Being of the conservative kind, who seldom tries something out of the blue, I have been quite relieved to observe that, of late, I have been surprising myself quite a wee bit. My best guess is that it all started somewhere during my days in hostel where a lot of innovation went in doing even the smallest of the things. Small things led to even smaller actions, albeit with great implications. My gang used to snatch the steam inhaler machine from a fellow friend who hardly used it but claimed to have sinus. And in it we boiled majestic eggs. It remains one of my favorite anecdotes which I often narrate at those intellectual type get togethers, hoping that the ladies might be attracted to my goofier side. Because I know for sure that I stink when I try to act as an intellect of sorts.
The latest fad to hit Nalinville is to gain weight. So these days I have been hogging on the kind of food which Vir Sanghvi describes as uncomplicated, unhealthy and delicious. Before those of you who know me start to make judgments about how it was time for me to gain weight, let me be clear on the onset that the impulsion to eat more is not to attain a Adonis like physique, but to make sure that I can flaunt half a grand’s worth of a sleek black belt in the manner it deserves. Yes, in the times like these, the will of a materialistic consumer has taken over and has a more profound effect than the repeated pleas of a concerned mother for the same cause.
Let me tell you more about the whole scenario. The previous belt purchase, from a bustling Janpath, was basically done by my father. I had no idea about the cost, quality, length or type of the belt and it remained that way for just short of a decade. Then, as a, fifteen year old, I was concentrating only on the cold coffee from Deepaul’s. Things changed drastically between then and now. First and foremost innovation paved way to aloofness, and secondly my sister turned fifteen. Cold coffee being a passé for her and a socialite in her own right, she decided to give me a makeover. Stern looks and verbal bashing were used when humble requests did no good. And unlike most elder siblings I succumbed to the pressure. My visit to malls with a ‘target rich environment’ was reduced to mere window shopping. Now here comes the surprising bit I initially mentioned - I started enjoying such an experience. Even the cheap thrills of trying on expensive watches and sunglasses. Even the courage to purchase outrageously high priced goods.
One of which is the belt. Though it wasn’t love at first sight, but the impulse to acquire good things made me buy one (and of course the pressure). And during the process I forgot the fundamentals while making a purchase, which my folks taught me to address the dual concerns of comfort and value for money. At half a grand it was comfortable no doubt, but I didn’t try it. I was devastated to find out that its length was such that I could wrap my waist twice over. I had hit rock bottom. The only reason as to why I didn’t hit the bar to drown my sorrow was not to spend another fortune, this time on cursing the purchase. Instead, I came across a joint near my place which serves some form of chicken – an absolute delight. This has given me a new found motivation to use the belt as a yardstick of my gastronomic adventures and waist maturity.
All in all, with the purchase of the belt (and also a shirt during the same spree) I believe I have joined the compulsive buyers club (a club wherein they also serve a lot of tasty food.) And with it have shred another chunk of conservatism.
June 13, 2007
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
Of Cricket & Regional Divide
Most Indians would remember 1983 as the year we won cricket’s holy chalice – The Prudential World Cup. But ask people of my age and they will tell you that it was also the year they were born. Not surprisingly then, it won’t be wrong to say the passion for cricket resides in all twenty three year old Indians by default. Add to this passion the opportunity to be away from the prying eyes of parents, glass-pane-window-loving neighbors and being with some three hundred like minded individuals. The result leaves nothing to imagine.
Just like the fervor for the game, the culture at college was such that my mates savored the same belief as our cricket’s governing body, of Zonal Selections. The teams so formed were strictly on the basis on the region the player hailed from. There were regular and emotion packed matches between teams from Delhi, U.P., Punjab and Himachal. The remaining teams which did not constitute of players ‘exclusively’ from a state had a heavy regional influence. Being someone who believes in the notion that an individual is at his truest form when engrossed in a passionate game, such duels were of concern. Inevitably, one would observe an undercurrent of regional divide that plagued the atmosphere; and at times highlighted the true emotions.
It was not just on the field but off the field as well that one could witness the unrest. Those matches that involved two different factions meant another Heysel Stadium disaster like atmosphere. The joke was that the playing field has been a witness to less matches and more fights and that our neighborhood dhaba often doubled up as the maison de justice.
