Mellow Melon Melodies

Happiness is cutting a watermelon on a hot Saturday afternoon and finding it ripe and red. Going by the above yardstick of measuring happiness, I have been terribly unhappy since many months now. In fact, I am close to despondent. My melon futilities have become as repetitive as Shakti Kapoor’s intentions. Even now, I am a confounded owner of a yet uncut green variety (called Kiran), wondering wether even this specimen escapes the tortuous and slimy journey through my intestines, not to mention the unhealthy rectal end. Four predecessors have been pardoned; this one too has immense self belief in the ineptitude of its undertaker. Men, women and others, how do you choose a water melon? The one thing which totally baffles me is the thumping method! How on earth can someone figure out the mellowness of a melon by listening to the thumping melodies? Am I such an acoustics duffer that all sounds are similar to me? What is the secret behind all of you cochlear geniuses out there who choose the melon by listening to its thumping sound? Such are the ego shattering, Saturday afternoon destroying questions which led me to ferret out solutions from the www. I have found some interesting insights. They are 1. To pick the perfect watermelon, select one that seems to be the right size for your needs. Then hold it with one hand to a point about 2 inches from your ear. Tone is important, so make sure that you don’t rest the watermelon against your head. Once the watermelon is positioned near your ear, use your free hand to thump the watermelon. The sound will either be solid, like thumping a piece of wood, hollow like tapping a 5-gallon water jug, or thick like tapping a water balloon. When you have determined which of the three sounds you hear when thumping, you will have the information you need about the meat inside of the watermelon. If it is not ripe enough, it will sound solid. If it is too ripe, it will sound thick. The perfect watermelon is the one that resonates hollow. Thump as many as you need to find the right one 2. The underside of the watermelon should have a creamy yellow spot showing where it sat on the ground and ripened in the sun. 3. The watermelon should be heavy for its size. Watermelon is 92% water 4. The stem should be attached, brownish and dry 5. First, watermelons should be filled-out with spherical or cylindrical shape. A watermelon that has the shape of an eggplant indicates some trouble during growth---possibly a lack of water. A lack of water will have a negative effect on taste. Second, the surface structure pointed out by the arrow in the image below is a sign for sweetness. Third, if you see a watermelon cut in half, big cracks in the flesh also indicate sweetness 6. http://link.brightcove.com/services/player/bcpid271521142?bctid=1711770875

The glint of the Carini knife beckons me to my victim yonder, who has been cooling off in the freezer since I pardoned him momentarily to finish this write-up. As far as the above points are concerned, well, haven’t we heard that saying – The proof of the melon lies in its cutting.

The Great Indian Passport

There are times in life when one gets helpless and is drowned with an frustration with overwhelms any scope for shrugging the shoulder. I am currently in that state. The reason being my continuous failures in renewing my passport. Instead of overburdening my poor blog with my litany of woes, let me educate whoever cares to be enlightened.

Scenario: You were happily or unhappily living abroad. Now have returned to India(<1 yr completed). Your passport has/is expiring
Congratulations. Now you have a once in a lifetime opportunity to experience the shenanigans of GoI. That would be Government of India. In order to renew your passport, you should show evidence of 1 continuous year stay anywhere in India. Simple eh? ever heard of reading between the lines? You can only submit the following as proof of this remarkable achievement.
1. Ration Card
2. Voters ID Card
3. Electricity Bill or Water Bill
NO driving license or rental agreement. So, dear phoren return dude and duddettes please keep in mind that when you take a house on rent, make sure the electricity or water bill IS IN YOUR BLOODY NAME CORRECT TO THE LAST ALPHABET. Second, the bank statements are more precious than those 14 Feb greeting cards which adorn your cupboard. AND DO NOT GIVE YOUR OFFICE ADDRESS AS COMMUNICATION OF BANK STATEMENTS.

Alas. Maybe the best thing is to turn the scenario itself. 'You were happily or unhappily living abroad' - please continue doing so! It is exasperating to think that an Indian living abroad can get his/her passport renewed without asmuch moving the posterior (in some case, a jaunt to the embassy is solicited). As far as me goes, let me just indefinitely postpone the idea of placing my ass on an international flight. After all, I choose to come back AND made the above mistakes. Is dharti pe janam liya hai, isi par shaheed hoonga. Jai Hind.

