Knock on the door.
‘Jai Hind Sahab, Gadi le ke aaya sahab’
‘Haan thik hai Yadav.. Aa raha hoon’
He looks in the mirror. Uniform is ok. Shoes are ok. He finishes the morning glass of milk that his buddy had been instructed to bring daily, puts on his camo cap, picks up his jacket and walks out of his room.
‘Yadav, mera ek sleeping bag aur ek ruck sack darwaze par hi rakha hai’
‘Ji sahab’
The driver gets his luggage and puts it at the back of the gypsy. He did not plan to stay overnight, but he knew that in these mountains, anyone can get stuck anywhere.
While the driver turns around the vehicle, he takes a look at his abode. It was a shed, made of mud walls, with tin sheets covering it to make the inverted V. He reflected back to yesterday’s conversation with his Commanding Officer.
‘Morning Sir’, he salutes his smartest.
‘Morning Ankur, come in, take a seat’
While doing it, he was wondering about the task that lay ahead of him. He loved the unpredictability of his profession.
‘Do you know that the communication at Tangsong La Pass is down to only the permanent line?’
So that was it. It would be a fine challenge. It excited him. Tangsong La Pass is the one of the highest motorable passes in the world. Height being close to 18000 ft. An important pass as it was, it was held by the army. Apart from fighting, for which all of us were trained, his unit was also responsible to provide communication to all places where army goes. Be it inside the enemy territory.
‘Yes Sir, I do.’
‘Take a team of two ORs with you to Tangsong La tomorrow, and install the new terminal equipment that we have just received from the higher headquarters.’
Due to bad weather conditions at the pass, and the failure of terminal equipment installed at the pass, the communication was down at Tangsong La. But not completely. The evergreen, though out-dated permanent line on poles which provides only one telephone line was still active, but it was not enough. The troops at Tangsong La deserved more.
‘Roger Sir, I will do that.’
His gypsy started climbing the fierce mountains. As he reached 15000 ft, he observed that the weather changed and it started snowing.
‘Gadi dheere chalana Yadav’, He said after he saw a memorial stone at one dangerous turn with the name of an officer and his driver engraved on it.
But he realized soon enough that there was no need for him to say so. The snowfall had turned into a snow blizzard, and the visibility had fallen down to 20 m. Yadav could not drive at more than 10 Kmph.
When they reached Tangsong La, and they reached with great difficulty, it was heartening to see a JCO and two jawans coming out in the cold to receive them. They were taken to a Bukhari warmed up room and served hot tea and dry fruits. After that, they immediately went on work.
The Army doctors say that one should not stay at Tangsong La for more than 15 minutes if he has not acclimitized. Their work could take more than 3 hours.
When one hour had passed, and he was inside the communication shed and ensuring the installation, the JCO incharge at Tangsong La came inside.
‘Sahab Bahar kuch civilian tourists aaye hain’
‘Yahan pe?? Civilians??’ He went outside and saw two guys and a girl standing near two pulsars. They were all roughly his age. And they were shivering like anything.
‘Hello sir, could we get some fire anywhere here, my sister here specially is feeling very cold’.
‘Yeah sure, come inside this shed’ They went inside, and he asked them to remove their shoes in front of the Bukhari. They complied. As he expected, their feet were soaked.
‘Sahab inke liye chai banwaiye. Whatever in the world are you guys doing out here?’
‘Sir, we were on an adventure trip. We guessed that in the middle of August we wont face much trouble here. We crossed this pass only day before yesterday, then ‘to’ it was completely fine.’
‘Pl don’t address me as Sir. Call me Capt Ankur. Yeah I know, you should never trust these mountains. They behave funny. And even if you were on an adventure trip, you ought to have hired enfields atleast. These pulsars cant do you any good here.’
‘Yes.. uh.. Capt, we realized that now. The damned bikes are getting stuck in the snow everywhere. And everytime we have to get down and push. That’s why our feet are so drenched. We need to reach back to Leh today only, till how far down is this snow?’
‘About 20 more Kms. And I would advise you not to stay here for more than 15 minutes. The oxygen content at this height is really low. Will you be able to keep going?’ He looked towards the girl.
He could see that the girl was having a very rough time. She was wearing a fashionable but a thin jacket, which he assumed could not even resist slight rainfall, let alone a snow blizzard. She was white with cold, She was shivering so much that she could hardly speak anything, and she kept rubbing her hands, that too feebly.
‘Sir that’s what I wanted to ask. Is there any mode of transportation here for her. I mean any 4 wheeler. We could the take bikes down.’
She could come in his gypsy, he thought. But he knew that his work would not get over before another 2 hours. He could not possibly make them wait for so long here. He also could not send his driver down with the lone girl, and stay put himself for the night at the pass. He had to get back to his unit today only.
The troops at Tangsong La could survive one more day with one telephone connection. However, he knew that it would be very very difficult for her to survive this day without falling sick. Hell, people without proper precautions and clothing had died out here.
But what would he tell this JCO here, who was so eagerly waiting for his one call to his home. Worse, what would he tell his Commanding Officer, who had been given a specific time by his seniors to establish communication at this place? It took a while before he could come up with an answer.
The truth.