Now, the development of groups is a common feature in any social setup. People interact and integrate on the basis of a common thread that binds them. In cases wherein the individuals are subjected to an environment that is new and to adapt is a must, they generally stick with individuals having similar cultural background. This is so because out of all things it is one’s culture and not interests and skills, which make him / her socially acceptable. The same happens in an engineering college where people from different cultures and background come together. The groups so formed are basically on the basis of region and ethnicity. So we see that from the very beginning there is an inclination of sticking with people whom one can relate, which is absolutely perfect and understandable. However, in due course of time, as the comfort level within an existing group increases, the individual becomes content and makes no efforts to mingle with individuals from / of different groups.
On the very first day I was only too happy to observe that the bulk of people who were allotted rooms on my floor were all from Delhi. The ones on the floor above were from UP. To this day I am not certain if the sorting was done on purpose. The consequence of the sorting was hardly on my mind. To have a room mate whose residence was only five minutes walk and getting acquainted to people with whom I shared common friends from school was reassuring. Hence, I did not look anywhere else for friends. It is my understanding that most other students had similar experience since in the first two months or so I never saw anyone mingling with students from other floors. Hence, my interaction with people from UP was restricted only to the classroom. Overall, this resulted in regional groupism rather then groups based on intellectual likings. This was the foundation of the regional divide that was to be experienced.
There is an interesting point highlighted by a good friend who graduated from a different institute, but having similar experiences. She points out the role played by the Alpha Male (or Female) in a group. He or she would be the pivot around which the group revolved. The internal scuffle among group members to play the role of that Alpha Male was witnessed too. This further confirmed by belief in the notion of hanging together on the basis intellectual likings was crippled by the ‘charm’ of being socially acceptable first. She goes on further to observe, that even in universities abroad, which often boast of their rich diversity, the students from different countries prefer hanging out together. This may only be partially true but the existence of various region based clubs in almost all universities is a testimonial to the fact that region plays a major role in bringing about the cultural dynamics that exist within an institution.
(With Contributions from Neha - friend, colleague and social counselor)
Just like the fervor for the game, the culture at college was such that my mates savored the same belief as our cricket’s governing body, of Zonal Selections. The teams so formed were strictly on the basis on the region the player hailed from. There were regular and emotion packed matches between teams from Delhi, U.P., Punjab and Himachal. The remaining teams which did not constitute of players ‘exclusively’ from a state had a heavy regional influence. Being someone who believes in the notion that an individual is at his truest form when engrossed in a passionate game, such duels were of concern. Inevitably, one would observe an undercurrent of regional divide that plagued the atmosphere; and at times highlighted the true emotions.
It was not just on the field but off the field as well that one could witness the unrest. Those matches that involved two different factions meant another Heysel Stadium disaster like atmosphere. The joke was that the playing field has been a witness to less matches and more fights and that our neighborhood dhaba often doubled up as the maison de justice.
Now, the development of groups is a common feature in any social setup. People interact and integrate on the basis of a common thread that binds them. In cases wherein the individuals are subjected to an environment that is new and to adapt is a must, they generally stick with individuals having similar cultural background. This is so because out of all things it is one’s culture and not interests and skills, which make him / her socially acceptable. The same happens in an engineering college where people from different cultures and background come together. The groups so formed are basically on the basis of region and ethnicity. So we see that from the very beginning there is an inclination of sticking with people whom one can relate, which is absolutely perfect and understandable. However, in due course of time, as the comfort level within an existing group increases, the individual becomes content and makes no efforts to mingle with individuals from / of different groups.
On the very first day I was only too happy to observe that the bulk of people who were allotted rooms on my floor were all from Delhi. The ones on the floor above were from UP. To this day I am not certain if the sorting was done on purpose. The consequence of the sorting was hardly on my mind. To have a room mate whose residence was only five minutes walk and getting acquainted to people with whom I shared common friends from school was reassuring. Hence, I did not look anywhere else for friends. It is my understanding that most other students had similar experience since in the first two months or so I never saw anyone mingling with students from other floors. Hence, my interaction with people from UP was restricted only to the classroom. Overall, this resulted in regional groupism rather then groups based on intellectual likings. This was the foundation of the regional divide that was to be experienced.
