R Time

Protest, India Against Corruption
Ram Leela Maidan 2011

Let’s shun inflation, corruption, munition, celebration, creation, elation, ration
Why? Beliefs and freedoms are a conspiracy of one
Utopia is what we aspire for
Negative or Positive, govern us with an iron hand
Freedom to choose, practice
Right to education, information
The cricket team has displaced 3-time defending champions
R Time has come
Monetary gains, graft, fodder, telecom, mining, urban development
Sensex going haywire, gold and silver spiralling away
Don’t wait, now is for the betterment
What leaves? Can’t be broken
R Time has come
Music, dance, theatre, creative pursuits
What we stand for? It is not as if on mute
A cruel twist of fate is for those who keep harping back
Get a life, replenish, rejuvenate, rejoice
R Time has come
Wish I could hide, to face is an issue
Life is not a race against time, forget about sports
Where are the politicians of yore
Somnath Chatterjee, this is ghor–Anyay, atyachar, ankush, antim durkhwast chhodiye
Mantrijee R Time has come
PS- Yours truly can blame anyone but himself but dharna outside Jantar Mantar was an eye opener culminating in the Ram Leela maidan for all to behold.

7 Khoon Maaf


        Disclaimer:
The following is a review of a movie(in bold) and may contain spoilers

7 Khoon Maaf, Vishal Bhardwaj, Ruskin Bond
7 Khoon Maaf

Blood splattered all over, playing with a revolver, certainly not an end one would expect from marriage but that’s how Suzanna Anna Marie takes it(pun intended), one after the other, the marriage as well as the murder of her 7 husbands.“7 Khoon Maaf” is an amazing adaptation of Ruskin Bond’s Suzanna’s 7 husbands by Vishal Bhardwaj whose versatility and body of work make him Indian film industry’s modern greats. The characterization and portrayal by the actors as well as the lilting melodies make it a must watch. Suzanna starts her leanings by looking for a father figure but is not able to come to terms with the frailties of every relationship whether it’s an army major played convincingly by Neil Nitin Mukesh or the sly backup vocalist looking for the perpetual high played with the help of CGI by John Abraham. Suzanna cuts it close with every murder that she commits with the Police, Russians & Intelligence Bureau(in that order) not only getting in touch but also getting involved. Annu Kapoor makes a welcome return to 70 mm while Irfaan Khan calls out to the vilest senses by playing a sadomasochistic husband. Suzanna goes from one tumultuous relationship to another finding solace in a doctor who relies on mushrooms for therapeutic purposes. A seasoned actor like Naseeruddin Shah plays the doctor to perfection bringing not only depth but also insecurity seldom brought forth. “7 Khoon Maaf” is not about shlokas or browbeating but is a story well told with the right chutzpah keeping the viewer guessing and freedom to interpret marriage as murder or euthanasia???
P.S-Herd the mob…

Time Pasta

What’s the difference between hunger and appetite? Hunger for me encompasses everything that I could get my hands on(Tongue firmly in cheek) and appetite would be in relation to the palate. Inspiration was never really an issue because I was born in a house where stories are cooked and concocted according to whims and fancies, not to belittle your contribution MaPa:) So when mum said, “Son of all the nutritious foodstuff, why opt for pasta?” that was all the inspiration I needed. Needless to add when I did follow a recipe on the net to the ‘T’ the only flaw in the end product was the one instruction that was missing so here’s to the fall in line ilk like myself.

