MESSED UP

“Are you guys coming? Its 8:45pm, we’ll have to do the dishes if you don’t hurry up…”

“It’s so hot in here…Our mess should get an award for having a state-of-the-art central heating system. Oh crap! Rajma! Why do they keep feeding us with this poisonous sh**?”

With that sort of a reaction, I should have just stormed out of the mess and probably eaten in a dhaba [1]. But…

“I can’t! I just ate out yesterday thanks to Chhole-Bhature. You know how fond I am of those elastic Bhaturas. Now I’m broke. You guys go ahead.”

So I had to go for the compromise. I was not among those who would hoist the white flag so soon. I decided to eat, but just for the sake of it. “Bhaiya jaldi plate lana!” I demanded. I poured one serving spoon of Rajma, a couple of pieces of potato from the dish which constituted of an unidentified and undeterminable mixture.

I must though confess that at least the Rotis were not rubbery. Nonetheless, owing to its ‘mess-y’origin, it was pretty hard to digest.

So I scurried through my so-called dinner and got up in probably what should be scripted as a record time, thus earning the cynosure of all the eyeballs, belonging to those satiating their tongues and tummies। But they say that the mind is faster than light and hence, also than my eating speed. It had managed to scrutinize a few memories during my fraction-course meal.

***

“I don’t want to eat any of that stuff, Ma!. I’m tired of this mundane routine meal of yellow dal and rice.”

“Apu! Stop being such a spoilt brat! You have anyway made it a point to not touch tomatoes, karela, brinjal, so on and so forth. Now at least don’t add basic ‘rice and dal’ to that list. How will you endure this preparation phase? You won’t have anyone coercing you like this in your mess.”

“I shall look forward to that eagerly.”

***

A year later, I was already packing up to leave. And this is where I landed up. My college, MNNIT Allahabad, had a reputation of being in the top from the bottom, when it came to hospitality. I was going to regret not listening to mom earlier.

I realized that on the very first day when I had to fight the fiercest of battles for my breakfast. The freshmen had instigated a virtual coup in the mess. Never in my life had I imagined that I’d have to duck, parry and literally assault, for two slices of dry bread with fried potato (the protagonist) filling, covering just about a quarter of the bread surface.

I learnt that the standards were set to go down even further as the days would unfold. And…the seniors are always right. The rice got drier with time, the dal dilute, the vegetables became increasingly hard to distinguish and the potato, resolute as ever. Wouldn’t be astonished if a few cases of acute anorexia be reported in the near future!

On Wednesdays and Saturdays, our mess had something special in offer. No sir! No Chicken, can’t afford that, as Allahabad goes down as one of the holy cities; a tourist destination where people wash their sins, mind you, after committing them. So thanks to ‘The Threesome’ we have to settle for kingdom Plantae.

What’s so “Special” about those two particular meals? Well, for one, we get paneer; as though that’s something we would die for and that too with double the oil supply. Post meal ‘Gelusil’ doses are a characteristic feature on those days. To add to it, the meager quantity of Paneer cubes is interspersed in the unctuous gravy and requires vigorous rummaging to retrieve. The very sight of mortal beings doing the same publicly was seriously hilarious to me.

***

Hang on! There is a twist in the tale. It may have been involuntary and unintentional, but I, myself had actually started sieving out those Paneer cubes from the deeps of the gravy. And surprisingly I had also become active in pouncing on the Gulaab Jamun, a sweet dish I have despised since childhood.

Basically, I was starting to become a part of it. The mess may have been pathetic. Some of the dishes may have been absurdly inexplicable, eg. The yellow Kadhi- consumed by none and yet it prevails. But I could apply my methods to adapt. And one has to recognize the work put in by the rustic but friendly mess workers, whose day begins when the previous one ends for many of us and who leave no stones unturned to fulfill our urbane demands.

So it was now well established that my answer to the below standard mess food was simple- “no consumption”. But I had to get some nourishment; I had to live after all.

