’t stand a Pakistan- connected relationship as it involves frequent rifts due to sea of differences that seperates us when it comes to the values and views about history, if the family is an educated one.
Half of our country is not bothered about Pakistan. South of India apparently never discuss it at all, One reason they have moved ahead and prospered. Its just the Lahori hangover of some powerful Delhiites who have roots at the other side, this pakistan issue is watered as the persistent subject of attention and with idiotic campaigns of aman ki asha, somehow we have never been able to come out of this mindset of treating this enemy-friend- terror supplier- terror victim neighbor equally, when in reality , they deserve the least.
Sania mirza could have done that too. Shoaib Malik must be a thorough gentleman or may be close to a paigambar himself which obviously compelled her to overlook that he is a mediocrily talented , one -time wed Pakistani.
She is so much madly in love that she is not aware of even one single bit of this. As a next mandatory step, she must now pack her bags and shift to Karachi and start representing Pakistan. Otherwise, it’s just a matter of one bomb blast/ terror attack that unless she gets to be ultra thick skinned , it would be tough job to face the biggest allegation of her life as the mascot of traitor.
Note : This is a migrated post from
Sania Mirza weds Shoib Malik. Truly speaking, This is none of anybody’s business. But being a celebrity and the darling of Indian media for half a decade or so, Sania Mirza is now doomed with prospect of being at the receiving end of all sorts of opinion by everyone who can opine. Your’s truly is one of them, therefore, I am contributing my share of bytes too:)
I started following Sania Mirza , when she made headlines for the first time as a 12 plus year old who reached the semi finals of US open - girls singles.
It was 1999 i.e., days of Anna Kourniva- erstwhile eye candy of Tennis. Me and my then- room mate (alter ego of mine) declared her as one from the BHMB category and Anna of India. This is much before 2004 when she first erupted into the tennis scene after winning the WTFhyderabad open and reaching 4th round of grand slam, before losing against the eventual title winner - Serena Williams.
Sadly , this euphoria was short lived. Alike many other sports celebrities who promised heaven before vanishing into abyss, Sania faded too. But unlike others , interestingly, she didn’t lose one bit of media -coverage any day.
Be it first the fatwa for flaunting forbidden flesh , or her lovely remarks like ‘ I would better be called a youth icon rather than a sex symbol’ or her controversial photograph of shoeing the National flag.
She continued to drop sets against -Ovas of Russia and williams of US but her nose ring ensured that she appeared in the page 3 if not at the sports page. (and not to mention the male- washrooms)
Just when her namesake Saina appears to finally replace her as the and role model for Indian sports women, Sania has hit the headlines again. Which, if-you-ask-me is unfortunately for the worst reason till date.
Love knows no boundaries. And it doesn’t involve the grey matter, etc etc. I know all that. Perhaps that’s the reason she is not noticing the dent she is creating on the Indian Muslim fraternity. By giving another reason to the saffron hardliners to put question marks on their integrity.
I am not sure if this was the best example to showcase the people -to -people contact thing the moderates are endorsing with Aman is asha campatign (After having waited patiently for the 26/11 anger to subside).
I know couple of families in Delhi who have daughter-in-laws from cross the border. And if I could quote their words, these Trans boundary matrimonial alliances are something they have started to avoid during the last decade and half. Although, the primary reason is to avoid the constant police scrutiny which they face otherwise, but some percentage of this fact is also true that they can’t stand a Pakistan- connected relationship as it involves frequent rifts due to sea of differences that seperates us when it comes to the values and views about history, if the family is an educated one.
Half of our country is not bothered about Pakistan. South of India apparently never discuss it at all, One reason they have moved ahead and prospered. Its just the Lahori hangover of some powerful Delhiites who have roots at the other side, this pakistan issue is watered as the persistent subject of attention and with idiotic campaigns of aman ki asha, somehow we have never been able to come out of this mindset of treating this enemy-friend- terror supplier- terror victim neighbor equally, when in reality , they deserve the least.
Sania mirza could have done that too. Shoaib Malik must be a thorough gentleman or may be close to a paigambar himself which obviously compelled her to overlook that he is a mediocrily talented , one -time wed Pakistani.
