Saturday, December 08, 2007

That brilliant, er, yeah, film!

There is this certain scene I've seen in various movies, English and Hindi (I do not really watch other language films unless they're dubbed and brilliant.); an intelligent director presents a passionate story to an audience which does not appreciate it. Khoya Khoya Chand has a similar scene where the audience walk off from a premiere of Shiney's directorial debut.

I have a strong feeling Sudhir Mishra is trying to lend a little humour in that scene. He probably knows a lot of people watching Khoya Khoya Chand would want to walk away.

It is that kind of a movie. No, you do not want to walk away like you did while watching Jhoom Barabar Jhoom. A lot of people would walk away because they do not relate to the ideas of the

Khoya Khoya is one of the better movies, for me. With the brilliant acting of Vinay Pathak, Soha, Shiney and even Saurabh Shukla, it takes you back to an era my age has not seen. The arty Bengali director, the beautiful Muslim actress, the eccentric producer, the typical UP lad; amazing characterization.

The movie is not so much about the cinema in the 60s as it is about people in general. It portrays the relationship between a group of persons so beautifully that you sometimes wonder if you're really only watching a film.

I liked Chameli, but I have yet to see Mishra's other baby, Hazaron Khwahishen Aisi. Even though, I'm positive that that will again be a good watch.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

The day after

The randomness of day is a good research project.

What do you do when you have time to kill, three hours, to be precise. When you cannot play Jetman just for the fact that others will think you're the biggest jerk. When India is playing so horrendously that you don't feel like watching and cheering. When the music runs out on your cell phone or your battery gives up. When there is no one you can sit with for more than five minutes. When all your assignments and journals have been copied complete.

Difficult situations these. My response: I go to the Energee waala outside college, make random conversation with him about how bad India is playing, come back. I sit with this one guy I recognize in canteen. I talk to him for five minutes. Then I get up and walk out to my car for no rhyme or reason. I throw in my bag and walk back to college. I sit with that one guy and girl again. Once they stop showing much interest in me, I get up to walk outside again. Time doesn't fly you know. Damn.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007


Realization strikes, suddenly. After all the busy days of the past month, just yesterday, I was contemplating why I was behaving differently to certain circumstances which have occurred in the past.

I was never the expressive person. I used to be content even with no one around me, no one to talk to. I was never the expectant person. This has changed now.

I've become that extremely sociable person, who always needs people around to feel comfortable. I can't sit alone for hours now; not even with a book, my usual substitute for people. I know why this has happened. I've gotten close to a few people in the past few years, who've caused me to become this way. I do not know if it's for the better or worse; I'm just in a very uncomfortable territory right now. I need to know myself better.

That Siddhesh Mehra, who never cared what others thought of him, has started paying attention to it. I do not like it this way, but I do not know how much trying to turn myself back into the old me will change things.

For now, let me be.


This article has NOT been written by me. I came across it while searching on Google. Credit goes to the writer, Huzaifa. The blog can be found at


The following article was written by me for my college magazine in 2004.
I.E.E.E. and C.S.I. are the student chapters of the Electronics and Computer Department respectively. Needless to say, they are the best of friends.


Every now and then one comes across a stage in life which teaches you the difference between right and wrong and how to face hardships. It teaches you morals, ethics and things like why soldering irons should be cooled before putting in pant pockets.
Yes, I am talking of college festivals.

Every year the IEEE and CSI societies hold their college festival. IEEE and CSI date their origins to primitive times when two cave men first discovered the dog. The first cavemen taught the dog how to stand, eat, run, talk and cook food, but all the dog did was roll over and play dead. He called this programming and formed CSI. The second caveman passed a direct electric current thru the dog’s leg. When its tail moved frantically up and down, he called it DC to AC rectification and formed the IEEE.

Traditionally these two societies have been bitter rivals, each trying to outdo the other. Their festivals are the hallmark of the semester. CSI calls its festival PROTOCOL which is Latin for “Our-classrooms-are-better-than-the-principal’s-office.” IEEE calls its festival TECHTRIX which is stands for “We-claim-to-have-more-members-than-the-Congress Party.”

