So You Knew My Heart?

No, the story isn't going to be a romantic one. The title is the generous result of my habit of copying lyrics!

Date - 24 Jan
Plot - Heavily loaded with what you call office work.
Scene - Younger Brother performing Live in Mumbai.

P.S -Younger Brother is an electronic artist whose songs have taken me and my friends on  umpteen number of rides!

                                                    --FLASHBACK(2 years back) --
(Shine playing in the background)

Me - Yaar, younger brother baap hai, kya music hai yaar! I swear I'll be the first one to buy their tickets if they ever happen to come to India.
Friend  - Banta hai yaar. Zaroor banta hai!

                                                         --PRESENT DAY--
Friend - (Over phone) Joshi, kal younger brother hai yaaar!!
Me - Pata hai yaar, lekin kal friday hai, aur mera saturday off nahi hai. I'll be all fucked up by the end of the show and then returning from L.Parel to Kharghar will be an exercise in itself and then office at 8:00 A.M will be impossible man. Chuck It.:(

Definitely I wasn't the first to buy the tickets for the show but I was surely the first one to click on "I'm attending" tab on FB. So this is what 6 months of being pro turned me into. Pretty bad eh? We kill our hobbies for serving others so that at the end of the month we bring home enough stack to survive another month of serving some more Badasses and many Lameasses.

Wake up unwillingly in the morning, run relentlessly to catch the train that will take you to your workplace right on time, work the whole day, catch up with deadlines, deliver the best product, punch out, plug in the earphones, watch the city glow in dark, come back home, sit back, another episode of some Awesome series, Dinnnzzzzzzz...

Oh yes, I forgot the Sunday. Oh my, what a day! A marvellous thing about sunday which every being on this face of earth must have noticed is the extraordinary pace of time on this lazy 7th day of the week. By the time, you open up your curtains to sunlight, the sun had already kissed you goodbye. Sadness!

What I am trying to throw light upon is, the way our lives have taken a barrel roll. May be this is the way life is, may be this has seeped into the aura of universe so deep that the whole world has made it a part and parcel of life and since I am new into it hence I am resisting this change by putting down my thoughts into words.

Anyways its a vicious cycle my friend that we've got into. All I hope is that maybe someday I'll be able to bolt several other parts into this cycle so that the functioning becomes smoother and the life gets going.

Now that the whole post is so pessimistic, another verse from Younger Brother pops into my mind, to help me sign off with a bleak rhythm.

Theres no one else, no one can help me now

Help me im stuck in this moving thing

Nothing is what it seems

No getting off this machine

Khush Raho!

THOSE 45 MINUTES

The worst invention by a human being : Alarm Clock
The best modification by a human being : Snooze Button

Getting a first job takes you to new heights of enchantment and satisfaction but joining that first job actually unfolds the well known yet hidden treasures of a pro life. The transition from college life to a professional one is not easily digestible. One has to compromise on many things, well almost everything! Of all the things that I had to compromise over the course of 3 months in my new job, there is one which I miss doing most. Bingo! Guessed right. Sleep, Doze, Nap, Neend. Whatever one may call it, its equally sweet in every form.

Waking up to an overcast sky with light breeze flowing in, through half open window is like driving through a pothole on a freeway that not only sends your head thumping to the roof but also punctures your tyre and results in skidding and then crashing of the car. Too harsh,eh? But indeed the feeling is the same or rather harsher.

I wonder how we humans have mastered the art of procrastination. Not only we dawdle in our conscious state but also we efficiently drag our wake up time by a few minutes in our unconscious stage and the part which amuses me the most is the fact that the alarm time is set by none other than the person hitting the snooze button repeatedly with disgust towards that pretty sound coming out of those mild speakers. The determination to wake up early the next day vanishes off with the alarm bell and pops up again with the arrival of night.

