Team of Rivals

Just finished reading this epic biography by Doris Keanes Goodwin on Abe Lincoln and his cabinet ministers. This book, to borrow Lincoln's Gettysburg phrase gives "the last full measure of devotion" to the great man and his superb statesmanship.
Finding parallels to current statesmen, we are rarely able to see even a few of these qualities in our current lot.Obama, an ardent admirer of Lincoln, and this book, is yet to show good on the initial promise.From an Indian perspective, Prime Minister Doc. Manmohan Singh seems to possess the patience and calm demeanor that helped Lincoln anchor a nation during turbulent times.
The book provides a searing account of civil war politics and one can't but help appreciate the revolutionary ideals of those times. It brings out various facets of Lincoln's magnanimous and wise leadership abilities that helped him become from a prairie lawyer to the most famous US president and leader of the world for times to come. Must read for any fan of history and the various sobering lessons it teaches from its personalities, events and quirks of time.
My closing thoughts after reading the book was, "What would have happened if the confederates would have won?". I would definitely want to know if there is any account written from the confederate point of view,although i know history is never written by the vanquished but by the victors.Still its a sobering thought to imagine how the world and America would have shaped had slavery continued in it.

Lil' Birdie poem

Little Birdie
Little birdie,lil’ birdie come and play with Hargun and Harnoor,
Gun and Noor love you birdie, so why not play with them.
Your thoughts brings on their little faces glowing smiles,
This world seems a heaven when you come in their lives.
From inside the window they watch your every action,
While you are unaware of this growing attraction.
Even a birdwatcher seeing a rare bird would not be as excited,
As Gun and Noor are,when you chirp-they are so delighted.
You fly anywhere you like,even sit on the roof of a bungalow,
While Gun and Noor stand inside,watching you from the window.
They can just be so happy to see you fly,
hopping on the window, or soaring in the sky.
Why do you visit houses of people who never look at you?
While my lil' ones look sadly from the window,waiting for you.
They stare at the sky,wondering when you will be back,
And their eyes seem to say,come back birdie,come back.
When sick, your name brings on their faces beaming smiles,
And then I thank god for bringing you into their lives.

-This poem has been written by my sister Navneet,with some modifications done by me. She has twin daughters, Hargun and Harnur(see photo above), who wait everyday at the window for the litte birdie to come and play with them.

Sick in bed

I am sick and today doctors are going to operate me.

why is odd to stand and work?

Today late in the evening a lot of us were working, talking,chatting and well standing from our tiny little cubicles..until someone asked why are you standing? Seems strange but why should that be a problem?

Women's Day

Today is woman's day....as if other days were not,i can say with a smirk.Now before the women brigade denounce me as a MCP (Male Chauvinistic Pig) i am just stating the important role women play in life.Incidentlly i came across this wonderful video on youTube on 9 ways to treat a woman Watch it and do comment on it

Bribe to Maharashtra Traffic Police

Today i paid a bribe of Rs 500 to traffic police in Pune to get back my Thunderbird.They had impounded my bike because i had forgotten licence at home and did not have pollution under control certificate.On top of that i am unable to place my Registration papers for the vehicle.
They have lost my keys so i have to spend additional money on that.