‘ She can come in my gypsy if that’s not a problem. We’ll leave in 10 mins.
‘Thank you sir, that would be great. Thank you so much.’
It could either ruin or enhance his image in the eyes of his commander. But it would definitely devastate his image in his own eyes if he decides not to help this girl and something happens to her later.
‘You guys will drive your bikes ahead of me, and keep it in the first or second gear in the downslope.’
‘Ok.’
When the girl came out of the shed, she started furiously trembling and clattering her teeth. He offered his ‘made for siachen’ Jacket and gloves to her. Seeing this, his driver offered him his jacket but he said that your feeling comfortable is more important on these dangerous tracks. He started feeling cold in a while. He remembered the time in IMA, when in the middle of the night in Dehradun’s december cold, they were made to strip down to swimming trunks and pour icy cold water on themselves. Slowly. He had ordered his body to take it. Like a trained soldier, this time again, he ordered his body to take it.
They reached Leh in about four hours. The whole while he was feeling tense about the repercussions of not following the commander’s orders. The girl could sense that he was disturbed about something. She did not utter a single word the entire way. While getting down in front of the hotel they were putting up at, she handed a small piece of paper in his hand. After tons of thanks by both the guys, the girl smiled very very weakly and said only one thing to him as he was driven away.
‘Hats off to Indian Army Officers….’
And that teared out all the fear from his heart.
Disclaimer: The story is a mixture of truth and more of fiction. There is no pass named Tangsong La. All the things about communication being down and terminal eqpt being installed are imaginary. I had gone there for an entirely different purpose. And what was written on the piece of paper is none of your business.
Friday, September 30, 2011
THE DISCIPLINE INCULCATOR
7th day in the Indian Military Academy, Dehradun.
Class time.
Instructor(with profound seriousness and emphasis): Gentlemen, weapons are like condoms. Holding them and not using them is much wiser than not holding them when you ‘urgently’ require them.
The class giggled without making a sound. It was my 7th day in the academy. No, my memory isnt so sharp. Those who are in the army know that you cannot possibly clearly remember your academy days. You sweat, sweat and sweat more, go back to your cabin(room) and sleep. That is, if you get the chance to sleep. I remember because I used to keep a record, a personal diary. A line or two for each day.
I was a software engineer before joining the army. I used to get up at 10, 11, sometimes even 12 to go to office. My manager used to come before 9:30. She never said anything to me about coming late to office. I liked to think that that was because I used to deliver products (softwares) always before the deadline. I was good at my job. But there was this one time when she had remarked about me coming late to office. I had missed an important meeting of the team, which was at 10:30 am. And she had done that too very politely.
‘Ankur, you missed a meeting this morning. Didn’t you get the schedule last friday?
You should have come a little early.’
‘Sorry Prachi, it wont happen again.’ I didn’t mean it. I wasn’t even feeling ashamed.
‘Ok.’
She was a sweet team lead. Later ofcourse, a dog who was suffering from rabies bit me and died, and I joined the army. The dog was a sucker for some respect. It didn’t know that earning it could make it go doubly crazy.
8th day in IMA.
We were asked to report at 3:45 am (Yep, that’s the time, and we had slept at 11:30 pm) with packed breakfast collected, and small pack prepared. (The small pack contains emergency stuff like food, water, extra pair of shoes, socks, shaving kit, which is a must, but what the hell, everything including the sui dhaga for knitting a button of your shirt which might break while you roll in mud, is a must.)
So basically, the preparing of this small pack requires a considerable amount of time. Specially when at 3 am, in the mess of your cabin, you cant find your sui dhaga. However, as you get to know later, EVERYTHING IN THIS WORLD can be managed in the last minute, and that’s one of the numerous important lessons that army teaches you about life. I also managed my sui dhaga at the last minute and arrived at the fall-in sharp at 3:46.
The senior was looking at me in a very strange way. Like a perfect bollywood villian. With his head tilted halfway to one side.
‘Yaaa Ankur, Why so late?’ (I have observed that in the army, people tend to say ‘Yaaa’ a lot. They rather sing it.)
“‘So’” late?? I thought. What the f*** man, I am a minute late.
‘Sorry Sir, it wont happen again.’ I didn’t mean it. I wasn’t at all feeling ashamed.
‘You don’t say sorry in the army. Because you cannot EVER be sorry for what you do. I’ll have you right now’ (That’s another one of the cliches I hated people using in the army. Literally it meant he would eat me, which is grose, figuratively, it meant he would punish me.)
He was noway sweet like Prachi. He made me jump continuously with the 5 kg pack on for 15 minutes. What are 15 minutes? I would have thought, if I would have still been the software engineer. I hadnt realized it yet.
My body was in agony. My heart was screaming. “’This is what I deserve for coming a MINUTE late?? For god’s sake, it was just a MINUTE’” I sweated and sweated.
And as if he read my mind, he said,
‘In a minute, you can be made to pray for your life. It requires just a minute. You’ll realize it.’
“’Bulshit”’, and I jumped. I just wanted him to stop me. Every second became painful after a while.
Every s-e-c-o-n-d.
My knees hurt the next several days.
