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Ruchir

Brilliant Blond

Seven sauntered but well measured steps towards his prey. Air just kissing his blond hair. A well known and much adored sight on a cricket field. Do we really need to introduce Shane Keith Warne to the world? An illusionist born to mesmerize us, a god to rule over mere mortals.

Strange does it sound that such a man had an ordinary debut , that too in his own den , that too against Indian willow wielders. He bowled like a millionaire at SCG, being spanked by Shastris of the world.

A man who would have made a brilliant captain in Brearley mode, only topped up with better and grander talent. But God decided otherwise. As they say blood rushes towards the mind or towards your sexed up organ and flow of blood decides which one would act. For a man, occurrence of one deceives presence of other. A mutually exclusive event which cost happy texting Warnie dear.

All those balls delivered in the rough a feet away from the leg stump , defying Bernoulli’s law to take off hapless wielders’ off stump would stay a sight in my mind. I would remember world cup 1996 Semi final at Mohali where warnie single handedly destroyed a much comfortable placed Windies to see kangaroos home.

That mischievous grin and that sly mind. Certain things are destined by almighty and one can’t attain it by grind. A shrewd brilliant cricketer does it. Always adored Warnie . He along with Lara and Tendulkar made an exceptional trio . Winning IPL for Rajasthan Royals is another feather to his much adorned cap.

Only if blood would have defied gravity and streamed towards cerebrum and we would have brilliant tactician’s masterstrokes to be cherished . Our loss turned out to be Rajasthan’s gain.

My Friend

Stay beside me my dear friend.

Your unconditional friendship buoys me

Brings different hues of smile

Lets me chortle with glee

Your care for me may not need words

Up there in your eyes I can gauge

Honesty and disarming smile

Purity of innocence sans haze

Green I am I agree

World may be a roller coaster ride

I fumble, I falter

Butted with remarks snide

So I do stumble, limping I steady

Helping hand I don’t need

Pangs of inner hunger may torn me

Keep off that glimmer, don’t feed

I fail but I want to rise

With freedom I would soar in sky

Be there and smile at me

Stunted growth pampers me to try

Signing in Chennai

While listening to “Bavra mann dekhne chala ek sapna” I am writing another blog. There is something about this song which calms me. It makes me inherently happy, something which is difficult to be explained.

By this time I am pretty much settled in my cozy cocoon at Chennai. I still remember when I checked my email, a beaming mail from Company people was there right at the top of my inbox. The mail read “Dear Ruchir, please report to our Chennai office on 28^th of April. I would be bluffing if I said I took it sportingly, to be honest I was lost for words for few seconds . The only solace was that business unit was of my choice and biggest of them all ;mail was floated on 1^st of April. April 1, Fools’ Day. I sincerely hoped they have just pulled a fast on me. “May be it is just a friendly banter to ensure better employee-employer relationship” I wished.

But whole Fools’ day expectation belied any hopes as soon Companywallahs made clear that they still are not funny guys and they prefer going about their business sans pranks.

And I ended up at Chennai, sweltering heat welcomed me and Autowallahs helped me in shedding some wallet weight. First week at office was less about work and more about rules and policies that company frame and employees are expected to obey. If I put my thinking caps on , a lot many such rules sound obsolete and many have glaring loopholes , but frankly I give a damn. I still feel few years down the line I want to be one in human resources, nourishing and retaining talent, shaping them lovingly and tenderly so that they put their best foot forward for the company . In lighter vein if that would be difficult I would adopt a child and shape up his/her future.

As it has been a recurring nightmare for any nomadic person (and I have been an inherent one) first ten days were invested in house hunting. Chasing down “Ek mahal ho Sapnon ka” is a tough ask, it is spelt “TOUGHER” when you are in a bit orthodox city called Chennai. You are expected to be married, have a family, better if you are a south Indian Ayer. Well too many conditions and pre conditions. All such conditions act as filter and probability of finding a decent shelter quickly diminishes. Well you can manage one if you wash your eternal sins (not descending from a south Indian Ayer Family and not being married) with some extra bucks. Well money still rules and still has power to win over all thy perceived sins.

