Et tu, digest?

Everytime I visited my Mom's place, especially, her eldest borther's, Readers Digest used tobe my favourite past time. When there was nothing else to do, I'd read every single article. Otherwise the routine used to be flippin across the jokes. Once I started reading the articles, I got hooked to RD. Once, at my Mom's mom's bro's place, I sat up till 2 in the moring reading the different issues I'd gathered from the lonely house. Surely, it was a reliable companion. I loved the classy look, the style of articles, the paintings which came on the back-cover, etc.

We never subscribed RD at home.

But the excitement when I saw one at somebody's house was special. Later, I saw the changes in the digest. The lay out changed.

Forgivable.

But when the front cover's format had to come out with headings with numbers on it: 5 ways to reduce your flab, 7 techniques for better memory, 6 ways to eat food and stuff like that and the lates: 14 ways to find love on the Indian edition, it was all boring. RD became more of an elite health magazine, which advised drinking fruit juice for breakfast

14 ways to find love???? WHAT?

Are Indians so deprived of love that RD has to suggest methods for them to find love? Heights of commercialisation and regionalisation has turned RD to a way that 'suits' India. Nonsense. RD toohas joined the band wagon of commercial bundits, whose aim is to exploit while putting up a superficial image. All fluff.
Et tu, digest?

Et tu, digest?

Everytime I visited my Mom's place, especially, her eldest borther's, Readers Digest used tobe my favourite past time. When there was nothing else to do, I'd read every single article. Otherwise the routine used to be flippin across the jokes. Once I started reading the articles, I got hooked to RD. Once, at my Mom's mom's bro's place, I sat up till 2 in the moring reading the different issues I'd gathered from the lonely house. Surely, it was a reliable companion. I loved the classy look, the style of articles, the paintings which came on the back-cover, etc.

We never subscribed RD at home.

But the excitement when I saw one at somebody's house was special. Later, I saw the changes in the digest. The lay out changed.

Forgivable.

But when the front cover's format had to come out with headings with numbers on it: 5 ways to reduce your flab, 7 techniques for better memory, 6 ways to eat food and stuff like that and the lates: 14 ways to find love on the Indian edition, it was all boring. RD became more of an elite health magazine, which advised drinking fruit juice for breakfast

14 ways to find love???? WHAT?

Are Indians so deprived of love that RD has to suggest methods for them to find love? Heights of commercialisation and regionalisation has turned RD to a way that 'suits' India. Nonsense. RD toohas joined the band wagon of commercial bundits, whose aim is to exploit while putting up a superficial image. All fluff.
Et tu, digest?

Steppin into a puddle of Indian music competitions.

Indian music. Something which i thought I knew nothing of. Finally I got to it and realised. It's music. The passion I shared. To add on, the instumentation of todays music(popular music, shared a lot to what I generally play. Gave it a shot.

First out of compulsion in first year.
Second year, out of competition spirit.
Everytime the bunny came and told me about the new team we could form, I was unsure. Was still thinking... BHL added to the confusion by logically telling about the chances we had and the fun we'd have in playing as a team.
Rob just ordered - You're coming.
"But I'm in the C for SA, Acoutics, Electric...don't think I'll be able to manage time..."
No, it's alright,shut up ande just come. See you in the evening (for practice)

That's when I decided. Guess Bunny wasn't happy with me just giving up doubts on Robs compulsion. He had tried a lot before that.

We fought took it like a battle. We loved ' the winner and his teams music. But we believed we were as good. We fought I loved the preparation. the strategies. Everyone knew in a music competition,it wasn't just the music: Strategies, comparisons, research, surveys, planning, assessment. Like a corporate Company. Like a business. It was fun. It was like playing a game. A simulation of our future lives. Excitement. Hard work. The balancing act, with Studies and the CS of A, church, mp, friends...Man! I look up to the mountains, where will my help come from, My help comes from the Lord who created heaven and earth!

And that's exactly where it came from.

