War of Sexes!!!

Why are most of us obsessed with the need to prove that women are better than men or vice versa? This morning, I was reading the newspaper where the State SSC topper was quoted saying she’s happy to have proved girls are more intelligent or something to that effect. Now I don’t know why she needed to make a statement like that. What has she proved? Ok great you have topped and stuff. We are all happy for you and you have the right to bask in the glory.

Or maybe she was influenced by the media or probably she was tactically coerced into making that statement. Or maybe she never said that but some journalist decided to attribute the expected quote to her!

Doesn’t matter! What I am trying to say is that this is just an instance. There are so many polls and articles and studies, which try to prove this stupid point. The joke is that a point proved to be so by some bledy study is sooner or later proved otherwise by another one. A particular sex is favored depending on who conducts the study, and his or her prejudices I guess.

I mean in this day and age, why do we need to do this! What are we trying to prove? There are serious issues that need to be dealt with; there are plenty of women in rural India and even in our great Metros being abused and treated worse than cattle. Plenty of women given no opportunities to get out of the rut.

Recently, there was this case in Mumbai where a neighbor beat up the folks of two girls for allowing them to go to college.

This is what we need to fight and oppose and change. And not saying women are better cos some gal scored a percentage point more than the boys or boys are better cos of whatever reason.

But I don’t see any hope, seriously! People read such shit and quote it for their cafeteria and local train conversations. And for the journo writing this crap it’s safer to take the tried and tested path rather than open up new vistas. Most of them don’t have it in them anyways, I guess.

Govinda Re!

Last afternoon I ran into Govinda. Nothing much had changed. The same 100 watt smile, the same jovial self. Running into him took me back in time to those days of carefree indulgence. It's been five years since we passed out of journalism school. I can't even recollect the names of many of my batch mates. At that time Govinda was in charge of facility upkeep at XIC.

But what a transformation. He is today an associate at Sampark PR. A perfect example of where sheer dedication and determination can take a man. I wish I had his spirit -- fighting seemingly insurmountable odds to rise above his situation and attain his dreams.

Our course coordinator Ms Jane Swamy rechristened him Govinda after the bollywood film star for their similar colorful dressing sense. That's one thing that seems to have changed. Govinda has now adopted more corporate colors--still bright but not as flashy. And he now speaks fluent English. There are hardly any traces of the vernac. He has been in the communications industry for just a few months now. And knowing him, I am quite sure in no time even that minute trace will disappear.

Govinda started off as a rookie in the facilities management team at XIC and went on to complete his bachelors in arts. Soon he rose to lead this team. In the meanwhile, he continued pursuing further studies. And by the time I was out of college he had finished his masters in political science and was preparing for his UPSC exams. An unexpected vacancy in the XIC office saw him take up the position of office coordinator for the PR course. This soon became permanent. Despite what I think about the course at XIC I admire the staff there for creating opportunities for a promising lad.

Well, while there, he took advantage of the concession allowed him to complete certain modules of Journalism and in the following year a full fledged course in Public Relations. He has quit journalism now.

And I feel XIC has lost another soul who could remember her students no matter which batch or course. After Maxwell I think Govinda was the only guy who had a memory for even minute details.

And meeting him last afternoon proved that he hadn't lost his touch. He could remember the folks I generally hung around with and updated his mental database about each of them. I felt really embarrassed when I couldn't remember the names and surnames of several of my friends with whom I had spent one of the best, most memorable time of my life. But he did.

Knowing how important contacts are in this industry I am sure he will go a long way. I am sure even those who didn't probably care for him much while in college are not likely to put him off. Ya there were quite a few of that too. People who had a problem with his 24x7 100watt smile and his jovial nature. Couldn't handle somebody who could always be happy or at least keep a happy face I guess.

Existence

Another late night. Once again ended up hitting the sack late. I am worried about survival. And it’s only Monday. How am I gonna stay active the remainder of the week? One option was sleep late into the morning and reach office late. But then the same rigmarole would be repeated this night and the next. And you can’t reach office late everyday of the week.

Ok, you had a good time with friends. But the ‘feel good’ factor seems to disappear the moment you are on your own. Bad, really bad. Since I enjoy my own company most. The time I spent reading or relaxing and just enjoying the boredom of having nothing to do or worry about has now been replaced by turning shrink cum counselor for people who just can’t seem to understand your need to be on your own.

And all you do is talk about trivial rubbish—love, hate, women, work and oh such banalities. Reiterating the same old arguments over and over again. Never arriving at any conclusions. Not that that would have made any impact on the way this world functions or looks at life in general. Just a whole lot of wasted energy and time.

But by now one is so habituated to the stupid routine that any free time on your hands makes you restless. You are ready to forego sleep, but you need to have your daily dose of stupid trivialities. Else the withdrawal symptoms get too much to bear. I guess even the friends am talking about are stuck in a similar rut.

