Subramaniam is Vegetarian by choice and by upbringing (in equal measure). Unlike the ‘egg plant’ that he is detests due to its sheer lack of solidity and nausea inducing properties, meat is neither something that he detested as a form of food nor was it one which he endorsed or wished to eat. So, he was at ease while his friends gorged on ‘mutton kheema’ and ‘chicken shawarma’ while he simply enjoyed the delights of a bland and satiating ‘paneer Frankie’. It was well into September and past ‘Ganesh Chaturti,’ when epiphany struck him, but more on that later.
Ganesh Chaturti, was a celebration that he enjoyed in his childhood and one which he now grew irritated off due to its remarkable traffic halting qualities. And despite his love for the monsoon and its showers, he scratched his head in utter disbelief as the weather each day reminded him of Mumbai in vintage August and not the sporadically wet and mundane September that he knew off. A month that disguised itself into the monsoon records of the weatherman much like its successor October marked the onset of winter for the same weatherman, while in reality it heralded the onset of Timbuktu-esc humidity and accompanying discomfort. His friends continued to mock him for both his food habits and the weather of his city. He indulged in the banter because he realised the redundancy of pursuing an argument. Long ago he lamented that there wasn’t one Madras and Madarasi language but four distinct states and languages in South India, but it fell on deaf ears. He realised then that some of them were a genetic abnormality; of human beings with a considerable strain of the Neanderthal.
Ah! We must get back to the epiphany that dawned on him. He quoted from Ajay Devgn (the spelling is right!), “Aata Majhi Satakli!”
His was a peculiar predicament; the jack of all trades, beliefs and actions. In a little time span of nearly a quarter of a century he had managed to change his field of interest or vocation thrice. So while originally he was besotted by engineering, the love of all parents Tamizh (read Tamil) he was now well on his way to being the social researcher. But he did not know how to operate an I-pad or repair a broken radio or television set. At the same time he couldn’t quite comprehend Marx or Amartya Sen, and was neither left nor right of centre. You see this was compounded by the fact that he grew up as the lonely, introverted and fat-kid in life. And while he could not induce pity and warmth from of the opposite sex, he did not exercise or play any sport or have any musical or vocal talents. As a good friend of his once astutely observed, “Subbu, You try to be a stud but look like a geek. You look like a geek but don’t possess any modicum of knowledge or intelligence to be one.”
If this was not proof enough of the two faced mask that he wore through life, we will explore more. While the entire city and country fanatically cheered and worshipped a (crotch adjusting) sportsman called Sachin Tendulkar, he admired the determined and elegant Rahul Dravid. He could watch a Masala movie flick but only for so long till he started to grimace. But he could not at the same time like the post-modernist screw with your head endings of movies such as “The girl in yellow boots” or “A clockwork orange”. And if you thought that this left him only with cult movies in the urban sphere, think again. He liked the awesomeness of ‘Gunda’ but did not understand the phenomenon or the cult following behind ‘Michael Madan Kamarajan’ and nor did he find ‘Andaaz Apna Apna’ rib tickling. He was born and brought up in a city that some unabashedly abuse as cold, damp and noisy, and one which some proclaim with equal fervour as the liveliest and most spirited in the country. He had not yet learnt to converse in Marathi beyond a few lines that would get him past the ticket conductor or a government official. And he could not read or write Tamizh (yes for the last time it is not tamil and you have to roll the tongue and contort it into a syllable)
He was the kind of confused Tam-bhram who put the ‘Vibhooti’ across his forehead in the morning of an exam because he did not wish to incur the wrath and the look of confusion from the being who gave him birth, who continued to love him to a fault and who perfected the art of the filter coffee. The moment he stepped out of the house he rubbed off the ‘ash’ he was confused enough in life without having to explain to himself why he also wore simultaneously a pair of Indian manufactured denims, and a Vietnam made t-shirt titled ‘kappa’. The t-shirt also happened to be inexplicably black throughout, but for the prominent yellow coloured logo made up of a nude couple sitting with their backs to each other. And in some small measure he did not wear the ‘vibhooti’ because he wanted to be devoid of any outwardly religious symbol. At the same time the ‘holy thread’ hung across his torso and a pair or red strings were tied to his right wrist, that owed their presence to his family’s customs and to those that care for him, respectively. In this debate of traditions, custom or clothing it did not bother him that so many around believe in or do not believe in that guy (or girl) upstairs. God, to him is as abstract and as real as Schrödinger’s cat; both alive and dead at any instant of time.
So this was and is his peculiar predicament; of a pseudo Tamizhan, a pseudo Mumbaikar, a pseudo-atheist, a pseudo-iconoclast, a pseudo-engineer, a pseudo-leftist, and a psuedo everything, all at the same time. It is a sort of quarter life identity crisis that engulfed him, but one which he was unperturbed by. He munched on his Frankie, felt the drizzle of the overstaying rain, soaked in a breath of polluted air and relaxed in the company around him. His priorities in life were always clear to him; to get sufficiently satiating food, to get laid, to occasionally indulge in a few vices (accepted by society) and to eventually achieve world peace, and while he is at it to eradicate poverty and hunger.
Showing posts with label TRAVEL. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TRAVEL. Show all posts
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
CHAPTER – IV: Thoughts On How Not To Self Implode
Also Contains The Answer To The Meaning Of Life, only in Case You Were Wondering.
Conversations with a being who I might say are as weird and possibly as funny as they come:
me: I still think Fountain Head is Over rated. Howard Roark is a character as Mythical as it comes....
Martian: Ah, yes quite an eccentric human being and a rather interesting concept. But I wonder if people like that exist?
me: they don't! It is a theory to make us believe that the purpose of Life is life itself of being existential and Hedonistic.....that is as pretentious and vague as it gets.
Martian: See, I like the fact that it goes for unabashed glorification of talent. That is how it should be. But it's true sometimes that you're forced to conform so much that you lose sight of what is good and true and as it happens Rand’s is just an exaggerated version of reality
me: Alright how about the uncompromising attitude towards people and relationships? Is it possible? I mean the whole charade of don't expect anything from a person, revere the talent of the person for who he/she is and that and monkey sex is all that you get?
Martian: See, her relationships seem a bit screwed. The women enjoy men who can conquer them but want to defeat them, the men want women who are their equals and take pleasure in bringing them down...I am not sure if that even approaches normal but her characters aren't human most of the time they're exalted beings
me: As in the image of what we should be?
Martian: NO….more like sci-fi advanced creatures stuck in these times. Exalted means in a weird very unearthly but slightly out of your world and in a parallel Universe way. Do not get that confused with some sense of enchantment and aspiration. Bright as you think you are, as intelligent as you think you are, you are indeed no different than the E-coli virus in a galaxy, time and dimension not so far away.
me: Well I still look at the stars and feel insignificant irrespective of what Ayn Rand says.
