KBC's contestants

Is it just me or everybody is noticing the same pattern?

Every person who is coming to KBC is the most grief-stricken person in the world. Of course, the term ‘the most’ is used in an emphasizing tone. As not everyone can fall into the superlative degree category, and some will be lesser grief stricken than the others. (Ah! Again my intelligence)

Take this example: “I am very happy after winning so and so amount. Now I can get my sister married, build a house, get my father operated, relieve my neighbour of his duties of f***ing my own wife, bite my cat and eat my dog.”

Oh, come on! Have you heard of an actor called Mithun Da and his genre of movies? Even his characters are happier than you, until he drags villains out of their dens situated near the station and kills them in the airport.

I only watched the first season of KBC during the good old days, when KBC was only about sheer intelligence and money. I have not seen the intervening seasons so I can’t comment on those. This season has another dimension –emotions.

As if Ekta Kapoor was not performing her duties. First I thought that it is the feature of the first episode only. Since it was aired on Indian Independence Day (August 15) and the program wants to salute some really brave Indians. We were shown a montage of the struggle all the contestants have endured to sustain their life and reach the platform of KBC. Still in some of the stories I couldn’t find anything heart whelming. Fearing that I am too insensitive, I cursed myself and tried to empathise with the non-existent struggles of most of the people.

Then another episode aired the next day, and then another, and then another. And guess what! I was right the first time round.

But all this got me thinking. Are the struggle stories of all the famous people fake? Now I would like to think so.

Take for instance, our dear Kapil Sibbal. He once came to Mr. Alter’s college to give a speech. (I hope you people have not forgotten Dear Mr. Alter)

Kapil Sibbal: I come from a really humble upbringing, with very little means and paucity of resources.

The truth: His father was a Barrister during the British Raj.

And when I think of it, I am pretty sure that Richard Branson is not at all dyslexic and he made it up to garner some sympathy for his achievements.

Jindal Diary- Random rant of a restless rider

Thursday, being middle of the week should be a busy day for me. But when I woke up this morning I had the same goddamn question to answer. 

Now what!

The past few days have been the same for me. Not to know what to do next, So I plan impromptu. It is another matter than even long-term planning would yield the same result. Well so I freshened up, missed the breakfast (as always) and then the unending quest.

Should I or shouldn’t I go to office. In the end it was decided.

I am surfing through the channels. Nothing interesting is coming up. Out of desperation I try watching some random ‘Ekta Kapoor' style shit. I thought that maybe I have grown so bored of the nit picks of life that I might enjoy them. Turns out, it was not meant to be. I still can’t take this shit for more than 30 seconds.

So next I turn to my saviour for the past 3 months- MTV and its “Lava Break-free music from 8 am to 12 pm.” The paradox here is that they are taking a break in the program to tell that the program is break-free. Doesn’t the break itself somehow disown the claim of the break? Oh God! I am fed up of my intelligence. Being a born genius has also its disadvantages. I am realizing in these difficult hours.

To move back to the point, I don’t really enjoy the show anymore. It has the same songs that I have been hearing for the past 3 decades (or so long it seems) running over and over again. What fixation does the MTV have with the movie Speedy Singhs? It was a boring; utterly crap movie and that too about Sardars. Like the world really doesn’t already know about them. And to top it all the movie comes up with a really innovative topic of Sardars in Canada.

Wah, wah! Kya baat hai. I salute their ingenuity.

Hmm!

Aur Dil mein tha bas ek sawal!

“Have I made it large?”

Arey nahi bhai ye nahi tha original sawal. Asli sawal hai ki aaj kya karein mere yaar?

So here I am, to run away from my boredom I have come to office.

I like to think of the process as that of nation building or as they say, ‘Bharat Nirman’. So here I am googling topics on how to survive a lazy Sunday (Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday)

Bye the way the term 'rider' in the heading of the blog has nothing to do with my intelligence. I am not trying to imply any deeper meaning or hidden philosophies of my life. So just move on and read it just like that. I have grown too lazy to even think of a suitable heading and have scribbled the first word that came to my mind. 

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening ~ Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


Why does it feel like these lines are speaking to me! It feels like the story of my life. How can some one be so simple yet so subtle... 