The only difference may be that I hate it at the end of the day. I would rather spend that time sleeping or clear the backlog of books piling up on my shelf. But the mundane existence that we lead has left us with no energy to do even a simple activity like reading. We would rather not think at all. Even the weekend is spent watching dumb mindless shows on television. So many chores piled up for the weekend—since you don’t get the time to get to it on a weekday—end up being postponed for the following week. And eventually it never happens. As far as the rest of the world is concerned you are leading such a grand life.

Things, which you call entertainment, only leave you emptier at the end of it all. What is the purpose of such a dull monotonous existence?

Sleepless

Last night I realized why I try to forget things immediately—people, incidents, everything other than what may be related to work. I thought my memory had deteriorated over the years. Not true at all. It had been suppressed. It reminded me of a belief I still hold true—good memory can be bad. Regrettable memories from the past don’t let you live in peace.

After having slept a total of some 20 odd hours in the past week, the only thing on my mind during the weekend was sleep. And that’s exactly what I did. Slept whole of Saturday and most of Sunday. But since my system was not used to so much rest, I couldn’t sleep a wink that night. After tossing and turning and trying my level best to tire myself out I decided to resort to a long forgotten remedy—reading. This passion from the distant past, which used to keep me awake night after night, had sometime back degenerated into a sure shot remedy for instant sleep.

And that was the biggest mistake I could have committed on a warm sleepless night like this. But how was I to know that then.

Since I had convinced myself to do some reading, I thought I might as well make it heavy stuff. I picked out the thickest book from my backlog. It turned out to be a collection of Chekhov’s short stories. I thought this should do the trick of putting me to sleep immediately. How wrong I was!

Well, an hour later I had read 5 or 6 stories. And instead of putting me to sleep I discovered what I was missing all these months by not reading. But the thought of office the next day made me close the book.

Unfortunately, some of the ideas from the book stayed on in my head. Two stories set me thinking. Both I feel spoke about the meaninglessness of existence—one of the reasons I don’t read so much these days. These Russian and French writers can drive you crazy by pounding your head with such stuff.

The first story, Rothschild's Fiddle, also touched on how people take ‘loved ones’ for granted only to realize their importance once they are gone forever. The Head of the House, however, spoke of heartbreak and the reentry of the lover into the protagonist’s life years later. That one incident changed so many lives. But from the outside life still continued the way it always had.

However, what interested me was that the protagonist, a doctor, didn’t regret the heartbreak but the fact that he had actually fallen for the woman and had even proposed marriage. Superiority complex I guess. Or maybe he was shocked at how mere beauty compelled him to fall for a woman in whom there was hardly any substance. Maybe this is what made him bitter and cynical towards the end. I really don’t know what Chekhov attempted to say.

But this made me go back in time. Incidents, I would gladly like to forget, resurfaced. Incidents, which in hindsight, I believe, played an important role in shaping me into what I am today. And the worst part was that since sleep was not forthcoming I spent the next two hours recollecting each stupid incident right from childhood to now. Thankfully, I couldn’t recollect any blunders or embarrassing moments in the last few years. Have I grown up?

Well, no matter how hard I tried to rid my mind of such thoughts there was no escape. The hurts and pains I have caused others, right from parents to grand parents to teachers, classmates and friends. Am sure most of them have forgotten those incidents. I really don’t know where most of them are today. I would like to find out and maybe undo some of the mistakes or at least apologize. Don’t think it will make any difference now. But at least the irritating memories will be washed away.

I really don’t know why I am feeling bad about it today after so many years. I never really thought I had any emotions. Most of the incidents were unintentional anyways. Maybe it’s old age catching up before time:)

Clash of Cultures

The various cultures that exist within India today -- the media culture, the call center culture, the software industry culture, old economy culture, classical culture and all the rest, which will win the day. What will be the future culture -- the culture that emerges out of the amalgamation of all this?

I look around me and I feel we are growing up in cultural silos. Each unit, I feel, is so cocooned in its own ways they seem far removed from all the other units around them. Well, there is exposure to the traditional culture. Can’t escape that. I don’t think any of us can even if we try. There are vested interests at work there to ensure this remains so. But unfortunately more often than not these parties are bent on promoting a skewed notion of right and wrong.

In the present scenario, I think, there is very little communication between members of different culture. None are interested in building bridges to connect two disparate silos. The common refrain seems to be – we are leading the better lives so the rest of the world better follow us. The media could have been that factor. But then media comprises similar lost cases. The common sentiment among members of this community seems to be "there’s none on the planet more cultured or knowledgeable than us; so why should we bother with the rest of the janta".

