Beat of another kind

Last week I got frustrated with my life, work and everything. I felt horrible, bored, confused and irritated. The weekend came and I was sitting at home with these feelings bottled up inside me. I had to get out of the house so I asked an old friend to meet up. She was nice enough to oblige and off I went to see her. We had a great time, she introduced me to a few of her friends. It was a pleasant evening full of laughter, fun, food and chit chat. I was glad I got out of home. We all dined at a nice restaurant and talked of life, careers etc. It was getting late and I had to catch the last train so I hurried my bye bye's and took a rickshaw to the nearest railway station. Luckily, I was in time to catch the last local train to Kandivali (that's where I stay). The station at night was quite nice. No rush, no screaming and there was this eerie silence that I wasn't used to. It was nice. My train was 5 minutes late but it came for sure. I boarded the usual 2nd class coach and rushed to take the spot next to the door. I didn't have to, considering there weren't many folks competing to get that spot that time of the night. But I guess one becomes so used to fighting for a spot in the local trains that it just becomes sort of a reflex. The train embarked lazily on its final journey for the day. I stood at the door watching the city go by in a blur. The wind blew across my face as I struggled to stay awake. I love taking the train at night. The city looks very different through sleepy eyes. Tired shadows try hard to transform into something meaningful and just end up failing miserably. I was enjoying my ride, thinking about the nice evening I had had , thinking about how amazing it would be if I could just travel and meet new people, taste food from all over the world, become a food critic. That would be the perfect thing. I was imagining myself in new places, close to nature. With my eyes closed and the wind hitting my face it felt somewhat real. For a moment I thought I heard someone singing but I ignored it owing it to my imagination. It was not until the beating started that I pulled my head away from the door and looked inside. There was this boy about 12-13 years of age. He was bare from the waist above and he was singing. He was using the sides of his stomach as an accompaniment. Repeatedly he slapped it trying to keep up with his song. I don't know if it was the pain that made him cry at the end or was it just all a facade but I was moved. I went over to hand him some money. He didn't acknowledge my presence and I actually had to shake him to bring him back to reality. The right side of his stomach was bruised, his constant slapping had tattooed his finger marks on his body. The boy covered his eyes and began crying after his song was over. He struggled on his feet and walked over to the people in the train to beg for money. Everyone seemed almost as shocked as I was. I hoped he got enough to get a meal, a shirt, an instrument maybe. Here I was complaining about my life, feeling frustrated over not being satisfied and there in front of me was this boy who couldn't even get the privilege to complain. It's been about a week since this happened but even now as I write about it, I cry within for his misery. I looked the other way when it got unbearable and saw my station approaching. I hurried off the train hoping to leave behind what I had seen. I took the western exit and saw a few eunuchs dressed in saari's calling out to prospective clients passing by. I dropped my head low and quickly got into a rickshaw.

"Charkop" , I said and started back towards my almost sea facing home on the 14th floor.

And that's just my "Uncomfortable" life that I complain of. Sigh! :(

Hair cutting, doing nothing , pum! pum!

It's been quite a while since I blogged. In fact I've been keeping a mental note of a few things that I want to write about but for some reason I just don't get down to it. Today, I felt like writing but not about the stuff I've been thinking about. I just wanted to randomly write and that's exactly what I'm doing.

So, the weekend was pretty good. A friend came over on Sunday and we sang and practiced a few nice songs for the band. The day went by singing and I woke up to face the dawn of Monday. Of course my alarm didn't go off as usual. But I have a fail safe now. My maid comes at 7:30am daily and the Ding Dong! wakes me. The Ding Dong is the bell btw. Oh but wait, my maid was on a leave so she didn't wake me up. I wonder how I got up :S . Well, I did, which was good and so somehow I managed to get to office. The roads were all mukcy. The rains in Mumbai arn't that bad. It's the muck on the road that gets to you. I HATE it when the bottom of my jeans get dirty. I was wearing floaters (don't know what posessed me) so I was quite mucked up. I reached office, logged in, stepped out to eat breakfeast, came back, sat, got up, stepped out to pee, drank water, came back, sat again and waited for others to come. People step in and out whenever they want to. And at about 9am there's hardly anyone from the management present so one can get away with it. Before 9am it's even better. The office is absolutely empty. Around 7am a lost soul will enter rubbing his/her eyes, yawning like there's no tomorrow. Other's arrive following a similar pattern. It seems like the office wakes up too, tossing and turning, cursing under its breath as the chit chat grows.

My shift timings now are 9am - 6pm. So I reach by about 9:30. Others in my team start coming in around 11. Monday was no different. I was busy staring at my monitor, not really doing anything constructive, when a colleague of mine walks in with a haircut. A few hours later the CEO of the company walks in with a haircut too. Soon the programmers lead walks in looking like captain spock from Star Trek (a pretty cool style I thought). It seemed like the barbers made quite a few bucks over the weekend. I needed a haircut too. My hair had turned fuzzy due to the rain and it was almost out of control. Moreover, I'd found a haircut place close to my house and I wanted to visit again.