Protocol was the first fest to take place. While preparing for the event it was decided by the core committee that the college walls were looking faded and dirty. So let’s put up garish red posters over every inch of the walls and cover them up. Around 3 million billion killion dillion posters were printed (conservative estimate) and plastered everywhere. There were posters on the stairs, the canteen, the windows, even on the lift doors. Posters would turn up in the most unexpected places like the bathroom cubicles, the labs, the terrace and even in the canteen Pav Bhaji.

IEEE was now faced with an acute free wall space crisis. Someone on their committee decided to hang their posters from the ceiling. Now this is a good idea, especially if you are 8 ft tall and have a rubber neck. For others it was a chance to show off their archery skills. Contests were held during lunch (“Alright let’s see who can hit the poster. Keep your pens and rubber bands ready..FIRE”)

Both the festivals have budgets large enough to wipe the debt of certain African nations. Events like Treasure Hunt are closely guarded secrets. Nobody knows the checkpoints except the organizers, the event heads, the volunteers, their families, the xeroxwala, the liftman, security guards, the canteen waiters, and of course the government of China. Robotics is another keenly contested event in which 20 year old engineering students try to get rid of their ‘geeky nerd’ tags by playing with toy cars.

I have to mention the laser show which was part of the CSI fest.
It was a twenty minute show that had enough lasers to send western Maharashtra on an 8 hour power shortage. CSI proudly claimed it to be second in magnitude only to Bappi Lahiri’s wardrobe.

Not to be outdone IEEE redecorated the college entrance. Disco balls and black curtains were put up to give the feel of an authentic *Technical Festival*.

Looking back on 2004, I have to conclude that it was great fun. The fights, the bickering, sponsor stealing and the occasional glimpse of an empty wall space.
Can’t wait for next year.

Saturday, September 01, 2007

About Sport

I play a lot of sport. I think I'm decent at some of them. This is my theory of sport.

1) I love to play against a pro if I play decently.
2) I hate to play against a decent player if I play pathetic.
3) I love to play with people who I used to defeat but they now defeat me.
4) I hate to play against an amateur if I play like a pro.

Personal theory.

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Viruddh Gandhi

This one wouldn't have come, but for the incessant abuses Manmeet hurled at me whenever I met him; in person or online. This one's for the aviator.

I'm not convinced Gandhi was Mahatma. It is probably because I've not read enough about the man to deem him Mahatma. He was a good man, powerful rather. There had to be something about a man who could single-handedly influence the second-most populous nation in the world. The aura, of men of that stature, people like Gandhi, Hitler, Luther King; is irresistible. These men inspire me, although none were Mahatmas.
Why this article? Well, I saw Gandhi, my father. Whatever the Times of India or other newspapers thought, I believe the movie was brilliant. From the depiction of a stubborn Gandhi, always knowing the right, a soft father, longing for the love of his son; to the wonderful portrayal of Hari Gandhi, the wasted son of a celebrated father: the emotional relationship is beautifully played.
I had expectations from this movie the first time I heard about it at the IIFA awards. Fresh from watching the Aviator, I almost hoped for a Scorsese-style biography. What I got was different from Scorsese; but was equally brilliant. It is small things I like about direction; the shower scene in South Africa, staying away from the infamous train incident in SA, not indulging into much outside Gandhi's family, images of Akshay Khanna as a Satyagrahi in the later parts of the movie.
It is rather rare that I feel this kind of fervor after watching a movie. The last time I felt it was after The Departed. Rang De Basanti before that. I say Anil Kapoor chose an apt movie to start his production career. Nice.

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

The dream

Now just the other day, I was discussing dreams with my friends, while cursing myself for not remembering them. They gave me vivid descriptions of their dreamy escapades. So, today, to my surprise, when I woke up, I realised what I was dreaming. Now c'mon, that was an experience for me. So, here it is.