She is so much madly in love that she is not aware of even one single bit of this. As a next mandatory step, she must now pack her bags and shift to Karachi and start representing Pakistan. Otherwise, it’s just a matter of one bomb blast/ terror attack that unless she gets to be ultra thick skinned , it would be tough job to face the biggest allegation of her life as the mascot of traitor.
Note : This is a migrated post from
Ab dil wapas le lo hockey se :((
Its hard to figure out who actually lost the most. It was the hockey team who squandered this opportunity-of-lifetime to rise to the occasion and grab some much sought after recognition or if it was the Indian hockey as a whole.
Whatever be the case, everybody is disappointed after this huge let down.
It all started with Virender sehwag saying ‘Fir dil do hockey ko’ and Rajyavardhan rathod, taking us on gunpoint, warning we better start following this game,as, his shooting skills are (still) good. And when the glam quotient was added by priyanka chopra, it seemed the Indian Hockey has finally arrived- wrapped in correct package!
Afterall, its not everyday we get to see a long legged sexy lass hosting a hockey pre match show!
When India defeated Pakistan in the opening game, the euphoria it generated was comparable to what a cricket victory generates. The TV channels ushered all praises and superlative sentences for the team. They roped in every former hockey player who spoke decent English and made them a hockey expert overnight.
Unfortunately this didn’t last long. As India plays with Proteas tonight, the chances for a fourth consecutive defeat is not slim at all.
We don’t have a decent drag flicker to convert penalty corners while we have conceded 9 out of 18. Sandeep singh’s report card with 3 out or 12 is not good. Sorry.
The Indian hockey was on a rise for a brief period after 2002 when few juniors from Hobart world cup winning squad were inducted in the team.
From that lot, Gagan Ajit singh and Viren Rasquinha have quit long time back citing reasons that everybody apart from FIH knows very well whereas Prabhjot singh , Deepak thakur are in late 20s, and their promises have aged too.
Frankly speaking It was not fair to expect the team to start winning just because it had acquired our emotional support and we all wanted them to win.
I am not a hockey follower or expert but our stick work looked far behind than the scientific hockey showcased by Europeans.
No one really had any hope with Indian team anyway. Ranked 12th in the world, fighting for sponsorship and money just before the event, it was hitting headlines for all the wrong reasons. Until the ‘Fir dil do’ campaign happened which eventually turned out to be like our junior minister of external affiars’ tweet: Grabbed all attention and still made no difference.
The IPL follows soon after. The hearts will be back to where it belonged -National obsession called Cricket.
Note : This is a migrated post from
Whatever be the case, everybody is disappointed after this huge let down.
It all started with Virender sehwag saying ‘Fir dil do hockey ko’ and Rajyavardhan rathod, taking us on gunpoint, warning we better start following this game,as, his shooting skills are (still) good. And when the glam quotient was added by priyanka chopra, it seemed the Indian Hockey has finally arrived- wrapped in correct package!
Afterall, its not everyday we get to see a long legged sexy lass hosting a hockey pre match show!
When India defeated Pakistan in the opening game, the euphoria it generated was comparable to what a cricket victory generates. The TV channels ushered all praises and superlative sentences for the team. They roped in every former hockey player who spoke decent English and made them a hockey expert overnight.
Unfortunately this didn’t last long. As India plays with Proteas tonight, the chances for a fourth consecutive defeat is not slim at all.
We don’t have a decent drag flicker to convert penalty corners while we have conceded 9 out of 18. Sandeep singh’s report card with 3 out or 12 is not good. Sorry.
The Indian hockey was on a rise for a brief period after 2002 when few juniors from Hobart world cup winning squad were inducted in the team.
From that lot, Gagan Ajit singh and Viren Rasquinha have quit long time back citing reasons that everybody apart from FIH knows very well whereas Prabhjot singh , Deepak thakur are in late 20s, and their promises have aged too.
Frankly speaking It was not fair to expect the team to start winning just because it had acquired our emotional support and we all wanted them to win.