21st day in IMA
Assistant Adjutant(who is responsible for drill, which btw means marching n all): ‘GC Ankur Srivastava. Why don’t your knees touch your chest when you stamp? Are you trying to sham in front of me?’
‘No sir, not at all’
The ‘not at all’ was not required. If you speak a word more than ‘Yes sir’ or ‘No sir’, you’re had. (Yeah, I got the cliché too)
‘Sahab, is GC ko teen Restrictions dijiye.’
‘Ji sahab’ The drill ustaad said.
Ass Adju (now to the entire squad): ‘Gentlemen, there would be girls watching you right now from outside the gates of this great institution. Your stamping will be such that it will make them all go watery. Is that clear?’
He turned back and added..
‘And by that I don’t mean tears in their eyes.’
The squad giggled without making a sound. I couldn’t resist a tiny grin to appear.
‘Sahab isko teen aur restrictions dijiye’
29th day in IMA
There is only one way to tie laces on your shoes in the army. They would teach you that first. And if you don’t comply, they would have your happiness. (Now that’s another cliché, means essentially the same)
This fine morning of 29th day in IMA, I was standing imperturbed in the drill square, sure that no drill ustaad could point out some mistake in my dress. When suddenly I heard someone growl.
‘HAAARRRPPP! GRAAAHHPP!! MAKRA, KACHRA, NALAYAK, GCCC!!!’ And he was looking towards me.
‘Ji sahab’
‘YE KAISE BANDHE HAIN LACES??’ I looked down.
‘NEECHE DEKHNE KO KISNE KAHA TUMSE????!!!!’
My insides shouted ‘“NEECHE NAHI DEKHUNGA TO PATA KAISE CHALEGA KI MAINE KAISE LACES BANDHE HAIN??”’ And these were the men I was wishing to comd and earn respect from.
He made me keep leaping like a frog for the next 1 hour. In front of the whole academy.
One h-o-u-r.
For tying laces the incorrect way.
30th day in IMA
The entry in my diary for the 30th day.
My insides are crying after yesterday. I feel humiliated. I feel burnt. When I was tying my laces today in the morning, I was again in a hurry. I was again making the mistake. And I watched a teardrop fell on my shoes. And this is what went through your mind Ankur, in case you forget.
‘Not again for this small thing. Not again for this. No.’
And you swallowed to clear your soar throat and tied it as it was taught Ankur.
You tied it as it was taught.
Disclaimer: A work of fiction. Except the diary entry.
Class time.
Instructor(with profound seriousness and emphasis): Gentlemen, weapons are like condoms. Holding them and not using them is much wiser than not holding them when you ‘urgently’ require them.
The class giggled without making a sound. It was my 7th day in the academy. No, my memory isnt so sharp. Those who are in the army know that you cannot possibly clearly remember your academy days. You sweat, sweat and sweat more, go back to your cabin(room) and sleep. That is, if you get the chance to sleep. I remember because I used to keep a record, a personal diary. A line or two for each day.
I was a software engineer before joining the army. I used to get up at 10, 11, sometimes even 12 to go to office. My manager used to come before 9:30. She never said anything to me about coming late to office. I liked to think that that was because I used to deliver products (softwares) always before the deadline. I was good at my job. But there was this one time when she had remarked about me coming late to office. I had missed an important meeting of the team, which was at 10:30 am. And she had done that too very politely.
‘Ankur, you missed a meeting this morning. Didn’t you get the schedule last friday?
You should have come a little early.’
‘Sorry Prachi, it wont happen again.’ I didn’t mean it. I wasn’t even feeling ashamed.
‘Ok.’
She was a sweet team lead. Later ofcourse, a dog who was suffering from rabies bit me and died, and I joined the army. The dog was a sucker for some respect. It didn’t know that earning it could make it go doubly crazy.
8th day in IMA.
We were asked to report at 3:45 am (Yep, that’s the time, and we had slept at 11:30 pm) with packed breakfast collected, and small pack prepared. (The small pack contains emergency stuff like food, water, extra pair of shoes, socks, shaving kit, which is a must, but what the hell, everything including the sui dhaga for knitting a button of your shirt which might break while you roll in mud, is a must.)
So basically, the preparing of this small pack requires a considerable amount of time. Specially when at 3 am, in the mess of your cabin, you cant find your sui dhaga. However, as you get to know later, EVERYTHING IN THIS WORLD can be managed in the last minute, and that’s one of the numerous important lessons that army teaches you about life. I also managed my sui dhaga at the last minute and arrived at the fall-in sharp at 3:46.
The senior was looking at me in a very strange way. Like a perfect bollywood villian. With his head tilted halfway to one side.
‘Yaaa Ankur, Why so late?’ (I have observed that in the army, people tend to say ‘Yaaa’ a lot. They rather sing it.)
“‘So’” late?? I thought. What the f*** man, I am a minute late.
‘Sorry Sir, it wont happen again.’ I didn’t mean it. I wasn’t at all feeling ashamed.
‘You don’t say sorry in the army. Because you cannot EVER be sorry for what you do. I’ll have you right now’ (That’s another one of the cliches I hated people using in the army. Literally it meant he would eat me, which is grose, figuratively, it meant he would punish me.)