Trouble as mum rightly pointed out was that pasta is a bit too refined for the taste buds or put more succinctly, “beta, nira maida hota hai ” so make sure to add as many veggies as possible and stack up on water through a dispenser, bottle, ice tray or add Isabgol(laxative) to the ingredients if you decide to get ‘cocky.’
You can be mechanical to a fault with pasta because as soon as you get your hands on it, add water so that it dissolves and bring it to a boil with a generous amount of salt. Keep it aside for later or till the time the others are ready to be added.
Now comes the hard part to digest, putting veggies and not flesh when you know you’re short on the water content or it’s just roughage that your body needs? Add as much as you like because you really can’t differentiate with the colour green unless you go by the shade. Spring onions checked, lots of tomatoes checked, cabbage checked, garlic and ginger just to ease out the flatulence and in honouring traditions, lots of Olive oil to put it all together to fry in a pan. As much as it’s painstakingly slow you know you have the end product waiting so keep stirring till you can’t keep up with the teachings of Mr Miyagi,”Wax on , Wax off, Right a circle, Left a circle, Concentrate Daniel son” Do I really need to mention the colour that you need to look for?
Now get your hands on butter, cream, ghee, oil for cost-cutting and put all the ingredients to dry in a melting pot. This time though, felt the pasta should be more like Maggi so in order to increase the water content and in honour of Silvio Berlusconi’s ‘parcels’ add Real fruit juice preferably pomegranate, and every salad dressing and sauce that you could lay your hands on or ones that are in the house for eg. thousand island, capsico, mayonnaise to make it bountiful, the dish ie.
Don’t forget to keep stirring so that the amalgamation can take shape with all the flavours being absorbed, makes me the biggest hypocrite having written the previous statement. You can pour out helpings according to the junta and off course the dish is served.
Ps- 1) Dedicated to the victims of Japan
2) Don’t know where I’m ‘headed’ but feels good having just equated food with the waist down
3) Do wash the vegetables before adding them.
4) Dedicated to ‘Sheneel’ the pup who did not see it coming

Cooking Pasta in a humorous light
Pasta

Lost on Vacation

Malana, Travels
Loaded

Friends from college, booze stacked up, comfortable SUV’s, headed towards pristine surroundings & you thought it couldn’t get any better? right?….. Hold on…Still sometime before leaving for office so I’ll try and pen it down. Off course circumstances don’t really help matters what with the hair refusing to let go or is it the other way around….for the record, no blasphemy intended Jolls Pa. Started on a wicked note having hardly slept for 36 hours but the saving grace was a touchdown at Jats place with Singh & Anuj in attendance…The first question that pops up, “Bhaisaab ye chal kya raha hai ” followed by an apt reply…”Le sardar khana kha, tujhe khane ki sukht zaroorat hai.”Challo jee kafila on a roll after some food and banter towards Indraprastha Metro station to pick up partners in crime Rusti, Jolls and Arjun. Wish there was a stage rather than 4 wheels cos it was a laugh riot with Rusti & Jolls holding court and verbal volleys flying too and fro. Tried keeping up by staying awake but trust the drifter to do the needful, lo & behold, before one can go achhooo…the party was complete with the man in charge holding forth Jindal. Wish there was a background shehnai to accompany the last sentence 😀 Seriously, wouldn’t have been possible without the status updates and posts, not to mention the initiative itself. “Such mein, itna kucch kiya tune hamare liye, What say Tau;)” There was no dress code mentioned but was pleasantly surprised with the Santa Topis as accompaniments, needless to add Endeavor and Scorpio were the only things holding us back. So the first stopover was Sundernagar or was it? Can’t really recollect what with the Black Label and Christmas Carrols such as, “Purani jeans aur guitar mohalle ke bus….” or for that matter “Urvasi Urvasi take it easy policy” Between a stupor and cacophonic dialogues, reached Johnson’s Lodge in Manali which is a must recommend for anyone reading this. Couldn’t have asked for a better start to the next day with an English breakfast for starters which was reminiscent of Taj Goa, pity appetite was in the negative but palate was more than satisfied. Surroundings with parents used to be mall road and gawking at strangers but the lure of Malana couldn’t have been missed. The trek to Parvati Valley, being beaten by couples and ladies climbing or descending doing their daily chores that included lifting humongous logs, kids frolicking as if it was their own playground, streams or “jhurne” for fresh water, entire village at an altitude without any terrace farms in sight, not to mention way too far away from the honky-tonk rigmarole of the city was beyond comparison. Climbing down in the night was not possible but the sleepover was something to look back on. Everyone returned to the lodge from Bhuntur and Rohtang pass to celebrate Christmas together. Thank goodness for the price of diesel compared to airfares. Just couldn’t differentiate between my right and left for the rest of the journey but was glad to reach Delhi with the fog keeping the visibility to inches. Calling all TSA’s. Till next time. Peace Out

Malana, Travels
Camaraderie, Bonhomie

PS-Any takers for Govt. and Privacy on a micro level?