I wish this were true. But when I used to attend press conferences and look around I used to often feel “what am I doing here?” I expected serious discussions and ideation; strategies to improve society or at least an attempt to do so; a serious editorial stance to influence the way society thinks and acts; articles and columns to push this agenda for the betterment of society.

Well the media today is influencing society—go around coffee shops, clubs or bars or any other common meeting place; eavesdrop on conversations in trains or buses and you will find the conversations revolving around the hot news promoted by newspapers and televisions -- the doings and escapades of our film stars and television stars. I think the print is slightly better. Not all of them have gone so rotten. But then the option is between selecting the better from among the worst.

Coming back to culture - be it the music we listen to or books we read, the way we spend our leisure hours, or our ideas about various issues if you look at the various silos then you would find a common refrain within those silos. Of course exceptions are there. But over a period of time each individual within a silo gets molded to fit that particular culture. Else you can’t be a part of the scene.

So the people you work with are also generally your friends, your shopping partners, your dinner and lunch partners on weekends, your movie and clubbing partners and so on…

I think the displacement of people from their regions of origin or birth has a major role to play. It existed earlier. But it is more so today. And unlike earlier, Bombay or Delhi or couple of other prosperous cities are no longer the only destinations. Several new cities have now come up in the radar of the job seekers. So existing, even deep rooted, values and cultures are being shaken or being trampled upon. And new whimsical, superfluous ones are being created.

I have heard several theories about who would win the day – the older sections think they have been here they will continue being there while the “new fangled” ones perish. Proponents of the “new way of doing things” feel this is the only way going forward. And there are some who think both will co-exist in new ways; each changing to adjust with the other. Things are going to change. If not now then sometime down the line there is bound to be a shakeup. There might even be a clash. There’s so much stress in the air, God alone knows what shape this will take. What is of interest to me is, however, what form will the new culture take post shakeup?

Two Machines and Three Men

Last month, the long bike trip I have been dreaming about for eons actually materialized. Of course my original plan was ride all the way to probably Kanyakumari and back.

However, some friends said they were planning to go to Vizag for a camp; and to make it interesting, bike it all the way. A Bangalore-based cousin's impromptu wedding plans put paid to this cross-country trip and saw us heading instead towards the Garden City. I am not complaining. The friends, Benny and Johnson, agreed to come along. Very important considering their original plan was very different and most of the others had dropped out at the nth hour.

But we had our bike trip, saw lands we never planned to see, and I attended a wedding after more than a decade and a family one for the first time (reconfirmed my feelings about the worthlessness of it all) and after 10 days on the road made it back home safe and sound.

I won't go into the details of the trip now. Will save that for later. As I keep telling friends who want me to write about these stuff I am not good at expressing my feeling in words.

But the last leg of the trip was memorable. We were planning to leave Goa early morning on the 31st, with a stopover at Ratnagiri. But one bike broke down along the way. Nothing major. Just the clutch cable snapping due to the strain on the Ghats. But how does one proceed without the clutch! Since we had to stop at the mechanics anyways I decided to get some work done on my clutch as well.

Unfortunately, no Enfield mechanics along the way. And the one we finally found didn't have the necessary tools to work on the Thunderbird. Thankfully, this guy was quite innovative. But Innovation takes time. And after a two hour delay we finally made it to Ratnagiri. Once we reached there though our plans underwent a dramatic change. I wanted to make it to Mumbai before the clock rung in the New Year; and the other guys were also enthused with the idea. So with full support from my two team mates we started speeding. Close to 250Kms to cover and less than 5 hours at hand.

It was already around 7:00 PM. Dark as it can get. A dangerous two-lane highway with no dividers separating the traffic. At times the road narrows down to a lil more than single lane width. If it was daytime and if it was not the last day of the year we probably wouldn't even have attempted something so crazy.

But for the next four hours we sped nonstop over the Ghats straining both ourselves and our machines to extremes. My head is spinning even as I write this. Our initial plans of taking breaks after every 70-80Kms completely slipped our minds in the excitement.

And the more miles we covered the more eager we were to reach home at the earliest. With around 80 Kms to cover and just a lil under an hour left for midnight hour we knew we were short on time. And we definitely didn't want to start the New Year with a sense of failure. My Pillion, Johnson, goaded us to speed at 80kmph or above.

Crazy. Especially since he made that comment just before we touched the Karnala Ghats where I had met with a bad accident coupla year’s back. And for similar reasons. Speeding at 100kmph on the tortuous curves in the middle of the dark night. But that's exactly what we did.

I guess we were doing that from the moment we left Goa. Speeding on the ghats like crazy, taking in those curves at full throttle. The only difference after 7:00PM is that visibility is next to zero. And when the taillights of one bike is gone and only the dipper works as far as the headlights are concerned you are half blind.