This is where my mess had changed me. I was the thirsty traveler, stuck in the desert, and was realizing the essence of water. I had learnt how to enjoy good food, whenever and wherever provided with it. The last three years transformed me into a Gourmet; my mother, my Grandma and of course my Nanny, being the connoisseurs. Of course an infinite list of restaurants [1] should also be added to that list as I leave no stones unturned in gobbling up as much as possible, as though this were my last meal.

At home, the enhanced foodie in me was greeted with an element of surprise, but was welcomed with spread arms. My feelings for that very meal comprising of arhar dal–rice garnished with ghee, had turned on its head. That wasn’t all. There were funnier things on the card. My demand-list now also encompassed milk, cheese and recipes incorporating coriander leaves and tomato!

All the readers who are unaware of my childhood obstinacy and tantrums with regard to food just assume this statement to be analogous to the sun rising in the west.

Believe it or not, this newly pronounced glutton may well demand some fried fish, the next time he’s headed home-wards.

[1]- Refer to “Two Worlds, One Country”…September 2008.

The Phoenix Within

It was a cold and wintry night of January 1989 when I, Pradeepta Panigrahi was born in this world. My parents decided to call me Apu, my short and sweet nickname.

Apu was as sweet (and short too) as his name. He had very rapidly topped the favorites list of every family member. Of course he had no competition to go with, so the fact that he was the apple of everyone’s eyes did not come as a surprise. But to his credit, he was a cheerful and playful baby, who rarely cried. Apu also had a beautiful and bushy set of eyelashes among his attributes.

The little toddler had slowly grown into a shy little boy as Apu was almost ready for his preliminary set of lessons in life. He got into school, made new friends and more importantly made a new start to his life. The term ‘Apu’ had been reinforced, though on some occasions into Appu as well.

Apu learnt a lot of new things along the way. One of the major breakthroughs came during his later years of primary school, when he started mastering the art of cricket. Over the years, cricket went on to become his passion in life. Though, he never went to become a cricketer.

I should probably shed some light on the word ‘shy’ which I had earlier associated with Apu। Apu was never comfortable with people. He simply loathed socializing. Every time he would go to a party, it would be followed by a post event presentation at home regarding what his problem was in simply opening his mouth and uttering a couple of words in front of other people.

Apu also was not the best of students. He was inherently lazy and enjoyed being creative. But they say time heals all wounds. So with time Apu had started learning arts of management. Although his verbal output during public gatherings continued to be minimal, he had mastered the art of smiling. Whenever awkward, just smile-“heee J ”! Even in studies, he was showing some progress. He had started enjoying the company of books and that reflected in his performance.

But this was when Apu was not keeping well. The circumstances had changed his routine, his priorities. Believe it or not Apu was dying. It was like a cancer, ever so slow and yet heading towards the inevitable. But life had funny ways of dealing. As Apu reached his end, another life was taking shape almost simultaneously. His name was Pradeepta.

Pradeepta was hard working, disciplined and most importantly, determined. His life got off to terrific start with some wonderful achievements at a very early stage. Pradeepta’s success made him widely acknowledged. He persisted with his perseverance and tried his level best to continue to reap the fruits of success. Not that he had a choice. Actually it was not he, who was behind this driving force. The time demanded so.

But that was the problem. If the time got the best out of him, it also siphoned out the worst. Pradeepta had become highly insecure regarding what the future held for him. Cut throat competition was at its toughest. The fear of failure was looming around him and feelings like nervousness, tension, bitterness and rage were all creeping into him.

Pradeepta did not enjoy cricket, nor was he creative. But somewhere deep inside, he was lazy and did get distracted. Hang on! That was not Pradeepta. So was it…?

Indeed it was. Apu was not dead.

So Pradeepta finally managed to slog on and overcome some of the odds in the end to enter a decent undergraduate institute. That meant a new way of life for him. He would now be on his own. But Pradeepta had a new set of problems in coping with this new challenge. The parasites of tension and insecurity still thrived within him and he now had to face several prejudices in the form of taunts.