He was noway sweet like Prachi. He made me jump continuously with the 5 kg pack on for 15 minutes. What are 15 minutes? I would have thought, if I would have still been the software engineer. I hadnt realized it yet.
My body was in agony. My heart was screaming. “’This is what I deserve for coming a MINUTE late?? For god’s sake, it was just a MINUTE’” I sweated and sweated.
And as if he read my mind, he said,
‘In a minute, you can be made to pray for your life. It requires just a minute. You’ll realize it.’
“’Bulshit”’, and I jumped. I just wanted him to stop me. Every second became painful after a while.
Every s-e-c-o-n-d.
My knees hurt the next several days.
21st day in IMA
Assistant Adjutant(who is responsible for drill, which btw means marching n all): ‘GC Ankur Srivastava. Why don’t your knees touch your chest when you stamp? Are you trying to sham in front of me?’
‘No sir, not at all’
The ‘not at all’ was not required. If you speak a word more than ‘Yes sir’ or ‘No sir’, you’re had. (Yeah, I got the cliché too)
‘Sahab, is GC ko teen Restrictions dijiye.’
‘Ji sahab’ The drill ustaad said.
Ass Adju (now to the entire squad): ‘Gentlemen, there would be girls watching you right now from outside the gates of this great institution. Your stamping will be such that it will make them all go watery. Is that clear?’
He turned back and added..
‘And by that I don’t mean tears in their eyes.’
The squad giggled without making a sound. I couldn’t resist a tiny grin to appear.
‘Sahab isko teen aur restrictions dijiye’
29th day in IMA
There is only one way to tie laces on your shoes in the army. They would teach you that first. And if you don’t comply, they would have your happiness. (Now that’s another cliché, means essentially the same)
This fine morning of 29th day in IMA, I was standing imperturbed in the drill square, sure that no drill ustaad could point out some mistake in my dress. When suddenly I heard someone growl.
‘HAAARRRPPP! GRAAAHHPP!! MAKRA, KACHRA, NALAYAK, GCCC!!!’ And he was looking towards me.
‘Ji sahab’
‘YE KAISE BANDHE HAIN LACES??’ I looked down.
‘NEECHE DEKHNE KO KISNE KAHA TUMSE????!!!!’
My insides shouted ‘“NEECHE NAHI DEKHUNGA TO PATA KAISE CHALEGA KI MAINE KAISE LACES BANDHE HAIN??”’ And these were the men I was wishing to comd and earn respect from.
He made me keep leaping like a frog for the next 1 hour. In front of the whole academy.
One h-o-u-r.
For tying laces the incorrect way.
30th day in IMA
The entry in my diary for the 30th day.
My insides are crying after yesterday. I feel humiliated. I feel burnt. When I was tying my laces today in the morning, I was again in a hurry. I was again making the mistake. And I watched a teardrop fell on my shoes. And this is what went through your mind Ankur, in case you forget.
‘Not again for this small thing. Not again for this. No.’
And you swallowed to clear your soar throat and tied it as it was taught Ankur.
You tied it as it was taught.
Disclaimer: A work of fiction. Except the diary entry.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Rhythm Divine Academy of Music and Fine Arts
‘Oh not the second string again’
He has broken the second string of the guitar while playing a song. The problem with that is, that he only keeps one set of strings extra with him. And he had already used the second one of the spare set.
Now he would have to go Connaught place, or if he would want to buy the same product much cheaper, to Dariyaganj, which is in old delhi, reaching where can cause a migraine.
‘Man, I cant go to old delhi again for a stupid single string. I mean, its ok if you wanna buy a guitar. But for a single string? The same problem comes when you gotta buy a Plectrum’
Plectrum is the small triangular plastic thing through which you struck the strings of the guitar. You cant find a plectrum anywhere except a good music shop. And there were hardly any near his place. Or so he thought.
‘Let me try and find out here in Dwarka’
He had recently shifted to Dwarka. While driving, he suddenly came across a two storeyed structure with Rhythm Divine Academy of Music and Fine Arts written on it. He entered enthusiastically and found a lady sitting in a hall, in front of a desk, who looked like the owner as well as the manager.
‘Yes’
‘Ma’am do you teach how to play guitar here too?’
‘Yes we do’
‘Ok then, I guess you would know where, in the nearby area, can I buy guitar strings from?’ (Please don’t say Dariyaganj)
‘You can get them right here.. Which one do you want?’
‘Really??? Oh, the second’ (Sighs of relief)
‘Monu betaaa, guitar ki ek nayi second string nikal de’
‘Madam store mein check karna padega, upar to nahi hai’
‘Thik hai tum le aao… uh.. He would have to get it from the store, it will take 5 minutes, why don’t you sit down’
A batch of students just appeared out of a room. All were kids; age varying from 7-8 to 14-15. Some were holding guitars, some were just carrying bags.
‘What else do you teach here?’
‘We have got courses for keyboard, drums, and flute in music, and kathak and western in dance’
‘wow’
‘So, you are also learning guitar??’
‘Uh.. I know how to play.. Although the learning process never stops I guess’ (Smiles)
(Smiles back) ‘ok, how long have you been playing?’