But what an adrenalin rush. To feel in control at that speed when combined with the possibility of things going wrong in a split second is amazing. The thrill, the heady rush cannot be described in mere words. It has to be experienced.

To tell you the truth, at high speeds control is just an illusion. You could ride straight off the road and fall off some 3-400 feet down or crash head-on into an oncoming vehicle or just smash into the hill or rock or bounce off a pothole or just go skidding outta control on a really sharp curve especially since there's so much of loose gravel and sand to aid you here, and then there are the oncoming vehicles blinding you with their bledy headlights on upper instead of dipper. The possibilities are immense. And all these thoughts constantly fight with your insanity. But then as Nietzsche once said to build character you have to live dangerously.

I don't know whether that makes any sense but I would like to think he's right:) Anyways we made it home with 20 mins to spare. Five mins to unpack and at the door at quarter to midnight. Welcoming the New Year on a different kind of high.

In God's Own Country

I visited my native land after almost nine long years. It was the first real holiday in more than six years. Now my friends might argue that I am always taking off somewhere or the other on short trips every other month. Well, yes. But those trips are generally more tiring than office work. I have never considered trekking a relaxing exercise. Well it does de-stress you but it also tires you out like crazy, and the aches and the pains after a really strenuous one can put many first timers off trekking for good.

Holiday for me is spending time sleeping, eating or just sitting and whiling away your time. It may sound boring. But my whole being craves for that kind of boredom. Just sit there and think about nothing in particular. Daydream all you want. Imagine yourself in paradise. To me this kind of boredom means that I am at peace with myself and the world.

No phone calls, no computers, no Net connection, none of the regular people you hang around with, no worries about office and other bull shit, complete absence of the paraphernalia of daily life.

Well, this holiday was all that and more. Couldn’t avoid taking my cell –phone though. It’s a bad addiction. Every time it rings u get irritated. But switch it off for a minute and u feel a part of u is gone. Ironically, the people whose call you would like to attend never seem to be able to get through while all the credit card guys and loan sharks never seem to have an issue in reaching u.
Well, the best part was the famous Kerala boat race—the only outing I went for. I was forced to by some cousins. But then I think it was worthwhile. The excitement at the venue is almost palpable. And our boat winning the race more than made up for all the hassles borne in reaching there.

Now I am so relaxed that I don’t feel like working again. People told me I would be dying to get back to work once I took a break. Wrong. I think I want to spend the rest of my life in like manner—eating, drinking, sleeping, swimming, reading, taking and repeating the same processes all over again. Other activities could be boating, biking, a lil bit of farming or gardening if you want to call it that, fishing, frying those fishes, eating those fried fishes ahhhhhhh, climbing trees, trekking, and so much more. Ah! This is life as it should be.

Moochers

I was waiting outside Vashi station for a friend when I saw some unknown NGO calling out to people to come and light candles in memory of all those who died during the blasts. There were coupla guys taking turns on the loudspeaker inviting people to think about how lucky they were to be alive and so to spare two minutes to do their bit for society in return. Almost 4,000 people (or so they claimed) had already lit candles at their set up.

Now, first of all, I wonder what society had to do with us being alive and whole! Why should I thank society for the fact that there is a man up there who watches over me? What role did society have to play in my being alive? What is this bledy society that they keep harping about? (No, I won't get into that now--it calls for a much bigger argument)

Secondly, how will burning wax candles help those who are dead and gone? Some candle maker surely made a lot of money--wonder if the particular NGO itself is in the business. But other than burning fuel, wasting a lot of wax and candle power and generally adding to global warming (ok the last maybe a bit far fetched but couldn't help adding) how has burning candles or wasting a lot of flowers (something else I saw at other stations) helped the deceased or the injured and their families any.

Wouldn't it have been better to utilize those resources to pay for the medical bills of a few people or in case a family had lost their bread winner to help them sustain for at least a few days.

This suckers can't leave even the dead alone. Have to use even that as an excuse for cheap publicity to promote their vested interests.

A Matter of Choice

I am getting fed up with all the talks about Mumbai's indomitable spirit. I don't think spirit has any major role to play in ensuring that a major chunk of the jantha were back at work the very next day.

I was roaming around town the next day and overheard one lady tell her colleague that she had already taken two days off during the heavy rains the previous week. She couldn't afford another leave cos her plans to club all these leaves and take a vacation with her family sometime in November was already in jeopardy.

Another guy said they are targeting the Western Line so we are safe. Maybe he travels by Harbor or Central. So tell me what does spirit have to do here? Nothing. All are scared probably. Many don't even care.

And if not for the all the stories in the media and the initiatives taken by a few political parties and NGOs it would have been a topic of classroom debate in less than a fortnight. And I was very glad to read similar thoughts expressed by a feature writer in the ToI -- can't remember the name now.