For an office goer like me who spends a considerable time of his life, travelling to and fro his office, waking up in the morning is just a break from sound sleep which can soon be continued while travelling. Like every other human, I also dislike travelling in overcrowded trains not because it suffocates me but because I am not good at sleeping in upright posture. I prefer catching train right from the source so that I get a rare choice of choosing a seat of my choice.<Like a Boss!> Getting the right seat is followed by finding the bookmarked page and then by sitting back to relax and read. Well, reading is just an ignition for sleep or I may aptly call it as self lullaby. The 45 minutes of sleep which follows is as sweet as mango chunks dipped in honey with the sounds of train acting as choco chips garnishing.

Those 45 minutes are the most pleasant, delightful, amiable etc., minutes of ones life. Sleep as if you were to die tomorrow, die as if you were to sleep forever(which is true). During those 45 minutes, sleep as if it were your last sleep, no matter you dream or not, but sleep as if no one could ask these 45 minutes back from you. Sleep as if, not even God could claim these 45 minutes from you.

Lest the God is not your Boss!

Khush Raho!

A Price too High : Tale of the Elite Class

     A wise man once said : "All men are created equal, But then some go on to buy a first class pass!".

 If only you've traveled in the red striped compartment of Mumbai local, will you understand what your author meant by the opening lines. I suggest the compartment be renamed to "White Collar Class". Its a common joke in Mumbai that the only difference between 1st and 2nd class is the "Quality of Sweat". 

I suppose the concept of first class was generated to ease the travelling ordeals of the office goers by providing them a few cushioned seats at rocketing price. A general ticket to CST from Belapur costs 20 rs. whereas a first class ticket on the same route costs 130 rs. Now, I am not good enough with numbers to calculate the difference in % but the price bar is  hilariously high. High enough to hide the fact that during peak hours every 1st class traveler is just Another Brick In the Wall. Either board the train from the source or claim your territory as soon as you rush in the train and then pour in all your positive energy to discharge a fellow traveler from his seat and then grab that seat even before that person plans to stand. During this process of grabbing the seat don't forget to activate your SuperSense mode to make sure that you are the sole proprietor of this plot and show all your acrobatic skills to slide in from within the crowd to claim the seat from it's predecessor. 

This whole idea behind this huge difference in the ticket prices is to regulate the crowd flow but this idea failed completely as the only thing that can regulate the crowd flow in Mumbai is 'Sunday Mega Block'. To travel in first class you must fulfill one or all of the following criteria:

1. Dress in office wear.

2. Have a rich face(You know you have one!)

3. Travel with a girl(The first two points are applied to her as well)

4. Never ever ask for the Fourth seat.

5. Use deodorants.

If you fail in all of the aforementioned criteria, you will be discarded right at the compartment's foot-board by some self nominated 'Guards of the First Class'."Aey yeh 1st class hai, Aage jao" is what you'll hear frequently. But at times its nearly impossible to confine the infinite zeal of the mass to travel in any compartment they get. This usually happens after a mega block on Sunday evening. Also let me remind you, "What sugar is to an ant, the first class is to a TTE". They can smell a ticket less fella and the amount of mercy they generate is inversely proportional to the ticket less guy's appearance. (Read point 1 & 2 above).

Unlike my other posts where I commence with a story, I would like to close this post with a recent story:

Day : Sunday

Weather : Overcast

Situation : Returning from Kurla after watching a horror movie(Read continuing the horror)