All in all, Pradeepta was unhappy and a turn around was called for. So desperate and choiceless, Pradeepta had to do it. He killed himself. Surprisingly though, nobody was mourning, not even his parents. On the contrary they were all celebrating. And the occasion?- The birth of a boy. He was christened Prady.

Prady intrinsically knew how to enjoy life. He maintained a fair distance from academics and was quite active in co-curriculars. Prady also loved to entertain everybody with his rather lame jokes and maintain a light atmosphere. He made friends, hanged out, dressed up, bought a lot of things and of course, loved to eat. Eat good food that is; defined as the food available at home or/and at restaurants and fast food chains. As a matter of fact he ate in his mess just for the sake of it and the amount would be enough to make a sumptuous meal, for a mouse.

That pretty much sums it up. Prady had basically learnt how to extract the best out of himself and be selective. He played cricket, he learnt how to swim, took part in quizzes, events and several contests, he even won some. Setting foot into new ventures and thereby discovering new arenas of talent within was something he was not reluctant to try out. But Prady had the tendency of getting apprehensive when the tides were not favorable. An underlying tension incessantly disturbed him, especially during exam periods, which was followed by an outburst with someone or the other.

But I would not blame Prady for that. After all it was not him. Excuse me? In that case…?

Well, it did not take Prady an exorcist to find out that it had to be the ghost of Pradeepta who was haunting him. After all he was born the same day on which Pradeepta had met with his end. But Prady also loved cricket and enjoyed creativity. So could it be possible that he was suffering from a case of multiple haunting. Absolutely! Apu, too had joined in the league.

Nevertheless, Prady kept hanging in there and did not allow the former two, to get the better of him. Oh I almost forgot to mention. An interesting activity that Prady loved to indulge in, was writing articles for his blog.

Folks! It’s time for the revelation now. I am Prady. I am Pradeepta. I am Apu. As though you did not know!

Indeed I may have unearthed a lot from within me in the last couple of years. I may love Prady. But Prady will have to die sooner or later. Unlike Pradeepta he won’t have to take an extreme step. Worse than that, he will be murdered, brutally. The suspects list will include the world, its people, the circumstances, the time… But none of them will be found guilty. What actually will undergo prosecution in the end is the weakness within.

But justice shall be denied to Prady. That is because his heir, his successor who would probably be Mr. Panigrahi may not bother to fight despite being perturbed. Mr. Panigrahi will probably be more curtailed in his actions. He will not enjoy the freedoms which Prady did. Mr. Panigrahi will have to bear a polished personality as he may end up being a puppet in the hands of some Mr. Boss. But even his pains shall come to an end some day or the other. Next in line shall be Panigrahi Sir, Panigrahi Babuji and finally a Late Pradeepta Panigrahi somewhere down the line.(after a loooong time hopefully) . But Apu will always remain immortal deep inside and so will Pradeepta, Prady and the entire hierarchy.

The fact is that a person lives and dies multiple times mentally, within his shelf life. Change is unavoidable and omni prevalent. Sometimes it may be voluntary and sometimes involuntary. I had earlier attributed the cause to internal weakness. But since it happens to everyone, changing is considered normal. But changing more than a specified number of times is probably what actually indicates weakness.

So the best implication that could be taken home from here is that whenever you are staring down the barrel or are depressed and fed up with yourself, you simply kill yourself. Mind you! Yourself! Not your body, because that, once terminated shall never return. But you can be reborn, even if it has to be from the ashes.

And one more thing- The next time you read the birth and mortality rate statistics in the social sciences textbook, kindly multiply those numbers by 4 or 5 or even more.

HOLI : Red, Green &…BLUES !!!

Unlike every other night, I was going to bed that night with an underlying tension. The reason- it was Holi, the great Indian festival of colors, next day. Holi day was probably the only holiday I rued over.

            I obviously did not sleep well and it was action stations the moment I woke up. My mom understood my pain very well and had hence decided lock us up inside the house to avoid Holi visitors. I told her not to step out of the house as though there was an ongoing terror attack outdoors. In fact, there virtually was one.