So today, I went in. The barber asked me to sit down on this really cool barbers chair. Somewhat like a lazy boy. Well, not like the lazy boy but you know it had leg support too. It felt like keeping my legs on an ironing board but what the hell, it was fun. I never got hair cut's with my legs elevated in Delhi.

The barber came along and did the usual cotton wrapping, cloth tying routine to prevent the hair from falling in. Then he asked me "Small, Medium, Long?". I told him to do whatever he feels right. I like giving barbers the freedom to experiment with my hair hoping to one day find somebody who can magically transform my hair to look uber cool. Unfortunately, they find it quite intimidating, both my hair and the chance to do whatever they want with it . I don't know why they want to be told. You're a barber for god's sake. Your life revolves around hair. You should know what to do with it. Still I told him "Medium" followed by the usual "Or whatever you think is right!".

The haircut took about 20 minutes but I don't mind that. In fact, I kindda like hair cuts. You never know what it'll end up looking like and the strange part is that it's shaping up RIGHT in front of you. It's quite interesting. I'd like to learn how to cut hair once. Hmmmmm... anyway so after the cut he gets this round mirror to the back of my head. Now I DONT UNDERSTAND why they do that. WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO ? I just turn my head up and down and then to the side, I pause once or twice and stare into the mirror as if I've found a flaw in the cut. But honestly, I really don't know what the hell I'm doing. It's just reflex and I feel like I'm the boss so I do it :P . I think they just bring that mirror to remind you that there's a back to your head too, just in case you forget.

It cost me 50 bucks to get my head look human again. I was in double minds to leave a tip but I eventually decided against it. It was raining hard and the broker was waiting at the flat (Why? you'll find out soon :D) . Up went my umbrella and I looked down at my mucky jeans. "Rudraksha Saloon" reflected beneath in a puddle of water next to my soul (sole).

I stepped in as I walked out.

But that's just my life :)

5 minutes of fame, without a hint of shame

Luckily my phone alarm went off today. So, I was at the station on time. I rushed to buy a ticket for Malad and headed towards platform 1. The train had just arrived and I saw a man boarding the 2nd class coach. I followed his lead and climbed on. Almost instantly, I heard a "daphli" play. It's kindda like a tambourine but with a resonating membrane that fills the center. I looked around to find the source and saw a young girl holding a baby in one arm and the instrument in the other. The child was deep in sleep and the mother ( I assume ) was singing to earn her daily bread. Another little girl (her daughter maybe) moved amongst the passengers, holding her hand out on spotting an enthusiast. I watched from a distance avoiding the little girls gaze.

She sang well, her voice was clear and loud like of a folk singer's. The daphli seemed like the perfect accompaniment. Her baby slept peacefully listening to it's mother's voice, it's lullaby maybe....

I couldn't hide from the little girl for long and soon she approached me and held out her hand. I gave her 10Rs and she stared at the note for a second and folded it up. I wonder why she stared at it...

The girl sang devotional songs and movie songs. I didn't recognize a single one but they were nice. There's nothing like listening to sweet music in the morning. She held her head up high as she sang, looking up towards heaven, asking for forgiveness maybe, praying for her child perhaps.

I wanted to clap for her. I wanted to applaud her singing. But I couldn't. I tried pacifying myself by putting forth reason's like , "Maybe I'd offend her", "Maybe she gets embarrassed" , "She might not come again" etc etc... but the real reason was because I didn't want to be embarrassed. I pictured myself clapping after she ended and imagined everyone giving her a standing ovation, just like in the movies. It was a sweet moment, at least in my head. But what if that didn't happen ? I imagined myself standing there clapping alone like a fool. I didn't want that. I wanted to encourage the girl's singing but not at the cost of my dignity. Question is, would I have lost it even a bit if I had clapped. I feel horrible now.. I should have clapped instead of thinking about what other's would think about me if I did.

I stood there as my head and my heart battled out and the girl silently got off at the next station.

But that's just my life....

The kaala bandar (Black Monkey)

Okay, so i saw Delhi 6. I thought it would be great but it was not ALL that great. Anyway, there was something in the movie which really intrigued me. If you haven't seen it , there is a scene where this mentally unstable man walks around with a mirror and tells everyone to look into it. The motive was searching for god within oneself. It was quite absurd at first but then I remembered something I used to do. I don't agree with the whole searching for god bit, but yeah the mirror thing actually works.