I am not a hockey follower or expert but our stick work looked far behind than the scientific hockey showcased by Europeans.
No one really had any hope with Indian team anyway. Ranked 12th in the world, fighting for sponsorship and money just before the event, it was hitting headlines for all the wrong reasons. Until the ‘Fir dil do’ campaign happened which eventually turned out to be like our junior minister of external affiars’ tweet: Grabbed all attention and still made no difference.
The IPL follows soon after. The hearts will be back to where it belonged -National obsession called Cricket.
Note : This is a migrated post from
My name is not Khan !
I have always been a great fan of Shahrukh khan. Right from the time he appeared in a Telefilm produced by prasar bharti in the role of a bank manager. This is much before Fauji or circus or Raju ban gaya gentleman.
I could relate his progress with my own. I don’t know why , but he always seemed to be my own , kind of role model and especially because I could stammer like him and imitate him to some extent.
Thank god this happened way before gayism and same sex relationship became the buzzwords!
In my opinion, the stars should behave responsibly to retain their fan base. After all ‘A Bird in the Hand is Better than Two in the Bush’.
Which SRK, of late, has stopped doing.
Was it just a coincidence that the much hyped MNIK started with scene where Shahrukh was being tormented or harassed during the security check at the US-Airport? It doesn’t need an Einstein’s brain to understand it was not.
We all supported MNIK release, not because it was so called the freedom of expression that was breached. What he said was highly irresponsible and rubbish. In the times where the mood of nation is against Pakistan and Pakistan’s policy towards India, he could have avoided the topic of inclusion of Pakistani players in his IPL team , especially if he understands he is Khan! He got all our support because of the gentlemen who were against him. The intention was to show to Mr Thakrey that no one endorses their maratha manoos campaign, any more. I don’t think if even Swami ramdev had stood for some cause against sena , he would have received support one notch lesser !
How can you claim to be super star or king khan and yet not understand how to behave in front of Home Minister of the country?
I was watching some Award function on NDTV 24 X 7 where Mr. Chidambram said he would watch his film when the English subtitled version is out. What did SRK do -started to explain the story , right away!
And Why the heck he expect his every single line would be duly acknowledged? couldn’t he avoid saying you look getting bored , should I carry on … ?
Mr chidambram had to say , I have heard about it and I am aware its doing good!
Grow up Mr khan , or should I say , be Mr Khan we liked once. If you need help, watch out your own movies like ‘kabhi haan kabhi na’ or simply check out circus episode on youtube.
Otherwise, your Fan base seems to be short lived.
Note : This is a migrated post from
I could relate his progress with my own. I don’t know why , but he always seemed to be my own , kind of role model and especially because I could stammer like him and imitate him to some extent.
Thank god this happened way before gayism and same sex relationship became the buzzwords!
In my opinion, the stars should behave responsibly to retain their fan base. After all ‘A Bird in the Hand is Better than Two in the Bush’.
Which SRK, of late, has stopped doing.
Was it just a coincidence that the much hyped MNIK started with scene where Shahrukh was being tormented or harassed during the security check at the US-Airport? It doesn’t need an Einstein’s brain to understand it was not.
We all supported MNIK release, not because it was so called the freedom of expression that was breached. What he said was highly irresponsible and rubbish. In the times where the mood of nation is against Pakistan and Pakistan’s policy towards India, he could have avoided the topic of inclusion of Pakistani players in his IPL team , especially if he understands he is Khan! He got all our support because of the gentlemen who were against him. The intention was to show to Mr Thakrey that no one endorses their maratha manoos campaign, any more. I don’t think if even Swami ramdev had stood for some cause against sena , he would have received support one notch lesser !
How can you claim to be super star or king khan and yet not understand how to behave in front of Home Minister of the country?
I was watching some Award function on NDTV 24 X 7 where Mr. Chidambram said he would watch his film when the English subtitled version is out. What did SRK do -started to explain the story , right away!
And Why the heck he expect his every single line would be duly acknowledged? couldn’t he avoid saying you look getting bored , should I carry on … ?
Mr chidambram had to say , I have heard about it and I am aware its doing good!