It's basic lack of options in life, the need to work every single day to bring bread to the table, feed the children, pay the thousand and one EMIs imposed on hi, by the dream vendors that pushes the common man to get out of bed the next day, cloak his fears and motivate himself to get into that train reach office. I think the scene would have been the same in any city, anywhere in the world after such an incident. Look at Kashmir; they get bombed almost on a daily basis. Palestine, Colombo, and so many other examples.

Instead of feeling good about the fact that we are at work on time the next I actually feel bad that we don't have the leeway to take a break and help out with the rehabilitation process or even help somehow in bringing those idiots who did it to justice. No, we unfortunately don't seem to have much choice in these matters.

Today, some joker bombs the city and you either get killed or injured or if lucky escape unscathed. Tomorrow, the cops pick you up and bash you if you unfortunately happen to be living in the wrong part of the city or belong to the wrong social set or the wrong community. If you are lucky you get away with a few raps on your knuckle for something you haven't done, else God help you. No, we don't have much choice--we are the common man.

Btw, how did the police and the politicians establish so quickly who the people behind the blasts were? That's some super quick investigation team we have in the police department eh?

In Dust We Live

One thing I hate about Mumbai--the DUST. I thought the rains would do something to settle it a bit. But the issue seems to have gone from bad to worse. OK I understand that the city is under construction--roads, flyovers, bridges, apartment buildings, malls, office complexes, etc etc. And that five years from now we might have a city to be proud of, something truly international. But then if you go to any of the cities outside India, even the ones in the so called developing nations, the dust problem is not so acute. Construction activities go on in most of these cities too. But I wonder how these guys manage to keep the dust levels down.

Here, by the time you have covered a few KMs by road you want to pluck out eyes and give it a thorough wash. Just thinking about the dust irritation is making my eyes twitch. And to add to the pain, the current humidity level doesn't help any. Run your kerchief after spending half n hour on the road and you will forget what the original color of the hanky was.

And you breathe in the same shit. I think it's worse than smoke pollution. Though I'll never be able to fully accept the vehicle fumes and the stink, I have worked out a sort of compromise over the years. No options in this case especially if you have lived here all your life. Plus a short trip to any of the other great Indian cities like Delhi or Bangalore or Hyderabad is enough to convince you that you are in the very best. You can't stand any of these wannabe cities for more than a week at a stretch.

And thankfully, there has been a visible reduction in the amount of shit on the roadside. The BMC has been doing a good job on that front. At least, I don't see too many idiots squatting by the roadside these days. I wish the BMC would enforce the anti- littering and spitting rules as well. Even if they charge 5 percent of the Rs 2000 they are authorized to fine I think it would make a big difference.

But the DUST is my biggest problem right now. I have been wondering what we can do to help. Searched the Net for solutions. It seems there are equipments available that will suck in the dust--sort of like a vacuum cleaner I think. Basically, most of the other nations we are trying to copy--Singapore, Shanghai--have air pollution control systems in place. Even in India we have dust and fume extraction systems and dust collectors and stuff like that available. Maybe corporates and housing societies can play a part here. It would be too much for individuals unless u r a TATA or a Birla or a Premji.

Fantasizing

We were discussing what is better -- fantasy or experience. Many a times, the actual experience is never even close to what one had imagined. A complete let down of all expectations. Well here's what a friend had to say...

If you find yourself fantasizing, wondering what it would be like, let your imagination take you where it will. Not only is this the safest method ever, it will be far more pleasurable than the real thing -- without any of the associated hassles. Fantasy is not escape: it is creativity at its most evocative... and least destructive.

Load Shedding

I have been reading articles about the power shortage problem in Maharashtra for sometime now. Never actually gave it a second thought earlier. But I actually had a taste of what a pain load shedding can be earlier this week. Then I did a bit of digging and found out that New Bombay suffers from power cuts for almost 5 hours everyday. Can you believe that? New Bombay, which is supposed to be the answer to Mumbai's congestion. The New Bombay that is being projected as the city of the 21st century. The New Bombay that is a part of what the STPI has termed Maharashtra Knowledge Corridor. A knowledge that is totally dependent on India's software leadership. Where would this knowledge be if there is no power to run those computers upon which the development of that knowledge largely rests?

And to think that when I lambasted the government in my last blog, quite a few of my friends told me to stop being so cynical. Now just tell me, is it cynical if I crib about 5 hour power cuts in an era where half your life revolves around equipments that function only if there is power. Right from shaving to washing your clothes to even preparing that toast sandwich in the morning -- your basic daily routine goes for a toss. And imagine starting your day on such a great note. And people tell you to accept this reality and cool down.