Martian: I don’t blame you. I mean you evolved from Apes and as they say, “The apple doesn’t land too far away from the tree.” But to answer your bewilderment I don't feel insignificant. But I feel privileged to be here, when my genes could have died out, when our planet could have decided not to support life, that those starts didn't burn out, implode or turn into a black hole, it's a series of coincidences so perfect that it makes you believe in luck
me: Are you serious?? Luck! Nothing else, you still don't have an answer to the questions, “Why and Who?”
Martian: The way I see it, I have about 70 Martian years or say 90 Earth years here. It's a beautiful solar system to be. The real estate prices are low, you have a stable orbit, you might worry about the occasional asteroid but big old Jupiter takes care of that and really there isn’t much else to worry about except for food, good entertainment and getting some action. I am not sure there is a higher purpose.
me: Alright let say I ask you, What after?
Martian: What?
me: What after life?
Martian: I don't think I really care. In your terms, dust to dust old chap!
me: My point exactly!
Martian: Hold on. I am not sure I got your point. Do you believe there's nothing after?
Me: I will admit something: I am afraid that there is nothing after! Which questions what is it that I am doing here? And that I can't even exist or think about it after
Martian: Hold on don’t strain your Homo Sapien brain so much? Even if there was a higher purpose to all of this, with an inefficient brain like that your species isn’t really equipped to find it out. I mean good luck to you all for not trying to nuke yourselves. Which primitive life forms ever thought of destroying each other with Nuclear weapons? Any half decent species would have committed self-genocide or reinvented the string theory. I don't think that we were put here for any special reason. It's what you call luck or destiny that we all got to this point like this. What you do with your life does not have to depend on why you were put here. Isn't it the best feeling? That you aren't here for anything, that you're free to do as you like!
Me: Hmmmm….now that you put it that way and since we are destined to turn into dust then lets hit the bar it is Friday night after all and its is your turn to pay!
Martian: I don't know I I like the manic depressive you or the you who gets sloshed within 3 pints!
Conversations with a being who I might say are as weird and possibly as funny as they come:
me: I still think Fountain Head is Over rated. Howard Roark is a character as Mythical as it comes....
Martian: Ah, yes quite an eccentric human being and a rather interesting concept. But I wonder if people like that exist?
me: they don't! It is a theory to make us believe that the purpose of Life is life itself of being existential and Hedonistic.....that is as pretentious and vague as it gets.
Martian: See, I like the fact that it goes for unabashed glorification of talent. That is how it should be. But it's true sometimes that you're forced to conform so much that you lose sight of what is good and true and as it happens Rand’s is just an exaggerated version of reality
me: Alright how about the uncompromising attitude towards people and relationships? Is it possible? I mean the whole charade of don't expect anything from a person, revere the talent of the person for who he/she is and that and monkey sex is all that you get?
Martian: See, her relationships seem a bit screwed. The women enjoy men who can conquer them but want to defeat them, the men want women who are their equals and take pleasure in bringing them down...I am not sure if that even approaches normal but her characters aren't human most of the time they're exalted beings
me: As in the image of what we should be?
Martian: NO….more like sci-fi advanced creatures stuck in these times. Exalted means in a weird very unearthly but slightly out of your world and in a parallel Universe way. Do not get that confused with some sense of enchantment and aspiration. Bright as you think you are, as intelligent as you think you are, you are indeed no different than the E-coli virus in a galaxy, time and dimension not so far away.
me: Well I still look at the stars and feel insignificant irrespective of what Ayn Rand says.
Martian: I don’t blame you. I mean you evolved from Apes and as they say, “The apple doesn’t land too far away from the tree.” But to answer your bewilderment I don't feel insignificant. But I feel privileged to be here, when my genes could have died out, when our planet could have decided not to support life, that those starts didn't burn out, implode or turn into a black hole, it's a series of coincidences so perfect that it makes you believe in luck
me: Are you serious?? Luck! Nothing else, you still don't have an answer to the questions, “Why and Who?”
Martian: The way I see it, I have about 70 Martian years or say 90 Earth years here. It's a beautiful solar system to be. The real estate prices are low, you have a stable orbit, you might worry about the occasional asteroid but big old Jupiter takes care of that and really there isn’t much else to worry about except for food, good entertainment and getting some action. I am not sure there is a higher purpose.
me: Alright let say I ask you, What after?
Martian: What?
me: What after life?
Martian: I don't think I really care. In your terms, dust to dust old chap!
me: My point exactly!
Martian: Hold on. I am not sure I got your point. Do you believe there's nothing after?
Me: I will admit something: I am afraid that there is nothing after! Which questions what is it that I am doing here? And that I can't even exist or think about it after
Martian: Hold on don’t strain your Homo Sapien brain so much? Even if there was a higher purpose to all of this, with an inefficient brain like that your species isn’t really equipped to find it out. I mean good luck to you all for not trying to nuke yourselves. Which primitive life forms ever thought of destroying each other with Nuclear weapons? Any half decent species would have committed self-genocide or reinvented the string theory. I don't think that we were put here for any special reason. It's what you call luck or destiny that we all got to this point like this. What you do with your life does not have to depend on why you were put here. Isn't it the best feeling? That you aren't here for anything, that you're free to do as you like!
Me: Hmmmm….now that you put it that way and since we are destined to turn into dust then lets hit the bar it is Friday night after all and its is your turn to pay!
Martian: I don't know I I like the manic depressive you or the you who gets sloshed within 3 pints!
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Ying yang, road rage and a giant wheel ride, TGIF!!!
A sequel to the my monday blues article
This is what happens on a typical Friday evening when you get off work.
6 pm to 7pm:
I am on the highway to hell or the roadways of Mumbai, riding with my colleague Evil Keneval or TDM (tall dark and mallu for the uninitiated). Now in 10 years time with the metros and the countless fly-over bridges Mumbai will become more efficient in terms of travel and transport (I hope and I pray) but till then traffic jams and overcrowded streets will just have to be taken with a bucket full of salt.
You see when you have the width of half a road and the load of an expressway of traffic what you get is a sea, no an ocean of vehicles in all sizes, colours and sounds to form the single largest block of non progressive motion from Parel to Chembur.
There is only one way to beat the traffic, take the bike. The stallion of hope for all those who want to reach home early to catch that match at 7:30 pm or in general for anyone who wants to run away from all the satanic idling around that they just experienced in the last 8 hours in the office. And amongst these bikes it is the Pulsar which garners the maximum road space and by that logic the most accident space. The mean machine from the Bajaj household is subjected to every test of maneuverability and mileage that even its makers thought were inconceivable. So you have a situation when the person in front of you is listening to heavy metal while oblivious to cacophony of honking horns, chaste abuses in Hindi and whistles of the humble traffic policeman in the world around him.
But even the stallion from Bajaj will always be subjected to a prick. The 'prick' is the guy who blocks the corner of the road so that no one can move ahead. The guy who in the middle of stream lined traffic decides that he wants to play God and cut a sharp left. The man who(or at times woman) suddenly decides that he is possessed by the Lord Divine.