The station was as crowded as a poultry farm and the chickens grew at an alarming pace until the platform could afford no more. Then arrived the train and being the leader of the Spartans I charged much before than anyone else and luckily found a seat to see the chicken's filling the first class compartment. The train came to life and every thing was usual except that I wasn't dressed in formals and the crowd was more varied than other days. After a few minutes I dozed off only to be awaken a few seconds later by some noise. As I noticed later the noise was generated when some guys tried to run away while the train was at halt in Chembur.I could not understand the matter until I saw some dudes standing near the entry way holding a tiny timid man by his collar. Thinking smartly I took the timid man as a pickpocket who carried an equally timid fate, when suddenly another dude from the crowd slapped him so tight that he nearly fell. Now I was sure about my notion of him being a pickpocket. Then another slap-punch-slap-slap-punch until a tall man intervened and held him by his collar to prevent further atrocities. I tried to decipher the ongoing conversation but in vain. When the train halted at next station the timid man was carried away by his angel in disguise which left me more curious to know the exact scenario. I left my seat to approach a man who was earlier lending a helping hand in the thrashing process. On knowing about the scene I was as shocked as the timid man must have been on receiving the first slap. Evidently, there was a TTE checking tickets in the first class compartment when he caught a group of 3 without ticket(they possessed the 2nd class ticket though). As the train arrived at Chembur, two of them manged to slip past the crowd and jump of the train whereas our protagonist Mr. Timid was held by the same 'Self nominated Guards of 1st class'. While he tried to defend himself, one man who was a legitimate traveler of first class  lost his temper and slapped Mr. Timid for intruding his territory and then the others followed suite. 

Thus, the city was once again saved by some good fellas, from a man who was just too desperate to reach his destination. Long Live the Elite Class!

P.S - On the day of this incident it was not only Mr. Timid who was travelling without ticket. There was one more smartass in the same compartment who had stumbled upon some masala for his blog. A famous hindi song depicts it the best: "Time time ki baat hai pyaare, tu ragda ya mai ragda!"

Khush Raho!        

  

The Well of Death

The well of death aka Maut ka kua, has always been my favourite carnival sideshow. The riders are well aware of the risks involved yet they ride around that 'so called well' in a perfect balance. They do it because they have to and once in the well, there is no way out. Either they emerge triumph(which happens everytime) or else the riders Rest In Pieces!

Although I have not seen a show for around more than a decade now but 5 years back, while I was still a naive Mumbaikar, I relived the experience of it but only this time I was the one in the well with 'No way Out'.

One fine evening, me and my friend (another stupid naive) were waiting on a platform for the train to arrive. It was a busy weekday evening and we had never been to that station in the past.We had an idea of the travelling mass but stupidly we calculated it to be no more than any other station in Mumbai or harbour line for the least. Well the train finally arrived and took away our souls. It was already so crowded that I thought probably it was the last local on this route. I mustered all my courage and got ready to board the train but all in vain. I was too humble to harm or push a human. For God sake it was no less than a concentration camp or a rescue operation for earthquake victims.The more I tried the more I receded. Then in a fraction of a second I learned an important lesson of life: "Nobility pays, but not always." With this thought I transformed myself into one of the earthquake victims and pushed a few weaklings to find a spot on the footboard. 'EUREKA'. But wait, A POLE? This support thing (at the gate of most of the Indian local trains) can turn into nightmare in situations like these. Well it sure did, in my case. Now I was stuck in the pole with my body acting as equator! I cried my throat out, I cursed, I panicked but no success. Then all of a sudden, the train came back to life and a gentleman pushed me hard enough from one side and threw me in. My friend, who was by this time tucking in his shirt came up to me and uttered "Yaar ye to Maut Ka Kua hai". And surprisingly Life was peaceful again!

Waah Kurla!

                                     ---------------xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx----------------

At times I wonder, itna ghai kaiku? (why so hurry man!). You must consider yourself lucky enough to find a room for both your feet and if by any chance you happen to find a seat, then my friend You are the chosen one! It is like finding a present from Santa Claus because it can never happen, not even once. Once on the train, the idea of personal space comes to a halt. Your space ends where your nose starts!