What's in a Pondy?

What's in a Pondy?

Frankly speaking, most Christites who put their hearts into Darpan, dream about going to Pondy. What's at Pondy? Factually, a mega fest named 'Spandan' (meaning: beat/ heart beat) in a mega College called GYPMER in Pondicherry , where many other colleges take part and the competition is tough. The programmes go on till late night and the feeling of being on the bus to Pondy along with your 'Cul' team mates and representing your college elsewhere is something that is supposed to be memorable. I haven't gone there, so I don't know. There's much excitement in the air. Perhaps, more than our team and the fellow Cul team members, it's our friends and class mates who seem to be in seventh heaven about us going to Pondy. I wonder what the previleged Cul team members of the previous years felt when they won the compettions and found themselves destined to go to Pondy. "Man!!! Gonna rock in Pondy, eh?", "What macha..All set for Pondy-a?", "Lucky buggers!/ (sigh)/", are just some of the describable reactions. I don't want to sound all previleged and proud. But the reaction of the other guys, who haven't been to Pondy but still are mesmerised under the magic of a place and event, which they have only heard of puts me in a thinking mood. So what's in a Pondy, where I've never been, but gives the other fellows who're going to stay back, when we're away, the jitters? I see people dying to go to Pondy this year. Various tactics, strategies and exertion of influence is going on just to get oon that bus. All that's going to be over. I know who's going and who is not. This list is going to be up today.

I'm happy to be a potential Pondy goer this year. To be part of the College folktale ("We did this in Pondy", "we won that in Pondy", "We lost but we had fun in Pondy", "What a feeling to get the cup in Pondy", etc.), which would be told further down the generation. To be a part of the contingent which represented the famous college of Mission and Vision. I look forward to it. To be part of the team, make new friends, experience something new together, to share and laugh and cry and travel together, to form new bonds and add in something in the album called life. Thank God for the opportunity. Really thank God. Don't think I deserve it.

And to end on a queer, but joyful note. My friend is happy and all excited about going to Pondy this year. He's been working out a lot off late and I ask him why. With that trademark smile he says "I'm getting ready for Pondy". Well, well.

The Journalism class script - 1

This post is dedicated to Mr. Naresh Rao, JPEng students' ever favourite teacher.

Some of his quips and quotes and a couple of incidents, from our class in June 2006.

• 
  Journalism class- One Morning:"Uh....So who can tell me a definition of NEWS? You know what a definition is , right?" (And we go: Sir we're 21, 22 and this is college)And then he goes again... "I mean when I say a definition, it should be one, told by somebody or something like that. Don't just make it up sitting there.."
• 
  Sir calls out the rolls. Suddenly a huge THUD noise is heard wihich signified someone almost broke his back at the whack of another student. All laugh when they find out it was Ms.Jols' Thunderous whack on Bar's back. Hearing the commotion that followed, he stops the roll call and goes: " I don't know whether he deserved it but... lets try to keep such activities outside the class...0k? ...ya".
• 
  Yet another day. High volume talking in the class during roll call- "Uh... you should learn to curb your natural instincts for communication with each other during the class...especially the ones that involve a lot of noise..."
• 
  Another roll call story. People busy talking as usual. Some forget to answer their numbers and Sir continues. Realising what she had done a girl calls out, "Sir!Sir! Number 23 Sir! ". Visibly a bit irritated, he says, " Uh... You need to react....".
  Usually his power point presentations end with an out of topic line which goes either "All the best", "Thank you", or if its exam time, "Wish you all good luck" or something relevant to the times , accompanied by a "...ya". IT was very funny one day whenhis PPT on the News Paper Organisation ended with something else. As he clicked the slide quickly to the last one, it flashed for a moment before closing , reading " Made any sense??!"
• 
  Bunny, had just got back from his internship as an Asst. Director for a movie. He talked to the class on Sir's instructions and shared his experiences: How he was able to get to that post through an Uncle who was a film producer, how he was respected there, interactions with Nandita Das, film techniques, etc. After he finished, Sir, took the stage and said, " I think what we need to learn out of this.... ", (everyone waited for the valuable lesson we had to learn from Funny's talk) "...is that we should all go back home...go back home and search your family tree..." (July 1)

More to come...

