Random Ramblings

It has been a long time I posted something here. I guess there hasn’t been any recent heartbreaks which could push me into my melancholy and surprisingly the area where I stay doesn’t seem to be blessed with any pretty faces either which could bring up the lost romance. After all one does need some kind of inspiration and a push to be able to carve a way out of the writer’s block. All I get to see or feel when I come out of my room is huge amount of dust Gurgaon has to offer. And I didn’t really want to be another blogger criticising the mismanagement of the city or lamenting the ridiculous extravaganza Mayawati indulges in while hundreds of kids die of a disease. I do not want to throw in statistical bullets on the government for its lackadaisical approach towards almost everything going on. I think Mr Rajdeep Sardesai is enough for all that. And I certainly do not want to step into the big shoes of Karan Thapar who ends up speaking for almost two third of the total time when he supposedly there to interview people. And even if I want to, well the fact is, they would probably not even allow me in their premises. So, let me not get too cocky for my own sake.

I tried completing a half written piece of poetry which I once scribbled after I saw a beautiful picture of a dear friend of mine. But, the mood just didn’t set in. So let me just share the 4 lines I did come up with at that moment.

“She sat there in a silence,

her eyes deep and moist.

As her hair fell down her serene look

She held both her melancholy and the turbulence”

Somehow, I have come to realize that it is insanely difficult to complete a piece which is left incomplete. The original mood and the atmosphere are just so difficult to be recreated. There is another incomplete one which doesn’t seem to be nearing its meaningful destiny. So I guess I will just share this one too.

“Just when I had turned sober

Thinking it might be finally over

In a flash it appeared once again

bringing out the long hidden pain.”

I think it wasn’t too much and over the board when I once remarked to a friend. “Do not look into my mind. You will lose your way in its complexity. Look into my heart; you might just want to live their forever.” At the risk of sounding cheesy and melodramatic, I somewhere can’t agree to disagree from this thought.

Changing the subject, last night I did come up with a thought to scribble on. I was going through my contact details on Yahoomail and came across some really funny, weird, alien, rebellious and innovative Email ids. I could stop laughing at some of those. Some were rock stars while others where heart throbs for some I even had to look up to the dictionary to decipher the meaning. I know what you must be thinking. Of all the people, how could someone who was specifically pointed out by the Placement committee and the interview board to change his email id talk about this. For all that matters he was even notoriously facilitated for the same by popular measure. Well, this is why I didn’t write a dedicated post on this. I didn’t want to give a dear friend of mine another chance to call me a “hypocrite”. :)

For now, I will cherish a onetime memory of having watched a movie alone in a theatre. And by alone, I mean, all alone in an empty theatre. And FYI, it wasn’t some shady movie. The Three Musketeers didn’t seem to be such a bad option either.

---Sriram

When Insomnia appears beautiful

As the life begins to lose its motion

I am stuck in the myriad of thoughts.

When the reality fades into oblivion

Only dried leaves welcome the springs.

When it is easy to look the other way

Or to not look at all

For the journey is often exhausting

And the truth is nothing but bitter.

When the nights and the days seem alike

Eclipsed by the shadows of past and future

Suddenly, the chaos seems to be

more comforting and desirable.

Just when I feel in control

The moment arrives

When it all starts to slips away,

Dropping me into the sands of time.

Day after day as the weeks pass by

I hang on to whatever I can

For when dreams turn out to be a nightmare

Even insomnia appears beautiful.

---Sriram

Dear Sis

There are relations of blood and then there are those of matrimony. There are relations of romance and then there are those of friendship. For each of them we have probably a long list of festivals and associated traditions and rituals. Each comes with a certain degree of rigidity and unnecessary expectations at some level. And then there is a relationship which exists at two levels; both social and natural. Among the hundreds of festivals, this is the one free from most mythological stories and gender biased rituals. This is one day when the males of the society, for a change, promise something to the females and I would believe they mean it. This is one day which promises purity of relationships in the world where this word itself is rapidly changing its meaning at a very existential level. This is a reason for one of the strongest bond between two people who often fight each other as much they love.

Growing up in a joint family, I was blessed with 3 elder sisters who still love me like a baby brother. They are the ones who still find me more capable and believe in me more than I myself could. They are the ones who still love me and scold me, irrespective of how old I am. Back then it was just about exchanging gifts and having good food on the rakshabandhan day, but I could realize the more important things only late growing up and missing them every single year.