Getting off the train at Kurla is an art in itself. If you are a proud owner of a weak heart then I suggest you to stand away from the gate of an arriving train. To stand at the gate you must be an acrobat, a long jumper, a macho-man or a brave-heart at least. You can hear your kind fellow travelers yelling from the back "Aey chala", long before the driver even plans of applying any brakes. You have no other option but to give in to the situation. You Jump and You Run. Only this time you find yourself running for the first place on the staircases that lead to Foot over bridge. Because if you are late you will be swallowed by the whirlpool of bodies and life will turn into a Slo-Mo. One can always complete a nap by the time he reaches the bridge!

There is always a mass that I would like to compare to the clapping spectators of Maut Ka Kua. These are the people who leave a particular train in a hope to catch the next VACANT train. This is the smart class. But hardly do they realise that commuters pop out of nowhere here.

At times you may feel happy seeing less crowd at Kurla. Oh! what a lucky guy. You wait  for a few moments and the train arrives. One must never look back in such situations(BMB taught us all!) because when you look back you find a whole army of blood thirsty commuters who are ready for the upcoming bloodshed and also you realise that all of a sudden, you have unwillingly turned into their Commander In Chief  and you are in the front line of fire. Well now, after 5 years in this city I have upgraded to the position of C-I-C and I am always the one to take the first call....SPARTAAA ATTACK!

Khush Raho!  
  

The Contemporary Eklavya

We've all heard, the fable of Eklavya from Mahabharata. (For those who haven't, go to www.google.com and type in your query.) The highlight of his story was the sacrifice of his thumb as Guru dakshina(Ancient terminology for Tuition Fee) to Guru Dronacharya. He was allegedly accused of learning secretly from Dronacharya while he was busy teaching to his star(and rich) pupils, The Pandavas. He was convicted on the basis of posing possible threat to Arjuna, in the future. Arjuna was the prince whereas Eklavya was merely an agile tribalman whose thirst for knowledge made him the most skilled archer in the then India.

Well, the point I am trying to converge to is, "Why the thumb man?".

Imagine Eklavya living in today's world, doing his worldly chores and is the most skilled and talented smartphone user. He holds the world record of maximum high scores. He slashes fruits with minimum effort and smashes all the pigs in one bloody move. He runs so fast that the beast following him asks for a Time-out. He flips 50 times in one fall and surfs for hours together.But he was not born talented. Here is his story:

Eklavya's skills were identified and honed by his Professor Dronacharya, who was the developer of these addictive and wasteful apps. He was the one who gifted him a smartphone which was nothing like anything. He also advised Eklavya not to get too addicted to these apps but as per human nature, Eklavya did the contrary. Eklavya spent daily  2 hours of his journey adhered to the 10 inch wide screen, unaware of the happenings around him. But one unfateful day, on realising the growing skills of Eklavya which may pose threat to the records set by his star student Arjuna, Professor Dronacharya called in Eklavya and threatened him to "Quit Playing Games" or else his Thumb will be cut off. Eklavya being an obedient pupil, DID NOT cut his thumb. He quit his exercise of playing games and now runs a successful coaching business for upcoming App Gamers in a dry town of Rajasthan fooling young Indians.

                                                        xxxxxx----------xxxxxxx

Asking a smartphone user to cut his thumb is like asking a fisherman to cut his fishing net into parts or asking a woman to not use handbag. Its indispensable man.And more indispensable is the use of smartphone itself.
I wonder, what used to be the favorite pastime of train travellers prior to the advent of smartphones. Well, my guesses are:
Sleeping, Chatting, Sleeping, Listening FM, Sleeping, Reading, Sleeping.
As per an independent research conducted by The Society Against SmartPhones(which is presided over by me)
6 out of 10 train travellers stick to their smartphones throughout their journey.
8 out of 10 listen to music(including the above 6 who are using smartphones for multiple purposes)
1 out of 10 reads novel(Jasoosi!)
1 out of 10 does what everyone should do, SLEEP.
(For your own safety, please do not reproduce this study!)