Try this,

Make sure you're alone, maybe in your room or wherever the hell you want to be. Just have a mirror with you. Now don't have those tiny irritating mirrors which only show half your face. You must have a mirror big enough to see your face ( all together) . Go stand in front of the mirror and stare at yourself. It'll come naturally to you. Stare into your own eyes and look at your face. Observe the way your face is structured, your eyes, nose etc etc. Soon you will start getting uncomfortable looking at yourself. It will feel as if you're staring at a stranger. You'll wonder what kind of a face you have, that you look funny. You'll start doubting your existence.

This takes about 10 minutes but may vary from person to person. It gets a little eery but it works. I don't know why it happens, who you see in your own reflection but after sometime, it's not you. Maybe you see god, maybe your soul, maybe Kaala Bandar, I don't know!!! but it's interesting.

So try it out...

The perfect teacher - My mom :D

So the other day my mother had her school play for the DPS annual day. She was playing a part on stage and was quite nervous. Anyway, there was a fight at home regarding the car. To avoid chaos I agreed to drive down mehrauli road at 6:30 am to drop her to school and get the car back.. We reached school at around 7:15 (Yeah in 45 minutes, dunno how because I was quite asleep!) . I got out of the car and helped her with the bags and everything. The school ground was filled with little kids dressed in their respective costumes and all ready to go to Kamani (the auditorium) where the play was to show. I said bye bye to mom as I sat in the car and she walked towards the school. Then suddenly I heard my mother's name being cheered and greeted. Apparently, a bunch of kids were calling out to my mother. "Poonam maam,Poonam maam" they screamed as they came and hugged her around her waist. Some of them caught hold of her legs because they weren't tall enough. More kids swarmed in like bees as if mom was covered with honey. They just wouldn't let go and she had to walk with them clinging on. They kept shrieking with laughter and yelling out her name, fought with each other for their share of her and she smiled all the way without a sign of discomfort or frustration.

She looked like the perfect teacher and I was immensely proud to be her son.

I yawned and honked at the gatekeeper to open the gate and drove back home with that image in my head wondering what I'd eat for breakfast. But that's just my life....

नमस्ते जी

हाँ तोह भाई श्रीमान और श्रीमती,

अगर आप कभी बगीचे में गए हों तोह आपको ज़रूर एक फूल दिखा होगा। इस फूल को आप लोगों ने तोर कर सवार होगा या किसी प्रेमी उर्फ़ प्रेमिका को दे दिया होगा। क्या आप जानते हैं के "फूल" शब्द किस अक्षर से शुरू होता है?

वोह अक्षर है "फ"

Okay that was fun :) , The hindi font is really smart. Anyway so here's a fun little experiment.

Say the word "फूल" out loud. If you're saying "Fool" then you need some hindi lessons. For those who know the correct pronunciation of the first syllable, here's something to do.

Try and write फूल in english and try to spell it in a way to recreate the perfect pronunciation of "फूल"।
I was quite amazed to find out that one cannot recreate that particular syllable sound in english. There seem to be no combination of letters that produce that sound when pronounced together.

Quite random but yet amazing don't you think ?..... Oh btw, this particular discovery has been running in my head for about 3 weeks now.. Today when I actually got myself to write about it , I discovered that there is a way in which you can reproduce the sound... Try figuring out how and leave ur comments :)

A few days back I found myself searching for the passport office's website on the internet. My younger brother needs his passport renewed from a 5 years minor passport to a 10 year full fledged thing and so I was assigned the task. (I being the elder responsible one :P ). Anyway, google brought me to the passport departments website and I have to say, I was IMPRESSED. Not by the idea of a website dedicated to the process of passport applications but by the simplicity with which the website offered information. Within 15 minutes I knew exactly what kind of passport my brother required, the documents needed for renewal and I downloaded the application forms too. To top it all, the website told me the timings of the passport office, the counters for different types of passport applications. Every bloody thing I could imagine was there on the site.

But you know our opinions about government procedures don't you ? I'm equipped with a Master's in Computer Applications, I've been using the internet for years but still my trust in the information presented on the website lacked confidence. I don't know why it happens, but whenever I've gone to one of these government offices, I somehow always feel as if they're out to get me. It's not just me , If you ask me they're out to get everyone.....
I had to call someone and find out if I've got everything figured out to the 'T'. So, I searced for the passport office telephone numbers. This is where things started getting interesting. I think I'm going to use a new paragraph :D

Like I said, I tried finding out the passport office numbers.

OBSERVATION : No numbers on the main website.
REASON : Unselected city in the PASSPORT office drop down list on the main page.
RESULT : Extreme frustration on discovery.

I had to kill the webpage, I just had to. I picked up the phone and dialled "9511-2222222". That's JUST DIAL's enquiry service (For those living in the stone age). I waited for someone to pick up and soon enough a friendly voice greeted me. I asked for the Delhi Passport office numbers and the information was promptly sent on my mobile. They concluded the call by asking me if I was looking for some passport agents. I said No! and hung up. I really don't care for their courtesy at the end of the call. Why would I want numbers of passport agents at the end of the call ? If I want them , I will ask for them in the beginning. It just pisses me off.