Jindal Diary- Some random incidents

JPL is organizing a 5-day event, from October 2, 2011 to October 6, 2011 on the eve of Durga Puja. It is really great for people like me, who belong to the eastern part of India and for whom DP is a really big affair. In the school days, I would look forward to DP holidays as it will mean the onset of a number of festivals including, Diwali, Govardhan Puja, Bhai Duj and finally culminating in Chath.

The mega-festival week as it is called in JPL has one event or the other every day. Last night it was Garbha performance by a group of students whose lead is an attractive girl from IIT Delhi. Supposedly she was also a participant in ‘Voice of India’. Now that is something I really admire- following your passion.

But the next day some really funny conversation happened. Actually it can be thought provoking for someone, depending upon how much intellectually challenged they are. As I belong to the highest breed so it was only funny for me and nothing else. Again the incident involved our own Alter. Mr. Alter also works with the CSR department of the company apart from threatening government employees like railway TT and GRP. The CSR team has another employee called Mr. Dhakkan. A mention of his qualification is really necessary here for the argument that follows. Mr. Dhakkan is some Masters in some degree and he is planning to pursue an MBA.

Dhakkan to Alter: Arey Sir, kal ka Grabha program dekhe bada maja aaya

Alter: arey haan, maine bhi suna, but I was not able to go, had some work (actually lazing around was his work)

Dhakkan: aur bahar se nachne wali ladkiya bhi bulayi thi company ne

Alter: ya, I know. Actually they are from IIT Delhi

D (slightly puzzled): IIT! Kya keh rhe hai sir, IIT walo ko ye sab karne ki kya jarurat hai?

A: %%%&&&$$$****@@ !!! ??? (Speechless and totally confused as to how to respond)

D: sir wo nachne wali kyu ban gyi, kya hua unhe.

A: (regaining some of his sanity), arey wo nachne wali nahi hai, they perform on stage, because it is her... (He thought of mentioning the word ‘passion’ but then decided it is best not to mention such useless terms in this highly inspirational talk)

D: Sir, job nahi lagi thi kya IIT se, so naach gaa ke paise kamane padte hai?

A: (losing his wits now)- arey Dhakkan jee, main to aapko padha likha samajhta tha, aapse aisi umeed nahi thi

D: (not to give away that easily, replies with a fairly straight face), Sir, humein bhi IIT walo se aisi umeed nahi thi...

--- END of DISCUSSION—

Actually how can you counter such well laid argument!

Incident No 2

It happened on that historic train trip from Raigarh to Ranchi. We are standing near the gate. The toilet is nearby and I observed that people coming out from one bathroom are going to the next bathroom slightly troubled. After a few moments I realized that the tank has no water.

Hahaha...!!! How are they managing...? (You know what I mean to say)

I saw a dude standing outside the bathroom. And as you Mr. Alter by now, he starts a conversation with him. The Dude is working in Chennai in textile industry and has come to Ranchi for his DP holidays. During conversation Dude reveals that he is waiting to use the restroom. Being a Good Samaritan, our Alter is, he informs the dude that the facility has no water. Alter then goes inside the boggy to arrange for some seat. In the meanwhile a bathroom gate opens and dude can’t control it enough, so he decides to use the facility anyways. I am still standing outside.

After a few moments, the gate opens, dude holding his trousers from falling down, says in a slightly irritated tone- “Paani aa to raha hai jee.”

And I thought, look at the charitable instinct of the dude, even in this hour of urgency he is thinking of the world around him. He comes out of his rest period to inform the world at large that the water has been filled in the tank.

Long live such unselfish souls.

RESPECT!

And I have become too emotional to write any further for now. 

Why I miss my own love story

I was reading the book – 2 States- by Chetan Bhagat. Really a nice read!

The good thing is that it captures the stereotypes of the North-South divide in a really funny manner, yet it never wavers away from the facts. Many a time I will be reading a certain piece of para and I realized, “arey bhai ye to mere saath bhi ho chukka hai.”

The Tam-Brahm dude I was talking to last week was behaving in the same manner as mentioned in this novel. Or the Punjabi Aunty I met last Sunday was exactly the same as the Bobby Aunty of the novel.