Grow up Mr khan , or should I say , be Mr Khan we liked once. If you need help, watch out your own movies like ‘kabhi haan kabhi na’ or simply check out circus episode on youtube.
Otherwise, your Fan base seems to be short lived.
Note : This is a migrated post from
Sachin’s ODI debut match
I recollect from my childhood memories. My father and uncle used to be glued to the radio sets when India won the world cup in 1983. It was around that time, the game of cricket took the nation by the storm. Ravi shashtri , Kapil dev and Srikanth were our first stars when it came to big hittings in one dayers.
But none of them had guts or audacity to dent the Pakistani confidence and impetus which they had acquired after the last ball sixer of Miandad in the 1986 Australasia cup final.
It was a saturday or a sunday. I was quite a cricket historian for little over 9 year old, even at that time.
“watch out for this new kid ” my father had said to my uncle as Sachin Tendulkar walked up to the crease while India having lost half the side had almost given up the run chase.
It was not an official match , but an exihibition match to please the crowd as the original match was adandoned due to bad light. it was not exactly the debut match for Sachin.
I wouldn’t be wrong if I describe that match as the first T20 in the cricket history.
Paksitan having batted first posted 155 runs which is respectable even for today’s high standards of Twenty20.
He faced his first 3 balls from waism akram , of which he whacked the last one for a boundary.
We all wondered how much this baby faced boy could last as pakistan was truly on top.
The next over was bowled by Mushtaq Ahmad ( i guess he was making debut too) Sachin hit his last two balls for two huge sixed straight back past the bowler. And India was suddenly back in the hunt.
Before even Abdul Qadir could start the next over , even the commentators proudly announced (rather challenged) by saying Mushtaq was a copy of Abdul Qadir , lets see if the kid could hit the master spinner instead.Those days there were no neutral commentators. The TV coverage was bought up from Pakistan’s national network , hence the commentator were biased too.
Sachin hit 3 consecutive sixes of Qadir which silenced all of them . The spectators, the commentators alike.
India rallied on sachin’s heroics and reached to a point were we all thought we might win it from there. We needed 14 runs from the last over. It was bowled by Wasim Akram.
Our whole house almost erupted when the first ball was sent to the fence for four. Sachin completed 50 of 17 balls. An identical feat was achieved by Jaysuriya in 1996 which is still a record for ODIs. it came to the last ball when we needed a sixer to win. Sachin had to do a Miandad, but sadly Wasim Akram was far more wily and experienced than chetan sharma. He bowled a chest high bouncer of which sachin could take only a single. It could have been declared a no ball but it was being played in Pakistan and hence the umpires were biased as well. He remained unbeaten on 53 of 18 balls and India lost by 4 runs.
Leaving the whole nation thrilled by the prospect of a mayhem which was about to come.
Note : This is a migrated post from
But none of them had guts or audacity to dent the Pakistani confidence and impetus which they had acquired after the last ball sixer of Miandad in the 1986 Australasia cup final.
It was a saturday or a sunday. I was quite a cricket historian for little over 9 year old, even at that time.
“watch out for this new kid ” my father had said to my uncle as Sachin Tendulkar walked up to the crease while India having lost half the side had almost given up the run chase.
It was not an official match , but an exihibition match to please the crowd as the original match was adandoned due to bad light. it was not exactly the debut match for Sachin.
I wouldn’t be wrong if I describe that match as the first T20 in the cricket history.
Paksitan having batted first posted 155 runs which is respectable even for today’s high standards of Twenty20.
He faced his first 3 balls from waism akram , of which he whacked the last one for a boundary.
We all wondered how much this baby faced boy could last as pakistan was truly on top.
The next over was bowled by Mushtaq Ahmad ( i guess he was making debut too) Sachin hit his last two balls for two huge sixed straight back past the bowler. And India was suddenly back in the hunt.
Before even Abdul Qadir could start the next over , even the commentators proudly announced (rather challenged) by saying Mushtaq was a copy of Abdul Qadir , lets see if the kid could hit the master spinner instead.Those days there were no neutral commentators. The TV coverage was bought up from Pakistan’s national network , hence the commentator were biased too.