Anyway, coming back to the numbers of the passport office. I got 5 (Wooohooooo!!). "I've got them now", I thought to myself and furiously punched the first number on my landline.
What followed was something I like to call " THE Tringg Tringg, No response Phenomenon". To put it simply, NOONE BLOODY ANSWERED. I tried the other numbers, same thing, over and over again for every number I dialled. Finally, someone picked up. I was so overjoyed on hearing the euphoric "hello" , I couldn't utter anything for the first few seconds. Eventually I managed to put forth my question.

"For Tatkaal passports, what documents are supposed to be submitted?".

The ass on the other end of the line said , "Please call the enquiry counter.." and he hung up. ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.. It took me 25 minutes to get through to one number and he hung up in 20 seconds. I couldn't take it so I called the same number again and again and again. I got through again, a different guy this time. I changed my question this time around and asked

Me : "Can I have the number of the enquiry counter?".

Stranger in passport office : "The enquiry counter doesn't have a phone. You'll have to come here".

............. and he hung up again.


AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!, I couldn't win , I just could not bloody win. It drove me insane and I decided to visit the passport office with my queries the next day. But there was one slight problem. I didn't know whether the timings for the enquiry counter were the same as that of main office. Again I called them up and found out that the enquiry counter was open till 4pm. I thanked my stars and prepared a list of questions that I had to ask.

Next day, I got off at AIIMS and for some strange reason I thought that Bhikaji Gama(Cama :S ) place was right around the corner. So I walked..... By the time I got there I had my new jacket on my arm, the top two buttons of my shirt were open and I was sweating like a pig. Apparently, Bhikaji Cama (Gama) place wasn't exactly around the corner.

I found the passport office which is at the extreme end of the complex, behind Hyatt. I took a wrong turn so I had to walk all around the complex to get there but I think there is a left from the ring road that goes right to it. I spotted the entrance and stood in line. There was huge guard blocking the gate with his arm and he wasn't looking to happy. He seemed to do the OPPOSITE of what he was SUPPOSED to do. Instead of allowing people to go in, he was stopping everyone he could. But honestly, I was impressed by the kind of protocol that the security followed. Noone was allowed in without a proper authority letter or a valid ID proof. I happened to catch the name of the company on the logo of his uniform. It said "Fireball". They were good!.. Well, my turn came and I told the guard I had to visit the enquiry counter. He gave me one of those weird stares which seemed to question my existence. I had to repeat my statement to get a response out of him.

The enquiry counter was behind the main office building. I'd just wasted 15 minutes of time standing in the wrong queue.... This was just not my day. But eventually I did get to the right queue and the right counter. Things were looking up, I was happy :) . The man on the other side of the counter asked me what I wanted to know. I handed him my brothers old passport and fired away a few questions. To each question I asked he had the same answer, "The new form is 10 Rs, take it and fill it". I tried hard to make him understand that I had already gone through the information on the website and it clearly mentioned I needed FORM # 2 for passport renewal. "The new form, Form #1 is Rs 10. The information on the website is incorrect", he said.
I thanked him for telling me the correct form number and told him that I had a printed copy of the form already. The only thing I wanted now was a list of the documents that had to be submitted with the form. But, he refused to divulge that information. I tried explaining to him that I had come all the way from Gurgaon just because they didn't have a phone at the counter but my explanation fell on deaf ears. He said that I should buy the form (that I already had printed at home) and there was a list of documents behind it. I told him to just tell them to me but he refused. His exact words were , "Aap form le lijiye, uske picche likha ha". "Toh aap nahin batayenge , agar mein form nahin lunga?", I asked. He replied "Nahin!!, aap internet se hi dekh lijiye.. Wahan likha hai sab kuch saaf saaf". He was contradicting himself and I couldn't bear to look at him anymore, so I moved out of line, cursing him as I went down the steps.

I stood in the same line 3 more times till he finally agreed to give in and told me what I needed to know. It turns out that my feeling about the information on the website was correct. One just cannot trust these government offices. I have never been able to get my work done in 1 day. It's always something or the other that I need to come back for. Incomplete documents, unmentioned attachments, always something.

But on the brighter side, at least they have a website. They even have an online registration where you can fill in the form online and then take a print. The income tax department is better in this regard. Their online system seems flawless. I applied for a PAN card online, paid a Rs 60/- fee by the credit card and the pan card was at my house within 2 weeks. It was the simplest thing I ever did. But then again, the PAN card gets moolah in for the government.

It's a shame that we don't trust our own government, but we just criticize the system don't we? Who will make a change? I develop websites for a living but would I make one for the passport department ? I don't think so, I'd rather post a new blog entry and ridicule the exisiting one...

But that's just my life!!!