There is an interesting point highlighted by a good friend who graduated from a different institute, but having similar experiences. She points out the role played by the Alpha Male (or Female) in a group. He or she would be the pivot around which the group revolved. The internal scuffle among group members to play the role of that Alpha Male was witnessed too. This further confirmed by belief in the notion of hanging together on the basis intellectual likings was crippled by the ‘charm’ of being socially acceptable first. She goes on further to observe, that even in universities abroad, which often boast of their rich diversity, the students from different countries prefer hanging out together. This may only be partially true but the existence of various region based clubs in almost all universities is a testimonial to the fact that region plays a major role in bringing about the cultural dynamics that exist within an institution.
(With Contributions from Neha - friend, colleague and social counselor)
Sunday, April 09, 2006
valentine's day plead
this started rite from school,
i was a stupid unromantic fool,
even with pretty girls around,
my fav place was d football ground,
same was d scene during my grad,
and singlehood made me feel sad,
(though single is being a lot of fun,
i generally associate it with a nun),
so im mailing u all this ode,
which was tuffer than writing a software code,
maybe, with me u can have some wine,
and id happily call u my valentine.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Mathurs
For me to classify Mathurs can be tricky; for the simple reason, that one tends to see only the very obvious when one is within the faction. And this by no means would be an honest account. So, this is a very sincere effort to classify Mathurs, which would reflect the true picture to an average reader without being fallacious, at the same time being true to Mathurs as well. Now, I am no Rahul Dravid whose name is synonymous with the word perfect. I would say, I rather belong to the Khushwant Singh school of thought. Thus, deviating from the normal practice of classifying Mathurs in terms of gotra or place of birth, I will use lifestyle as a canvas to depict Mathurs, which I believe would be more appropriate and just.
The most abundant form of Mathurs is those whom I call the Old World Brahmins. Their life can best be described as a palindrome. It follows a fixed pattern. They begin from scratch, rise to an ultimate high and then gradually end, though not in oblivion. Even when you trace their lives from the twilight to the dawn, it’s just the same. Flawless. The characteristic feature of this kind is that even after retiring from their active life, they remain somewhere in the background, motivating and inspiring. The other prominent form of Mathurs is the High Fliers (not literally but symbolically). Their life can be compared to metaphors and similes. “Lives like a king” is “the” simile which defines them. There is only a thin line which demarcates the two kinds, but that line is a well marked one.
On a typical Sunday, an Old World Brahmin will wake up at six in the morning, bathe, do his puja and head straight to the sabji mandi to buy fruits and vegetables which will last a week. Coming back, he will go through every square inch of the main newspaper, especially the editorial and sports section and all the supplements with maybe four glasses of tea, have aloo - puri in breakfast, sitting on the age old diwan in the drawing room. Lunch will either be at some relative’s place or with a relative at his place. The more adventurous of Old World Brahmins might visit C.P..
On the other hand, a High Flier will wake up only when he realizes that the neighborhood meat shop is about to resemble a tsunami struck shack. Vegetables can be bought the next day at som bazaar and fruits from the vendors standing bang outside the apartments. Anyways, couple of hundred rupees won’t make much of a difference to him. Bathing on a Sunday is sin. Brunch at noon will include a voluptuous looking kaliya. Social life is reserved for the night. It could be a khana at in – laws complemented by drinks or a drive to India Gate with family, followed by dinner at Embassy, Kwality or United Coffee House. Karim’s and Galena are hot favorites with bachelor Mathurs of this kind.
A Mathur shaadi will give more insight to these two kinds. During the mehendi ceremony Old World Brahmins would be seen giving inaam to High Fliers, who had composed, sung and danced on a brilliant mehendi on the latest Anu Malik composition. On the morning of the shaadi, High Fliers will carry the faireesht, on which the introduction of the Old World Brahmins will be majestically written and decorated. The barat will have an Old World Brahmin sing shehera while High Fliers will be seen removing their coats to match their moves with the real world Complan-boy, the tashe wala. During the phereh, both kinds would be enjoying their third peg of Scotch, though Old World Brahmins would be enjoying boiled eggs and dry fruits, the High Fliers would be requesting the panditji to hurry up. In short, Old World Brahmins believe the best thing that can happen to them is their son getting a government job and the best thing that can happen to a High Flier is zero percent home loans.