#include fantasyland.h
Now, a senior of mine had shifted to Australia while we were still in school. So now, probably a couple of years later, I meet a girl outside who I faintly recognize as that senior's sister. She's getting some land dug in an open ground in front of school. When I go to enquire out of curiosity, I learn that she's a telecommunications engineering student and she was doing a project on telecomm in India. So she was trying to get to the MTNL lines.
/*Pause. Some days later. */
I meet the same girl again, getting the same digging done, but now right in front of my building. I say hi to her once again, and get talking. Turns out we share a nice rapport. I give her my contact number, and we go around Bombay for a couple of days. We start liking each other, and the day before she's leaving for Australia, she comes to my place. We are in the elevator, and I tell her I like her. She smiles. I hug her. She does not refuse, but she does not respond.
/*Pause. Next day.*/
Next day, she does not call before leaving. I cannot contact her because she does not have a cell.
Some days later, she calls from Australia. I complain about not meeting her when she left, and she says she felt awkward right after the hug. But that, to make up, she was sending me a gift.
Suddenly, I see myself holding an album. Pictures of mine and hers', with apt captions and messages.
/*I get a phone call. My dream ends.*/
end dream

Now, now, before someone asks; I can't remember who the girl was, neither who the senior was. The telecomm engineer in me appeared in the dream. And then, the photo album must have been because I was searching for pictures to put up on Facebook yesterday. Dream analysis ends here. It was a nice little dream. But probably even a little influenced by the James Bond flicks I've been watching rather religiously for the past few days.

Thursday, May 03, 2007

The insect

Imagine this.
You take an oath never to kill an insect.
Now, an insect keeps climbing on your face even though you push it away a couple of times. What would you do?

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Of people

OK. So there are people who work in my house.

Instance 1: Pandeyji
Pandeyji has probably seen me for more time than I can remember. So whenever he enters the house, he greets me with the words Boss. Now, it's fine to call me Boss, but not when it sounds like Bose. Not as in the Bos(z)e audio systems, but the Subhash Chandra Bose types.
Imagine, everytime I see him, all I hear is "Bose", and it drives me crazy. So much for the patriot in me!

Instance 2: Manoj
Manoj is 18 years old. He's indispensable to me. So now, he was trying to decipher what the Laughing Buddha in my show case meant.
The following are his words:
"Ye to woh hi hain naa ji, woh bhagwan jinhone macchli pakad li thi. Yeh buddhu bhagwan hain na?"
God, I could not stop laughing when he made Buddha into Buddhu. Lord.

Friday, March 30, 2007

Poetic Moods #6 Distress II

My grandfather suffered from a brain stroke on the 6th of October, 2002. It took away his speech, and left him paralyzed on the right side of his body. This is for him.

His fingers clenched around my wrist,
he held me tight,
a quiet look of desperation,
I trembled at that sight.

His eyes so still,
pleading to me in exasperation,
the worried smile,
I cursed my incomprehension.

I relived that old night,
had it struck again?
without those words he had long lost,
I could almost feel the pain.

The sudden relax,
his grip lost my hand,
he responded to my excited worry,
on my feet I could again stand!

Monday, March 12, 2007

Poetic Moods #5 Her

A little shade of the unorthodox,
she looks into those eyes,
And then she comes to understand,
there's someone who never lies.

She's pretty, she's smart, she's sensible,
she's all that you would wish,
yet she's not available,
she's happy as she is.

There is so much more meaning,
it's difficult to explain,
but for a friend like you,
it's all simple and plain.

When you feel uncomfortable,
I know exactly how it is,
But damn, I do not know,
Is there anything else to this?

Saturday, March 03, 2007

Russell that!

So then; I wasn't supposed to be there! I did not have the passes. All those people who are thinking of me as the perfect bitch who went without them knowing, let me tell you the whole thing.
It was the last show Russell was doing in Bombay on this tour. And so, like an expectant fool, I went to Andrews thinking that an idiot would come there offering me passes for the show. I reached there to the sight of one of my sisters friend selling tickets to another guy. I cursed the traffic. I waited with a friend for another hour with no luck. No one was generous enough to give me that so desired pass. We waited, and the show started. Then, we went to the entry gate and gave the organizer the most agonized look that we could. Sympathetically I think, he told us that he had only one ticket with him to sell. Tempted, we bought the ticket and waited for someone as helpful to give us the second ticket. When that person didn't come, my friend suggested we toss a coin and the winner goes in; no point wasting more time outside. I agreed and my luck! I got the ticket. Center seat, 1st row!
Sorry Raj!