House hunting may cause serious problems . You end up scanning real estate magazines and sites. You compile a list of phone numbers with each name “Ramesh”, “Bala”, “Laxmi” preceded by a BROKER, just to ensure brokers’ names aren’t mixed up with ohers’names. Think of it; my boss’s name and one of broker’s names is same. You can think of funny scenarios if I muddle up in identifying them. House hunting is a psychological task, you play a “Tug of War” with these brokers and potential land lords. You try to maximize your gains while reducing your losses ( Read household amenities and rent/advance respectively ). This particular game has done great to boost my morale and wonders to my confidence as more often than not I found myself on top in these haggling games. Annoying patience, diplomacy, calmness and flexibity are important traits to get better grades in such a game. “Your two years of MBA really wasn’t wasted dude”, was first thing that comes to the mind. Finally we got hold of a good house courtesy “Delhi Da Puttar” Sunny, one of the friendliest and charming guy I have met at Chennai.

Now something over “Chennai: the city “. All I can say is that city has excellent infrastructure. To me , it is second to the national capital lovely Delhi. An excellent transport system is in place. Buses ply neatly and timely on the roads of Chennai. They even have a local train service in place. Roads are very well done, neatly asphalted and traffic c wise it looks heaven if you have seen Bangalore/Kolkata. True, Autowallahs are stigma to the city, perhaps worst I have witnessed in the city.

Cool hangouts? Well till now I fail to fathom these words. I may be a boring person and may not be an expert on listing out cool and hep places of the city, but I can safely vouch for city’s doling nice places of shopping and entertainment to its habitants. Malls are there, Discs are there, Pubs are there, They have excellent tradition of art and culture, so cribber should be kept in check.

After reflecting enough on positives of the city, it’s high time I dig deep and see some negatives too. All good things may soon fizzle out if city doesn’t change its ways . I have visited all southern states and I can still say Chennai is still most unfriendly towards drifting people, specially if they are from the wrong side of Vindhyas (Read north Indian people). Better they learn to be friendly and start respecting cultural differences and show a little more tolerance towards those who do things bit differently.

Mumbai still remains the dream city for those migrating for greener pastures. City embraces nomadics in its arms and let them be their own. This single attitude towards wandering or floating people is biggest contributor to Mumbai’s vast economic growth. All this reminds me of Keynesian model of Economics, ones I had learnt in those economics classes that how money spent by Government has a multiplier effect on growth of economy. I would love to extend this facet of economy to say that migratory public is pretty much similar to the Government and money spent by them too has multiplier effect. They spend more for their basic amenities and thus end up creating more jobs/more opportunities for the local people; leading to enviable growth of the city. Chennai needs to learn this fundamental concept of Economics from Mumbai. While Mumbai too needs to beef up these basic facts Rogue students of Economics la Raj Thakre should either be told to improve their basics or should be banished.

Tomorrow is Sunday and i have a date with beeches of Chennai , right at the dawn. At this hour reaching the beach at six in morning sounds ludicrous but would try and hence this one has to come to a sudden end...................

Friends will be friends

As we all are at dénouement of our education, ready to catapult to new heights, new glories of an exciting career ahead, we do leave few footprints behind. IIFT won’t really be remembered in the mind, I still don’t really feel attached to the college and its ambience. Nothing much to write about, lesser to think about. Not many places inside campus which I may cherish few years down the line. Pretty much unlike my REC days whose each location still comes alive to me. Be it canteen, café, srinu’s ciggi point(even for non smokers like me), gardens, acad blocks, admin block, senior hostels, messes I still can vividly remember everything, I guess IIFT would never capture the same, true picture may come out few months down the line .After all we always take things in hands for granted.

But IIFTians would be cherished, Few more than others. Some as close as one can ever be. Some gem of friends. Some get mature and help you get more mature in process. Some oppose your views and help you get stronger, help in strengthening your beliefs and faiths which initially was as strong (or as spineless) as Indian middle order.

Some with whom you can take liberty of getting down right rude. Rude what would sound to others is forthrightness among friends. One does not rate friends but few are much closer than others. Mentioning names would be like praising them, so I won’t name them.

Life goes on and as you part with great chums you always know another wonderful bunch is round the corner………….