The People who got paid for making me, me.

Some teachers teach. Some teachers just give a speech. And the real teachers reach your heart and stay there forever.
And as you reach college, there are hardly few of them who can reach. Some who did( in college):

1. Mr.Patrick
He knew it. He taught it. He played, so did we. He couldn't keep respect away from him. He talked to a student like a student. To a teacher like a man and to a Principal , like a friend. Hats off, Sir!

2. Mr. NR
You know him and I needn't tell. He knew exactly what he talked. Never talked more than that was needed. Has the wit to find humour in the place you thought you couldn't find it. Moreover, wherever he goes, an aura of respect surrounds him. Respect, for which he never asked, but always got, unfailingly. Salute!

They're all Real flesh and Blood. Hard to believe.

Sailing with arms open wide.

Sailing with arms open wide.

The afternoon was just amazing. The cliched shady tree, cool breeze and children playing in front of you, is an awesome mood setter in real life, if not on paper.
The stories of a twisted and wrenched heart poured out. The background, how people never understood, prejudices, hopes and dreams, the shouldering of familial responsibility... it all just flowed. And in between, the love of the life.
It was never obvious. At least between them. Or, to them. But like I would explain to my super liberal modern brother and sister-in-law, the piture was drwn in front of me, giving dtailed reasons of why it would only remain a dream and nothing more. The words reflected maturity, sensibility and pragmatism. But the very words spelt backwords betrayed a wish, a longing- " If ever you come to me, my arms would be wide open, and I would receive you."
Though a sailor on another boat myself, I'm still not able to see the other coast or the tiny rays from the light house, though I felt it was time to have seen it. Perhaps, I might have to miss that spectacle and leave my fellow sailor to find his way across the sea. One thing I know fellow sailor man, though you don't see the shore, it's definitely worth the wait.

Sankara Mankranthi (Ask BHL)

Telling off people isn't easy. Especially when they are in a group where they're not supposed to be. IF you're able to sense that you don't belong there at that moment, and slightly strain your brains, you could avoid much humiliation, maintain self esteem, mind your very own important business, etc.

So my brothers (Cool quote:"You're my brother of another mother" - Courtesy: Daffy) and this low profile guy walk to the kiosk at college, planning to go through the second round of discussions regarding songs and their selection, for the Music competition. Suddenly, i hear a row of "Uh-oh"s and "Faster, faster"s, being mumbled.
Too late.
"Hi................................................!!!!"
Wonder what those frogs think when they gulp down 5 feet snakes with much difficulty. Surely they must think in between, "Man this is more than a mouthful; but there's now way out now". So they carry on. So did we.

The further walk made me feel that I was doing the green mile, or even worse was being sent out of the library for talking. She stuck around. We wondered how to tell her off. Politely. But assertively. She wasn't meant to be there. She should have realised that! Acting like Willy Lowman (from the play 'Death of a Salesman'), she thought that she was meant to be there and was an integral part of what was happening.
At the kiosk table, I signalled the brother and Frankfinn. They signalled me.

4:15 pm.

The meeting was supposed to start at 4:05.
No more waiting. "Shall I?" I asked in code language Mal. They sang back their enthusiastic approval in the the same universal code.
"Uh..Sankranthi, do you mind? We're having a band meeting. See you on Tuesday, yeah?"
Seemed like she'd heard the loudest thunder bolt in all her life. Didn't mean it to be that way. But it was important and had to be done.
"Ok........................!!!!!!See ya!!! bye!!!"
There she goes, there she goes again.

We celebrated as if it were Holi. My hand was shaken and the boldness appreciated, by the bros and the finn.
Sorry Sankranthi, we just had to.