‘Around 7 years’
(eyes widening) ‘So, you are like a proper guitarist, or you know other instruments also?’
(Smiles) ‘Well, I can play keyboard and drums too’
‘Do you teach also?’
‘I haven’t professionally. Otherwise I have’ (Ok lady, I see where this conversation is going)
‘What do you do otherwise?’
‘I am in the army’
(Blown look) ‘You are an army officer??’
‘uh.. Yes ma’am, I am on leave currently’
‘Ok.. ‘ Monu enters with the string.
‘Here is your string’
He paid for it and left. A thought kept bothering him. It was his dream to teach music to children. There was even a time when a wild fascination had become his goal. He wanted to open several Indian Institutes of Music, on the lines of IITs and IIMs. He decided to go back.
‘Ma’am, I don’t know whether you would consider this appropriate or not, but if you need an instructor for the next 16 days, I will be available.. And I wont charge anything..’
(Smiles) ‘uh.. Ok.. Actually we do wanted a substitute for our Keyboard instructor, He sometimes is not available.. But before that, we would like you to meet him and show him your skill a little.. If you don’t mind..’
‘Not at all.. when and where?’
‘Give me your contact no, I’ll let you know’
It turns out that the instructor of the school himself wanted to learn a few techniques of playing from him. Naturally he was taken in. He usually gets to teach once in 2-3 days for 3-4 hours. His heart rejuvenates everytime.
He has broken the second string of the guitar while playing a song. The problem with that is, that he only keeps one set of strings extra with him. And he had already used the second one of the spare set.
Now he would have to go Connaught place, or if he would want to buy the same product much cheaper, to Dariyaganj, which is in old delhi, reaching where can cause a migraine.
‘Man, I cant go to old delhi again for a stupid single string. I mean, its ok if you wanna buy a guitar. But for a single string? The same problem comes when you gotta buy a Plectrum’
Plectrum is the small triangular plastic thing through which you struck the strings of the guitar. You cant find a plectrum anywhere except a good music shop. And there were hardly any near his place. Or so he thought.
‘Let me try and find out here in Dwarka’
He had recently shifted to Dwarka. While driving, he suddenly came across a two storeyed structure with Rhythm Divine Academy of Music and Fine Arts written on it. He entered enthusiastically and found a lady sitting in a hall, in front of a desk, who looked like the owner as well as the manager.
‘Yes’
‘Ma’am do you teach how to play guitar here too?’
‘Yes we do’
‘Ok then, I guess you would know where, in the nearby area, can I buy guitar strings from?’ (Please don’t say Dariyaganj)
‘You can get them right here.. Which one do you want?’
‘Really??? Oh, the second’ (Sighs of relief)
‘Monu betaaa, guitar ki ek nayi second string nikal de’
‘Madam store mein check karna padega, upar to nahi hai’
‘Thik hai tum le aao… uh.. He would have to get it from the store, it will take 5 minutes, why don’t you sit down’
A batch of students just appeared out of a room. All were kids; age varying from 7-8 to 14-15. Some were holding guitars, some were just carrying bags.
‘What else do you teach here?’
‘We have got courses for keyboard, drums, and flute in music, and kathak and western in dance’
‘wow’
‘So, you are also learning guitar??’
‘Uh.. I know how to play.. Although the learning process never stops I guess’ (Smiles)
(Smiles back) ‘ok, how long have you been playing?’
‘Around 7 years’
(eyes widening) ‘So, you are like a proper guitarist, or you know other instruments also?’
(Smiles) ‘Well, I can play keyboard and drums too’
‘Do you teach also?’
‘I haven’t professionally. Otherwise I have’ (Ok lady, I see where this conversation is going)
‘What do you do otherwise?’
‘I am in the army’
(Blown look) ‘You are an army officer??’
‘uh.. Yes ma’am, I am on leave currently’
‘Ok.. ‘ Monu enters with the string.
‘Here is your string’
He paid for it and left. A thought kept bothering him. It was his dream to teach music to children. There was even a time when a wild fascination had become his goal. He wanted to open several Indian Institutes of Music, on the lines of IITs and IIMs. He decided to go back.
‘Ma’am, I don’t know whether you would consider this appropriate or not, but if you need an instructor for the next 16 days, I will be available.. And I wont charge anything..’
(Smiles) ‘uh.. Ok.. Actually we do wanted a substitute for our Keyboard instructor, He sometimes is not available.. But before that, we would like you to meet him and show him your skill a little.. If you don’t mind..’
‘Not at all.. when and where?’
‘Give me your contact no, I’ll let you know’
It turns out that the instructor of the school himself wanted to learn a few techniques of playing from him. Naturally he was taken in. He usually gets to teach once in 2-3 days for 3-4 hours. His heart rejuvenates everytime.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Conversations at 35000 ft...
Air India Flight 126 from Chicago to New Delhi..
Lots of Indians Aboard..
Maximum Gujratis..
15 Hours..
As you get shit tired just by sitting, you stand near the emergency exit doors of the aircraft from time to time..
A lobby develops in a short while.. and keeps changing..
Conversation with Gujrati No 1:
'Hi'
'Hello'
'You are going to Delhi?'