Buzz Stop


Delhi Buses
D.T.C


Medal hanging from the neck had just won an intraschool competition in memory of another brother (Khalistani, Sardar or just plain and simple Surd) who unfortunately had succumbed to a heart ailment. I had boarded the bus as an independent (no particular affiliations here)for the first time in school. It was a surreal experience having bumped into my Nana (paternal grandfather) in the same bus which gave me an opportunity to show off to somebody from the family.

You can take the Dilliwallah from Delhi but you can’t take the bus from within the Dilliwallah. The hoards getting in all at once, the constant heckling driving the daylights out of women, the unavoidable jostling for space, the unofficial abuse of official machinery i.e DP (Dilli Police) or “Staff” on being asked for a ticket or at times the hilarious arguments that occur without any warnings…A couple (Man and Wife) and the fairer one fighting for the seat next to her since she did not want him to vacate the “ladies only” seat for the ‘other woman.’ Another action sequence involved a daredevil who was hanging onto the bus and did not want to pay from his pockets for obvious reasons; sensing an opportunity to flex his muscles, the conductor hardly wasted any time in grappling with him and before you knew it ‘patak.’ This was when the conductor himself, halfway outside the window.
It’s a time honoured tradition of competition between the government-owned, debt-laden, never hoping to break even D.T.C and the private operators on the same routes. The advent of the metro has definitely put a sizeable number out of business but it wasn’t always the case. It all started with the dilapidated D.T.C and the just introduced privately owned Red Lines. Apt, given the nomenclature reflected the Congress’s socialist tendencies tapering off. The buses more than ‘lived up’ to the tag by driving over every living being in their path or structures being built by them. Before one realized, the menace had become an urban legend with anxious parents worrying about the whereabouts of their wards going astray after tuitions if they didn’t return in time and the government put a stop to it by rechristening the fleet Blue Lines. Banning the fleet altogether could not have happened considering the clout operators enjoyed with the vast majority of office goers in the quintessential ‘Chartered Buses.’ Always on the warpath but still making it to the office, mother never missed a day of work in Connaught Place courtesy the service provided even though she had a driver’s license but was too afraid to drive…
Blue Lines though still didn’t stop hacking innocents at the end of which the government had to come up with another avatar by giving them the name Green Lines which coincided with Delhi being declared the hosts for CWG 2010 and there was a windfall for long-forgotten D.T.C with low floor buses in green and maroon for non ac and ac respectively complimenting their brethren. The transport department also had the foresight to take advantage of the ailing fleet by utilizing it solely for school going children rather than selling them off as scrap. Now isn’t that ‘lovely.’
Routes starting at 7 in the morning to 10 in the night. 6-8 times on the same route every day, drivers and conductors are an overworked lot. Unwinding at the end of the day with families (govt.) or doze(Pvt.) Cleansing their livelihood, sleeping…Tomorrow is another day
PS-Is the CPI listening???