            There were these ghastly figures, completely soaked with colored water and throwing water and colors at each other. At times they would single out a person from amongst themselves and go for a gang-attack. The funny part was that, being in my neighborhood, they had to be acquaintances, but all of them were equally unrecognizable and resembled characters from The Planet of Apes.

            Mom asked whether I had changed my mind a wee bit after seeing them have fun. Fun??? Well that was not quite my idea of having fun. I replied-“On the contrary, my adamancy just got reinforced.” She smiled and then got back to her Holi business of offering Gujiyas. She had worked all day long on the eve of Holi along with the Baayis or Nannies to prepare a whole bunch of those delicious sweetmeats. But seeing some color smeared on it, as an aftermath of some early morning Holi with the maids, I ruthlessly rejected it. I turned on the T.V. for some entertainment, but gosh! every channel was airing Holi related songs and programs. “Holi ke din dil khil jaate hain…”, “Arey hori khele Raghubeera…” Laloo Prasad’s Holi and Aishwarya Rai’s Holi; that was all I got.

Then all of a sudden the bell rang and in came a voice-“We know you are in there!” Holy Crap! They were our family friends. I scrammed off upstairs like a tracer bullet. I then heard some noise, some squeals, some guffaws and finally the one I was dying for, the door being bolted. I lingered back downstairs and was shocked to see my mom inch close towards turning into one of those chimpanzees. She had Gulaal all over her hair and face and that smell, huffff ! 

Now it was my turn to tackle people as next in line were my friends. I strictly turned them down. Their orders gradually evolved into requests and finally, begging. Of course one could figure out that their intentions were still notorious. So I deployed my mom as my bodyguard and asked them to be gentle. Thankfully they were. I dashed back to the bathroom and washed off every trace of color on my face.

Finally, I breathed a sigh of relief as the sun was past its zenith and Holi hours were officially closed. I took some rest and recalled the sequence of events that morning. Every uncle, aunty, son, daughter had the same old question- “Oh, why is he so scared of Holi?” My mind was soon on a tour down memory lane and Ghosts of the Holi past had started haunting me.

It was 1995, my first ever Holi in India. We resided in the Guest House of IIT Kanpur back then. I had no clue about what Holi was and wandered out in the corridors of the building in pursuit of finding out. Well, I found out, and in a harsh way. I was relentlessly attacked by some disfigured and apparently demented creatures. I was drenched and in tears. I cried my voice hoarse and sprinted back to our room, our bunker, at least for that day. It took one hell of an effort to pacify that 6-year old heartbroken boy, who played his first and probably his last Holi for a long, long time.

            That’s all? But this happens to almost everyone on their first Holi. I guess it all boils down to the mind after this. Some take this in a sporting spirit and enjoy the essence of Holi. Some are sensitive and question its necessity or may also end up running away from it. But why is it so, that it is mostly the bully-natured kids who end up being the initiators and the reticent kids, at the receiving end. I guess I have given away the answer in the question itself. There will always be some who are gregarious, some reticent, some extroverts, some shy and some who are hedonistic by nature. It could be inherent or time and environment induced. Well, there are people who have dedicated an entire lifetime in developing theories regarding nature of people. So I think I should just suspend my research here as my perspective and leave the rest upon the psychologists.

            So now we know that I belong to the shy class. But does that end over there? Nopes! After that comes an eternity of taunts regarding the category. I always thought, why me? The reserved ones make an easy target, eh? I was wrong. If shy people are subjected to teasing then their counterparts, the extroverts, have a perpetual ‘Naughty’ or ‘Irritating’ stamp associated with them. Every action has its equal and opposite reaction. But it is actions which decide your destiny. So actions are a must and hence concluded that the reactions are inevitable. “Kuch toh Log kahenge…”.That’s their job.