This study is an Eye Opener
1. For all the primitive generations(like the last 2 subjects of our research) to Catch up with the trend of running and
2. For the advanced generation to avoid running so fast so that a single stumble could turn you in a feast of the beast!.

Isn't Life like Temple Run .Running all d way to collect coins. To reach no where & spending those coins just to run more efficiently from an invisible fear!(These lines are stolen)

Khush Raho!

   

   

"The Bearded Office Goer"

DAY - Tuesday
Weather - Rainy
Status - 2 weeks in a new job, late for office by an hour.
Location - Mumbai

(Kharghar Station)
Struggliing with the crowd, I managed to find my spot at the door of local train while my friend is pushed inwards . Generally, I do not prefer standing at the door but I had to deboard at the very next station so I avoided sliding in with the crowd. The train gathered pace as I heard my fellow door traveller instruct me(I'll call him Uncle Sam):
Uncle Sam - (Harshly)Go In. This door is only for 4 people to stand at a time.
(Oh, now I realised that we were 5 of us standing at the door and also I was enlightened to know the new rule of railways!)
Me- Arrey Uncle, 5 minute ka rasta hai. Belapur me utar jaunga.
U.S - This is the problem with your generation.
Me. - Uncle, take a chill pill. Ye garam hone vali baat nahi hai.
U.S - I'll not take a chill pill. Your generation does not understand the inconvenience of  others and take things very lightly. Thats why you render jobless and unemployed.
(I was amazed at the transformation of the topic, meanwhile my friend who is in the same train shouts from behind:)
"He has a job. A very good job."
Me - Yes. I got a job immediately at campus placements.
U.S -  O.K, now i understand what type of college you must have gone through. They did not teach you basic ettiquettes.
(Now was the time I thought to keep mum and let Mr. Frustrated Uncle Sam burn red with anger and rage over younger generation.)
(And moreover I could not argue about the ettiquettes taught in my college.:p.It would have proved a backfire as NIFT holds a reputation of a disciplined college in the locality of Navi Mumbai<sarcasm>.)
After around a silence of 15 seconds, as the train approaches Belapur station, Uncle Sam starts cribbing again
U.S - kuch nahi ho sakta.
Me - <Ignore>
U.S - I am the training head of ............so and so institute
Me - Uncle I dont care. Stop cribbing now.
U.S - I am the training head. I can read people just by looking at them.
Me -<sarcastic smile>, You know what, uncle I am just 22 and even I can read people just by looking at them.
U.S - I can guarantee that you are jobless. Who goes to the office with a grown beard.
Me - ................................
(Belapur station)

As i deboard the train, following lines by Julian Barnes strike my head:

"One of the differences between youth and age: when we are young, we invent different futures for ourselves; when we are old, we invent different pasts for others."



We live in a country where 70% of population is said to be youth.Especially, we live in an age which saw transitions like a moving train, welcoming every newcomer and waving byes as the new newcomer replaces the old newcomer! We've seen the transition in education system. We've seen the rise of professional education. We've seen private institutions pop up like mushrooms in the rain. We've seen the millennium.

"We" here is the generation "Y". The generation born in 80s and 90s. But what about a generation prior to that.  Like us, they also have  experienced the transitions in day to day life, rather they have witnessed the transition from "Radio to DTH", whereas we were born in the age of chandrakanta and shaktimaan.

But, as observed(by me), we easily adapted ourselves to daily transitions at a good pace whereas the older generation found it hard to, thus creating a generation gap. This generation gap can create misunderstandings, voids, irritation, frustration etc.

I am neither a philosopher, nor a psychologist. I am just a jobless person who catches morning trains to enjoy the wind in his hair.

Khush Raho!

   

THE HARDEST THING IS TO BEGIN

I've never given much thought to blogging. Rather I've been considering it as another weapon of mass destruction in this internet savvy world. And here I am pushing myself deliberately towards this vicious circle of blogs and bloggers.

Hope the beginner's luck works here too!

Khush raho!