State wise investment trends

I have been doing some stuff lately which would normally have found their way on this blog, but lack of time balked me. Last saturday, while roaming langurously in the by-lanes of Bangalore's M.G.Road, I discovered this. With nothing better to do, I explored the basement of Midford House where they had displayed cartoons by leading Indian cartoonists. I liked a couple of them.
Anyways, that's not why I wrote this post..
What got me on to blogger.com was a good article on investment trends into Indian states over the years. I am quite thrilled to have laid my hands on this. Have a look, in case it offers any scope for stimulating reading :-)

Hatia

Today on my way to work, I was stopped at a railway crossing which is rarely closed. These are a few things which I love here in India, something which is absent abroad. The wait was not too long and I heard the crescendo of the approaching train. (My thoughts drifted to school when we were taught the 'Doppler's Effect':-)). As the train whooshed past, my straining eyes managed to catch the writings on the nameplates.. "Hatia-Yeshwantpur Express".
.... and I was swathed with this tsunami of redolent nostalgia. I would be surprised if any of my readers know where is Hatia. Just one of those things which were left behind in my relentless march of 'move on with live'. Unfortunately.

Six word autobiography

Radha has this 'write your autobiography in six words' post, apparently inspired from Facebook. I normally detest such exercises specially if the source is a social networking site, however this particular activity appeared interesting. The idea is to use exactly 6 words to describe yourself as best as you can. I finally settled on final two choices and am unable to decide which out of the two. Biased towards 1

1. My name is Maximus Decimus Aurelius
2. 666, the number of the beast

Other options which were rejected

3. I me mine myself and fate
4. Dark memoirs of an extraordinary man
5. DPS, COEP, Telco, Spjain, Cedar, IBM
6. Kya pata, Kal Ho Naa Ho

Chaooda Hajaar ka Mobile

Just a few paces from where I live, is a chat and paani puri (pucchka for the purists) stall. A small boy of around 10-12 years makes things like tikki chat, samosa chat, dahi puri and others in that kinship. I haunt this place regularly during evenings, and the boy knows my instructions (thoda dahi maar ke, imli paani zyaada). This is what happened today :-

He prepared my usual order and I began savoring it. He asked "Bhaiya, aapke paas mobile hoga" (god bless him for calling me bhaiya and not uncle!). I replied, with the chaat slurping in my mouth "Hai, kahe ko chahiye tereko". "Samosa khatam ho gaya hai, phone kar ke ...." something he said which escaped me. I took out my cell and opened it for him. He took it from me and deftly dialled the number. It rang and he spoke into the live phone in a tongue which I did not comprehend. After hanging up, he asked me with a humble smile, "Bhaiya, kitna hua call ka". I replied "Nahi, rehne do" and pocketed my instrument. The sensuous delight of the chat engulfed me.
I then asked him, "Bihar se ho?". "Nahi, UP". I smiled at him. He looked at me and sheepishly asked, as if he had been wanting to ask for long "Bhaiya, aapka mobile kitne ka hai?". His voice was incoherent, I guess because of the shyness and I blurted a "Kya" ; repeated he, "Aapka mobile kitne ka hai?". By this time I had paid him and was turning to leave. I replied "Chaooda Hajaar" in an affected Bihari accent. Instantly his face lit up and he exclaimed, pleased with himself and the eyes twinkling with excitement "Aaj maine chaooda hajaar ke phone se baat ki!". I didnt say anything, but if anyone would have captured my face, a beatific smile would have landscaped my otherwise desolate facial geography.

As I walked away, I looked back and saw him mashing the tikki, sprinkling the masala, crushing the pucchka into an assemblage of scrumptious snack in a practiced, error free routine. However, the ear to ear grin on his face as he went about this mundanity was something new. I had left him happy.

The chaooda hajaar ka mobile lies here in front of me as I write this. It has failed to ring happiness even once. Such is the sting called Life.

