Reunited, with myself

My school, Narendrapur RamaKrishna Mission Vidyalaya, (Class 5-10/1993-99) holds its alumni reunion every alternate year on the Christmas day. This time, it was the golden jubilee reunion. And I wasn't too far from the place so I decided to go. I wasn't expecting much. I am not in touch with many of my school friends of those times. And many of them weren't around Kolkata that time. I did call up a friend a day before the reunion and found that they are coming as well. I thought I won't be alone, and that would be a good thing.

The next day it seems I was among the first one among the batch to reach there. I called that friend again but he said he can't come. Anyway, I did see some other friends and talked to them for a while. It was all, what are you doing now, how you have been all this while and a little of do you know what that person is doing. Nothing exceptional. It felt good to be with old friends after a long time, but I didn't know what else to do. I am not a very interesting person and hence if you don't have anything to say to me, or ask me, chances are that we will be quite quiet in our conversation. That's what was happening most of the time.

After sometime I was separated from them as I had come to the place with a friend not belonging to the school and another from a different batch. And basically we didn't have much  in common to talk, about the school. I went with them to have lunch and went around the campus. This is when I thought that for a person like me, reunion or just a visit back to the school may not be the most fruitful if I meet the MOST number of friends. Because if I am in a group, all we talk about interesting events which had happened in the past, none of which involve me. Reading this previous post here would help. (Am I being selfish here? Of course I am. So what?) When I was away from all the batchmates of mine it was different! I could feel everything. I could feel everything the way it always was.

I was walking around the campus and all the while I could see myself as a kid everywhere. There was nothing special about anything I saw. But I guess that's what's nostalgia. The kind of things which I was remembering were:

• Cleaning my room everyday and arranging my bed.
• Getting late to class sometimes
• The tabla teacher who used to get away teaching nothing
• The blind tabla teacher who taught us more in a year, than the previous teacher did in 5 yrs
• His blind friend, who used to teach Sitar and their touch watches!
• The little stationery store where we used to buy stuff filling requests slips, approved by the warden
• The time when I bought an underwear 4 to 5 times bigger size than mine and didn't return
• The time when we used to play near the press which printed our question papers, which by the way never got leaked
• Taking bath in the open, under a 4 floor tall water tank
• Playing football in the fields, bare foot, with wooden goal-posts
• Queueing up outside the fields to wash our feet after games and then in bathrooms to have a bath
• Boring functions attended in the 1500 seater auditorium
• Watching Lion King on the majestic screen in the auditorium, but missing the first half because I was out for a Maths quiz, which I didn't win. Dibya Jana would always be in the team from our school to get through the stage. I only participated.
• Saraswati Puja in the assembly hall
• Programs in the space adjacent to it
• Long chat sessions in our rooms, often after lights were compulsory switched off, and sometimes getting scolded by warden for it
• The time when I took the Maths class, on teachers' day, I had planned a quiz but Sir made me teach a theorem as he would on the black board. I was his favourite. I met him this time, but not sure he remembers me as that student. He just asked which batch. I just stood in front of him for sometime not knowing what else to say... I had no words
• Sleeping in study halls
• Sleeping in prayer halls, we used to hit the person in front and sometimes at the back while swinging in sleep!
• Wearing Dhoti for some 1000+ times over the 6 years
• Doing the monthly duties, block leader, prayer hall duty, dining hall food serving duty (where you would be fed very well, after your duty is over), surrounding cleaning duty (cleaning around the campus on Sundays)
• Saraswati Puja visarjan parade, where one of us was thrashed up by the Principal for singing Hindi songs and dancing to them. The Principal, Ashokda, or Sw. Satyatmananda never lost his cool. That was the only time we saw this side of his
• And the time when a friend thought he didn't have a good hair cut and took the scissors in his ow hands, and went chop chop. Realized that he had made it worse and that his scalp was visible at the front and put shoe polish there. Some chemical reactions and his hair was green. Well this guy had actually come to the reunion and I was narrating this incident to my friend in front of him. He insisted that it was water paint and not shoe polish but I am telling you, I didn't make up any part of the story myself!

I knew no one would be moved to hear all this. So I kept most of these to myself. But then I reached my class 6 hostel. Read the notice boards. Saw the students marks displayed. Read the wall magazines. And then saw that one of the rooms were open! And on the first bed there was a Tabla left open. I couldn't stop myself. I sat there and started playing whatever shit I could remember. Must have been some 9 years since I had touched one. Of course I couldn't play anything good. Would have scored just pass in the tests had I been that bad then. But never before did a Tabla gave me this much fun. I was playing there with my friend sitting next to me, and both of us could make out that there wasn't much I knew. But it brought a smile to my face. I felt content. I wished I remembered more and could play for hours together sitting there. Actually my love for music started with Tabla classes back in school. Still now when I listen to some song I follow the beats more than anything else. For me it is mostly about percussion.