'Yeah I guess' (snort) 'Isn't the flight going there too?' (he does not only look stupid.. he is stupid)
'Oh, the flight goes to Ahemdabad and Hyderabad also after that'
'Oh sorry, that ways, yes, Delhi.. But I have to go to Ladakh after that'
'Ladakh??' (eyes opening wide, eyebrows stretched, and head swaying)
'Its in J&K' (Hello)
'Oh right.. So, you belong from that place?'
'HAHA.. Do I look like a Ladakhi to you?'
'I'm sorry, I havent stayed in India much'
'Yeah, I can see that. Ladakhis look more like Chinese. Not like you and me.'
'Hmm. So, what do you do in Ladakh?'
'I am in the army, I am posted there'
'Woh!! Army man huh? Now you dont look much like an army man too' (Smiles hideously)
'Yeah, but you see, Indian army requires stamina and endurance, not bulk and an enormous belly like yours' (fucker)
(Grins, stays quiet and after a while goes back to his seat)
Conversation with Gujrati No 2:
'Is this sandwich for free?'
'I guess so, people have been coming and picking them up'
'Aah' (starts opening the packet of one, and pockets another)
'So, you have not tried this sandwich?'
'Ah, No, I am not hungry'
'Who said I am? (laughes) Kha lo pi lo yar, aur is duniya mein rakha hi kya hai?'
'Yeah..' (Now this idiotic person will tell me about philosophy?)
'What do you do anyway'
'Uh.. well.. I am a musician. Yeah! A guitarist'
'Oh.. Nice.. Where is your guitar yaar? Why dont you entertain all of us here? As such, all the passengers are getting so bored..'
'Haha.. No, thanks'
'How much do you earn anyway?'
'Allright. Please excuse me..'
'Oh dont get offended yaar.. I was just curious how much do these intrumentalists earn yaar'
'More than what your materialistic and orthodox mind can imagine yaar, they earn contentment' (Leaves the passageway)
A few minutes later observes Gujarati No 1 has joined Gujarati No 2 and both have hit it off like school time bum chums.
Prayers for getting out of the plane asap.
Lots of Indians Aboard..
Maximum Gujratis..
15 Hours..
As you get shit tired just by sitting, you stand near the emergency exit doors of the aircraft from time to time..
A lobby develops in a short while.. and keeps changing..
Conversation with Gujrati No 1:
'Hi'
'Hello'
'You are going to Delhi?'
'Yeah I guess' (snort) 'Isn't the flight going there too?' (he does not only look stupid.. he is stupid)
'Oh, the flight goes to Ahemdabad and Hyderabad also after that'
'Oh sorry, that ways, yes, Delhi.. But I have to go to Ladakh after that'
'Ladakh??' (eyes opening wide, eyebrows stretched, and head swaying)
'Its in J&K' (Hello)
'Oh right.. So, you belong from that place?'
'HAHA.. Do I look like a Ladakhi to you?'
'I'm sorry, I havent stayed in India much'
'Yeah, I can see that. Ladakhis look more like Chinese. Not like you and me.'
'Hmm. So, what do you do in Ladakh?'
'I am in the army, I am posted there'
'Woh!! Army man huh? Now you dont look much like an army man too' (Smiles hideously)
'Yeah, but you see, Indian army requires stamina and endurance, not bulk and an enormous belly like yours' (fucker)
(Grins, stays quiet and after a while goes back to his seat)
Conversation with Gujrati No 2:
'Is this sandwich for free?'
'I guess so, people have been coming and picking them up'
'Aah' (starts opening the packet of one, and pockets another)
'So, you have not tried this sandwich?'
'Ah, No, I am not hungry'
'Who said I am? (laughes) Kha lo pi lo yar, aur is duniya mein rakha hi kya hai?'
'Yeah..' (Now this idiotic person will tell me about philosophy?)
'What do you do anyway'
'Uh.. well.. I am a musician. Yeah! A guitarist'
'Oh.. Nice.. Where is your guitar yaar? Why dont you entertain all of us here? As such, all the passengers are getting so bored..'
'Haha.. No, thanks'
'How much do you earn anyway?'
'Allright. Please excuse me..'
'Oh dont get offended yaar.. I was just curious how much do these intrumentalists earn yaar'
'More than what your materialistic and orthodox mind can imagine yaar, they earn contentment' (Leaves the passageway)
A few minutes later observes Gujarati No 1 has joined Gujarati No 2 and both have hit it off like school time bum chums.
Prayers for getting out of the plane asap.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
My first ray of Sunlight...
Teri ankhon se aansu kabhi na bahe..
Tere hathon mein hamara hath hamesha rahe..
Tere hothon se mamu pehle nikle.. ( ya m selfish there.. :D.. )
Tujhe godi mein behlate rahein..
Ahanaaa..
pyar karna.. mumma se seekhna..
baton ki gehrai samajhna..
sachai, meri bhanji, papa se seekhna..
paro pe khade jaldi hona..
zindagi mein jo chahe karna..
baton mein kisi aur ki kabhi mat aana..
Ahanaaa..
Painting aur drawing abhi se shuru karna…
Literature ki ahemiyat tum ye zarur janna..
Par mann ki agar baat bataun, piano zarur seekhna..