The Runway

Cab ride, dreamer, drifter
Cabs

Seldom do we take a journey without realizing what the moment passing by had in store for us. Start with a destination in mind, think of where you’ve reached…oh…another few km or miles and should be able to find it? What about the swanky car with the eclectic curves? Was it Dilip Chhabria, was it a foreign model? How about the tractor passing by with the rugged looks and an even more roughed up sound emanating from it? How about the perfect synchronization of man, woman and that bike?….ahem….It’s all that and more when travelling in Delhi. It’s been ages and the debate still lingers vis a vis Mumbai…” shift here, a better place to live in, is it?” Perhaps we still need testosterone-fueled cheers from the IPL franchises to engrain a sense of regionalism, a sense of pride to where we come from. No harm intended but there is a sense of belonging every time somebody does raise the baton. No seas flowing here, not one…Neither tributaries nor streams …We do have the Yamuna clogged with effluents with its water levels rising ever so high in recent times and flooding the low lying areas. But the industries still keep churning and disposing of off with renewed vigour not to mention Indira Gandhi indoor stadium still lies unaffected or for that matter the Delhi Secretariat. Heavens forbid if something happened to it…wonder what Mrs Sheila Dixit would come up with…Was it Lord Shiva??? The destroyer? Whoa, another sports bike just zipped by….It’s a confluence of cultures and influences from all across…Migrants teaming in for want of better opportunity…The metro making it both comfortable and an experience not to be missed. Thanks to Thiru Sreedharan, Head of DMRC for bringing Gotham City & Spidermen…Not to forget the adjoining areas…N.O.I.D.A, Gurgaon, with their neo colonization of cultures by youth from all over the country waking up to not just earn for themselves but to start living an alternate lifestyle never thought possible by their parents…Why??? How about the malls, the infrastructure provided by the IT/ITES industries, the brands, hoardings screaming out for you to have a look. The toned up bodies, the sundry colors, the shimmering merchandise….Someday, ”Gaadi sade pe lagale, Sunai na dere horrun?” (Get the car on the other side, deaf or what?) amidst a cacophony of sounds, had just drifted towards the bus stop…Oops…Cabs too and fro at any time of the day or night….You might get late in a train or have your pizza delivered just after the stopwatch displays 30 but once in THE CAB… appointments, deadlines or new recruits are rarely missed. Taking you from the remote corners and the hinterland to IBM, Accenture, Adobe, Iiyogi, Wipro, HCL, Convergys to name just a few. How could I forget the clash of cultures…Spendthrift, showoff Punjabis, rustic Haryanvis, Jats and their ire against caste favoritism from Rajasthan, been there done that from high above sea level Pahadis (No disrespect to Mahi, Second in command to saada demi god Sachin) Bhaiyas from U.P or the rickshaw pullers from Bihar, each and everyone bringing their own beliefs, mannerisms and dialect to try to outdo their neighbors, have a one up man ship session with friends, outpace a colleague in the office or just be better off from where they started. “Aalo ji break, Break da v koi tarika Honda hai” remember the hefty sardar from the kit kat commercial? Hyundai i10, married repenting by the way he’s trying to crunch that previous morsel sitting in the car, windows rolled up, the thermostat in place or so I assume waiting for the light to go green…touchwood. The rains have put a damper to the festive atmosphere by soaking it of dryness what with potholes spread across town in a race against time, before you know it Talkatora indoor swimming arena, adjoining park filled with construction material…cant play today….Ah well, back to bapu in black.

DePRose

Let it be known from the heavens
Oceans watching your back
Look is all I hold onto
Lest it be mistaken for a passing fad
Next in line is a lullaby….normal or mad?

Is it for real, l’aureole
The flowing locks, associated mystique

Waterlogged transactions
Thinking of jumping over, swim across
Running from droplets
Tsunamis are my bane

There can be nothing more picturesque
From Singha with love
I want to be lost in translation
and come home to mauve

Such is Life

Looking for groceries in a mall
Trying to light it up but the chimney is small
Get a job making it click in the rat race
Engineering or medicine it’s all a haze

Lie low; let it go
Such is life

Freaking out between the walls
Unsure whether to hang on
Looking for the next kick
Aerated drinks, tea, shakes; thin or thick

Lie low; Let it go
Such is life

Regular income conspicuous consumption
Save for a rainy day…solution??
Grab the last morsel it’s getting late
Work environment; searching for the best mate??

Lie low; let it go
Such is life

Pen Down

Nurturing a fan following
Oye Oye Oye in ecstasy

Under the sun or 2 degrees down below

Virtuoso through synchronized voyeurs mimicking chastity

Adrenaline rush by pushing the extremes

Bottled up inside; what about acidity??