This post of mine is neither a review of the novel; neither is it a lecture on perfect Indian behaviour. The simple fact is; after reading this novel, I am starting to miss my own love story.

Don’t be startled! First hear my side of the story.

“Yaar badi plain and simple bita di. Kabhie gharwalo ko koi tension hi nahi di...” :P 

It would have been really nice, if I took a South Indian girl to my mother and said, “ye le maa teri hone wali bahu.”

Just imagining her next expression is giving me fits of laughter. And add to that my other relatives, my millions of nose-poking uncles and aunties and their zillions of offspring – who will henceforth be known as my cousins.

You might call me a sadist bastard; yes that is what I am. And I really don’t care about the snoot society. I enjoy the misery of people around me. And so does everybody else. Do you really believe that your friend care for you when he enquires about your recent breakup. Or your uncle and aunty really are worried for you when they console you during your period of unemployment. Feasting on other people misery has been the favourite past time of everyone. And I am pretty sure that jealousy was the first emotion humans experienced, much before love or hate. So yes I am a sadist bastard.

It all started with my cousin getting married to a non-Marwari girl. Nothing special about it or so I thought. Then suddenly I realized the growing concern of everyone around me to teach me about values, traditions, demerits of love marriage, problems of inter-caste relationships, etcetera, etcetera!

It didn’t help the matter that the idiot cousin has been the closest to what I call a friend since childhood. We practically discuss every small matter between us.

The scene became so comical that now only you have to say my name and a girl’s name in one complete sentence together. It was enough to get everyone charged up and come rushing to me.

You might think, “I would be pissed off at all this scepticism and mistrust.” On the contrary I was enjoying all this. To make the matter spicier I would add some random names to the discussion as if I spelt the name by mistake.

Aah! Those were the golden days.

“Per abhi kuch nahi hai naa yaar, gharwalo ko pareshan karne ko...”

That is why I thought, “how about an original tale instead of all the fake rumours.” And not just any tale, but a proper filmy one complete with the north-south divide. I am ready to throw in the rich-poor divide as well. But the problem is with my IIM salary, I am left neither rich nor poor. So I have to forgo this twist.

In all this thoughts I really pity my friends who had a love relationship and were married happily and effortlessly. Do you really know what you missed?

Yaar thoda struggle karte, ghar wale nahi mante, thoda tum unhe manate, thoda wo tumhe samjhate, is beech ladki ki shaadi kahi aur fix ho jati, tab to life mein twist aata.

Jindal Diary- Trip to Ranchi and Dhanbad

After a long time I used Indian railways so extensively. Somehow I thought I won’t be able to do this kind of travel anymore. But as Sunny Deol said in his iconic movie JEET, “In haathon ne hathyaar sirf chode hai, chalana nahi bhule hai”, I guess the same applies to me as well.

I might have left the ticketless kind of travel but I have not forgotten the charm of travelling without any pre-planning.

Thankfully, I did not have to travel like this

Mr. Alter was going to his place – Ranchi, to meet his father. Just like that he asked whether I would like to join him to a trip to Ranchi. The day has been pretty tiring one with the workshop on “Goal setting”. (For a change I was organizing the workshop and not attending the workshop as a participant.  More on this in a separate blog) But still I couldn’t resist the temptation to go out and explore a new city. I agreed and decided to call Mr. Dude and asked him whether he would like to join. He readily agreed.

The time was 8:00 pm and we had to leave by 8:30 pm. Dude will be picked on the way. We reached Raigarh station, took a general ticket and boarded the Sleeper coach of a train. As soon as the train left the station two Thulla came and enquired about our ticket. I usually get really scared of such scene and I was prepared to shell out some money to them. But what followed next is beyond my imagination.

Thulla no 1: (he later turned out to be an ex-military jawan) - “This is not a valid ticket. Pay the fine.”

He along with the other one first tries to get some money from us. In a few moments a heated argument ensued between the two Thulla and Mr. Alter.

By this time I had totally submitted myself to the leadership of Alter. 