Sunday, February 18, 2007

Roger that!

You have these times when you are in front of legends. People who have written a part of history. And then you don't realize that thirty years down the line, when history is being read, you would be the lucky one to have come across it.
So today, I watched Roger Waters perform live 10 meters away from me. For the idiots, Waters is the major lyricist and composer of Pink Floyd, along with giving vocals and guitars in most songs.
The gig started with the usual Floyd antics; sparks running across the stage, exaggerated lighting, and beautiful music. Before we could realise, the classics started coming in. When songs go beyond the music, it is then that you really love them!
Then there were people, lots of them; Indians, Australians, Britishers, French, Hippies; cigarettes dangling from the mouths, some flaunting Bacardi bottles in their pockets, shouting out to random people about even random things; all part of a typical rock concert.
I had a wonderful time. With Guns n Roses last year and Roger Waters this year, I'm silently praying for Metallica next year!

Monday, February 12, 2007

Poetic Moods #4 The Arsenal

A rush hour!
A big game!
A bunch of stars!
Adorned with fame!

Some in their car!
Some by the train!
They come from far!
To chant the name!

We say welcome to the Emirates!
And we go a goal down!
We see you in that ecstatic state,
Oblivious to the oncoming frown!

So many times before!
Hadn't you already seen?
What we had in store!
Through what even the reds have just been!

One from Robin!
And the second from Henry!
Oh, what a win!
Another comeback to the Arsenal gallantry!

The thunderous roar!
The walk back!
The voices into the air soar!
Now it is time to relax!

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Poetic Moods #3 Distress

This is for Manmeet. I wrote this in the flight thinking of you.

I shook in mid air,
with just a head rest to stare,
for the other I didn't care;
and I waited!

There were only clouds outside,
the one beside me cried,
I was on an adventurous ride;
so I waited!

A voice over the speaker came,
all the consolation was now lame,
I had never experienced the same,
but I waited!

Something from the top fell,
and I felt my head swell,
all the sweat that I could smell;
I waited!

A little orange and a lot of pink,
and still the sun would not sink,
I had no heart to think;
hence I waited!

With a thud it was all over,
a smooth path for us to hover,
never was I to be so sober;
and the wait ended!

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Then and Now: Part 1

Yh, those were the days. I was captain of the Junior team in the 6th standard at my boarding school. We were bowling for the trophy, as in I was bowling the last over for the trophy. The opposite team needed 5 runs, with 4 wickets remaining.
Ball1: Wide
Ball2: Wide
Ball3: Caught back by the bowler.
Ball4: Wicket. Caught in the slips
Ball5: Wide. Run out while trying to steal a single.
Ball6: Single.
Ball7: Wide.The match was over. Apparently!
It was 1998. Then, a four off a wide delivery was declared as four runs and not five as it is now. The scorer had made a mistake and given it as five. The match stood tied with three balls remaining. Those three balls were to be held the next day.
The next day we had a science test (and we all were serious about studying, at least I was). The morning, I missed my prep time (study time) and practised for those three balls.
After lunch, we went for the match.
Ball7: Missed outside the off stump. Collected by keeper.
Ball8: Missed outside the off stump. Collected by keeper.
Ball9: Missed outside the off stump. Collected by keeper. Run out.
Yh, so we won by the rule of wickets. I was picked up like I had just won my team the world cup. The match took away my interest in cricket. I did not want to hear the name of the game. I never played serious cricket after that.
That was then.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Exciting day!

This is someone's exciting day!
I wake up at 9 for an 8.30 lecture. (Yes, that's *exciting*)
Then I miss the lecture and sit in the canteen (How very **).
I sit in the canteen.
I sit in the canteen.
Then, I get a brainwave to go to Brio /*Corrected on request*/. (**)
Then, we sit at Brio. We talk, get excited about the place we've come to.
Then, whether we have tuition; according to home, we always do.
We go to U Turn during that time. (Very **)
After that, we go to 11 echoes for dinner and talk. (** **)
Then, I come home.
Once upon a time in Bombay, there was a person who told me that my life was not exciting enough, because all I ever talked when asked how my day was was the exact course of events. So, I asked how that person's day was more exciting than mine; and the above is the response!