At this point I assume a declaration is made; “I want to block up traffic and I need to stop traffic to create the reverse sea split.” For those who aren’t in tune with Abrahamic faiths Moses splits the dead sea to make way for his people this was later followed 3millenia later by Jim Carrey in the movie Bruce almighty who splits the Traffic for his buggati (or Ferrari or Porsche). The reverse sea split now is when a clear path suddenly gets vanished to form a horizontal structure of metal and rubber. Yes Mumbai city is also home to religious history and mythology in its simple self.
I don’t drive but even I get irked by the 'prick'. Who blocks a runway of 100 meters where he (she as well, sorry if I appear misogynist) cannot move his car just because he sees a vacant spot by the side??
7pm-8pm
Waiting for my friends to arrive. I notice how the world falls apart when you are just waiting.
You try absorbing the sights and the sounds around you, it doesn’t work.
You try to make conversation with the chaat waala serving you pani puri, it doesn’t work.
You start calling all the people in the world, it doesn’t work.
You start conversations with yourself debating the meaning of human life, it doesn’t work.
The people next to you think that you are a mad man and you reassure them by smiling, it doesn’t work.
Nothing that you do makes time move any faster and the time you spend waiting is always excruciating. I am still waiting. Finally they arrive and we are off to Bandra to carter road, then Red Box and then a night of fun.
Past midnight
The world is whirling around in a perfectly vertical circle whilst I am latched on to a small seat witnessing fellow human beings laugh with mirth and sadistic pleasure. Normally that would be a metaphor for my life but on this particular Friday it was quite literally what I did! Yes, breaking away from the myth that I am content with my mundane self, I went on a giant wheel ride at Juhu beach at 15 minutes past midnight! Why you ask? When it comes to “Having a Mojo Quotient and being a man,” experts in the field (my friends) have always maintained that I rank in the negative. So when the opportunity presented itself in the form of a dare and a reward for Rs. 200, I simply took it up (note to self: don't sell yourself so short).
7am the next day
The highlight of the event described above is not the bike ride or the giant wheel ride. Alright a small wheel ride of only 15 feet meant for children with me being the only human being with facial hair and a weight in excess of x kg (hey, I am sensitive about my weight). The highlight was the when I came back home in the morning to catch my father reaching for the morning paper. Now back at my place between me and my dad we are always vying for the title of “I read the paper first in this house,”
I gave him a weak smile and said, “Good Morning.” No reply. Was I not audible? “Good Morning.” Did he choose to ignore me because of one little night out escapade, couldn't be. “I said Good Morning Father.”
Then came the reply with my father exuding his heightened Fatherly persona, with the air of the wised and aged, with his Grey hair now morphing into mythical proportions, “Good morning! that’s to greet people who are starting their day ahead not for the ones who have just concluded their night of futility. Good night!”
No prizes for guessing who got first rights on reading the paper that Saturday morning.
Note: To all those wondering what Yin Yang refers to it is the method of balancing by which one shifts one’s body with the motions of a bike so that one does not fall while battling inertia.
This is what happens on a typical Friday evening when you get off work.
6 pm to 7pm:
I am on the highway to hell or the roadways of Mumbai, riding with my colleague Evil Keneval or TDM (tall dark and mallu for the uninitiated). Now in 10 years time with the metros and the countless fly-over bridges Mumbai will become more efficient in terms of travel and transport (I hope and I pray) but till then traffic jams and overcrowded streets will just have to be taken with a bucket full of salt.
You see when you have the width of half a road and the load of an expressway of traffic what you get is a sea, no an ocean of vehicles in all sizes, colours and sounds to form the single largest block of non progressive motion from Parel to Chembur.
There is only one way to beat the traffic, take the bike. The stallion of hope for all those who want to reach home early to catch that match at 7:30 pm or in general for anyone who wants to run away from all the satanic idling around that they just experienced in the last 8 hours in the office. And amongst these bikes it is the Pulsar which garners the maximum road space and by that logic the most accident space. The mean machine from the Bajaj household is subjected to every test of maneuverability and mileage that even its makers thought were inconceivable. So you have a situation when the person in front of you is listening to heavy metal while oblivious to cacophony of honking horns, chaste abuses in Hindi and whistles of the humble traffic policeman in the world around him.
But even the stallion from Bajaj will always be subjected to a prick. The 'prick' is the guy who blocks the corner of the road so that no one can move ahead. The guy who in the middle of stream lined traffic decides that he wants to play God and cut a sharp left. The man who(or at times woman) suddenly decides that he is possessed by the Lord Divine.
At this point I assume a declaration is made; “I want to block up traffic and I need to stop traffic to create the reverse sea split.” For those who aren’t in tune with Abrahamic faiths Moses splits the dead sea to make way for his people this was later followed 3millenia later by Jim Carrey in the movie Bruce almighty who splits the Traffic for his buggati (or Ferrari or Porsche). The reverse sea split now is when a clear path suddenly gets vanished to form a horizontal structure of metal and rubber. Yes Mumbai city is also home to religious history and mythology in its simple self.
I don’t drive but even I get irked by the 'prick'. Who blocks a runway of 100 meters where he (she as well, sorry if I appear misogynist) cannot move his car just because he sees a vacant spot by the side??
7pm-8pm
Waiting for my friends to arrive. I notice how the world falls apart when you are just waiting.
You try absorbing the sights and the sounds around you, it doesn’t work.
You try to make conversation with the chaat waala serving you pani puri, it doesn’t work.
You start calling all the people in the world, it doesn’t work.
You start conversations with yourself debating the meaning of human life, it doesn’t work.
The people next to you think that you are a mad man and you reassure them by smiling, it doesn’t work.
Nothing that you do makes time move any faster and the time you spend waiting is always excruciating. I am still waiting. Finally they arrive and we are off to Bandra to carter road, then Red Box and then a night of fun.
Past midnight
The world is whirling around in a perfectly vertical circle whilst I am latched on to a small seat witnessing fellow human beings laugh with mirth and sadistic pleasure. Normally that would be a metaphor for my life but on this particular Friday it was quite literally what I did! Yes, breaking away from the myth that I am content with my mundane self, I went on a giant wheel ride at Juhu beach at 15 minutes past midnight! Why you ask? When it comes to “Having a Mojo Quotient and being a man,” experts in the field (my friends) have always maintained that I rank in the negative. So when the opportunity presented itself in the form of a dare and a reward for Rs. 200, I simply took it up (note to self: don't sell yourself so short).
7am the next day
The highlight of the event described above is not the bike ride or the giant wheel ride. Alright a small wheel ride of only 15 feet meant for children with me being the only human being with facial hair and a weight in excess of x kg (hey, I am sensitive about my weight). The highlight was the when I came back home in the morning to catch my father reaching for the morning paper. Now back at my place between me and my dad we are always vying for the title of “I read the paper first in this house,”
I gave him a weak smile and said, “Good Morning.” No reply. Was I not audible? “Good Morning.” Did he choose to ignore me because of one little night out escapade, couldn't be. “I said Good Morning Father.”