Sachin hit 3 consecutive sixes of Qadir which silenced all of them . The spectators, the commentators alike.
India rallied on sachin’s heroics and reached to a point were we all thought we might win it from there. We needed 14 runs from the last over. It was bowled by Wasim Akram.
Our whole house almost erupted when the first ball was sent to the fence for four. Sachin completed 50 of 17 balls. An identical feat was achieved by Jaysuriya in 1996 which is still a record for ODIs. it came to the last ball when we needed a sixer to win. Sachin had to do a Miandad, but sadly Wasim Akram was far more wily and experienced than chetan sharma. He bowled a chest high bouncer of which sachin could take only a single. It could have been declared a no ball but it was being played in Pakistan and hence the umpires were biased as well. He remained unbeaten on 53 of 18 balls and India lost by 4 runs.
Leaving the whole nation thrilled by the prospect of a mayhem which was about to come.
Note : This is a migrated post from
6 plus 4 = 10 dulkar
After having typed and published this blog entry, I am sure I would have pleased myself for paying my share of tribute to the master called Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. I now feel lucky that I bunked my office to watch the super innings of 200* yesterday. Ever Since Saeed Anwar hit 194 against India in chennai in the independence cup,1997 , I always wondered how long sachin is going to take to overhaul that feat. Since nobody deserved more than he did.
I am not going to put any more statistics and records over here, since, it can well be found elsehwre better shaped, better accumulated. This is pure homage stuff.
In any cricket match around the country (and these days even around the world) you invariably find some spectator with poster/ face painting or Tshirt with message yelling and punctuating the very fact that Cricket is our religion and Sachin is our God! . Indeed. All sixteen aanas counted.
He is not just a sportstar. He is a jewel.
In my opinion he has done much more than any sportsman across the world could ever accomplish. He is truly a unifier. In a country, where nothing else can coalesce the demography, here is this super human who gel all of us. Bring us together.
India is a land of diversity. Even the constitution draft mentions the fact. Western India romanticize about their audacity and bravery, east about the culture and heritage. North about the leadership and enlightment and south for intellegentia and acamedic brilliance. In such a diverse population if something that keeps all of us united and univocal, it’s Sachin!
We all argue the undue credit, media byte, TV coverage, hype and inflated moolah given to cricket and how it is destroying other sports. If you ask me, its a meaningless argument. We must give credit to what it deserve. We need something to unify all of us.
The religion could never become that thread, Since the country has already been partitioned once on that basis. Neither could the language, since ours wouldn’t have been a single country at all if we had agreed to promote only one. It’s the cricket that keeps our heartbeats at the same level.He is a mascot of sustained excellence, a metaphor for a billion people’s aspirations. In every sense, a sociological phenomenon.
Not everyone has the same opinion about the politicians, Pakistan or china. So if , for example , you are at some alien place anywhere within the latitude and longitude of our country , you can bring one topic and you would be assured of a long healthy and friendly conversation. It could either be cricket or sachin Tendulkar, since both are more or less synonymous.
Shahrukh khan , Amitabh bachchan and Amir khans are our stars, but sachin is our hero. We adore stars, but revere the heros.
Note: This is a migrated post from
I am not going to put any more statistics and records over here, since, it can well be found elsehwre better shaped, better accumulated. This is pure homage stuff.
In any cricket match around the country (and these days even around the world) you invariably find some spectator with poster/ face painting or Tshirt with message yelling and punctuating the very fact that Cricket is our religion and Sachin is our God! . Indeed. All sixteen aanas counted.
He is not just a sportstar. He is a jewel.
In my opinion he has done much more than any sportsman across the world could ever accomplish. He is truly a unifier. In a country, where nothing else can coalesce the demography, here is this super human who gel all of us. Bring us together.
India is a land of diversity. Even the constitution draft mentions the fact. Western India romanticize about their audacity and bravery, east about the culture and heritage. North about the leadership and enlightment and south for intellegentia and acamedic brilliance. In such a diverse population if something that keeps all of us united and univocal, it’s Sachin!