That particular day prior I decided to stay back with my folks instead of coming back to town on Sunday evening like I usually do. Well did I repent! I woke up early in the morning for a change -- and began my day by banging into the door cos it was too dark to see it was there and then taking a bath in that bloody cold water cos the geyser was useless, then I nicked myself shaving cos I couldn't see my own face and the razor was a new one I was not familiar with -- all because the stupid power guys had to cut power right at the moment when most office going folks like me are getting ready to leave home.

Well, the previous day I was reading a sort of survey Mumbai Mirror had done on whether the common man can save energy and help the government. Most said Yes. How? By cutting down on TV viewing time, stop listening to music, washing clothes twice a week instead of thrice a week, not using the AC, not using the fans and lights whenever possible, not using the vacuum cleaner, sleeping together or working in the same room and so on and so forth.

Now what I would like to know is how much energy will this actually save? Most office going folks reach home post 7:00 PM. I know we would all like to reach home that early but just for the heck of it lets assume we live in a utopian world as far as work is concerned. Now how much time will this guy actually spend watching TV? A couple of hours at the most. If there is a cricket match then probably longer. But that's a seasonal thing anyways. Isn't a guy entitled to that much entertainment? And why do we have vacuum cleaners, and microwave ovens and washing machines? To ease our burden a bit. If I have to stop using all those devices then what's the point in slogging so much to buy those very things? What's the point in saying we live in progressive world--a world where technology eases our lifestyle?

Now a reply I got for that was use your hands it's good exercise. I bloody don't need that exercise. Other than wasting my time and ruining my back probably it doesn't serve much in the way of keeping me fit and healthy. If that was the case then most of the Bai's there would have had perfect figures and lived real long healthy lives. But that is hardly the case. I would rather go for a jog or trek or swim for exercise. Now if were short on fuel then would I have to walk from Dombivili or Virar or Panvel or wherever to reach town for work.

And why is it that while the rest of the world is suffering the government offices and the railway offices and MSEBs own offices still enjoy the benefits of zero downtime. MSEB should set an example by cutting power to their own offices and housing colonies. But no, the complex next to my folks place is occupied by railway employees and other such characters and till date I have never seen them groping in the dark due to a power cut.

Is it our fault that the government has not taken any measures to ensure that the growth in population and power requirements were matched by a simultaneous growth in power production? A state that had surplus power even a couple of years back is suddenly facing tremendous shortage in power. How is that possible? The growth in Maharashtra has not been so great that the surplus got wiped out in such a short time. And as for the poor farmers who are supposed to benefit from the governments largesse I wonder how many of them actually do! Whenever I have been to any of part of rural Maharashtra I have noticed that most houses in the village do not have power connectivity. And those that do have connectivity are no better off cos they have power cuts. So who benefits? The guys who own most of the land. Some rich bugger somewhere in Mumbai or Pune or Nasik. At least that's the response I get when I ask these guys "Yeh Kiska Zameen Hai?"

Instead of trying to come up with projects that will generate more power here we have a government that wants us to cut down on energy consumption or be taken to task. On what basis will they decide who will use how much power I am waiting to know? If my not using my electronic equipments in the short term would solve the problem in the long term then I am game. But this problem is only likely to escalate. And what we need is more power plants and not citizens who are willing to forgo their comforts. You try to wake them up to the fact they say you are not patriotic. What the bloody hell has patriotism got to do with this? I am not willing to give up my comforts for good. The good of the nation and my fellow citizens and patriotism and all such jingoism be damned.

To Be Taxed or Not

I hate the months of Feb and March. Especially salary days. To some extent the fault lies with me. But come Feb and I go all out in damning our bloody government comprising largely of old booda phusats. These paragons of corruption live out the dreams we dreamed thanks to the taxes we pay.

Yes, you guessed right, I am cursing our taxation system. Taxes that are cut from our measly sals with the promise that we will be provided with better roads, cleaner cities, and a safer and more cleaner environment. Well, I do see some work happening as far as roads are concerned. Relatively good roads around town were recently dug up to concretize it. Roads which didn't need any serious maintenance to begin with. And those that really do need to be repaired are "patched up".

I sometimes think the potholes were safer cos after the bloody PWD finished with their patch work you don’t need to go all the way to Essel World to experience a roller coaster ride. All you have to do is go for a ride on our inner city roads and you are assured of a bone jarring, bumpy, and absolutely scary experience.

Most governments in the West promise their citizens free or subsidized medical aid, pension plans and various other benefits in return for the taxes they pay. Now the excuse we get when we raise this issue is that India is a relatively new democracy and we need to put other factors in place before we get down to providing such benefits to the citizens. Now even my grandfather heard the same excuse and so did my father, and I am sure, so will the next generation. So no generation actually enjoys their life. Each tries to sacrifice their life for the next thinking that at least the kids will have a good future. Bullcrap. This lie has been successfully fed to successive generations quite successfully. And unfortunately you live only once.