I still remember those times in school when every year, guys used to literally run away from the class during the recess fearing that they might be forced into the brotherhood. It was weird funny and strange at the same time. There was always one guy in class who would have had alteast 10 rakhi sis in class and a bunch of others who made sure they got only friendship bands a week earlier on the friendship day! Sometimes it seemed fun while at times it did look ridiculous. At the risk of being hated, the fact is a friendship or an amorous relationship might be temporary, but not the one which symbolises the most delicate and purest relationship, man has ever known.

I never thought when my childhood friend (Shivani) tied rakhi around my wrist way back in 2001 that our bond will only grow stronger. But today, I am a proud brother and consider myself lucky to have her in my life. She is someone who has always stood by me in the best and worst of times. We may not talk for weeks together, but whenever we do, it just feels like we were never away. But, while I was coming back to my place after meeting for such a long time, my mind was perplexed as usual. I was happy and yet some thoughts kept coming to me. It would however be unfair to those who have loved me no less than any sister could possibly. It would be unfair to someone who has always treated me like a brother and a great friend as well, even though we may not be biologically related. But who can possibly stop the tide of thoughts which come and take you unaware.

I have always wondered if only I had a younger sister of my own, how it would have been. May be I would have been the usual possessive brother who would have irritated her to the limits or maybe I would have been her best friend. May be she would have kept all her secrets away from me or maybe we would have shared every single thing happening in our lives. May be I wound have been conservative and hypocritical when it came to her or maybe we would have been each other’s biggest strength. May be I would have been jealous of my dad loving her more than me or maybe I would have loved her more than anyone possibly could. I don’t know. Life would certainly have been very different. But, then there are times when that void seems to make its presence feel. And it gets more and more visible whenever I see two siblings fighting like cats and dogs and then again fighting for each other against the world. I guess it is just natural and inevitable to feel this way.

Sriram

I see you

Every time I see you

I find a reason to smile

Every moment that I miss you

I still walk that mile.

Every time it rains and the cloud thunder

I can feel my “heart” ponder

You call it love; you call it imagination

I still see you mesmerized; in all the admiration.

I may not be a romantic

I may not be a star

But, as I look up, standing in the attic

I still see you like the way I want you to.

And yet, I wonder when days turn into nights

What if,

I hadn’t lost my sight

Could I ever, have seen you at all?

(In honour of all those people who still find life beautiful even when they can’t see and to remind the lucky ones how beautiful life is only if you could open your eyes to the beauty around.)

---Sriram

We- D poor people of the Corporate World

A few days back, while I was talking to a friend of mine, we actually ended up talking some real stuff after we were done with our weekly updates of the gossips and usual inconsequential conversations. It has been quite some time I left my job and partially joined my business apart from a little academic pursuit along the way. But I still do remember my first few conversations in my hometown with a plethora of acquaintances and total strangers who often enquired about my job for a number of reasons both genuine and devious. Well more about their intentions and ingenuity sometime later.

Statements, such as, “A man is worth only his pay check” is nothing new. It has been actively been the epicentre of a lot of decisions people make right from choosing or leaving a job, venturing into business and even while choosing their partners. But what makes it a topic to talk about is how the conversation folds up in a usual middle class family in a rural or a semi urban setting and occasionally even in the urban settings. Probably, it would be a lot easier to go by classification of the mindset, attitude and mental horizon of the people than a geographical distinction. As I write this, I get a feeling that I should have written this at least 10 months back. It would have been much more recent and relevant then. However, in those days, I was way too occupied handling my crushes and one sided affairs. :D Damn. I can be hard on myself sometimes! But still I will write it now. (Will try to keep my ramblings short enough)

For the time being, let me go back to July’2010 for ease of including myself in the collective group with whom I still can connect and feel the emotional turmoil and so that I can take the liberty to write in the present tense. I call myself and all my bunch of friends who completed MBA last year as the “Poor people of the corporate world.” It is not just because most of us do not pay tax @ 30%. But also because we face the entire hardships one could in this mean selfish world where people climb up the ladders of success on the corpses of others. Well, fortunately, as of now we aren’t really the corpse, so no need to panic. But we are damn well poor.