            Even Iron melts after a certain amount of temperature. It took me 12 years of questions, taunts and jibes to reach my saturation point of tolerating the pressure. It was the year 2007, during the first year of undergraduate studies, when I gave in. I opened the door and took that small step for a man. (& maybe a giant leap towards mankind too) Celebrating with me was my bunch of mates from schooldays. We lived up to our reputation of doing something out of the box by throwing each other into a puddle and many such fun filled things of the like. So there I was, among them, one of them. Another ape called Apu had just joined the league, this one being a green one. That’s right folks! I was totally green and boy! What solid colors. They just wouldn’t go. I scrubbed and scraped myself red (from green) and ended up with a badly rash-ed face and perhaps some flexed biceps as well. This was more than enough to prevent me from playing the very next year.

            I would have skipped yet again this year had I not got a Gtalk ping from myself. It was Apu Pinging Apu (or Prady Pinging Prady, for readers in my college). The same fears, the same perception of eccentric monkey-like figures and the same belittling feeling of being an outcast for that day. I was asked for some tips to avoid Holi. I was tempted to share my 12 year experience, but I refrained. The query had come from my close friend’s little sibling who like me, was yet another one of those confirmed anti-Holi-ic. The first thought that came across my mind was that, what’s the harm in just giving a shot with the colors along with your friends, at that age? Why Hello?...I had a complete childhood phase at my disposal to try out.

            Anyway, she did take the plunge and at an age and stage far prior to mine. Meanwhile I was left choice-less for this year as I could ill afford to back off after delivering a motivational speech of that caliber, if at all it had anything to do with her decision.

            So what’s the conclusion of this lengthy, never-ending story? The fact that everyone has his or her own pace in life; be it the pace of learning or the pace of overcoming fears, could be one conclusion. It can also be well-inferred from one of the passages that, everything in life comes with a price-tag. As far as Holi is concerned, I guess playing it is completely a matter of choice. It may be a little hard for peers, who grab every opportunity to make fun of each other, to understand. But at least the elders should never impose Holi upon kids. Having said this, the festival overall creates a wonderful platform to get the people of this beautiful nation, where the networks are increasing but the connections are decreasing, together at least for a day.

            But does that mean I will be playing Holi regularly? Hmm…I would suggest don’t trust me on that one. The fear factor may have died out, but the laziness factor may still creep in. Let’s see.

Happy Holi folks!

IN 2 SIX ZEROES ONE ONE TWENTY TEN

Here I am after hitting another one of those writers’ blocks where you just cannot step ahead of that first paragraph. So I have decided to do away with all the formalities of themes and just chat.

It is New Year time; that time of the year when most of us are enjoying vacations and trying our best to be “happy”. My sarcasm here is probably unjustified. The reason- The pursuit of happiness may last a whole lifetime but that is no reason to drop your shoulders and thereby demoralize others around you. In short, be happy, man! Somebody tell me that.

New Year time is also that time of the year when an Aamir Khan movie hits the screens across the country. This time on it was 3 Idiots. With its remarkable reviews and humongous collections in only 4 days of its release, I just had to head for the multiplex as soon as possible. Kindly mind the use of multiplex here instead of what maybe would/should have been cinema hall.

I was not very impressed by the trailers of the movie. Somehow dancing around wildly and making faces just did not suit Aamir. My take was that if he pulled this one off like his last 6-7 super-duper hits, then he is one heck of a genius. Well, he did and seriously, hats off! Though, there were a few minor flaws. First of all there was an unnecessary attempt to insert deliberate emotions. The film has been interspersed with bursts of over acting and obvious artificial laughter and tears. It also seems as though Aamir Khan was still in the hangover from Taare Zameen Par and the Rajkumar Hirani in his creation, the Munnabhai series. Talking of Hangovers, god only knows how The Hangover got such an incredible response from viewers in India with its stereotyped storyline. Maybe the same explanation shall hold for Wanted being a hit and Delhi6, a flop.

The crux of 3 Idiots however, is the thing to be taken home. As we shout ourselves hoarse complaining about our defective or rather our useless education system, the movie has thrown a solution right at our faces. Teachers! Kindly teach better, generate interest and students! If you’re still not interested then please find your suited path. I myself am in the same pursuit at the moment and hence am more than willing to testify the bottom-line of the movie. You will not do it well unless you enjoy it.