Engineering the managers

Ajeet Nazre while addressing the audience during “Al Gore Sustainable Energy Competition” on 12^th of February touched a right chord. After a long time I heard someone whom I instantly liked. But what really spiraled into brooding was his statement “I adore engineers and not managers “.

Circa 2000, few aspiring engineers are being addressed by principal of one of better engineering colleges of India. Yes Mr. Principal your words still keep ringing in my ears. Guess you talked of couple of things. First being how prey become predators ( about ragging and how those “getting ragged” become raggers once they are in second year) and second of course about how India needs quality engineers and how happy he is to address 300 of them. True all four years I was trained to be an engineer and told how India needs roads, Watts of energy, new machines and I loved the attention. Being told that you are “future of India” .

But things go the way they should or should not. I cant comment on that. Engineers who should build India and specially the better engineers one from IITs/RECs are the ones violating it. They are the ones jumping the bandwagon of MBAs.

My take on it? We Indians are still in conceiving ideas , we still are far away from nurturing it in a motherly manner. I do adore engineers, I do like managers.

Still I know we produce quality engineers. Managers? We still are chasing the mirage; we are still away from being the best in this breed.

I have witnessed sheer razor sharp brilliance of Indian engineers; I have yet to see brilliant managers, yearn to see them sooner than later.

Pied hues of happiness

As I sit in my cozy chair and wonder aloud what really is happiness? Truth is , we have no concrete answer. And do I really abhor those whose happiness is not similar to me? Answer is staunch no. happened again to me, being direct person that I am sans many layers of diplomacy I ended up being down right rude to some one and of course the person concerned felt the pain. But may be it was because our views clashed and they were as stark as it could be. We both retreated perhaps surrendering our arms before we could hurt each other even more.

May be I am a person of too strong opinions, may be I love confronting uncomforting views, but it is sheer delight to fight them. Try to please one and all and you are grounded. Better voice your opinions and be sounded a “spoiler”.

But that is beauty of life, if they all are clone of me or me a clone of them, world would be so less interesting. World is beautiful as it has so many hues so many shades. I live to have some more fruitful some more “high” interactions.

“Everything still stays gray”

In Awe of Awesome

A beautiful song is being played in the background. Eyes of the lady is being compared to the deep seas. Yes moody and self willed sea. Before you can come up with couple of more thoughts , he blurts out “Awesome”. A single most oft abused word. No I have nothing against the word but I want the users of the word to know that please do differentiate between different degrees of feelings or greatness you attach to different events, different people. Awarding an awesome to everyone is like awarding a gold medal to one clocking 20 seconds for a 100 meter dash. Before the word means everything and loses its charm. Lets put a moratorium on it and use it when it only warrants it. Needs few examples? Cross court shot of Federer . Ball by Warne to get Gatting clean bowled in famous Ashes Test. Poems of Keats. Delivery by Al Pacino in “Scent of Woman” . beautiful articles by Guha, Beautiful Snaps by Rai. But terming every second thing awesome just takes the aura of the word.

Awful was another awe inspiring word which lost its charm because of overuse.

Smells Like Team Spirit

Few days are special and January 19.2008 will be etched in memories of Indian cricket lovers for a long time. Whacking Australians at WACA takes something and mind you saying so is a gross understatement. And this “something” has been done finally. Kudos to India.

Well with too much cricket played all around, with players complaining of sore limbs and tired shoulders, these days every match stands like an entity going down in record books. Few tons scored, few fifers taken and adding up to statisticians’ delight.

Among these matches, Perth test match would be remembered because it was most unlikely venue for an Indian conquest. Not long back bowlers around the world used to boast of making Indian do hip hop on chin music treatment. Tennis ball bounce, deliveries precariously close to ears and green hard belt of a 22 yard strip;demons started playing in minds of Indian team before they really took few on their knuckles. Opposition bowlers were deemed undertakers ready to provide merciful killing for our hapless willow wielders. And all we could have as a team was a 15 minutes of glory provided by certain Gavaskar and in later years by another mumbaikar Tendulkar. But team surrendered arms too tamely, thinking they did not have ammunition to fight anyways.