This is how your childhood gets ingrained in you. Little things you do shape your likes, dislikes, interests, intellect, competence, everything. There are somethings that get internalized. Like things that we become a part of and they become a part of us, without really understanding, why, how, when, what...

So what makes my school the best school is not the curriculum, the faculty, the infrastructure: but  just the fact that it is mine.

Wide awake

This post in inspired by the characteristic Naween posts on his limited interactions with Profs.

Prof: blah blah blah

Rohit: zzzzzzzzz

Prof: blah blah blah blah

Rohit: zzzzzzzzzzzz

Prof: blah blah

Students: sir, time is up, please sir, we had classes all day, etc. etc.

Prof: hmmm, ok, ya, anyway this part wasn't in your syllabus.

Rohit: SIR... CHEATING!

Prof: Oh, now you woke up

:)

Success!

I have always been wanting to buy a headphone so that my neighbors can rest in peace while I listen to my music on full volume. But the #^**&^% that I am, the reason never seemed to be enough. But  I had another reason why I should be buying a headphone.

When not on headphone, a lot of the music being played doesn't reach me. Little details about instruments playing are missed out. So I bought a headphone yesterday, a normal one. Value for money types. sasta sundar tikau. But ever since I was wondering why I did I. To the extent that I told myself that I only bought it so that I don't feel like buying it all the time now.

But just now, I was listening to Naagin Rock by Decibel in mp3. I noticed something for the first time. In the first part, there is a drum+guitar thing (which ends at around 13-15 seconds) with the guitar dying down with reverberations (i wish i wasn't this technically challenged when it comes to music). But when I heard it on headphones I realized that the editor didn't let it die down. It is clipped when it almost reaches inaudible levels. I played it back a few more times to check and smiled... This is how my headphones drew first blood!

Success

Proud to be an Indian

The title of the post could be misleading for you. "Are you proud to be an Indian? Why so?", I was reminded of this question while watching the flag hoisting ceremony today at my college, the question, which was raised by a course facilitator in one of our sessions. I wondered how I would answer that.

I can't say no, that would sound too cynical, pessimistic, rebellious, or something of that sort. But if I say yes, I should have a reason for that. Not just to tell others, but for myself to believe.

Then i figured out a very easy explanation for the same. I love my country the same way I love my parents, my family. I didn't do anything to get them. I was born to them. Had God wished otherwise, I could have been born to anyone, anywhere possible. But I am sure, I would have loved my those parents the same way. That's how I love my country. I like many things about it, I hate to see many bad things in it. But those don't decide whether I love it or not.

I just feel for my country, because it is mine. I grew up with it. I have always sung those songs with enthu. Taken part in parades. Read the pre-independence stories in school books . Then as I grew up, saw it develop to what it is now. You can add more such lines here that could fit. The list is endless. Bottomline is that I don't need a reason to be proud of my country, or to love my country. I just do it. Maybe that is irrational, but who said I have to be rational in my love!

Self plagiarism or something! (Bollywood music)

I don’t know what it should be called. We know of numerous examples of songs or just some parts being copied from music of different regions within the country or beyond. But I observed a few songs where the music directors chose to pick some music from their own old songs and use it to a different effect and even though you must have heard these songs it’s easy to miss the connection. I have uploaded some audio clips by adding the inspirational and the inspired music together into 25 to 35 sec pieces. Also have put the relevant time label for YouTube links where the particular line/music is played.

• Mukhda of the title song of FIZA(@1:12-1:13-1:47) was filler music in Kitabein bahut si of BAAZIGAR (@1:45-2:03).

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• Mukhda of another song LML baba LML (@1:00-1:14)from HATHKADI got its music from filler music in the same song Kitabein bahut si from Baazigar (@0:40-0:50 etc.). Volume of the first part in the clip is bit low, turn up your speakers!

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• Similarly Mukhda of ishq hua, kaise hua from ISHQ (@1:04-1:40) had its music in another song of Baazigar, ae mere humsafar (@0:13-0:34)




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The common music director to all the above songs is… you know it right, Anu Malik. And I thought this is something just he does, until I found this one by Jatin Lalit, connecting DDLJ and Mohabbatein.

• The line hum zulfein to bikhra de from song humko humhi se chura lo (Mohabbatein) (@2:54-3:05) was from the biggest hits of its times tujhe dekha to ye jaana sanam (DDLJ)(@3:22-3:33).