We all argue the undue credit, media byte, TV coverage, hype and inflated moolah given to cricket and how it is destroying other sports. If you ask me, its a meaningless argument. We must give credit to what it deserve. We need something to unify all of us.
The religion could never become that thread, Since the country has already been partitioned once on that basis. Neither could the language, since ours wouldn’t have been a single country at all if we had agreed to promote only one. It’s the cricket that keeps our heartbeats at the same level.He is a mascot of sustained excellence, a metaphor for a billion people’s aspirations. In every sense, a sociological phenomenon.
Not everyone has the same opinion about the politicians, Pakistan or china. So if , for example , you are at some alien place anywhere within the latitude and longitude of our country , you can bring one topic and you would be assured of a long healthy and friendly conversation. It could either be cricket or sachin Tendulkar, since both are more or less synonymous.
Shahrukh khan , Amitabh bachchan and Amir khans are our stars, but sachin is our hero. We adore stars, but revere the heros.
Note: This is a migrated post from
Quake Quack
‘Any questions, anybody?’ I said this customary line as I finished up the last slide of my PowerPoint. The part of presentation I hate the most: The Q&A section.
It’s like your answers and composure during this final countdown determines how good your efforts were. (Notwithstanding the monumental efforts you might have put in to add those animations and flashy lines)
I was giving a product demo at a customer location in Jakarta, Indonesia. And it seemed either my attendees were too convinced or just totally confused. I looked at the audience, moving my head like a light house (something that was taught to me during the last soft skill training) staring at each one of the intriguing faces who all seemed so much the same. As if everyone was the last minute substitute for the real audiences, eager to go out and take their payment as soon as possible. There was a complete silence and I liked it. This meant I could wrap up and leave.
Just then the whole building started to shake. It took couple of breaths for us to conclude that it was actually an earth quake. And immediately we began our sprint towards the door. ‘No elevators … go by stairs’ somebody shouted, but nobody listened to him. The whole building was shivering fanatically, as if going to collapse any moment. I wanted to run towards the stairs but then I realized that I was on the 27th floor and might not be able to make it. I decided to sit there in the conference room as there was hardly any difference if I died on the stairs or on the floor. Everything would eventually equally contribute to the debris. I counted 10 more breaths but there was no sign of respite, still. I looked outside the window at another building which was shaking like a ship amidst the ocean current. I didn’t knew an earthquake could be this much shaky, and was amazed that the buildings could stand all this.
After full 45 seconds of torment, everything became calm. I tried to call back home to inform I was safe, but unfortunately everybody else was trying the same and hence the network was jammed. I checked the rediff.com website, and it seemed India was not aware of that. Some local Indonesian website reported it to be at 7.3 on Richter scale. And suddenly I got a call on my mobile. It was not from my home, or my friends, but from my cab driver who asked me if I was safe. Which, because of the language constraints, sounded like, should he come in the evening if I was not dead. The police announced to vacate the building and leave immediately alarming about likelihood of possible aftershocks.
I looked around to see the thousands of employees who worked on various floors had assembled at the ground floor and were sharing their where-they-were-experiences in a language that seemed not more than quack quack to me.
Finally I enjoyed the only positive side of the fiasco. Took the cab and left for my hotel.
Note : This is a migrated post from
It’s like your answers and composure during this final countdown determines how good your efforts were. (Notwithstanding the monumental efforts you might have put in to add those animations and flashy lines)
I was giving a product demo at a customer location in Jakarta, Indonesia. And it seemed either my attendees were too convinced or just totally confused. I looked at the audience, moving my head like a light house (something that was taught to me during the last soft skill training) staring at each one of the intriguing faces who all seemed so much the same. As if everyone was the last minute substitute for the real audiences, eager to go out and take their payment as soon as possible. There was a complete silence and I liked it. This meant I could wrap up and leave.