We spend. So what's wrong?

Our neighbours, next door...what a life! Made me think.

Imagine you're all so grown up with a family and all. You aren't too well off, financially. You've got a kid whose school fees reaches somewhere near half your salary. What will you do when something like a school trip or a requirement examination fees come up? Waht do you feel then? Would you like to go ask your friendfor money or would you think, thoug I'm so old, I can't even run my family's expenses! What's my wife going to think about all this? Will she wonder whther she made a mistake by marring you? What 'll your kids think? Will you think of yourself as incapable of running a family?

Today we spend lavishly on our parents money. We believe they are earning it all for us, and spend as if we earned up all that money. New clothes every month, compulsive shopping, eating out many times, 3-4 movies a month. We spend without shame.

When we are our parents age, would we want our children to live that way? Think for a moment.

*****

Now. What do we know about not having any money in hand?

Nothing.

Because, there was never a time we couldn't find less than 10 bucks in our wallets for more than 24 hours. Do we know what it is like, when on the 10th of the month, you'll have to live on 100 Rupees for the rest? The 'Computer Fundamentals' book for IVth sem costs over 100 rupees.

Lilly Aunty is crying. She doesn't know what to do. Her daughter scores well in her exams. She wants to go for science in College. But where is she going to get Rs. 15,000 from? Her husband is in uwait, but doesn;t earn enough money to send home (And people go: He's in Kuwait and I'm not gonna help 'em). The youngest daughter needs to but a new uniform, as she's entering the 5th std. in June and needs to replace her 2 year old uniform. Where is all the money coming from?

Lilly Aunty, our neighbour, is crying.

She isn't all that poor or below poverty line (BPL). But htey have expenses to meet their requirements for a life in a place like this. she came from a family which had just the basic things.Where is she going to go for money. She runs a mess just outside her house where IT and BPO employees who stay near by come and eat from. The income goes, as it is for the house rent which is Rs.2500 for such a dingy place.

Will she have to tell her daughter, heart broken, that they don't have enough oney to send her for further studies, so sit at home? Even if she borrows money, how will she pay back? the girl (daughter) can't even imagine buying new clothes from commercial street once in a year, let alone the half price sale once a year. 30 rupees for a coffee seems insane to her mother- no question of going out with friends. TV. What TV? No money to pay the cable network.

Is it possible to live like that? Of course it is.

But in a society where you look around and see everyone showing off one thing or the other; the same 3-4 years old dresses which your friends make fun of you about?...It's difficult. You're the only one out. It's tough.

Perhaps friends, we need to be more considerate.Everyone is not as fortunate as us. When we spend money, let's just give it a thought. Do I really need what I'm buying? Does it give me any satisfaction? Are these these the things that make me happy? Is my happiness based on what I possess?

***

(Lilly -name changed- stays next door to us)

***

Harshly critical and straight-from-the-heart comment/ difference of opinions solicitted from all. Please respond with your thoughts on spending.

I'd Specially like to hear from Antares on the web, Blueplush and Romali Roti.

Have I?

Tired. Very tired.

Today...how many 'todays' have gone by! Is there any development happening?
Have I made anyone happy today?
Have I smiled at someone today?
Did I keep my word today?
Did I come on time today?
Were I able to carry out all my responsibilities today?
Phew!

I'm tired again.

We know what you did when you didn't have a platform ticket - Part 2

If you haven't read Part 1, please read that and if you haven't slept by then, come back and read this.

* * * * * * * *

In amazement, we saw the train on the adjacent platform moving.

Railway full joking joking in the night also.

We continued. Now you are bored, I am bored.

We had a exchanged our byes, best of lucks, happy journeys, half an hour before. Still, we persisted to stay on till the train left.