Masoom

In 1983, was released a masterpiece called 'Masoom' featuring Naseeruddin Shah, Shabana Azmi and the now grown Jugal Hansraj and Urmila Matondkar. Most of us would have been kids at that time. We all remember growing up with that song 'Lakdi ki kaathi, kaathi pe ghoda'. I absolutely adored it and used to be wild with euphoria whenever it appeared on Chitrahaar. Remember Wednesday and Friday at 8:00PM :-)

Fast forward two decades, there is another song albeit from the same movie which brings a smile on my face. Its that classic 'Tujhase naraaz nahi zindagi, hairaan hu main'.
"Jeene ke liye socha hi nahi, dard sambhalane honge
Muskuraye to, muskurane ke ... karz utarne honge
muskuraoo kabhi, to lagta hai, jaise hotho pe karz rakha hai"

Beautiful. If you know what its means!
:-)
Yes.. that smiley has a 1% interest on it

Another brick in the wall

I was walking on the road, when a group of khaki shorts clad boys passed me. They were discussing their examination paper. I overheard one exclaim ‘Maine bhi yehi likha hai’. And I found myself back in time…

I was always an average student, until my learning curve (or lets say education curve .. i prefer being technically correct) took a steep rise after class X. During those average student days, post exam ritual consisted of benchmarking yourself with the top rankers. ‘Saala, agar uska paper accha nahi gaya, to mera ghanta accha jayega’. ‘Yahoo! Heights and distances ke 6 marks wale question ka answer match kar raha hai uske saath’. ‘Agar usne 90 ka attempt maara, to mera 75 theek hi hai’ (I have excluded expletives and other usual profanity found among teenage lingua franca)

He/She (the 1st, 2nd, 3rd rankers) were the most sought after beings immediately after the exams. In my case, I used to avoid any she though .. I was average in smartness as well. Then there were some who never ‘discussed’ papers. Now that I think of it, these were the men amongst the boys. But probably, the most exciting part was when the teacher distributed the answer sheets in the class. Some wretched teachers steeped in a depraved sense of self-righteousness used to call out the marks: Aakash – 54, Aakansha – 89, Bijay – 42..

Hmm school was good. Actually I have realized that the worst thing about life in general is that one cherishes moments only when they are forever gone. True bliss exists only in hindsight.

I shall leave you with that thought.

The Moor's Last Sigh

In another rotation of the earth, I should be gone.

From this part of the world :-)

I am reminded of just one phrase 'The Moor's Last Sigh' which found its way into the lexicon from the story of the fall of Granada, and its king Boabdil who, after the surrender, standing on a high mound, looked back and heaved his last sigh.

The city where I have lived in for over 3 years now is a magnificent city. Serious. Just that I did not fit in. So I have myself to blame. In my judgement of the scheme of life which this city offers, it is a superb place for anyone who is young or rich or married or happy. Adjectives used here progress from the simple to the complicated.

I am none of the four. That for me, indeed, would be The Moor's Last Sigh

Perspectives

Neers writes...

"The idyllic small Indian town were I grew up and went to school has always seen that clear divide between two thought processes – one which passionately and realistically believes that there are higher things than just subsisting and another set which is really good at the game of just subsisting.

One group which knows, that there is an endless sky of things to be known and to be learnt. These are erudite. These are the people who can talk about Dragone’s La Reve, Ramanujam’s Theorems and quote Oscar Wilde with the same panache of any upper class Londoner for example, while skirting the potholes of the narrow by lanes of downtown on a rickety cycle rickshaw.

And another group which haggles with the same rickshaw guy for 2 bucks, not because they are mean and miserly or poor, but they can buy a kilo of vegetable with those 2 bucks and save. This is the same set of people who talk about the next wedding or child birth or neighbors issue and the axis of their universe is riddled with electricity, water and the children’s weddings. But make no mistake, these two exist together! Sometimes one gives birth to another, sometimes they are siblings; sometimes they share the same bus seat and jump over same potholes. Umm, actually make that always and not just sometimes."