Thoughts on the Alumni Meet

Thoughts on Alumni Meet

As I make plans to go for my third Alumni Meet, I wonder what attracts me every year to take this pilgrimage to the green and cream coloured building, nestled somewhere between eternal obscurity and transient fame. Every year the “Insti” as it is fondly known in the community, wakes up from its “kumbhkarnaesque” stupor and shakes itself to welcome alumni, young and old. There are the usual song and dance sequences and other such paraphernalia clumsily but enthusiastically enacted in the centre of the famed quadrangle. The faculty, alumni and the students watch the sincere lighthearted entertainment belted out to the alumni, who are at that time more interested in embracing long lost friends and talking to each other. There is the alumni meet discussion, where alumni gather to discuss agitatedly the issue at hand, amid lighthearted banter and lazy participation. Then of course there is the post meet interaction between alumni and current batches where all the usual suspects like placements, jobs and alumni interaction are discussed amid verbose and long winded queries and still more meandering answers.
Every year one more classmate has been found to be sacrificed at the holy altar of marriage. In excited tones people discuss ageing romances and affairs long wiped from the blackboard of classroom memories. The whole atmosphere reeks of nostalgia and august monsoon breeze. The half-forgotten memories of salad days return with the fresh breeze. Like the first time you woke up in the classroom to find out that the next lecture had already started. The crush you had on that elusive part-timer, which spread like an autumn rash and went away as quickly when you discovered she was married and had a kid too. The first time you were allowed to play table tennis by your seniors and how you screwed it by playing every shot out of the table.
I still remember my first alumni meet. We had heard stories and myths of many of the illustrated alumni. Timidly we approached and gave “introductions” to beaming alumni at the gentle coaxing of our seniors who seemed so anxious it looked as if they were in their first semester exam. They listen with amused expressions at our lengthy introductions with wisecracking footnotes from our seniors on various aspects of our life (Surdie from Amritsar, “agriculture kiya hai”, “writes great orgy stories sir”).
The ties that bind an imdrite to his institution are both nebulous and deep rooted depending on the prevailing sentiments. Every year somebody gets agitated at the way the insti is being run or the lack of “marketing” efforts. Grandiose ideas are proposed and rejected at the same time. Speculation on IMDR future is another favourite of the alumni. Slowly as the evening fades away and music serenades through the quadrangle people forget old rivalries, jilted romance and dance to the tunes of the latest trash belted out by the disc jockey. All that is left are promises of meeting again at the alma mater next year.
Every year the ritual is enacted with the same precision. Only the batches and seasons keep changing while IMDR stands a mute spectator in this eternal drama. If buildings could talk, what stories my institute would tell. Of the enlightenment people got under the bodhi tree, on the latest love affair or tips on how to get placed and still remain popular. Of great battles fought in the TT room, some of them with the TT bats. Of days spent sipping anna’s tea recounting the latest adventure to none to eager listeners who were just being polite as you were paying for the tea. These memories hang on awkwardly in the mind like the gentle exhortation hanging at the Insti wall saying “Ask not what the institute can do for you, ask what you can do for the institute.” I feebly attempt to answer that question by muttering in my mouth “I can try and come to the next alumni meet.”

This is my first mobile post. There are some limitations to mobile blogging but at last frequent travellers like us have some hope of updating our dated blogs

My Sisters Marriage

I am currently in Amritsar, and the city is just coming out of shivering cold January. My sister is marrying on 4th February, my birthday, ostensibly because that way I will remember her anniversary. A much needed relief from the grinding worklife I am enjoying my stay. Saw this movie called Sideways amazingly humourous movie depicting mid life crisis of two lost-it-in-life buddies on a road trip through California’s vineyards. The humour is amazing and the main characters leave you with a feeling of verisimilitude. Recommeded movie to see on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Bohemian Babs

Bohemian Babs

I have felt compelled to write on this blog after a long time. I met Babita at the waiting lounge of the Delhi Airport. Babita is a “woman entrepreneur”, a neo-buddhist and a great conversationalist. She laughed, very kindly at my feeble attempts at humour and shared experience which were hearfelt and honest. She thinks I am Buddha, which is flattering to say the least. Its often that people meet each other at places like airports and become deep friends, or at least share experience they never would have with anybody else. But the reason I am writing this experience is because it touched me to see her fighting spirit and the small glimpse of the challenges she is going through.
Lets hope that this is “the beginning of a long lasting friendship”.

Lighting Up To Diwali

Diwali- the festival of lights has arrived again and despite the earthquakes and bomb blasts that have rocked India, there is no reason why we shouldn’t celebrate. Life’s vicissitudes shouldn’t dampen the spirit of   a festival of lights and victory over evil. To light up your hearts I have let my creative juices flow. Hope you enjoy this parody of the “Last Christmas” song.

Last Diwali
I gave you my heart
And the very same day you burnt it away
This year
To save me some jeers
I sent you a burn-proof special

Once burnt twice fry
I keep my distance
But I still want to try
Tell me baby
Will you reignite me?
(With due apologies to George Michael)

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I have let my hair down!

I have let my hair down!

Literally and figuratively. Its was a difficult decision in light of the fact that my religion, Sikhism, frowns upon doing that. Hairs of the head should be covered in public places. But there are times when you want to be a free bird, soaring with the wind blowing in your hairs. Most people took to my change of appearance with clichéd and stock phrases. I have now been branded Taliban soldier, cousin of Osama, handsome hunk, cool and crazy all at the same time. I told my mother and she was not very happy with my decision, which is fine.
For me this was just one of the ways to break the shackles of conventions and norms and find my inner creativity.