Then came the reply with my father exuding his heightened Fatherly persona, with the air of the wised and aged, with his Grey hair now morphing into mythical proportions, “Good morning! that’s to greet people who are starting their day ahead not for the ones who have just concluded their night of futility. Good night!”
No prizes for guessing who got first rights on reading the paper that Saturday morning.
Note: To all those wondering what Yin Yang refers to it is the method of balancing by which one shifts one’s body with the motions of a bike so that one does not fall while battling inertia.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
The Liberal Conservative
Don't know if the title is an irony while being an antithesis though I am completely sure that it is plagiarised
On my way to Bhopal to meet my cousin for the weekend, I shared two and a half hours on a bus ride with an IT professional also employed at my plant site here in Madhya Pradesh. What makes this journey and my company distinctive is that my co-passenger is the Indian equivalent of a Cowboy from Texas;he is Haryanvi, 6ft 2inches(apparently average height in his town!) and the son of the soil kind of a guy.
Between discussing my line of work, the best way to exercise, forming the perfect wrestling hand grip which he learnt in an akhada(this information was much to the dismay of my wrist), how to classify good looking women with primitive animal and bird names and everything under the sun we also discussed a few social issues.
I mean I was comfortable doing so. What radical new thoughts could I encounter? May be a few dark truths about India which I could read anyway. You see I fool myself into believing that I am the iconoclast in a conservative world, filled with liberal ideas and thoughts that a new India is geared up for. So when he told me, on my insistence what a Khaap and a Khaap panchayat meant I wasn't too surprised. Did you know the Khaap defines your brotherhood and everyone in it and also an area where you can't get married into. This includes a unit formed from 12 villages, everyone who shares your father's surname, your mother's maiden surname and your grandmother's(father's mother) maiden surname. And well yes there are still people left who you can marry then.
I then learnt the origins of the surname Tyaagi, well its more of a debate you got to chose which version you believe in: brahmin descendants who gave up all land thus sacrificed (Tyaag)or Brahminical descendants who gave up (also tyaag)their ways, either way one more cast defined fun fact in the Hindi Hinterland. The topic moved on to honour killings which my guide thought was alright if someone teases and tries to hit on your sister or tries any inter-religious love marriage.
So far so good, along expected lines, conservative and well medieval almost. But here is where he surprised me, on the question of marrying (arranged marriage) within your own khaap,he said "when people marry into their own Khaaps the marriage surely takes place with the blessings of all the elders and panchayati heads around? but why do they not check the Khaap thing then and there? instead of waiting for a decade when the couples have kids and then declare that they are now siblings and can't live together. It is stupid and a down right shame."
Critical commentary on a social practice. Not that it was a radical thought but I was impressed none the less, only to be disappointed again by some unfortunate Mohammedan bashing which was crude, stupid and condemnable. And then every fibre of my Mumbai bred apple pie (don't know the Indian equivalent of this american phrase) life started to get agitated. I mean it is irrelevant if there is a religion you belong to or not, hey it is even irrelevant as I think whether there is A god, any god or anything but anarchy and chaos controlling the universe (this all dramatically changes while praying to get India to win a cricket match though). So I almost shut out and then he hits me, mentally that is.
'You must have a girlfriend, so do you smoke? You must have smoked occasionally, does she know?'
To all this I give a nod of the head which while it doesn't say no also doesn't say yes, and that is where I leave it dear readers I am not giving you any answers. And just as I leave it to you to decide my friend decided that the nod of the head was in fact an affirmative declaration.
"Why don't you tell her? So if you do tell her why don't you smoke in front of her or better yet smoke with her?"
This is when it hit me now of all the things I don't have any problems with women choosing and doing; clothes, profession, curfew deadlines, drinks, sexual orientation the major turn off apart from being high handed, incapable of holding a conversation and being part of a satanic cult, is when they smoke!! I do not know why.
If you can smoke surely she can too, he said. I mean does she not have the rights to do so??
So the cowboy from haryana with his rustic thoughts on life dealt a blow to the liberal Mumbaiite. Isn't considering something a turnoff as good as an ill conceived prejudice and more importantly isn't it as good as those other conservative statements which I seem to abhor?? What makes me be so condescending towards his thoughts?
Well may be yes but may be no. While I am no expert on the principle of lassiez fair or a proponent of unabashed neo-liberalism I think the idea behind it all is that I can hold on to my thoughts just as much as he can hold on to his beliefs. As conflicting as they may be, as much as I wan't to oppose them my right and my wrong are well just mine and not applicable to any one else, just as long as it does not harm people around us in any way.
On my way to Bhopal to meet my cousin for the weekend, I shared two and a half hours on a bus ride with an IT professional also employed at my plant site here in Madhya Pradesh. What makes this journey and my company distinctive is that my co-passenger is the Indian equivalent of a Cowboy from Texas;he is Haryanvi, 6ft 2inches(apparently average height in his town!) and the son of the soil kind of a guy.
Between discussing my line of work, the best way to exercise, forming the perfect wrestling hand grip which he learnt in an akhada(this information was much to the dismay of my wrist), how to classify good looking women with primitive animal and bird names and everything under the sun we also discussed a few social issues.
I mean I was comfortable doing so. What radical new thoughts could I encounter? May be a few dark truths about India which I could read anyway. You see I fool myself into believing that I am the iconoclast in a conservative world, filled with liberal ideas and thoughts that a new India is geared up for. So when he told me, on my insistence what a Khaap and a Khaap panchayat meant I wasn't too surprised. Did you know the Khaap defines your brotherhood and everyone in it and also an area where you can't get married into. This includes a unit formed from 12 villages, everyone who shares your father's surname, your mother's maiden surname and your grandmother's(father's mother) maiden surname. And well yes there are still people left who you can marry then.
I then learnt the origins of the surname Tyaagi, well its more of a debate you got to chose which version you believe in: brahmin descendants who gave up all land thus sacrificed (Tyaag)or Brahminical descendants who gave up (also tyaag)their ways, either way one more cast defined fun fact in the Hindi Hinterland. The topic moved on to honour killings which my guide thought was alright if someone teases and tries to hit on your sister or tries any inter-religious love marriage.
So far so good, along expected lines, conservative and well medieval almost. But here is where he surprised me, on the question of marrying (arranged marriage) within your own khaap,he said "when people marry into their own Khaaps the marriage surely takes place with the blessings of all the elders and panchayati heads around? but why do they not check the Khaap thing then and there? instead of waiting for a decade when the couples have kids and then declare that they are now siblings and can't live together. It is stupid and a down right shame."