You must be wondering why I have hit the good old concept of adapting and trying to enjoy the job at hand, for a six. I believe these notions are better limited to books or perhaps I simply lack that ability. But with the limited knowledge that I have of the subject in my blood, physics, I have learnt that whenever the frequency matches the natural frequency, it resonates. Resonance can be further clarified with the examples of Sachin Tendulkar, Shreya Ghoshal and a horde of satisfied people including my idol, Harsha Bhogle.

An argument which is quite often presented in favor of the education system is the fact that Indians are doing so well in America. I can only laugh at that. We are simply mocking ourselves by saying that. Those NRIs who have done well actually fled the country for good, thereby escaping the agonies of the system and have thereafter, thrived. But we leave no stones unturned in taking the credit. Remember what SRK had said in Swades? “जब भी हम दौड़ में पिछड़ने लगते हैं, हम अपने संस्कृति की दुहाई देते हैं”.

Anyway let’s change this controversial topic and get back to Harsha Bhogle. No prizes for guessing my dream job now. But there were a few fingers pointed at him for his re-grown hair. Did he have to do it? I say why not? Actually the fairness cream issue will be better suited for this discussion. They say that the fairness cream ads promote racism on the basis of color. Come on! Let’s face it. Not many will like it but, the fairer skin is arguably the more attractive one. Just like everyone wants to be rich, many want to be attractive too. At least in the fairer sex, they want to. That is nature’s law. Well, human beings through engineering have learnt how to defy nature and acquire what has not been given. One of those engineering products is called fairness cream and in order to sell, it needs to be advertised. And if these ads do promote racism then I apologise but racism is in our tradition. Otherwise we would not have been praying for fair babies and would not be obsessed for ‘Gori Bahus’. In similar lines men too can turn fair and also get back their hair. I wonder why I am so feeling so insecure about the hair issue?

Responding to all the criticism regarding length, I should end this now. But how can I leave out cricket? Whoops! Does that mean this is just halftime? Let us see. I will pick up the most burning topic in cricket off late- ‘The future of test cricket’. In the most polite manner I would like to say that test cricket, I am sorry, has no future. That is, if we continue to have test matches like the one recently concluded between India and Sri Lanka in Ahmedabad. I do not think there are many of my prototypes in this world and hence would like to clarify. Scores of 400, 500 and 700 in respective innings without a result will certainly not help the cause. Aren’t low scoring test matches more interesting? India vs New Zealand 2002, the scores were 99, 94, 200 odd and 150. It was over in 3 days and was full of excitement. Despite all this, it is quite a shame that the ICC keeps poking it’s nose whenever there is a unique pitch. A dug up pitch at Mumbai attracted far more eyeballs than a dead rubber, flat as pancake pitch at Chennai, in spite of Sehwag’s Triple ton. Leave the flat wickets for the ODIs and T20s, in which there is no shortage of demand for the same.

Finally I would like to wish all my readers a very Happy New Year. Mind you, it’s a very small “ALL”. Though I do not believe in resolutions, I will still take one, inspired purely by 3 Idiots. Let us all do more of what we really enjoy and want from the core of our hearts.

“I will watch more cricket and travel more often in trains.”

A little more of patience required folks! Just an afterthought! Did I just say trains? New Year time, by the way, is also that time of the year when the Indian concept of punctuality is redefined at blown up proportions. It was just the first day of fog today and four trains have collided with each other in two separate incidents. Most trains in Northern India have been delayed by durations sufficient for a couple of return trips. The little mysteries and surprises in store with the Indian railways makes me its fan, but this mysterious problem certainly does not. The country which has the earliest evidence of existence of universities and education and also produces the top notch scientists in the U.S., is currently failing to come up with a solution to this annual problem.

I know the answer to this statement of mine. “Why don’t you come up with a solution?”

Ladies and Gentlemen! I am pleased to announce that it is now formally over. I congratulate myself to have restricted myself to exactly two pages. Now let us blissfully go… INTO 00:00:00 1/1/2010.