Saturday, January 27, 2007

Poetic Moods #2: Red

On the surface, I see a creature;
he toils in the night, and tries to rest;
just then something strikes,
and the creature meets its death.

When the surface is revealed,
and the curtain is raised;
a hand appears,
Unaffected, unfazed.

The hand is blooded,
and the creature lies there;
the black of his body,
smeared red in despair.

It could have caused a disease,
or an epidemic, the hand said;
there will always be another one,
for this one dead!

Sunday, January 21, 2007

A day in my life

Yesterday was the most proper day in my recent life.

1) I woke up in the morning to go to Borivali to play a football match. As I reached Andheri station, I realised that I haven't got my ID along; and we needed it. So I got down at Jogeshwari and went back home to collect my ID. I rushed back to Borivali. There, they didn't even ask for the IDs. But the proper day went on, and I managed to lose my ID. I DIDNT EVEN PLAY THE MATCH, I WAS ON THE BENCH FOR 50 MINUTES AND ALL I DID AT BORIVALI WAS LOST THE ID WHICH I HAD FORGOTTEN AND THEN GONE BACK TO COLLECT!

2) So then, we came home. In the evening I had another match at VJTI. So I went to Andheri station, and all my idiot friends bought harbour line tickets, because they thought Kings Circle was closer to VJTI. So it was, but then harbour line trains come within half an hour of each other, and we had just missed one of them. Yh, so we got late. We reached there; warmed up; and I realised I wasn't even in the squad there. Frustrating! I went to VJTI to cheer the team.

3) I was supposed to be running for the marathon today. After winning at Borivali, we were told that the next match would be today. Thinking that I would anyways miss the marathon, I didn't collect the shirt number. At VJTI, I came to know that there was no match today; and still I would miss the marathon. Aargh!

4) There was a Siddhesh who played against us at Borivali; and there was a Mehra who played against us at VJTI. So, both Siddhesh and Mehra played, but Siddhesh Mehra didn't play.

Monday, January 01, 2007

Off again!

Its just that time of the year when I start to travel; and last year was good travel. Kerala, Lonavala, Europe, Delhi (i know)..
And this year starts with Nainital. But as always; hopeful destinations for this year:
Ummm.. Delhi (perpetually there.. not hopeful, im sure ill be there atleast twice in the year)
America - I wanna go meet Didi.. please
England - Arre thats to on the way tto the US only na.. so Ill stop there for a couple of days
Goa - I just want to go there, feeling aa rahi hai..


I just loved this one on the front page of the Times today:

There are two Indias in this country.
One India is straining at the leash, eager to spring forth and live up to all the adjectives that the world has been showering recently upon us.
The other India is the leash.
One India says, give me a chance and I'll prove myseld. The other India says, prove yourself first and maybe then you'll have a chance.
One India lives in the optimism of our hearts. The other India lurks in the skepticism of our minds.
One India wants. The other India hopes.
One India leads. The other India follows.
But conversions are on the rise. With each passing day more and more people from the other India have been coming over to this side.
And quietly, while the world is not looking, a pulsating, dynamic, new India is emerging.
An India whose faith in success is far greater than its fear of failure.
An India that no longer boycotts foreign-made goods but buys out the companies that make them instead.
History, they say, is a bad motorist. It rarely ever signals its intentions when it is taking a turn.
This is the rarely-ever moment. History is turning a page.
For more than half a century, our nation has sprung, stumbled, run, fallen, rolled over, got up, dusted herself and cantered, sometimes lurched on. But today, as we begin our 60th year as a free nation, the ride has brought us to the edge of time's great precipice.
And one India - a tiny little voice at the back of the head - is looking down at the bottom of the ravine and hesitating.
The other India is looking up at the sky and saying, it's time to fly.
INDIA POISED - our time is now

There is a reason why I picked this up from the Times and posted on my blog.
Newspapers are read one day and thrown away the next; but I want this part of today's paper to remain with me.