Critical commentary on a social practice. Not that it was a radical thought but I was impressed none the less, only to be disappointed again by some unfortunate Mohammedan bashing which was crude, stupid and condemnable. And then every fibre of my Mumbai bred apple pie (don't know the Indian equivalent of this american phrase) life started to get agitated. I mean it is irrelevant if there is a religion you belong to or not, hey it is even irrelevant as I think whether there is A god, any god or anything but anarchy and chaos controlling the universe (this all dramatically changes while praying to get India to win a cricket match though). So I almost shut out and then he hits me, mentally that is.
'You must have a girlfriend, so do you smoke? You must have smoked occasionally, does she know?'
To all this I give a nod of the head which while it doesn't say no also doesn't say yes, and that is where I leave it dear readers I am not giving you any answers. And just as I leave it to you to decide my friend decided that the nod of the head was in fact an affirmative declaration.
"Why don't you tell her? So if you do tell her why don't you smoke in front of her or better yet smoke with her?"
This is when it hit me now of all the things I don't have any problems with women choosing and doing; clothes, profession, curfew deadlines, drinks, sexual orientation the major turn off apart from being high handed, incapable of holding a conversation and being part of a satanic cult, is when they smoke!! I do not know why.
If you can smoke surely she can too, he said. I mean does she not have the rights to do so??
So the cowboy from haryana with his rustic thoughts on life dealt a blow to the liberal Mumbaiite. Isn't considering something a turnoff as good as an ill conceived prejudice and more importantly isn't it as good as those other conservative statements which I seem to abhor?? What makes me be so condescending towards his thoughts?
Well may be yes but may be no. While I am no expert on the principle of lassiez fair or a proponent of unabashed neo-liberalism I think the idea behind it all is that I can hold on to my thoughts just as much as he can hold on to his beliefs. As conflicting as they may be, as much as I wan't to oppose them my right and my wrong are well just mine and not applicable to any one else, just as long as it does not harm people around us in any way.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Small Talk
You eat and drink only till you are content or till the food overflows from your stomach gets stuck in your throat but after that point you cannot force more. This is because of a fundamental fact that matter occupies space, hence within a foxed volume of space only a fixed volume of matter can fit in.
This argument however does not extend to our glorious ability to talk. Wait I am not talking about a conversation that stirs up the souls or relaxes you but the sheer capacity of human beings to bullshit people around them under the guise of communication or more specifically under the guise of a term called ‘small talk.’
It is bewildering to here the following sample conversations:
You meet this guy, not a friend not a long lost friend but say a guy whom you know exists in your college and know his name and he knows the same about you.
“Hey, so whatcha doing?”
“Nothing much, watching a movie.”
“Oh, figures we are in a multiplex….hahahaha (forced laughter).”
Or the slightly more awkward case when you meet your friends Ex girlfriend who until recently was your friend because she was his girl but actually you couldn’t stand the sight of her. So now that they have broken off, do you vent out your frustration as you always wanted to? No. In these moments the conversation lies actually in those gasps and moments of silence that go unnoticed.
“Hey there, long time no see.”
A reassuring smile of fake politeness to be translated as, “as long as day before yesterday when he finally dumped you for good. Thank God!”
To which the reply comes, “I know. How have you been? It is good to see you. Anyway, I have to go. Bye”
This is followed by an apologetic silent polite smile which should be translated as, “You smug little creep. I always wanted to kick the crap out of you. Tell your jack ass buddy that I have a hot date waiting.”
Office conversations are even more obnoxious:
“Mishraji, so how is Mrs Mishra? And heard Tinu is going to go to Medical College. Congratulations!”
The real version, “Well of course you are sending your kid to medical school. You rake in all the moolah for my hard work. Wait till I break your bones, bet your sons education will pay rich dividends then.”
Having experienced the world of such wordsmiths around me I could not help but pick up a universal small talk conversation starter. It works only with middle aged men in small towns who are more or less frustrated with their lives. From a driver, to a cafeteria manager to a guy pretty high up in a plant factory every one responds to this splendid conversation starter, “So it hasn’t rained here much has it?” or the more ambiguous, “How has the weather been around here?”
But the favourite one of them all are simply two words which always manage to open a Pandora’s Box of conversations which neverend. This is primarily because you could not ask a person a more vague and redundant question. It starts of small and ends up being a conversation chronicling your entire life, your work, relationships and everything else.
These words are so much better in Hindi than in any other language, “Aur Sharmaji, bataiye aur kya chal raha hai.” The English street, hip-hop wannabe version of course is slightly more famous, “Waddup dawg? How’s it hangin?”
This argument however does not extend to our glorious ability to talk. Wait I am not talking about a conversation that stirs up the souls or relaxes you but the sheer capacity of human beings to bullshit people around them under the guise of communication or more specifically under the guise of a term called ‘small talk.’
It is bewildering to here the following sample conversations:
You meet this guy, not a friend not a long lost friend but say a guy whom you know exists in your college and know his name and he knows the same about you.
“Hey, so whatcha doing?”
“Nothing much, watching a movie.”
“Oh, figures we are in a multiplex….hahahaha (forced laughter).”
Or the slightly more awkward case when you meet your friends Ex girlfriend who until recently was your friend because she was his girl but actually you couldn’t stand the sight of her. So now that they have broken off, do you vent out your frustration as you always wanted to? No. In these moments the conversation lies actually in those gasps and moments of silence that go unnoticed.
“Hey there, long time no see.”
A reassuring smile of fake politeness to be translated as, “as long as day before yesterday when he finally dumped you for good. Thank God!”
To which the reply comes, “I know. How have you been? It is good to see you. Anyway, I have to go. Bye”
This is followed by an apologetic silent polite smile which should be translated as, “You smug little creep. I always wanted to kick the crap out of you. Tell your jack ass buddy that I have a hot date waiting.”
Office conversations are even more obnoxious:
“Mishraji, so how is Mrs Mishra? And heard Tinu is going to go to Medical College. Congratulations!”
The real version, “Well of course you are sending your kid to medical school. You rake in all the moolah for my hard work. Wait till I break your bones, bet your sons education will pay rich dividends then.”
Having experienced the world of such wordsmiths around me I could not help but pick up a universal small talk conversation starter. It works only with middle aged men in small towns who are more or less frustrated with their lives. From a driver, to a cafeteria manager to a guy pretty high up in a plant factory every one responds to this splendid conversation starter, “So it hasn’t rained here much has it?” or the more ambiguous, “How has the weather been around here?”
But the favourite one of them all are simply two words which always manage to open a Pandora’s Box of conversations which neverend. This is primarily because you could not ask a person a more vague and redundant question. It starts of small and ends up being a conversation chronicling your entire life, your work, relationships and everything else.
These words are so much better in Hindi than in any other language, “Aur Sharmaji, bataiye aur kya chal raha hai.” The English street, hip-hop wannabe version of course is slightly more famous, “Waddup dawg? How’s it hangin?”
Monday, August 9, 2010
Citadel Championship
This country ain’t big enough for the both of them. One shall remain while the other shall fall. The time has arrived, the fate of the Cement townships have been sealed. The ultimate comparison to decide the man from the child, to decide the best and the most favourite, to select the ‘The Cement Plant town of the year’ is here.