Rahu Ketu

I recently performed an elaborate ceremony. Regular readers might just find their thoughts drifting towards connubial merrymaking, but sorry to disappoint the ceremony was to appease the 9 planets in the solar system and in particular the two miscreant fictional planets of Rahu and Ketu. It was a elaborate yagnya with fire puking obnoxious fumes which burnt my eyes sore

I am now thoroughly convinced about my ability to be universally acknowledged as a classic case study among astrologers. With whatever I have gleaned, I am astrologically fucked. Different interpretations have emerged and by the time this post goes for publishing, the list of my astrological maladies would have covered the entire spectrum. I am a strong Manglik (double Mangal effect ha ha!), then I have Kaal Sarp Jog, then the two critical fictional planets Rahu and Ketu are just perfectly misaligned, then I have what is called Saade Saati (evil dosh which lasts for seven years), then most of the planets are gleefully running amok in space casting their darkest, deepest, coldest shadows on my well being. Wow.

Now some more details about the aforementioned elaborate ceremony. I was expecting a small low key affair with some Sanskrit verses being mumbled and some innocuous throwing of fuel to the fire. Had the happening been concurrent with the expectation, this post would never have been written. The first jolt came when not one, not two but four priests descending on our house and cleared the entire living room. This made me sense the magnitude of the problem. The holy men ordered 8 bricks to be arranged and some sand for the kiln's bed. Very soon I was singing "smoke on the water, fire in the sky". In the end the experience was thoroughly lachrymose. It lasted for 3 hours.

Hanuman Chalisa

I had been 'finally' asked to chant the Hanuman Chalisa every morning. Apparently that is the elixir for all misaligned planets casting their dark shadows on my well-being. It also should drive away a couple (or more?) miscreant spirits who appear to have developed a deep liking towards me for carrying out their spells. Here is a little preface of the Hanuman Chalisa-

"Shri Guru Charan Saroj Raj, Nij Man Mukar Sudhari, Barnau Raghuvar Bimal Jasu, Jo dayaku Phal Char"
With the dust of Guru's Lotus feet, I clean the mirror of my mind and then narrate the sacred glory of Sri Ram Chandra, The Supereme among the Raghu dynasty. The giver of the four attainments of life.

"Jo Sat Baar Paath Kar Koi, Chhutahi Bandi Maha Sukh Hoi"
One who recites this Hanuman Chalisa one hundred times daily for one hundred days becomes free from the bondage of life and death and enjoys the highest bliss at last

"Jo Yah Padhe Hanuman Chalisa, Hoy Siddhi Sakhi Gaurisa"
As Lord Shankar witnesses, all those who recite Hanuman Chalisa regularly are sure to be benedicted

I havent managed to follow the decree with obedience, but shall try from now. Its fun especially if you know how to chant it. While I was a kid, a nearby temple used to play the Hanuman Chalisa every day at 6 PM on those old age loudspeakers. I picked up the tune from there. For new age denizens :-) we have youtube.. here is the link.

5 Rules of Living

Foreword: The characters and situations are purely fictional. I often resort to vivifying my thoughts by bringing out simple examples.

Meet Mrs. Geetanjali Dhamdere. She lives in Khopoli, a suburb of a megapolis called Mumbai. Geeta is in her late thirties, has two children and works in a local auto parts dealer. She makes a handsome Rs. 13,400/- per month. Enough of background development, lets listen to Geeta’s list of woes –

My elder son has been expelled from school for molesting a girl in grade six.
The price of tomatoes has doubled to Rs 20 per kg. Can’t afford them anymore.
I wish my husband stop coming home drunk.
The local co-operative bank declared bankrupt. What about my money?
Pinky, my younger daughter lost her left eye in a cracker burst last year.

For Mrs. Dhamdere and millions others like her, life is replete with problems, sufferings, sobs and sniffles. If I ever meet her, I would have a chat with her over a cup of coffee. My introduction would be simple – Madam, I was born and brought up among wild animals like fate, misery, misfortune and have evolved a survival mechanism for myself which (atleast for me) works wonderfully. I call this “5 Rules of Living”. Think over them. Maybe they can work for you as well!

Rule 1: Define Yourself
The starting point is always you. So, please define yourself – your goals, your definition of happiness, your expectations etc. Note that this definition should be revised constantly. As a person grows old so must his definition mellow. Geeta must first ask which of the five points are painfully contrasting her self’s definition. The idea is don’t fit the list to yourself, fit yourself to the list of woes. The starting point is always you.