So it was pleasant surprise to see bunch of 11 gentlemen in white flannels emerge as super fighters and take wind out of Aussies’ sails. What was even more pleasing was the team coming as a winner sans any single piece of individual brilliance. There were notable contributions but in the end they gelled as a team celebrating each other’s moments of success and consoling few moments of despair. The desperation to give it back to hosts was palpable on every single Indian face. None symbolized it better than Dhoni’s desperate run to deep third man to hold onto a remote offering by Clark. I have always been an admirer of Kumble and to this date I would rate him along with Dravid as two most crucial components of great Indian conquests. Kumble is a humble and silent person whose action speaks louder than thousand words. One has to marvel at his grit and determination, bowling over after over with a broken jaw against windies springs to my mind when asked to describe Indian skipper.

Excellent victory to savor gentlemen, we all await many more over somewhat overweening Aussies. Soar like a Team and your ear to ear grins will be maintained.

PS: Win at Perth is another big hurdle overcome; as I started watching cricket I always felt there are few venues on “eternally cursed list” for Indians, winning it meant another name gets vanished from that list. Here is what the list looked like few years back.

Leeds, Headinglay ; England

Old Trafford, Manchaster: England ( famous for India’s caving in for 42 runs )

WACA, Perth: Australia

Bridgetown, Barbados : West Indies

Kingston, Jamaica: West Indies

Christchurch : New Zealand

Port Elizabeth : South Africa

Leeds, WACA and Kingston are already off this cursed list, awaiting others to follow the suit soon….

Lost in a magic world

Good work of art needs to be effortless. Garnished by a certain degree of serendipity they appeal to heart as they ooze of grace. Dreamy streak comes so naturally to them. A thing of beauty can not be made up. Laden with artificiality it turns you off. Natural charisma weaves a magic world, a world you want to end up wandering in. To me Khoya Khoya Chand signifies same natural, beautiful, innocent and enchanting world.

Retro look is the modern mantra today. Those belly bottoms which were adored by our moms and aunts are back into fashion, doted on by svelte lasses supposedly expert in haute culture. Even in a world which seemingly swears by metro sexual male, his ruggedness is lapped up with alacrity. So it was not great surprise to see rushes of a movie some times back which created aura of 50’s. of course this seems to be best time encash on retrospection , my heart told me. To top it all, those who watched it weren’t really enthused by the show. They rather trashed it , deeming it a beautiful looking movie with nothing in it. Well they almost dampened an already sagging spirit. Well movie could have been a damp squib and throwing all these friendly reviews to winds we dared to venture out to watch it. Reasons? No, I wasn’t too sure of Sudhir Mishra’s exploits though he won over all of us through “Hazaron Khwaishein Aisi”. But he was the man behind a loud bombed one called “Chameli” too. Shiney Ahuja is a marvelous actor but he has been wasted before. But I still preferred to take on perennially inclement December nights of Delhi as ticket came cheap and frankly I had little work at hand .Killing time can be so tough sometimes. And yeah against all negative publicity there was a lovely friend of mine who egged me on and said “Go , watch it” .

First half was nice spell cast on me. A beautiful combination of exquisite background, creditable acting and some real innovative direction took my breath away. Shiney Ahuja was simply brilliant as suffering son, looking for identity and dignity. Many actors have come and gone, but to see a non UP/Bihari actor excel in garb of a young man from Lucknow , who is confident yet somewhat insecure, was refreshing and don’t expect many to outshine his effort soon. He was caring yet egoist, he was loving yet abusive, he had tender heart yet managed to hurt, did not have a secured future but had pluck in those eyes I simply could not help but falling all over this character. To be honest somewhere down there felt traces of it were too well known.

Second half was not as charming as the first one. It was difficult to match those soared expectations after the first half. Still it was not a damp squib. At some point felt it being far fetched at others weird and at some other hopelessly romantic. Characters had different hues and shades unlike those eternally loved and abhorred ones. End was sudden but not completely unanticipated.