Nurturing a fan following
Oye Oye Oye in ecstasy

Looking at greener pastures waiting for the games to begin

Discipline, priorities, norms what else

Animal instincts wearing thin

Transposed, transfixed, paradise lost and found

Wants and desires are open loops within

Nurturing a fan following
Oye Oye Oye in ecstasy

Ode to Tao

Neon Riffs turban still intact

Cant turn to go the other way round

Tied by threads, perception makes me react

Wanting to let go, In Vain…

Aeons ago was a glimpse

This is driving me insane

Hello Hah is she still around
Hello Hah, no reply…look!!!

There’s the mound

Idle, bereft of baggage

Gala times are for vagabonds

Just searching for the passage

Will she be at the next corner?

Stop!!! I’m just getting started

Hello Hah is she still around
Hello Hah, no reply…look!!!

There’s the mound

Crash and Burn, shock and awe…

Too many entities mounted within the same

Elements don’t lie

I’ll FIGHT THEM IF I HAVE TO

Bullet laden kamikaze is I

Hello Hah…Hello Hah…Hello Hah

Water all around

IVF= Why can’t you handle 2 kids at a time???

World Cup and the Accompaniments

Football World Cups
Vuvuzela

Please raise your hands who watched the world cup in the night and still managed to turn up for school today…..”, asked the disciplinarian school principal, proud not just for waking up till 4 in the morning but also one of the very few seventh graders who was actually listening, I had my arm up and about. “I am thankful to all of you” she said.It was a bit weird at that time to realize its significance but every world cup since ’94 has brought with it it’s own set of trials and tribulations, not to mention the euphoria and pure ecstasy of supporting an alien nation and living out their footballing revelry. As much as I am a sports buff supporting anything from ‘gully danda’ to Nadia Comaneci in the Olympics it’s an awesome experience but just cant say the same for this one though. First it was the construction of the stadiums lagging behind, then South Africa being an undeserving host(having never before qualified for it), now that it is well underway, its the official match ball “jabulani” and ear splitting decibel levels of the trumpet like reincarnation , “vuvuzelas.”

From what has been shown on the television, cant fault the host country for the lack of enthusiasm, organisation or the party atmosphere which has accompanied it but the number of fumbles and some howlers namely by Robert Green and the Algerian goal keeper has brought into sharp focus the use of the “jabulani”. Even coaches, players and fellow goal keepers have criticized it saying it is one of the worst that has come into play for a long time. It prompted the manufacturers, Adidas, to defend it saying that since the matches were being played at an altitude it was creating some pressure around it and hence the difference in trajectory and the bounce. It could be the reason why Bolivia are one of the very few countries who were able to defeat the “Albiceleste” 6-1 in the south american qualifiers not too long ago always playing all their matches at “la paz” which is the highest national capital in the world. The tempo in the games in general has also been laborious with the average number of goals scored being less than the previous world cup but it hasn’t stopped any of the participant supporters or neutrals to blow the “vuvuzelas” which has become the trademark of this world cup even putting the official mascot “Zakumi” out of public imagination. At first it did look and sound like a novelty but I think the only person having a “blast” with them is the inventor laughing all the way to the bank with this plastic horn. The sound emanating from a vuvuzela has become the top downloaded tone for iphone users but the constant playing in the stadiums is giving them a whole new ‘buzz’ altogether. Spectators have every right of expressing themselves but it drains out all the shouting amongst the players, the ‘usual’ atmosphere, leaving an empty feeling in the living room thinking more about mosquito repellents rather than the the formations being employed by the teams.
Another interesting facet of this world cup has been the choreography or the goal celebrations, a fitting tribute to Roger Milla who started the impromptu dance back in Italia ’90 for Cameroon.
Europe and South America are evenly poised in terms of the number of cups each continent has won but none of the African teams seem like reaching the semi final stage. Hope it is proved wrong and with the likes of Germany, Spain, England in a spot of bother it would be great to see a new team lifting the cup this time instead of the usual suspects.