So welcome to the 2010 Cement plant town awards brought to you by ZXX cements
Under the Chairmanship of yours truly a trip was conducted lasting a fortnight in each town for assessing the nominees, the employees, the general environment and civilization that existed around these historic and legendary Citadels.
And the nominees for ‘The Cement Plant town of the year 2010’ are: Town XX0055 from Uttar Pradesh and Town XX0056 from Madhya Pradesh both a part of the ZXX cements.
Here are the results for each criterion:
• Number of Insects:
XX0055 MP
100 in your room; 2 which irritate you and the remaining let you be
XX0056 UP
20 in your room; 18 in your bed and well 2 that get eaten up by the all out machine
• The state of the guest room:
XX0055 MP
Clean, broken bathroom tiles and no TV
XX0056 UP
Manageable, broken flush dark bathrooms but with a TV
• Health hazards:
XX0055 MP
Cleaner atmosphere, plenty of cement in the air, and one scare of malaria
XX0056 UP
Dry heat, less cement and well no health scares yet.
• Female population:
XX0055 MP
nOPE NADA NOTHING
XX0056 UP
Non existent
NO of things damaged
XX0055 MP
Spectacle frames and laptop charger
XX0056 UP
my cell phone and floaters
• Food:
XX0055 MP
Potatoes and oil present other edible items undetected.1 sweet dish available each day.
XX0056 UP
No edible items detected only cholesterol enhancing oil, ugly to look at even more ugly to eat.
The towns are at it neck and neck who could have thought that the winner would be decided up on by a single criterion:
• Proximity to civilization:
XX0055 MP
Closest town 20 mins, closest city is 3 hours away, plant population above 800 people
Overall population around is over 2000
XX0056 UP
Closest town is 20 mins, closest city is 3 ½ hours away and plant population is less than 500
No other population is detectable.
And the winner is…………..hold your breath by sheer location to civilization the award goes to town XX0055 in Madhya Pradesh! They have done it, they have won the championship of the Cement Citadel!
So welcome to the 2010 Cement plant town awards brought to you by ZXX cements
Under the Chairmanship of yours truly a trip was conducted lasting a fortnight in each town for assessing the nominees, the employees, the general environment and civilization that existed around these historic and legendary Citadels.
And the nominees for ‘The Cement Plant town of the year 2010’ are: Town XX0055 from Uttar Pradesh and Town XX0056 from Madhya Pradesh both a part of the ZXX cements.
Here are the results for each criterion:
• Number of Insects:
XX0055 MP
100 in your room; 2 which irritate you and the remaining let you be
XX0056 UP
20 in your room; 18 in your bed and well 2 that get eaten up by the all out machine
• The state of the guest room:
XX0055 MP
Clean, broken bathroom tiles and no TV
XX0056 UP
Manageable, broken flush dark bathrooms but with a TV
• Health hazards:
XX0055 MP
Cleaner atmosphere, plenty of cement in the air, and one scare of malaria
XX0056 UP
Dry heat, less cement and well no health scares yet.
• Female population:
XX0055 MP
nOPE NADA NOTHING
XX0056 UP
Non existent
NO of things damaged
XX0055 MP
Spectacle frames and laptop charger
XX0056 UP
my cell phone and floaters
• Food:
XX0055 MP
Potatoes and oil present other edible items undetected.1 sweet dish available each day.
XX0056 UP
No edible items detected only cholesterol enhancing oil, ugly to look at even more ugly to eat.
The towns are at it neck and neck who could have thought that the winner would be decided up on by a single criterion:
• Proximity to civilization:
XX0055 MP
Closest town 20 mins, closest city is 3 hours away, plant population above 800 people
Overall population around is over 2000
XX0056 UP
Closest town is 20 mins, closest city is 3 ½ hours away and plant population is less than 500
No other population is detectable.
And the winner is…………..hold your breath by sheer location to civilization the award goes to town XX0055 in Madhya Pradesh! They have done it, they have won the championship of the Cement Citadel!
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Travelogue 4
Still here at Madhya Pradesh at the isolated town XX555 at the ZXX cements guest house. When you go back to your wonderful castle of a home out here which consists of two single beds, rotating roommates who change each day, and an AC with non functional flaps you really have not much to do. So Nostalgia hits you and you are crushed by this bitter sweet swarm of emotions whirling away inside of you and you begin to count those things that you have done here that you would otherwise never do.
Those first times in your life like:
1. Working for 8 hours a day.
2. Witnessing 100 different insects all assembled in your room right beside your bed.
3. Watching a dog in the campus feed exclusively on a particular kind of insect and nothing else.
4. Eating the same dal and roti everyday.
5. Eat excessively oily vegetables half fried or rather half boiled and coated with oil, to break the above monotony.
6. Not being able to see even a single female around except for the ones appearing in the TV series on your hard disk.
7. Your parents being proud of their son not wasting their time and actually being responsible (if they only read this!).
8. Hanging up on friends due to the fear of an excessive phone bill on account of STD charges.
9. Not being able to access the internet for a week.
10. Writing a blog entry every day since you have nothing else to do.
11. Realising that you are getting paid for doing all of the above (that’s the master card priceless moment folks!).
What more do you need in life except:
1. An extremely hot date.
2. 6 pack abs on second thoughts I’ll settle for a flat stomach.
3. A job at a place with a female population equitable to the male one.
4. Also a job where you are in a place where the total population crosses 5000 for starters.
5. A brand new car (nano not counted).
6. A 3 BHK flat in Bandra, Colaba or Worli.
7. Achieving a sense of being one with the Universe.
8. And yeah world peace (no I am not entering into a beauty pageant).
There is only so little I ask of myself to achieve in life. Till then K sera from the small yet exotic cement filled airs out here.
Those first times in your life like:
1. Working for 8 hours a day.
2. Witnessing 100 different insects all assembled in your room right beside your bed.
3. Watching a dog in the campus feed exclusively on a particular kind of insect and nothing else.
4. Eating the same dal and roti everyday.
5. Eat excessively oily vegetables half fried or rather half boiled and coated with oil, to break the above monotony.
6. Not being able to see even a single female around except for the ones appearing in the TV series on your hard disk.
7. Your parents being proud of their son not wasting their time and actually being responsible (if they only read this!).
8. Hanging up on friends due to the fear of an excessive phone bill on account of STD charges.
9. Not being able to access the internet for a week.
10. Writing a blog entry every day since you have nothing else to do.
11. Realising that you are getting paid for doing all of the above (that’s the master card priceless moment folks!).
What more do you need in life except:
1. An extremely hot date.
2. 6 pack abs on second thoughts I’ll settle for a flat stomach.