But the mandarins in the parliament and the echelons of bureaucracy fleece us of our hard earned moolah--legally through taxes and illegal through bribes, and as I said earlier, live some of our dreams--traveling the world, enjoying the best of food, clothing, shelter, vacationing in the most exotic locations in the world, driving the best cars etc etc etc. And to add to this, our money is again used to provide these worthless souls with security since they are responsible for us.

But who gets the bullet when these bastards declare a war on any of our neighbors? Or even worse, when we decide to support the UN or any of those other shitty organizations when there is some bloody turmoil in some screwed corner of the world with which we are hardly connected--the tax paying son or daughter of tax paying parents who couldn't provide for their old age because they expended their energy and their earnings in bringing up a son so that he could get killed by a stranger whom he never met in his life and now that he is 6 feet under there is no scope of doing so, ever.

The parents lived in the false hope that the son will provide. And what do they get for it--a piece of metal called a medal and maybe a certificate and maybe if they are lucky some cash, which will just about cover the expenses they incurred to go collect the medal and listen to the meaningless condolences.

Well, to cut a long story short and to explain why I said it's my fault to some extent -- I gave a list of investments that I plan to make during the current fiscal year, as this is expected to save on taxes. But as usual I lived for the moment and never saved a pie. So the next two months will see almost 70 percent of my sal being cut as taxes. Now not only do I have to feel insecure about my old age (if I live that long) but my immediate survival (the next 2 months) is at stake.

Up Kalsubai

The trip to Kalsubhai, supposedly the highest mountain peak in Maharashtra, finally happened last weekend. I usually don't write about any of my trips. Somehow I feel that words can't do justice to the experience. Trekking is an experience. And an experience that can only be felt. Or maybe there are people who can make u experience their feelings thru words. But I definitely am not good at that.
Still, since this friend of mine wants me to write something about the trip I will make an attempt.

We were supposed to meet at 4 Am at Bandra. But there was a change in plan and the timing was revised to 5:30. However, Raj the colleague who was supposed to inform me about the change forgot to do so. So there I was at 4:30 outside Bandra station shivering in the cold. The only consolation was that Raj himself arrived there before me. I guess he forgot to tell himself about the new timing. Heheh.

All of us finally met at around 5:45 and before 6:00 Am we were off in a Toyota Voyager. Gone are the days when we set off for a trek the previous evening, spend the night at the station and then set off by the first ST bus to the closest village.
Now we travel in style. Time constraint has a major role to play here. Everyone wants to be back before nightfall and nobody is keen on spending a night in some dirty station. So leave early complete your trek and be back by evening.

But I miss those old days. Short on budget, off we used to go by train and ST and whenever possible hitchhiking to save some moolah. Of course, we also had 30 Kg packs on our back. We slept in the jungles, in some cave if there was one or in a make shift tent or sometimes even with the adivasis.
By the end of the day we were generally so tired and ravenous that even cow dung would have tasted like manna. Well, now that we are all earning we can afford small luxuries.

To come back to the point, we reached Gotti by around 9:00. From there we lost our way thanks to my absolute confidence that the last time I was there in the area we had taken a right from the railway crossing. As it turned out we should have taken the left. But we realized that only after we had covered some 20 kms.

I consoled myself by saying that the last time I was in the area was some 6 years ago. So some small mistakes are allowed. It being a Saturday, the weekly mandi at Gotti was on in full swing. Cows and goats and humans and other cattle. And sweets. Pure Desi sweets. But my fellow trekkers were reluctant to make a halt. So off we went.

Finally, we reached the fork where one road leads off to shirdi and the other to our destination. Six years back, we had got free accommodation at a small hotel at the junction as people thought we were Sai bakhts on our way to Shirdi on foot. So young and such belief. Heheh. Well we were not complaining. But we had got up at 3:00 in the morning and punished off from there to escape being caught the next day when we would have to take the wrong turn and break a few delusions.

We finally reached the Bari village. From there we got hold of a local to guide us to the top. To tell you the truth I was a bit disappointed when I first saw Kalsubhai. I seriously didn't look like the highest peak in Maharashtra. I thought Bhimashankar or Rajmachi was higher. Also, it was completely devoid of any forest coverage. By the time we started the trek it was 11:00 Am. The Sun was really burning down on us. Within half an hour I was wheezing like crazy. Well I was not surprised considering how well I take care of my health. But the others were no better off. Except maybe for Bernard who is a veteran. I should feel ashamed. I am half his age and I can't last half as long.