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I am sure there are many examples like these but they are so common and so into our faces that we fail to recognize them. There were some more I knew of but have forgotten now. Let me know if noticed any other anywhere. You could also suggest a new title for the post :)
P.S. Just in case the audio player isn't working, you may click on the song names and visit their YouTube links. Time at which the relevant portions occur have been mentioned against the names.

Scoring Mumbai

Mumbai was losing.
8'o clock, I leave my office after my first day at the internship. I walk straight to marine drive and then walk along it till the Chaupati. Meanwhile something reminds me that I have to use the net to download 2 files, print them and fax them. While walking along the marine drive I note that there isn't one phone booth to be seen nor any internet cafe.
So at Chaupati I decide to cross the marine drive and go into the land to find something. Even when I get in all I could find were eateries and showrooms. Suddenly I see a PCO and next to it a board which said, STD, ISD, FAX. I was delighted, if i have these, internet won't be far... But when i asked the guy it turned out that the board was misleading. The shop to which the board belonged wasn't open. I was dissappointed. It seemed to me that I won't be able to do it tonight. It was 9 already. That was when a middle aged lady asked me, "are you looking for fax?" I said I was. "what time is it?", I said 9. "Do you know this place?", I said no. "Ok, hurry, you see that lane, go into it and take the first right, you will find everything there, its getting late so rush, go." I didn't take time to think any further, I just recorded the message and started for the place I was directed to. I don't remember if I even thanked the lady. The fact that I found internet, printer and fax there doesn't make much of a difference. What I was impressed with was the nature of the people and the eagerness to help someone out. To call and provide help even when not asked for. This event was just an example. I am sure people like me come across thousands of ladies and gentlemen, everyday in Mumbai.
Pardon me if I am getting biased,
score 1-1
PS-I could have given another point just for the walk along the queen's necklace, but I controlled the temptation.

I hope she is fine

After watching IPLT20 matches at Tendulkar's I came back to my hostel room in St. Xavier's at 11:30pm to find that a) the room was locked & b) I didn't have the keys. I tried calling my roommate but he won't pick up. After several attempts at that I thought I'll do what I always wanted to... walk to marine drive and sit there for a while. I knew I had time for that as entry to the hostel closes on weekends only at 01:25am. I walked along the fashion street and passed Churchgate to reach marine-drive in some 20-25 minutes. I looked for a gap to sit and made myself comfortable there. It’s awesome. The cool breeze never stops. The waves keep coming and breaking on the rocks and those concrete tetrahedrish structures. I thanked my room-mate for being late. By that time I couldn't help notice that there was a girl sitting to my left, about 10 feet away, alone. Now this is something I had never seen before on the marine drive. You see couples; you see groups. You even see some men sitting there alone. But I had never seen a girl sitting alone. And she didn't seem happy. I took a short glance at her. She was uncomfortable. She would cover her face in the dupatta while looking at the sea. It seemed to me if she was trying not to cry. Anyway, none of my business...

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Soon I could hear sobs. I wasn't mistaken. She was crying. I turned my head again, pretended to look at something else and turned back. Yes, she was crying. Now my head was in action. What could it be? Maybe she got stood up. Or worse still, she got dumped! Why do people even fall into all this? Why do people trust someone so much and give them so much importance that they could hurt you? I have seen in movies when people see total strangers in trouble or grief and reach out to help. Or they see someone crying and ask if they could help someway. I was in no mood for doing that. As I said… none of my business. Still, in my head I was reciting some lines which could suit the occasion. "Can I help you in some way?" "Excuse me, do you have a problem?" "Why are you crying?" "Excuse me sir!" This line, the last one, I didn't come up with that. I turned my head towards her, she was talking to me. "Excuse me sir", she said again, "Is it OK if I come and sit near you?" She was still in tears. She was too scared. I could guess why she could have said that. There was a guy sitting to her left, and he seemed to be looking at her continuously. But I wasn't 100% sure. However at that moment, I couldn't think of any other answer than no. She took her bag, her sandals, came and sat near me, still crying. Then she said. "That guy over there is looking at me and making some signals." So I was right. I peeked over her and saw that man. He was sitting there facing us, instead of the sea and looked at him for some time. He was now looking away. "Sir, I am very nervous, he is looking at me and making some signals like this." I wasn't sure about what hand signals she made, or were they even anything. I just said, "You don't have to look that side" Anyway in a minute that man walked away. I asked her if she has some problem to which she said "No sir, sometimes I get nervous". She didn't get the question it seems and said some other random things I don't remember. I also told her to go home and asked what she was doing here at that time. She said, ”kisi ka intezar". “How typical”, I said to myself and thought maybe I was right in the guesses I was making earlier. "Thank you sir", "Sir I am sorry I disturbed you." She repeated the sorry line so many times I stopped saying anything to that anymore. After a couple of minutes she took her belongings and moved away to where she was sitting before.