3. A job at a place with a female population equitable to the male one.
4. Also a job where you are in a place where the total population crosses 5000 for starters.
5. A brand new car (nano not counted).
6. A 3 BHK flat in Bandra, Colaba or Worli.
7. Achieving a sense of being one with the Universe.
8. And yeah world peace (no I am not entering into a beauty pageant).
There is only so little I ask of myself to achieve in life. Till then K sera from the small yet exotic cement filled airs out here.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
TRAVELOGUE 5
(the cryptology for the town name is to protect me from losing my job)
11 days in the town/district/village (take your pick) XX056 at ZXX cements here in Madhya Pradesh and I am already craving for the sights and the sounds of Mumbai, well actually the suburb of Chembur, well to be more specific the small spot adjacent to the suburb of Chembur where my home is. The golden truth has been whispered to my ears this week, and surprisingly it is through my tongue or rather stomach. And here it is: Food, ladies and gentlemen is not just a basic need that one must fulfill during the course of our lives on this planet but it is the essential fuel for our souls. Actually the golden truth is that my favourite TV series (every day 7pm to 10 pm on my lap top of course), ‘Supernatural’ just ran its course out. So no more hot chicks, angels, demons, the devil, demons inside hot chicks and other weird stuff to go back to my room for, it is just me and my mind, which is probably why you will see far more attempts at ill witted and self depreciating humour.
Coming back to food, just so you know I am as much a food connoisseur as I am a right wing extremist which would be as real as me getting laid tomorrow. The seemingly unnecessary use of adjectives which don’t serve the purpose was to drive home the point that in the past I was a simple human being who filled his stomach to well just fill it, may be a bit too much at times. But right about now I have finally understood the glory that lies with the food that I consume. And right about now I would do anything (well almost anything) to go back to the land of Mcdonalds, pizza Hut, Barbeque Nation and well Sambar and Rasam back home. When you eat the same thing over and over again no matter how supposedly lucky you are that you get to eat food properly it makes you sick!
I need to up the satiety level of the food. From time to time I would like to see more of the food than oil, more rice than rotis, I wan’t to taste water that isn’t brackish, how about some salt in the food for a change, and sometimes just sometimes I wan’t to have a sweet dish that is not Gulab Jamun or Halwa. So the next time I am coming back home (in a couple of weeks) for a couple of days I want to make the calorimeter count for a pretty big number. So what if the salt gives you high blood pressure, a burger adds to your cholesterol level and sweets aren’t that sweet for your teeth. What really matters is to know that somebody up there likes me and wants me to have unhealthy yet satiating good food. Amen.
11 days in the town/district/village (take your pick) XX056 at ZXX cements here in Madhya Pradesh and I am already craving for the sights and the sounds of Mumbai, well actually the suburb of Chembur, well to be more specific the small spot adjacent to the suburb of Chembur where my home is. The golden truth has been whispered to my ears this week, and surprisingly it is through my tongue or rather stomach. And here it is: Food, ladies and gentlemen is not just a basic need that one must fulfill during the course of our lives on this planet but it is the essential fuel for our souls. Actually the golden truth is that my favourite TV series (every day 7pm to 10 pm on my lap top of course), ‘Supernatural’ just ran its course out. So no more hot chicks, angels, demons, the devil, demons inside hot chicks and other weird stuff to go back to my room for, it is just me and my mind, which is probably why you will see far more attempts at ill witted and self depreciating humour.
Coming back to food, just so you know I am as much a food connoisseur as I am a right wing extremist which would be as real as me getting laid tomorrow. The seemingly unnecessary use of adjectives which don’t serve the purpose was to drive home the point that in the past I was a simple human being who filled his stomach to well just fill it, may be a bit too much at times. But right about now I have finally understood the glory that lies with the food that I consume. And right about now I would do anything (well almost anything) to go back to the land of Mcdonalds, pizza Hut, Barbeque Nation and well Sambar and Rasam back home. When you eat the same thing over and over again no matter how supposedly lucky you are that you get to eat food properly it makes you sick!
I need to up the satiety level of the food. From time to time I would like to see more of the food than oil, more rice than rotis, I wan’t to taste water that isn’t brackish, how about some salt in the food for a change, and sometimes just sometimes I wan’t to have a sweet dish that is not Gulab Jamun or Halwa. So the next time I am coming back home (in a couple of weeks) for a couple of days I want to make the calorimeter count for a pretty big number. So what if the salt gives you high blood pressure, a burger adds to your cholesterol level and sweets aren’t that sweet for your teeth. What really matters is to know that somebody up there likes me and wants me to have unhealthy yet satiating good food. Amen.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Travelogue 3
Note to self: When someone offers you a plum and slightly rewarding job at an internationally reputed firm like Infosys, take it!
So welcome to the cement life out here. Part three of my travelogue delves into the psyche of the cement plant management (junior levels) whom I would like to term as the Cement Dud(e)s, pun intended of course. Well to their credit these souls are highly gifted, talented and intelligent, fresh out of the NIT’s and reputed Engineering colleges and are very efficient. But they out of some Universal conspiracy chose to spend the rest of their lives at a plant which works round the clock (24 hours and I have verified logbooks!), are on duty even at night when called upon, and well have nothing else to do in life. Drones and slaves are not what I envision engineers should become, but I guess that can happen even at Infosys. The guy starts his day at 6 in the morning goes home back at 8 in the night and as he progresses up the ladder would return home only at 3 am to sneak 3 hours of sleep and have a family which does not recognize their faces. These guys clock some serious hours on the clock and I don’t mean punching in your card and going off to sleep till you get off. It is all hands on deck all the time out here.
I mean who cares if they are paid close to 6 lacs per annum, have all their accommodation and food taken care of and have free mobile prepaid connections (also they have to wear the same dirt coloured uniform day in and day out), why would you take it up? May be they want to be in the production sector, may be they enjoy the life. Sure you have instruments, devices, coal pits, log books, and understand strange terms like NCV, Clinkerisation and SLD, you are perfectly normal. You represent the group of people who do the dirty job that none of us dare to do because well you are the only ones who took it in the first place! Sarcasm apart these are the brightest people around. Is it a pitiful that their entire existence survives around a cement plant, maybe not. To tell you the truth I don’t think they would want to have it any other way. That's what puzzles me.
So welcome to the cement life out here. Part three of my travelogue delves into the psyche of the cement plant management (junior levels) whom I would like to term as the Cement Dud(e)s, pun intended of course. Well to their credit these souls are highly gifted, talented and intelligent, fresh out of the NIT’s and reputed Engineering colleges and are very efficient. But they out of some Universal conspiracy chose to spend the rest of their lives at a plant which works round the clock (24 hours and I have verified logbooks!), are on duty even at night when called upon, and well have nothing else to do in life. Drones and slaves are not what I envision engineers should become, but I guess that can happen even at Infosys. The guy starts his day at 6 in the morning goes home back at 8 in the night and as he progresses up the ladder would return home only at 3 am to sneak 3 hours of sleep and have a family which does not recognize their faces. These guys clock some serious hours on the clock and I don’t mean punching in your card and going off to sleep till you get off. It is all hands on deck all the time out here.