We are made to slog for long hours and our skill sets are exploited to the extreme. And in return all we get is a salary which gets exhausted in no time. We can’t even afford a simple furnished 2BHK in a decent area like Bandra or its counterparts in other cities. And if we dare to do, we end up losing more than 33% of what we get as underpaid people. I still can’t afford a car. Who would pay my EMIs and the parking charge? (Delhites are lucky here. They park it on the road itself! ). I am forced to be crushed in the maddening crowd of the locals with all kinds of people (who stink) and the unbridled homosexuals with their new found freedom. (No offence to any of them. I sincerely respect your choice, but strictly abhor any non consensual act of seeking pleasure taking undue advantage of the crowd.) I say this because some of my poor, innocent friends were taken for a ride. (Again delhites are lucky to have a metro equipped with an A/c!!!). I won’t even get to the chances of having your dream girl with this kind of poverty. To add to it, when we go home, the people (acquaintance and the strangers) give a damn about your work quality. In some cases they do not even know the name of the company or the designation and work profile. (If you do not believe, try becoming an Insurance Broker in an MNC: P ) So much for running after a particular kind of profile! What hurts even more is, we wasted our precious time trying to understand the intricacies of corporate finance, derivatives and corporate strategy. I could have very well spent that sitting on the marine drive or riding in Leh and Laddhak. (Do not know much about the marketing people. They certainly had a relatively better life. Atleast my roomie never had to go through a 200 page book.) And this doesn’t end here. Some of my friends continue to inflict pain upon them by sacrificing that little hard earned money for another degree, innocently believing that it would make their life any easier. And here I am, pouring out all my blocked emotions here while I try to chase my own set of dreams by putting a complete end to even that small amount I used to get on every 26^th of the month. True. Poverty and Unemployment are a part of a vicious circle and they take away all the wits you initially had.

P.S.: No offence to anyone! It was a fictional narration. Any resemblance to anyone living is purely coincidental and unintentional ;)

We all are very happy people J

The Balcony Cricket !

Monday is most often the most difficult day to do anything, be it work or study. To add to it, a relatively pleasant summer evening is just not worth to be wasted on something boring and serious. So, as an addictive observer, I was as usual gazing outside my window. If I would have been in my hometown, I would have probably got a view of the entire sky, clouds, birds and even the dusty roads. But, when you are in a city, all you get to see from the ground floor is the balcony(s) of the opposite building. And, honestly, it isn’t that bad, for on lucky days, you get to see some really beautiful girls in their hot pants! But today wasn’t one of those days. All I could see was a bunch of over enthusiastic kids playing “Balcony Cricket.”

Well, I am not sure if there is such a term, but basically we all have played it without a doubt. It is probably a very prevalent form of cricket which you play incase you do not have access to a playground or, when you are domesticated on a hot summer afternoon, or when the parents are too protective to let you go wander with the not so polite older kids of the colony who have their areas demarcated.

But do not be under an impression of this being a simplified form of cricket. It is not. Rather, if I recall correctly, there is an entire set of exotic rules and regulations governing the game and on some days it garners so much of enthusiasm that the only way the game ends is when you lose all your Cosco/Plastic balls or end up breaking some window panes and then being punished.

The charm of batting first is inherent in us, be it the Team India or the kids in colony. But to decide the order we had devised our own ways. The kinds in the balcony here played a round of Rock, Paper& Scissor to come to a conclusion. And of course, hitting a window or losing the ball was always considered ”out” and so was hitting the ball on the roadside, if you are playing on the terrace. The worst was one tip one hand where I used to disappoint myself every time. But then, being a pathetic bowler as well, i got quite a lot of wickets as the kid on the other end could never not end up hitting a six.(Which invariably landed on the window panes or the roadside :P ). Needless to say that the one who owned the bat did exercise some special privileges. It used to be a game open to all ages though we did discriminate on the basis of gender and there used to be a strict “no entry” for girls. After all who wanted trouble if they get hit and start shedding bucket full of tears. However as we grew a little smarter, they were always welcome in host of other sports. All said and done, it always was a time of fun during those summer vacations, except for times when everyone used to fight like cats and dogs and then not talk for atleast a day or two. While I was drifting among those days, I heard this strong appeal for LBW across the window. And I though, we certainly didn’t appeal LBW in our times. Probably, they want to keep it more real and entertaining !!!

The Burning Coal

As the sun set across the horizon

And the sky grew darker

I was stunned by something so beautiful

Wondering if it was just an illusion.

Looking at those unrestrained laughter

And the hair gently blow across her face

I floated in my own dream world

And feel my heart race.

I tried but my voice choked

Helpless I was, amidst the minty smoke

I gazed at her as she spoke

With every possible movement of her hands.

I wanted to bend on my knees

But all I did was to eat that cheese

In those few moments all my senses got mixed

As I smelled her smile and saw her fragrance.

I looked up at the glowing moon

And suddenly it felt as if,

that moment would pass away too soon

While the icy breeze brought her closer

The burning coal made it all so warm.

---Sriram