Move over to the second classification of Mathurs now. In simple words, there are two types of Mathurs in this case also. There are Mathurs who drink and then there are those who drink heavily. A third type just does not exist. I mean, yes, religion, superstition and by-pass surgeries have resulted in a sect of Mathurs who do not drink, but the number of Mathurs in this sect is proportional only to people who hate to see Sachin Tendulkar bat. Mathurs are heavy drinkers. No Mathur party is complete without a round of drinks, at least. As a child I used to think Johnny Walker is some distant relative. It was only with the advent of Rupert Murdoch’s empire that I got enlightenment. We might not know the technical difference between Krug Vintage 1995 and Appy Fizz, but we surely know how to enjoy and relish Chivas Regal.
The beauty with Mathurs is, though they very strongly believe in pleasure-is-sin ascetism they do not buy the theory of sin-is-in liberalism. This gives the whole community a vibrant spirit with a stable mind. I have never come across an occasion where drinks have had any adverse effect. The balance is impeccable.
To grow, every community needs to reinvent or stabilize itself with every generation. Where Mathurs have scored so far is in the process of passing the baton to the next generation in an effective and efficient manner. Despite being populated with people of different kinds viz. Old World Brahmins and High Fliers, what we have maintained is the harmony to live in peace with each other. If you take a closer look at the shaadi wala example, you will realize how very much the High Fliers are contributing, though superficially it looks as if they are doing nothing. By singing and dancing they are not just celebrating but also infusing a certain zeal, cutting barriers within the community and highlighting the very spirit of being a Mathur. They are the ambassadors of our families when they carry the faireesht, entrusted by the Old World Brahmins themselves. And the common thread which binds them all is Johnny Walker.
March 11, 2006
The most abundant form of Mathurs is those whom I call the Old World Brahmins. Their life can best be described as a palindrome. It follows a fixed pattern. They begin from scratch, rise to an ultimate high and then gradually end, though not in oblivion. Even when you trace their lives from the twilight to the dawn, it’s just the same. Flawless. The characteristic feature of this kind is that even after retiring from their active life, they remain somewhere in the background, motivating and inspiring. The other prominent form of Mathurs is the High Fliers (not literally but symbolically). Their life can be compared to metaphors and similes. “Lives like a king” is “the” simile which defines them. There is only a thin line which demarcates the two kinds, but that line is a well marked one.
On a typical Sunday, an Old World Brahmin will wake up at six in the morning, bathe, do his puja and head straight to the sabji mandi to buy fruits and vegetables which will last a week. Coming back, he will go through every square inch of the main newspaper, especially the editorial and sports section and all the supplements with maybe four glasses of tea, have aloo - puri in breakfast, sitting on the age old diwan in the drawing room. Lunch will either be at some relative’s place or with a relative at his place. The more adventurous of Old World Brahmins might visit C.P..
On the other hand, a High Flier will wake up only when he realizes that the neighborhood meat shop is about to resemble a tsunami struck shack. Vegetables can be bought the next day at som bazaar and fruits from the vendors standing bang outside the apartments. Anyways, couple of hundred rupees won’t make much of a difference to him. Bathing on a Sunday is sin. Brunch at noon will include a voluptuous looking kaliya. Social life is reserved for the night. It could be a khana at in – laws complemented by drinks or a drive to India Gate with family, followed by dinner at Embassy, Kwality or United Coffee House. Karim’s and Galena are hot favorites with bachelor Mathurs of this kind.
A Mathur shaadi will give more insight to these two kinds. During the mehendi ceremony Old World Brahmins would be seen giving inaam to High Fliers, who had composed, sung and danced on a brilliant mehendi on the latest Anu Malik composition. On the morning of the shaadi, High Fliers will carry the faireesht, on which the introduction of the Old World Brahmins will be majestically written and decorated. The barat will have an Old World Brahmin sing shehera while High Fliers will be seen removing their coats to match their moves with the real world Complan-boy, the tashe wala. During the phereh, both kinds would be enjoying their third peg of Scotch, though Old World Brahmins would be enjoying boiled eggs and dry fruits, the High Fliers would be requesting the panditji to hurry up. In short, Old World Brahmins believe the best thing that can happen to them is their son getting a government job and the best thing that can happen to a High Flier is zero percent home loans.