Just then the whole building started to shake. It took couple of breaths for us to conclude that it was actually an earth quake. And immediately we began our sprint towards the door. ‘No elevators … go by stairs’ somebody shouted, but nobody listened to him. The whole building was shivering fanatically, as if going to collapse any moment. I wanted to run towards the stairs but then I realized that I was on the 27th floor and might not be able to make it. I decided to sit there in the conference room as there was hardly any difference if I died on the stairs or on the floor. Everything would eventually equally contribute to the debris. I counted 10 more breaths but there was no sign of respite, still. I looked outside the window at another building which was shaking like a ship amidst the ocean current. I didn’t knew an earthquake could be this much shaky, and was amazed that the buildings could stand all this.
After full 45 seconds of torment, everything became calm. I tried to call back home to inform I was safe, but unfortunately everybody else was trying the same and hence the network was jammed. I checked the rediff.com website, and it seemed India was not aware of that. Some local Indonesian website reported it to be at 7.3 on Richter scale. And suddenly I got a call on my mobile. It was not from my home, or my friends, but from my cab driver who asked me if I was safe. Which, because of the language constraints, sounded like, should he come in the evening if I was not dead. The police announced to vacate the building and leave immediately alarming about likelihood of possible aftershocks.
I looked around to see the thousands of employees who worked on various floors had assembled at the ground floor and were sharing their where-they-were-experiences in a language that seemed not more than quack quack to me.
Finally I enjoyed the only positive side of the fiasco. Took the cab and left for my hotel.
Note : This is a migrated post from
Azamgarh Mail..
‘What’s famous about Azamgarh?’ Asked one of my fellow passengers to another.
‘Crime’ he replied. Almost impromptu.
Indeed, it was kind of a predictable answer. Even I would have said the same.
I was going to Azamgarh to attend my friend-from-college’s marriage. More so, because these marriages invariably serve as an opportunity to reunite with few friends cum erstwhile batchmates.
Coincidentally the Maulana of Jama Masjid had also planned to visit the same place and had boarded the same train as well. And because of that we were being treated with variety of eatables by Railway pantry (may be just the maulana’s leftovers). On the flip side, The train was being stopped at several stations on the way as per the convenience of Maulana’s disciples.
Around 100 kms from Azamgarh lies Ayodhya. Few of us felt apprehensive for a possible religious rift since everybody around were chanting about how all the Muslim-youth are not terrorists.I dreaded another Godhra. Fortunately, nothing of that sort happened. And even the chants that appeared to be getting aggressive with time, subsided too.
Ayodhya was all the same. Station premise full of monkeys with headcount as many as the human’s. This reminded me of an interesting monkey story that I have penned and re-told several times. It goes like once I was coming out of a hanuman temple carrying the prasad bowl in my palm. And suddenly a monkey jumped over from no where and quite surprisingly pulled my glasses from the pocket and climbed the branch of tree where it belonged. One of the pandit advised me to keep the prasad over the embankment around the tree trunk and recede couple of steps backwards. I did exactly as told to me. Within couple of mins the monkey obliged by coming down. It ate the banana and left the remaining stuffs plus my glasses and went back. All in a jiffy! ‘Hanuman ji ne bhog laga diya… You are so lucky!’
I heard somebody say this.
The train finally reached Azamgarh . Delayed by 3 hrs. I had to muscle my way out since the whole platform was filled up by maulana men. I realized later that I had reached earlier than anybody from the groom’s side personifying the phrase ‘begani shadi me abdulla deewana’ After unpacking my stuffs and settling down for one hr, I decided to go out and check what was Azamgarh all about.
To start with, I was amazed to see all the decent roads and more than decent houses on both sides of streets. Even the hotel I stayed in was quite good one. Comparable to any pahadganj hotel (at least in terms of tarrif) I checked few nearby liquor shops since the booze session was inevitable within few hours. And I was told to do the initial arrangements. I liked one beer-bar and went inside for some beer. I felt good as after so many years I got this opportunity to converse in bhojpuri. And was astonished to realise that even vodafone too had a bhojpuri call centre line.
‘Gulf se paisa awata bhaiya , kheti badi se kahan hoyit aisan’ The bar tender answered my query regarding existence of several good looking Kothis.