Dil ki khwahish hai ye duniya ko chawka dena..
Ahanaa….
Papa, mumma se kabhi nahi jhagarna..
Jo Pyar sabse zada tumse hi karte haina..
Ahanaaaa…..
pyar karna.. mumma se seekhna..
baton ki gehrai samajhna..
sachai, meri bhanji, papa se seekhna..
paro pe khade jaldi hona..
zindagi mein jo chahe karna..
baton mein kisi aur ki kabhi mat aana..
Ahanaa...
Tere hathon mein hamara hath hamesha rahe..
Tere hothon se mamu pehle nikle.. ( ya m selfish there.. :D.. )
Tujhe godi mein behlate rahein..
Ahanaaa..
pyar karna.. mumma se seekhna..
baton ki gehrai samajhna..
sachai, meri bhanji, papa se seekhna..
paro pe khade jaldi hona..
zindagi mein jo chahe karna..
baton mein kisi aur ki kabhi mat aana..
Ahanaaa..
Painting aur drawing abhi se shuru karna…
Literature ki ahemiyat tum ye zarur janna..
Par mann ki agar baat bataun, piano zarur seekhna..
Dil ki khwahish hai ye duniya ko chawka dena..
Ahanaa….
Papa, mumma se kabhi nahi jhagarna..
Jo Pyar sabse zada tumse hi karte haina..
Ahanaaaa…..
pyar karna.. mumma se seekhna..
baton ki gehrai samajhna..
sachai, meri bhanji, papa se seekhna..
paro pe khade jaldi hona..
zindagi mein jo chahe karna..
baton mein kisi aur ki kabhi mat aana..
Ahanaa...
Friday, November 12, 2010
Drill Dilemma!! from the annals of IMA times...
Drill seems to be the most trying thing in the academy. The biggest torture in doing drill everyday for the pop practice is not the sweat, the heat, the incessant 'kadam badal' or 'changing march', the continuous ‘swing back’ or ‘height de’ (not that these are not tortures themselves, they definitely surely are) but the biggest one is how the heck do you manage to keep your shirts clean. And then they want us to wear an impeccable uniform every damn day.
What happens, as many of you might not be aware, specially my friends from the software industry who sit in their air conditioned office day in day out, who do not shred one drop of pasina, is that after 2-3 hours of continuous drill, all the pores of your body are opened because some liquid wants to flow out. If you happen to taste it, just like we get a chance of doing it daily, I am sure you wouldn’t like it.
Now because of this liquid flowing out, in a short while, your body perceives that if this continues it might just dehydrate, and therefore it makes you feel thirsty. Obviously you cannot replenish the liquid loss from your body by just licking the same off from your own body, as that is not humanly possible. However, come to think of it, it is humanly possible to lick it off someone else’s body, probably the one standing just in front of you who is also excreting as much liquid as you. But that would be a grotesque way of quenching your thirst. Eeyuk..
Ok, forget that. This thirst makes you feel that you’ll die any moment. And what adds to this dying moment is the rashes developed both in your under arms and your private parts invariably through the never ending swinging of your arms and legs respectively. The 50% of the water along with much of the salt in your body that excretes out in the form of S.W.E.A.T, does not act as a lubricant. Trust me. In fact, it acts as a catalyst in the development of these rashes.
Now the water which forms a vital part of the sweat evaporates, but what about the salt? I’ll tell you. The salt, ladies and gentlemen, penetrates through the vest, and sticks tightly to the shirt and makes the Olive Green, Olive Green and White. Nonetheless, the white patches on the OG shirt makes wonderful modern art, the beauty of which lies in the unpredictability of its pattern. Every fucking day, the patches are of different shape, and at different unimaginable locations. There is absolutely no regularity at all.
So, that’s how your shirt gets screwed every day. And you have only three pairs of them. And since the washer man comes only twice in a week, and there are 7 days in the same, you are smart enough to calculate that you gotta wash them yourself in between. And that is what I don’t like putting my time and energy in. Specially at a place where they are trying to exhaust my energy everyday.
LET ME CONSERVE IT A LITTLE FOLKS..
I MEAN, COME ON!!! HOW THE DAMNED HELL DOES IT MATTER WHETHER THE OG I WEAR TO DRILL PRACTICE, (I EMPHASIZE, DRILL “PRACTICE”) HAS WHITE PATCHES OR NOT??
INSTEAD OF PUNISHING SUCH A PERSON, SHOULDN’T YOU AWARD HIM? CUZ HE HAS SWEATED THE MOST??
Wait.. I just gave myself an idea there..
THE MAX WHITE IN A WEEK AWARD GOES TO……. GC Ankur Srivastava!! (With a huge round of applause from the entire academy)
Yeah, I have a weird way of imagining things.. :D..
But you tell me, wouldn’t that be both fun and fair?
What happens, as many of you might not be aware, specially my friends from the software industry who sit in their air conditioned office day in day out, who do not shred one drop of pasina, is that after 2-3 hours of continuous drill, all the pores of your body are opened because some liquid wants to flow out. If you happen to taste it, just like we get a chance of doing it daily, I am sure you wouldn’t like it.