* * * * * * * * * * *

11:50 pm. After sirens on every platform but ours, thhe train slowly started moving. another round of byes and all the pleasantries, to our dear friend accompanied by his students, one by one, Ragu, Bhupati, the Russian and I jumped in cinematic style to the platform, as the train gathered pace. A grandma sitting on the platform gave a look with her a jaws parting to either side, seemingly saying "Freakin' Devil! What on all earth were those?"

We didn't pay attention.

Up the Sabarimalai style stairs and on the way to 'Destination: Outside the station'. I just casually mentioned that we hadn't taken platform tickets and slipped into conversations of societal development, economic policy, a better India, misgivings in the education system, philosophy, globalisation, ticket examiners,......Did I say ticket examiners?? Even before we could say that, a white shirt and a black suit, with a man in them appeared before us with hands wide open saying the words 'platform ticket'.

Now.

The platform number written in red.

Not being able send messages from the 3310.

The train getting late.

It was midnight.

To Thomas Hardy, it would have been a perfect setting for a targedy to happen and so it was for me too. The tragedy already happened, as the "external forces" had indicated. "Tess of the D'urbervilles" (Hardy's character in th book of the same name), was alone to suffer everything. I had company.

We stood there.

* * * * * * * * *

Ten minutes later, we were still standing there.

* * * * * * * * *

FINALLY, twenty minutes later............................., we still stood there.

(continued in Part 3)

We know what you did when you didn't have a platform ticket - Part 1

A lovely night. Beautiful beyond cliches. It was time to say bye to our dear teacher and friend, Mr. Andy Neck, one of the people because of which our exchange programme rocked.

The train's at 11:30.

We were there at 10:15

Hundreds of people were already there at..... God knows what time.

Anders and I checked the capricious electronic board for the right platform. It showed 4 against Guwahati express, in crimson red. The sign of danger. I should have realised that.

Platform ticket? Bhupati would come and buy it, I thought. Anyways its night time.

The fatal flaw.

********

Bhupati, with an appreciable build and the air of a builder (body) was standing with the other guys , guarding the luggage and engaging the peace loving Norwegian students. As soon as we got back- the luggage seemed to have got heavier- we picked up the bags and began climbing the stairs of 'Majestic' railway station, which was obviously in a drastic condition and reminded me of a friend's description of the "18 steps" in Sabarimalai. These steps, really, are not meant for young men above 60 carrying heavy bags.

********

It was nice to sit an talk in the train for an hour. Laughter in English and Norwegian echoed in our little compartment. "The Russian", kept blinking like an alien hearing Malayalam on planet Zonga. Suddenly,the train began moving!

And then it stopped.

Perhaps, they were checking the disc brakes.

(Do they have them, anyway?)

We fell on our backs into conversation. Ragu stood there looking into oblivion as if seeing something, which only he could. There wasn't anything there. I checked, twice.

A siren whined, gradually reaching 1-60km in just 2.5 seconds. The Russian stared at me and I stared back. We were in the middle of the crowded carriage. "This is it", we chorused and turned to jump out of the carriage when , to our amazement......!

(Continued in part II)

The 3310 (end of story)

Took it because , there were the needs. It's fine so far. I miss telling people "No, I don't have a mobile". Surprisingly, there have been a lot of plus points! Friends whom I thought that I wouldn't keep in touch often because i had a to keep calling them, are now just a few buttons away. Literally on my finger tip. Cool. In the beginning, you expect a call every minute, just because the phone is yours. Slowly, you begin to realise that call's are almost just as much as it would be on the landline, only that you know its for you. Honestly, I feel uncomfortable telling people "I have a phone" or even being caught talking on the phone somewhere. Don't know. May be because I'm not used to it. Personally, it feels very childish to talk about all this. Sometimes I re-read the previous entry and realise, perhaps I aren't all that mature as I thought to be. But change comes with life, doesn't it? Something that Mr. Pinto said in the English Literature class today struck me : "It's beaurocrats who desist change". Questions regarding whether I should care two hoods about his opinion is another totally different discussion. Let's see. I'm experimenting with life. It'll go on till the validity of this recharge gets over.