Rule 2: You are accountable for yourself
The earlier in life anyone learns this golden principle, the better. This flows from Rule 1 actually. Every individual should first and foremost bother about herself/himself and then look around. This is not to be confused with selfishness. If Geeta’s husband develops cancer of the liver, its his liver not hers and so follows the accountability. Tough I guess, given the human social complications in love, sympathy, empathy, my husband, my wife, my parents, my uncle. The earlier in life anyone learns this golden principle, the better.

Rule 3: Learn the principle of superimposition
This is indeed the elixir. When there is a problem at hand, often another tarries along and superimposes the former.. in Geeta’s case we see she has 5! The principle of superimposition states that the problem at hand helps forget the problem two hands away. So having too many problems is not that bad! Key is to learn the ability of pile them up based on urgency. Those who attempt to parallely process them, suffer. This is indeed the elixir

Rule 4: Stay Alive
Whatever happens, DON’T DIE, stay alive. Kill if you have to stay alive but don’t die.

Rule 5: Don’t forget Rule 4

The Circle of Life

Last night I saw this movie 10,000 BC. A dialogue struck me.

"A man draws a circle around him and places his children, his wife in this circle. Some men draw a bigger circle which includes brothers, neighbours, close friends. But some draw it so big to include many many more people. Choose what you want to do"

Hmmm

Morals of the story

I wrote the Chronicles of Chamatka to vivify the learnings of my life in the past few months with simple examples which readers can relate to, or else it gets the treatment of gyaan. Let me proceed with my discourse. And let me confess, these learnings have been at the expense of one full litre of tears from the sum total of all humans crying them.

Chamatka: You, me, he, she anyone confronted with a difficult situation. All of us sometime in our lives have been scared, jittery and stopped thinking rationally. So empathize with that dear wily fox and replace him with yourself.

Doob Doob: I have introduced each character very thoughtfully. Now, Doob Doob is a part of the problem. He himself is lost in the forest and all he does is ‘define the problem’ for Chamatka. That we will die of hunger is only providing details of the issue at hand. Stay away from such people when you are in a fix. They are useless. Also please note such a person is invariably the first one would comes across and seek advice from, as happens in the story. Further, they are almost always best friends or family members like Doob Doob was to Chamatka. From the context of finding a solution to the problem, I vehemently re-emphasize, they are useless!

Kalia: Undoubtedly the best character of the story who is mistrusted. Chamatka is not wrong to mistrust him, coz he has had a history of trouble and bother from Kalia. However, the most critical insight about Kalia is that he is the only character in the story who can see the problem in its entirety, coz he is in outside the forest and not inside in!. He is in the air and from his position can see the whole forest. So dear friends, the best advice unfortunately sometimes comes from someone we don’t trust. Note how crisp and clear is Kalia’s solution to Chamatka’s imbroglio. And it often comes early so we tend to wait for better inputs. How to discern then??.. I don’t know honestly, it’s difficult.

Shikari Shambhu: The enemy who appears at the rather inopportune moment of an already messy situation. Such a moment marks the apotheosis of one’s state of gloom. It would naturally lead to the shattering of whatever resolve one has built up. But hark, I still believe that Shambhu is better than Doob Doob( although Shambhu is a problem in himself). Note carefully when he says ‘centre of the forest’ .. bang.. a alert Chamatka would have atleast known his co-ordinates. So even the person whom you hate, fear can help you unknowingly! Advice and help is always welcome, even if its unwarranted.

Mooshik: Ahh the perfect character thrown in the tragedy of our lives. The stranger!. I have learnt to believe that the most practical advice comes from a complete stranger. Mooshik turns the problem around and presents it as a solution in itself! Only Mommies are allowed to say “Don’t talk to strangers”.

So, dear reader friends hope this small parable which I wrote in the form of Panchtantra stories has been insightful. In case it still doesn’t make any sense, 666 is always around for ye all.

Cheers and May God Blesss.

The Chronicles of Chamatka

Chamatka was a wily fox, but one day he got lost in a dense forest. He got scared and panicked. He kept running around trying to find his way out beyond the hills to his home. Hunger made him mad, he tried to hunt some hares but his fear and insecurity overcome his sense to prey. Very soon he met Doob Doob who was equally scared and nervous. “I am lost” said Doob Doob crying his crocodile tears. I cant find the river which leads to our home beyond the hills. “Boo hoo hoo, what will happen to us now, we will die of hunger” wept Doob Doob.