I don’t know how he did it or what he said. But after five minutes the senior of Thulla 1 was chatting with Alter in a slightly apologetic tone, as if the GRP personnel and the Ticket checker have committed some mistakes by asking us for our ticket. During the discussion only Alter had to do was to pronounce their names 2-3 times, throw in terms like Baroda house in New Delhi, honour, dignity and blah blah blah. I was there but if you ask me to repeat the process, I will go blank. It is only the genius of Alter and only he can do that.

Not with my polished MBA degree and rustic small town upbringing can I achieve this feat. What followed next was even more hysterical. After few moments Alter and the senior GRP were talking about their families, how GRP senior is not very happy with his future prospects, where his father resides currently, blah blah blah.

Is it really happening I was thinking? And in all these I don’t know what scared the TT but he was not ready to be in our vicinity for more than 15 seconds. As if by being in the presence of our existence, he will evaporate. 

At the end of all, what does our Alter says, “This is why I like travelling without planning and reservation. Bada maza aata hai ye sab karne mein. Dekha kitna achcha time pass ho gaya.”

This was the time I decide “Bhai ye aadmi to ekdum ALTER hai.”

We reached Ranchi the next morning after changing one more train. In the next train as well a group of TT tried to attack us. But by this time I have grown confident of Alter’s leadership skills. And I was not to be proved wrong. The same fate followed this group as well. They left us without any money in their pocket.

After a day’s stay at Ranchi, I decided to visit my place – Dhanbad. I took Dude with me. There is no tourist place in Dhanbad, but there is something there that I guess no other place in the country can offer- fire coming out from the underground mines and can be seen from the cracks. Surprisingly people living in the vicinity are not bothered a bit about it.

It was time to bid goodbye to Dhanbad and back to Ranchi where we will meet Alter and take a train back to Raigarh. Alter had one more arrow in his armour to impress us.

Bhai khana bada shandar banata hai.

I thought, “ kash ladki hota to propose kar deta... J”

We took a train back to Rourkela, then to Jharsuguda, to Raigarh then a auto to Ghadi Chawk and finally a bus back to Tamnar- meri Karm Bhumi. At the end of all these I realize... well I realize nothing!

Every story does not need to have a morale! Aise hi time pass ke liye bhi to likh sakte hai naa story, yaar.

Till then I am waiting for my next trip. 

Lost in Wilderness - Jindal Diary

Time follows its own pace here

It has got its own reckoning

No bottles to empty here,

No cans to gauge the night remaining

Gone are the people around

And gone are the days

Lost in this wilderness - the feelings,

Misty like a haze

­

Is it a reality, or just the numbness of my effort?

Or is it just the life gone by, structured like a cohort

Thoughts have abandoned me

Thoughts!

For they never abandoned me before

Clearly it is something, something that I abhor

Is it something trivial or some kind of mental maze?

Is it something real or some kind of tricky cage?

Confused, I am!

For thoughts were my companion

Never had they showed any resistance

Never had they left me in a canyon

They are ONE purpose I don’t like to lose

Wild they may be, but they helped me cruise

Is it the travail of my destiny?

Or probably an insignificant mutiny

My rational brain looks for reasons

Reasons!

The tools of intelligentsia or the shield of defeated

Hard to fathom upon, the uncertainty is better not repeated

But reasons it is my friend, I have to find,

Not for the life that has passed by me,

But probably, maybe, the life not yet passed by me

In my predicament, as I pass down the rows of trees

It becomes hard to imagine

Whether it is the lane of reality or boulevard of my dreams

Travesty of a confused soul, parade of a clear mind

I am alone and it is not just me, we are alone

It is hard to imagine the difference, they seem like a clone

Whom to believe

The clichéd reality or the powdery illusion

What is dearer to me now?

Slowly it is becoming like dreams, you can’t stop dreams

And suddenly in dreams you are capable of everything

A committed dealing or just a casual fling

Then I realize, I might just being theatrical

Lost in this wilderness, I act whimsical

How can I be lost, when there is entire civilization

I cannot be gloomy, and I realize it is just my fixation

But again as I pass down the rows of trees

It becomes hard to imagine

Whether it is the lane of reality or boulevard of my dreams