.

Soon she asked me what the time was. "12:35", I said. "Sir, where do you have to go?" "VT", I said. "Sir, mujhe churchgate tak chhor doge", "Aaiye", I said. We were now walking towards churchgate station and she was talking things which were not interesting me and kind of confusing me about her situation, until something reminded her of that man again and she started sobbing. A lady coming from the opposite side saw her and gave me a disgusted look. I asked her not to cry and that she shouldn’t talk or think about that. She asked me where I was supposed to go and I partially told her my situation. She suddenly got excited and said "Sir! Then you can sit with me at the station as long as you have to". "No, it’s ok, I'll leave now" I said. "No sir, I don't have any problem, you can sit with me here." I said no again making it clear this time that I would be late otherwise. "Koi baat nahi sir. aapko jana hai to jao. mujhe to wait karna hoga subah tak, Virar ki train tabhi milegi. but thik hai, station par police rahti hai. light rahta hai. I hope didi mil jayegi abhi." "Kaun didi?" I asked, "koi police wali?" "No", she said, "wo yaha rahti hai." I didn't get her but also didn’t want to inquire any further. We were at the church gate now and she took a turn and started walking into the station, perhaps not knowing that I wasn’t walking with her anymore. She doesn’t need me now and I have to leave anyway. I stood there and watched her disappear in the crowds and started my walk back to the hostel. I narrated the incident to someone when I came back. “So filmy!”, I was told. Filmy… slightly yes, after all, fiction comes from the real.

scoring Mumbai (0-1)

Reminded of the episode on F.R.I.E.N.D.S where Phoebe goes on giving points to Las Vegas and London to know which is better. I landed in Mumbai yesterday and have seen some of it already and have started scoring Mumbai, against... well itself.

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The morning started with us reaching Mumbai half hour ahead of the schedule on LTT at around 4:15 am. A friend was expected to come there to receive us (yes, at 5 in the morning!) but the unexptected arrival made sure that he couldn't make it. We had to go to Kurla local station to take a train which would take me to VT (CST, whatever) and Mithun to Byculla. But when we came down from the train there and gathered courage to move with the luggage, with no coolies around, we met the first devil from Mumbai... a taxi driver.

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A taxi driver is a species always ready to literally take people travelling for the first time to Mumbai for a ride. Even though I was told that you can walk from LTT to Kurla stn, I wasn't sure if we were in the condition to do that, mostly because of the luggage and partly because the person who had told me that it was a walkable distance also had taken a whole lot of tired people from CST to Gateway saying "bas pahuch gaye". So we decided to take the taxi. the taxi driver and his accompliced were very interested in us. Had to be, new faces in town (city), heavy luggage, confused conversations, indecisiveness. In fact we were so indecisive that after sitting in the taxi and loading all the luggage, we decided once to walk, however hard that would be, and whatever time that may take, suspecting that something is fishy with the projections from those two people. Inconsistency in what is the approx distance we need to travel and what time it would take. And of course taxi couldn't take the route people walk and will have to go a long way. Anyway we were back in our seats ready to go to Kurla. They soon knew where we ultimately needed to go. They tried convincing us that with such luggage it was impssible to travel on a local, but 5'o clock in the morning on a Sunday, we were ready for it. So now they knew we didn't want to go that far in their taxi. So their returns had to maximized within the short distance that is between LTT and Kurla.

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I had never been to that part of the city but it seemed to that instead of taking a chord, we were covering the major segment of the circumference of a circle. It must have taken us some 15 minutes or even less to reach Kurla station. The taxi driver proudly showed us the board saying Kurla to prove that we were taken to the right place and thus not cheated. But now came the surprise. Demanded fare, Rs. 170... only. It seemed we were taken from Airport to Taj in a Merc. Well, had Taj been that close to the airport. Both sides started bickering. Mithun was in a mix of surprise, anger and wtf. They were much more animated and aggressive. I saw all the tactics and lines being tried there, "take your money, I don't want it"(followed by one guy leaving and other staying back), "bohni ka time hai", "dimag mat kharab kar", "we aren't asking for alms", "i am only asking what the meter shows", "do you think the meter is false?", "chalo (police) chowki chalo, wahi baat hoga", "samaan waapas daalo gadi me" and what not. All crap you can think of. By this Mithun had offered them Rs. 50/- which seemed to be only a little over what it should have been for the distance travelled. Seeing that 170 was a little too much they asked for they also started to come down. 160, 150, 120, etc. Ultimately we settled for 75/- feeling bad about parting away with the money, and good about parting away with those 2.

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Thus Mumbai goes down 0-1

NB-reminds me of a quote, "only the strong survive" from my I3 t-shirt.