The marriage was all the same and then I got the first hint of one thing that could be attributed to the prodigy Azamgarh had become in last few decades during the period when several Mirza Dilshad Begs graduated from this place. Very few of the females wore any jewelry. Whoever dared that, made a point to pack them safe before they left in the morning.
I left for the railway station at the wee hours when it was still semi dark. I noted almost every biker had a pillion who carried a rifle. Hardly any public transport was anywhere to be seen until it was fully bright. After waiting for almost 1 hr and cursing myself for not obliging to the offer of a drop at station, I took the first shared auto that appeared. On the way to the station too , I noticed few more gunmen who rode around looking so casual as if they were carrying sugarcanes over their shoulders. Perhaps they were the men responsible for the peaceful and impressive ambience I enjoyed a day before.
Note : This is a migrated post from
‘Crime’ he replied. Almost impromptu.
Indeed, it was kind of a predictable answer. Even I would have said the same.
I was going to Azamgarh to attend my friend-from-college’s marriage. More so, because these marriages invariably serve as an opportunity to reunite with few friends cum erstwhile batchmates.
Coincidentally the Maulana of Jama Masjid had also planned to visit the same place and had boarded the same train as well. And because of that we were being treated with variety of eatables by Railway pantry (may be just the maulana’s leftovers). On the flip side, The train was being stopped at several stations on the way as per the convenience of Maulana’s disciples.
Around 100 kms from Azamgarh lies Ayodhya. Few of us felt apprehensive for a possible religious rift since everybody around were chanting about how all the Muslim-youth are not terrorists.I dreaded another Godhra. Fortunately, nothing of that sort happened. And even the chants that appeared to be getting aggressive with time, subsided too.
Ayodhya was all the same. Station premise full of monkeys with headcount as many as the human’s. This reminded me of an interesting monkey story that I have penned and re-told several times. It goes like once I was coming out of a hanuman temple carrying the prasad bowl in my palm. And suddenly a monkey jumped over from no where and quite surprisingly pulled my glasses from the pocket and climbed the branch of tree where it belonged. One of the pandit advised me to keep the prasad over the embankment around the tree trunk and recede couple of steps backwards. I did exactly as told to me. Within couple of mins the monkey obliged by coming down. It ate the banana and left the remaining stuffs plus my glasses and went back. All in a jiffy! ‘Hanuman ji ne bhog laga diya… You are so lucky!’
I heard somebody say this.
The train finally reached Azamgarh . Delayed by 3 hrs. I had to muscle my way out since the whole platform was filled up by maulana men. I realized later that I had reached earlier than anybody from the groom’s side personifying the phrase ‘begani shadi me abdulla deewana’ After unpacking my stuffs and settling down for one hr, I decided to go out and check what was Azamgarh all about.
To start with, I was amazed to see all the decent roads and more than decent houses on both sides of streets. Even the hotel I stayed in was quite good one. Comparable to any pahadganj hotel (at least in terms of tarrif) I checked few nearby liquor shops since the booze session was inevitable within few hours. And I was told to do the initial arrangements. I liked one beer-bar and went inside for some beer. I felt good as after so many years I got this opportunity to converse in bhojpuri. And was astonished to realise that even vodafone too had a bhojpuri call centre line.
‘Gulf se paisa awata bhaiya , kheti badi se kahan hoyit aisan’ The bar tender answered my query regarding existence of several good looking Kothis.
The marriage was all the same and then I got the first hint of one thing that could be attributed to the prodigy Azamgarh had become in last few decades during the period when several Mirza Dilshad Begs graduated from this place. Very few of the females wore any jewelry. Whoever dared that, made a point to pack them safe before they left in the morning.
I left for the railway station at the wee hours when it was still semi dark. I noted almost every biker had a pillion who carried a rifle. Hardly any public transport was anywhere to be seen until it was fully bright. After waiting for almost 1 hr and cursing myself for not obliging to the offer of a drop at station, I took the first shared auto that appeared. On the way to the station too , I noticed few more gunmen who rode around looking so casual as if they were carrying sugarcanes over their shoulders. Perhaps they were the men responsible for the peaceful and impressive ambience I enjoyed a day before.
Note : This is a migrated post from
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