Watch this movie it you have human feeling deep in side this human drawer called heart. If there is a dreamy streak in your eyes, if you can imagine beautiful things, if you love being lost sometimes, if you are a wandering soul and can appreciate feelings and things of beauty, better shell out some buck you may rue missing an opportunity lost. Storyline is nothing great to rave about, it’s less about content and more about presentation, Style with certain substance would be best way to sum up this tinsel magic.

For all those hearts immersed in eternal romance

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;

I have found gulping typical mushy movies down a Herculean task. Not that I have something against feelings they try to imbibe but execution betrays the novel idea they undertake .which was the last romantic movie which moved me? Which made me wail? Which had an awe inspiring couple in lead and had each single frame of it frozen in my mind? I may not be the most demonstrative person on the earth nor a maudlin who needs excuses to moisten his eyes. Tears may well up there, but with a probability which is waning anyways.

“Eternal sunshine of spotless mind” came as a pleasant surprise which defied typical remorse I used to have after choosing another romantic movie sans strong undercurrents of love. Somewhere down the line I could see a line blurring between wannabes and true lovers. After a longtime I felt I was gliding in a wonderland, was careening off to world of magic and mysticism leaving the much hated reality road.

Novel concept leads to exhilarating cinema. A hopeful and loving heart may win over all odds even the odds stacked in a mind ,ready to refuse reality, ready to forget a true love . Sometimes it is confusing, othertimes perplexing and few moments of despair too, but glimmer of hope may wan, but is always there to beat goliaths of despair and amnesia.

To accept and cling to true love is something only courageous can do. To repel a feeling of vengeance which may so easily creep into human mind and not to forget a true love even when your mind implores you to do is the true love for me. Not to suffocate in maze of myths and hypocrisies of your mind , rather let it know that all tortuous mazes can be made simple because true love has to come out trumps.

Hats off to unpredictably tender and unapologetically twisted romance. In a mind stuffed with few set toxic Hollywood formulae , there is at least a movie which may leave hard nosed persons smile and say “Love is a beautiful feeling”

Inexplicable joy of a bath in winter

I am a squeaky clean person in metaphorical and symbolical senses. Well may sound a bit too arrogant to state something like that isn’t it? But I would be candid to admit that I am not some one who minds things being messed up in my vicinity. May even skip a bath or two in bone chilling winter days. Well of course such an evasive action has to be taken if water doesn’t warm up to me , it doesn’t really spread amicable vibes around or may be it does staying as amicable as Ali was to Foreman , Lillee was to Miandad, McEnroe to any of his rivals(plus ill fated umpires ) and recently as Symonds has been to Bhajji. On such occasions I used to observe “Dry Day”, I had fewer options you see.

This December has been pleasantly different. How? Unlike first year at this supposedly esteemed college of management, we have plenty of time to spare in bathroom. First year used to be horrible, a single bathroom and six occupants all vying to complete their daily rituals. Your time was ticking away when you were going through process of eradicating exterior blemishes. And if that was not all your crazy friends acted as paparazzis wanting to get any snap worth getting published in centre spreads. Well yeah India is developing at breakneck 9% rate and we at IIFT too feel duly prospered. From those horrible days of making bathrooms feel like Panchali , it is much more legal and tolerable now with two sharing the same. Hence probability of your getting water defying the abrasive pontisque weather increases three times. so this winter has seen me squeaky clean pretty much physically too, letting it to be poured over me . well my pretty much clean slate was destined to be muddled at home where power keeps playing hide and seek and has good mischievous and erratic supply ever done one single good thing to us?? Ask my mom and she would say with tongue firmly in cheek “Yeah, I never had to defrost my refrigerator Son”. True but then it was about to rob me of my squeaky clean record, frigid power supply may not conspire for me. Ah and here comes hand pump, a throwback on good old times when they used to pump it out of earth’s belly. And I am allowed to continue my much loved much dreaded journey along. Yeah home did not break the enviable record for me, rather made me natural. Yeah one more in army of unabashed advocates of going in nature’s lap. May be my slate would stay clean this winter and Aussies would make their marred at WACA . Amen!!!!!!!!!!
PS: and it seems water sourcing and consumption at home hasn’t only made me spotless, it has also helped my arms well blessed and endowed. Two of them complimented fot that and I thanked for taking nature’s call at home this winter.