Life and Consequence

Life and Consequences

I am having a queer sort of feeling nowadays. Why can’t we live a life as if there were no consequences? Before people start misunderstanding me I would like to clarify. Many times I have a fear of consequence which stops me from doing wrong things but also stops me doing what is right. I don’t tell somebody that his hairdo looks absolutely atrocious in order not to hurt his feelings. I don’t talk to a girl for fear that she give a cold response. What if I do everything without fear. Life would not become all cream and sugar but I certainly will live and act the way I want to.  Its better to be rebuked than to lose a friendship of a lifetime. Fear of failure is bigger than the failure. Start living or start dying.

Utilitarianopia

The Govt of Maharashtra, the state in India i live in, has decided to ban bar dancing. The decision has been taken in light to "moral corruption of youth", general good of the society and protecting womanhood. RR Patil, the hon'ble Deputy CM has decide to launch a crusade against such immoral customs and now would like to turn Mumbai into Shanghai.
We live in times when the state decides for us what we can watch, engage in, work in, think about. All in the name of "greater good". Where will this paternalizing attitude of the state lead too. Today most people talk about how states like Singapore, work better because of their "benign dictatorships". People love dictators not because they are better but because they carry power. Everybody wants to be a dictator, few want to live under one. We are no different from the state we live in. We dont protest when one of the state's employee rapes a 17 year old girl. We dont raise a finger when the livelihood of thousands of women is taken away to avoid moral corruption of the youth. Because we secretly do the same with others, with our family, with subordinates and with people who dont think, behave or act like us.
In short we dont like people who are different, think different and act different. We want everyone to the same,to be a mould of the one faceless, nameless,thoughtless commune called the "greater good".
Hail Utilititarianopia!

A Humane View of Sexual Rights

"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."
-- Margaret Mead

I am currently undergoing a course in Open Space titled "Gender, Sexualities and Human Rights". An eye-opener of sorts to the kind of brazen acts of violation of human rights going on in the area of sexuality and gender. The moot point, is the fact that how nicely society has bracketed sexuality under either normal or abnormal. Sexuality is not something people are born with, it is constucted. The way our society is increasingly becomig rigid, intolerant and bigoted on issues of sexuality seems frightening. The prevailing norms on gender, sexuality and sex are never questioned. I believe Huxley's Brave New World would not be mere fiction if that is how we tolerate diversity in sexual orientation and sexual choices.
The course would end with the group charting a sexual rights manifesto. We would be inviting people to read and sign it voluntarily. I would be putting it in my blog and inviting people to send their signatures by e-mail. Its going to be a small step, but a step nevertheless in making us aware of our right to expression of sexual feeling, sex and sexual orientation.

Corporate Silences

Corporate Silences

Misshapen ellipses in caged cubicles,
Stare at me in stony silences,
and I stare back beyond my grave,
a cushy swiveling chair,
designed for ergonomic comfort,
for souls in enduring pain.
Who will break their silence?
and invite the stranger within,
to the known without,
if not they, then would you?

Cool in May!

Its Maadu's birthday today. maadu the ephemeral, the aloof, the cute and the confused. I had my ups and down in my friendhip with him. but what i like most is that regardless of the bumps, the feeling of friendship and affinity remains. Maadu you are certainly cool, not only in May, but for life. Here's wishing you many more B'days to come.
Ah now i feel light! As light as your TVS without my extra load!

The Shoes of the Fisherman

Pope died but not before leaving a legacy for living every day of his life in faith. Forgiving killers after his own blood, converting cold hearts into warm beings, keeping the flock and calling for peace and harmony, which now are increasingly becoming extinct words in a harsh, violent world. Soon another one would step into the shoes of the fisherman, as the papal seat is often called, in rememberence of the first pope, Peter, the Fisherman.
I pray for the next pope who now faces new dilemmas, between faith and science, belief and non belief, peace and violence. I hope he can lead millions of my christian brothers into the new age of faith. Amen

The Dandi Walk

Imagine a puny little man, in clothes that are barely able to cover him, walking. Walking intent, not caring about the world, with a single minded devotion to walk the path on which he has set out.
Imagine that walk changes the destiny of millions of people deprived and starved of both bread and freedom. With courage in his heart and truth in his eyes he set out to do what to me is the greatest act of empowerment anybody has ever attempted. To make salt on the shores of the Arabian Sea, salt from the ocean, which was banned by the empire where the sun never set.
Salt, that white powder sometimes is the only thing my countrymen can afford as a garnish with a morsel of rice or bread, helped Mahatama to launch the struggle political and moral freedom of India.
I wish i had a thousandth of the courage and conviction that he had. I wish i was even worth the salt that Mahatama made that day. I wish i could walk the talk too.