Chamatka sat down in the shade of a tree and licked his fur free from irritating flies. Just then, he saw Kalia the crow. Kalia sensing his friend to be in trouble came for his help.

“What happened, you are looking gloomy?” he said
“I am lost. I don’t know my way out of this forest” said Chamatka
“Oh its simple, keep walking straight and you will get out of the forest. Once you are in the clear you can walk around the periphery and find the hills.”
“Get lost, Kalia, don’t trouble me. I know you are making fun of me”
“Chamatka, trust me”
“I don’t”
“Take care and all the best”. Kalia flew away.

Shikari Shambhu was out in the forest doing what he did best – hunting. He couldn’t control his joy at the sight of a tired fox. Smug with having found one, he exclaimed “Got you, can’t run away he he”. Chamatka woke up with a start and pleaded, “I am lost in this forest and now this!”. “Ha ha” Shambhu bellowed, “This forest runs wide and you are in the centre. You can’t run away from me”.

It was a miracle that Chamatka ran away from the clutches of Shikari Shambhu. For the next one week, he kept running from tree to tree, valley to valley but couldn’t find his way out. He never saw his home ever again.

Moral of the story: to be continued in next post. However would like people to write in their morals. I have written this story after great thought.

Update (13th Feb '08) - story continued...

One month had passed and the deciduous trees in the forest had begun shedding their leaves. Chamatka was a emotional wreck. He missed his loved ones, his friends, the caves of his home. In this saturnine state did he come across Mooshik the rat. Chamatka had never seen Mooshik before, but felt like confiding his problems. After hearing his story, Mooshik laughed and remarked, "What will you do going back to your home. Look around you, this is such a beautiful forest. The water in those springs is sweetest in the entire country. And there are many young vixens around too he he, Mooshik winked."

Chamatka never saw his home, but he happily lived ever after.

La Vita E' Bella

X is marrying and is happy shappy. She (presumably) dragged her husband along and I met the gleesome twosome at Pizza Hut, other co-ordinates undisclosed at X’s request :-) X (in my most humbling proclamations ever) is right up there among the stars. I seriously doubt wether she has ever breathed the foul, corrosive air in the Venetian atmosphere. (Aside: Coming soon.. Air Venetians Breathe)

X’s fairy tale romance is Mills & Boons stuff, presumably, since I dare not go even a light-year near such monstrous, un Martian, mentally challenged publications. Now, the consideration of X being my l’il sister never touched my conscience. She is much, much beyond that. I have always found the lingua franca grossly inadequate when it comes to describing relations between a man and a woman.

The initial euphoria of meeting after almost a year with a handsome prince now by her right soon petered away. The glaring loss of her hitherto singular existence brought an unnoticed benedictory smile on my face. I could sense that little Miss Muffet was earnestly soliciting my implicit approval on her prince.. ha ha. After I had my customary rationed dose of leg-pulling, we settled down to a more unproductive discussion centered around the tidings, reapings (if any) of my life. It was a remark that X made which has brought about this post. X insists “Life is beautiful”.

Well it is, but only if one knows where the rainbow ends. Pity is all I have for those unfortunate souls who hide themselves under polka dotted ‘Life is beautiful’ umbrellas without ever tasting the fury of the sun. Let me simplify it further. The statement ‘Water boils at 100 degrees’ is useless per se if we never knew it freezes at 0. You would never be able to calibrate the bliss of living in a chalet on the Swiss Alps, if you haven’t experienced the Dharawi slums. Really.. pity is all I have.

So my dearest X allow me a juxtaposition to your famous statement. “Life is beautiful, death is not”. So speak those first three words only after you have seen the macabre of the last three.

God blesss you two. Till death doth thou apart.

Update I (29/04/07):

As a result of my public prosecution which lasted for 2 days, I hereby honor the plaintiff by going back to writing short stories.

Update II (02/05/07):

... and spake X !
of what was unsaid
of human dung forcibly fed
of stubborn pearls not shed
of what remaineth not tread
Alas! only only

an angel's requeim for the dead