Now because of this liquid flowing out, in a short while, your body perceives that if this continues it might just dehydrate, and therefore it makes you feel thirsty. Obviously you cannot replenish the liquid loss from your body by just licking the same off from your own body, as that is not humanly possible. However, come to think of it, it is humanly possible to lick it off someone else’s body, probably the one standing just in front of you who is also excreting as much liquid as you. But that would be a grotesque way of quenching your thirst. Eeyuk..
Ok, forget that. This thirst makes you feel that you’ll die any moment. And what adds to this dying moment is the rashes developed both in your under arms and your private parts invariably through the never ending swinging of your arms and legs respectively. The 50% of the water along with much of the salt in your body that excretes out in the form of S.W.E.A.T, does not act as a lubricant. Trust me. In fact, it acts as a catalyst in the development of these rashes.
Now the water which forms a vital part of the sweat evaporates, but what about the salt? I’ll tell you. The salt, ladies and gentlemen, penetrates through the vest, and sticks tightly to the shirt and makes the Olive Green, Olive Green and White. Nonetheless, the white patches on the OG shirt makes wonderful modern art, the beauty of which lies in the unpredictability of its pattern. Every fucking day, the patches are of different shape, and at different unimaginable locations. There is absolutely no regularity at all.
So, that’s how your shirt gets screwed every day. And you have only three pairs of them. And since the washer man comes only twice in a week, and there are 7 days in the same, you are smart enough to calculate that you gotta wash them yourself in between. And that is what I don’t like putting my time and energy in. Specially at a place where they are trying to exhaust my energy everyday.
LET ME CONSERVE IT A LITTLE FOLKS..
I MEAN, COME ON!!! HOW THE DAMNED HELL DOES IT MATTER WHETHER THE OG I WEAR TO DRILL PRACTICE, (I EMPHASIZE, DRILL “PRACTICE”) HAS WHITE PATCHES OR NOT??
INSTEAD OF PUNISHING SUCH A PERSON, SHOULDN’T YOU AWARD HIM? CUZ HE HAS SWEATED THE MOST??
Wait.. I just gave myself an idea there..
THE MAX WHITE IN A WEEK AWARD GOES TO……. GC Ankur Srivastava!! (With a huge round of applause from the entire academy)
Yeah, I have a weird way of imagining things.. :D..
But you tell me, wouldn’t that be both fun and fair?
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Billu the Barber!!
Once upon a time, there were two mice, Billu and Pinki. One day, Billu found a huge piece of cheese. He wanted to have it all, and he would have, but as he was trying to impress Pinki, he decided to share it with her by dividing it into two halves.
After scratching his head for a long time, he finally found a way to divide it exactly into 2 pieces. He decided that he would break the cheese arbitrarily and then compare. Whichever side looked bigger, he would nib at it a little till both looked exactly the same.
With enthusiasm, he started his brilliant method. He broke the cheese. First one looked bigger. He ate it a little. Now the other one looked bigger. He ate the other one a little. Dammit, the first one looked bigger again.
He kept on biting the pieces in an attempt to make them equal. In sheer frustration, he didn’t realize that he was eating all of it. He did so, only when he had consumed everything.
He felt dejected. His sole chance to impress Pinki had gone down the drain. He walked on the road like a desolate mouse, didn’t notice a truck coming by, came under it and got squashed to a cheesy liquid form.
Billu gave up his life in the name of love. God was proud of him, and decided to send him in the world again. This time though, as a human named Mr Nathulal, who happens to be my barber. But I never realized it. And neither would have you.
You realize it only when he gets the sole chance to impress you by cutting your hair. Billu the barber repeats his brilliant method of making both sides of your hair equal, by cutting your hair arbitrarily and then comparing.
You realize it only when he finds the other side having longer hair, ALWAYS, and feels frustrated again.
And you realize it only when in a sincere attempt to make them equal, he finishes off all of it and finally shows you the mirror.
After scratching his head for a long time, he finally found a way to divide it exactly into 2 pieces. He decided that he would break the cheese arbitrarily and then compare. Whichever side looked bigger, he would nib at it a little till both looked exactly the same.
With enthusiasm, he started his brilliant method. He broke the cheese. First one looked bigger. He ate it a little. Now the other one looked bigger. He ate the other one a little. Dammit, the first one looked bigger again.
He kept on biting the pieces in an attempt to make them equal. In sheer frustration, he didn’t realize that he was eating all of it. He did so, only when he had consumed everything.
He felt dejected. His sole chance to impress Pinki had gone down the drain. He walked on the road like a desolate mouse, didn’t notice a truck coming by, came under it and got squashed to a cheesy liquid form.
Billu gave up his life in the name of love. God was proud of him, and decided to send him in the world again. This time though, as a human named Mr Nathulal, who happens to be my barber. But I never realized it. And neither would have you.
You realize it only when he gets the sole chance to impress you by cutting your hair. Billu the barber repeats his brilliant method of making both sides of your hair equal, by cutting your hair arbitrarily and then comparing.
You realize it only when he finds the other side having longer hair, ALWAYS, and feels frustrated again.
And you realize it only when in a sincere attempt to make them equal, he finishes off all of it and finally shows you the mirror.
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