We took our first break near a temple. A cool shady place. There were 3 women there who had come with another group but lost courage and stayed back. Rested we left soon. But soon Leslie from our group suffered a blackout and had to go back to the Temple. Initially, I thought the women we met might be the reason. I was cursing myself for thinking of it. But soon we realized that things were bad--must be the combination of smokes and booze and zero exercise.

I know cos this has happened to me in the past. Well, we started wheezing our way up again. But soon experience took over and I managed to settle my breathing into a regular pattern.

We soon reached the first ladder which some kind soul had arranged for. The climb is at an angle of almost 90 degree. We had to climb 3 more such ladders. We were wondering how we would climb back down. I am sure this place would be really dicey in the rains. That's when I actually want to go to Kalsubhai.

We thought we had reached the top. The guide said half an hour. So we rested for some 15 minutes on a flat rock table. Bernard decided to go ahead of us. When he stated shouting at us for wasting time it didn't strike us as to what lay ahead. We climbed to where he was standing and that was when we realized there was one more hill to climb before we reached the top. And now the peak began to look really far off.

Kalsubhai proved that she didn't enjoy the distinction of being the highest peak in Maharashtra for nothing. And what they say is true looks can be deceptive. It took us another straight hour before we finally reached the top. On the way we had come across a well. Man, the water was ice cold. Instant refresh. I even drank that water. Though if I wasn't so parched I wouldn't even dream of drinking that water. City Habits! The water might not kill you. But the fear of what that water can do can definitely land u in bed.

Reaching the top was an exhilarating. Especially the knowledge that this was the highest peak there. But the climb was not tough. The chest congestion I was suffering from for the last 3 days got cleared.

On the way back we decided to stop for a late lunch at the table top we had stopped at earlier. Within minutes we were surrounded by a hoard of monkeys. Literally surrounded. There were monkeys on all four sides and even on top of us i.e. in the branches of the tree under which we were sitting.

Everyone tried to act cool. Till Pallavi decided enough was enough and just asked everyone to pack up. I have had bad experiences with monkeys more than once so I was all game, anything to get out of there. And I didn’t have to bruise my ego either by being the one to act scared. Hehehe.

One funny incident--Bernard decided to take off his pants and walk in his shorts. But the action took the monkeys by surprise and most of them ran off. Don't know whether they were male or female monkeys.

Well, the monkeys chased us all the way down to the first of the ladders. Where they decided to get nasty when they realized they were about to lose out. Raj decided to take action and started pelting stones. We were scared that the matter would deteriorate. But after that the monkeys decided to leave us alone.

Looking back, we saw the monkeys perched at various points and staring down at us. Reminded me of the scene from King Kong where the tribals are perched on top of the wall and are about to launch an attack on the visitors.

I do wish the monkeys had launched an attack. Would have added some excitement and made the trip more memorable. There were a few close shaves but nothing worth mentioning.

Soon we were back at the base, freshened at a boring water pump and back into the voyager and home and hot bath and a meet with 3 very hot babes. Man what a perfect end to a perfect day.

Old Lion to the Pasture Put

Last evening I had a chat with an industry veteran who has been a journalist for more than 30 years now -- 2 decades with a leading national daily and then various trade magazines and journals. He has seen it all -- insecure bosses trying to cut down a promising reporter, overtly ambitious juniors trying to pull you down a peg or two and much more.

I have seen some of his work. Quite good stuff. And going by the conversations we have had quite intelligent too. But probably because he was not too ambitious in life he hasn't really moved up the corporate ladder. After all, of the 100 odd journalists in every publishing house how many will ever actually make it to the top. There are only so many positions vacant. And with the competition increasing year by year sheer survival is at stake especially if you are ambitious.

I am not overly worried about that aspect. But in an industry where quality no longer seems to matter can your experience and the quality of your work take you where you really deserve to be? If you love writing then you don’t want to end up as an executive or resident editor. Not much writing that you can do at those levels.

But then I don't think many would love to remain just a correspondent either no matter at what level in the hierarchy. But then probably you can't think of any other profession, which gives you this thrill or at least the ego boost. The question is how long can this perk you up? You don’t want to file mundane everyday stories for the rest of your file. Or maybe you are not good at anything else, which I sometimes think is probably the reason why many join the media.

But going by the experience of the individual who I mentioned earlier, most might end up doing just that. Despite being good his age is a factor that will ensure that he doesn't get a job anywhere else. Who wants old fossils when there's so much enthu young blood around? There must be something wrong with you if you haven't made it big with so much experience. So either take what you get or get out. Now is it his fault that he was content with what he had and didn’t bother participating in the rat race which took his peers places. Now if he was there at the top it would have to be at the cost of one of those very peers. After all, till a year back, journos, in Mumbai at least, didn't have many options as far as hopping around was concerned.