I mean who cares if they are paid close to 6 lacs per annum, have all their accommodation and food taken care of and have free mobile prepaid connections (also they have to wear the same dirt coloured uniform day in and day out), why would you take it up? May be they want to be in the production sector, may be they enjoy the life. Sure you have instruments, devices, coal pits, log books, and understand strange terms like NCV, Clinkerisation and SLD, you are perfectly normal. You represent the group of people who do the dirty job that none of us dare to do because well you are the only ones who took it in the first place! Sarcasm apart these are the brightest people around. Is it a pitiful that their entire existence survives around a cement plant, maybe not. To tell you the truth I don’t think they would want to have it any other way. That's what puzzles me.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Travelogue 2
(the cryptology for the town name is to protect me from losing my job)
Well I am now in the heartland of India at an isolated cement mill plant (what else could it be but isolated?) in XX056 in Madhya Pradesh. And apart from the fact that I now know more about cement mills, clinker and electricity grid supplies than the Sidney Sheldon Novel I am reading, I assume the transformation is slowly beginning to take place.
Now I met yet another (try saying it with a South Indian twang I get real kicks out of doing so.) Railway guy on my way from Tikaria to Kymore and apart from enlightening me about the workings of his department in the railway the guy ended up being what I can only describe by the word ‘Tharki,’ whose English equivalent Voyeur or Pervert does not quite capture the spirit of the hindi rendition. So this man while I am away tries to make a pass on a single mother who was travelling on the same compartment and hits on her despite seeing her year old child nearby. The poor naïve female conveys her shock to me after I return from my station rendezvous with samosas. To think I thought that all railway employees were gentlemen by nature!
Well back at work I have been exposed to a horrible truth, people around me have a sense of humour that ranks possibly in the negative. I mean common! Why are all the jokes about C.D.M (that’s the clean development mechanism and the Kyoto Protocol, Wikipedia offers a crash course for all dummies including myself) and the working of cement plants? A crude example would be as follows: Talking about checking out a girl while using the metaphor of the C.D.M verification or validation process, the analogy of course even extends at times to a Bollywood damsel, the air, the sun, the skies and everything stupidly possible. My personal favourite is however, “I can’t see any plants (referring to cement plants) on this route but only plants (trees, shrubs, bushes, the works.)”
If by any chance you find the above funny, do not and I mean do not read this blog again! May be I am being a bit paranoid and may be they have a slightly flawed and a decent sense of humour, but give me a sarcastic taunt with a poker face any day! What has the world come to?
Will be stationed here for quite some more time and will enlighten you on the following in the weeks to come: The plant dud (e), listening to a disgruntled man lamenting about his boss, and of course many more rail travels with railway personnel.
Well I am now in the heartland of India at an isolated cement mill plant (what else could it be but isolated?) in XX056 in Madhya Pradesh. And apart from the fact that I now know more about cement mills, clinker and electricity grid supplies than the Sidney Sheldon Novel I am reading, I assume the transformation is slowly beginning to take place.
Now I met yet another (try saying it with a South Indian twang I get real kicks out of doing so.) Railway guy on my way from Tikaria to Kymore and apart from enlightening me about the workings of his department in the railway the guy ended up being what I can only describe by the word ‘Tharki,’ whose English equivalent Voyeur or Pervert does not quite capture the spirit of the hindi rendition. So this man while I am away tries to make a pass on a single mother who was travelling on the same compartment and hits on her despite seeing her year old child nearby. The poor naïve female conveys her shock to me after I return from my station rendezvous with samosas. To think I thought that all railway employees were gentlemen by nature!
Well back at work I have been exposed to a horrible truth, people around me have a sense of humour that ranks possibly in the negative. I mean common! Why are all the jokes about C.D.M (that’s the clean development mechanism and the Kyoto Protocol, Wikipedia offers a crash course for all dummies including myself) and the working of cement plants? A crude example would be as follows: Talking about checking out a girl while using the metaphor of the C.D.M verification or validation process, the analogy of course even extends at times to a Bollywood damsel, the air, the sun, the skies and everything stupidly possible. My personal favourite is however, “I can’t see any plants (referring to cement plants) on this route but only plants (trees, shrubs, bushes, the works.)”
If by any chance you find the above funny, do not and I mean do not read this blog again! May be I am being a bit paranoid and may be they have a slightly flawed and a decent sense of humour, but give me a sarcastic taunt with a poker face any day! What has the world come to?
Will be stationed here for quite some more time and will enlighten you on the following in the weeks to come: The plant dud (e), listening to a disgruntled man lamenting about his boss, and of course many more rail travels with railway personnel.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Travelogue from XX055
As I survey the landscape of the ZXX cements colony in a town in UP called XX055, the microphone voice blasting from a nearby temple momentarily distracts my attention from the near perfect twilight setting in this Industrial Township or colony. Day 1 at work was in short tiresome and detailed the truckload of work that I have ahead of me. Member of the Cement verification team of an organization promoting the Clean development Mechanism (Kyoto Protocol) sounds tremendously well for my ego, but hey it is pretty much the donkey work that I have enrolled for.
Fresh from college and right into the frying pan (quite literally since it hasn’t rained in the Hindi Hinterland for well over a week now) wasn’t my idea of stepping into the world. But I must confess the learning curve has been a steep one. Conversations varied from retired Railway personnel to understanding the psyche of a cement plant employee the revelations are in one word ‘real’. So the truth behind the so called development of the Indian Railway is that it is simply technology imported from Sweden or Japan once it has become obsolete there. We are as the old railway man said 50 years behind the entire world whereas we could be at par with them or possibly ahead of them. The cement plant man however is bright, talented but frustrated always that he is being told to do impractical stuff by his boss. Is disgruntled that he it is always his boss who is the epicenter of all things good and he is the reason why some far away comet breaks and disintegrates into a cataclysmic fatal apocalypse.
Well another new day beckons and another new door of possibilities awaits me, I mean log books, data collation and more donkey work.
Fresh from college and right into the frying pan (quite literally since it hasn’t rained in the Hindi Hinterland for well over a week now) wasn’t my idea of stepping into the world. But I must confess the learning curve has been a steep one. Conversations varied from retired Railway personnel to understanding the psyche of a cement plant employee the revelations are in one word ‘real’. So the truth behind the so called development of the Indian Railway is that it is simply technology imported from Sweden or Japan once it has become obsolete there. We are as the old railway man said 50 years behind the entire world whereas we could be at par with them or possibly ahead of them. The cement plant man however is bright, talented but frustrated always that he is being told to do impractical stuff by his boss. Is disgruntled that he it is always his boss who is the epicenter of all things good and he is the reason why some far away comet breaks and disintegrates into a cataclysmic fatal apocalypse.
Well another new day beckons and another new door of possibilities awaits me, I mean log books, data collation and more donkey work.
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