Move over to the second classification of Mathurs now. In simple words, there are two types of Mathurs in this case also. There are Mathurs who drink and then there are those who drink heavily. A third type just does not exist. I mean, yes, religion, superstition and by-pass surgeries have resulted in a sect of Mathurs who do not drink, but the number of Mathurs in this sect is proportional only to people who hate to see Sachin Tendulkar bat. Mathurs are heavy drinkers. No Mathur party is complete without a round of drinks, at least. As a child I used to think Johnny Walker is some distant relative. It was only with the advent of Rupert Murdoch’s empire that I got enlightenment. We might not know the technical difference between Krug Vintage 1995 and Appy Fizz, but we surely know how to enjoy and relish Chivas Regal.
The beauty with Mathurs is, though they very strongly believe in pleasure-is-sin ascetism they do not buy the theory of sin-is-in liberalism. This gives the whole community a vibrant spirit with a stable mind. I have never come across an occasion where drinks have had any adverse effect. The balance is impeccable.
To grow, every community needs to reinvent or stabilize itself with every generation. Where Mathurs have scored so far is in the process of passing the baton to the next generation in an effective and efficient manner. Despite being populated with people of different kinds viz. Old World Brahmins and High Fliers, what we have maintained is the harmony to live in peace with each other. If you take a closer look at the shaadi wala example, you will realize how very much the High Fliers are contributing, though superficially it looks as if they are doing nothing. By singing and dancing they are not just celebrating but also infusing a certain zeal, cutting barriers within the community and highlighting the very spirit of being a Mathur. They are the ambassadors of our families when they carry the faireesht, entrusted by the Old World Brahmins themselves. And the common thread which binds them all is Johnny Walker.
March 11, 2006
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Balconies
One does not need to see Jerry McGuire to realize that one experiences a defining moment which just changes one’s life; for good or for bad, that’s my topic for another article. Well, to be honest, I have yet to experience this life defining moment, but I have had numerous instances which have had some impact or the other on my conscience and behavior and have resulted in the package that I am today. Most of these moments were experienced while I was up to something, at times with someone-not-so-special and once with someone special. And generally, when I was doing nothing but looking around mindlessly.
But the point I want to make here is that such moments can be experienced at the most unexpected places. For me my balcony is one such place. This is primarily because my balcony opens up right into what you call the heart of SGA. With a perfect view of all the residential blocks, badminton courts, car parks, jhulle wala park and health club, I witness the very spirit of SGA whenever I step into it. Every Sunday, with sarson ka tel all over my body and nimbu ka ras on my hair, I just sit in my balcony and observe life from close quarters (apart from enjoying the smells of parisnde and aloo - bedween from neighboring kitchens), I often wonder if I have learned so much by just sitting here, is it the same with everyone else?
Arguably then, balconies in Shree Ganesh Apartments are the most socially productive piece of land. For house wives, which sums upto30% of SGA’s population, it acts as a modern day equivalent to a chajja from where they can have a keen look at who’s visiting whom, who’s wearing what and who’s going where. And importantly who’s hanging out of this coveted architectural wonder to have a friendly talk with, about the daily chores, which usually consists of how busy they have been and how its time that Tulsi Virani should start believing an eye for an eye policy. This conversation often takes place at decibels which can put the latest innovation in sound technology by Bose to shame. Moreover, balconies assure them a virtual invitation card to every mehendi, shaadi and mundan. Not that I am complaining. Because these Mathur functions are the hunting ground for eligible bachelors. And I am 23 and in a bit of a hurry.
For uncles, both paternal and maternal, the balconies act as the platform which empowers them with freedom of expression which I believe they can’t practice at home because of some very obvious reasons which every married man faces. Thus, the balcony acts as a place from where they can preach everyone and anyone who cares to listen; from newspaper wallah to security guards to car washmen each of them is told how to improve their quality of service along with every possible advice one can give under the sun. The balcony probably makes them feel like the Pope standing majestically over the famous verandah at the Papal Palace, giving his followers an audience. Other than that, uncles are seen in balconies only on diwali, lighting diyas and candles.
And for people like me, who very strongly believe that the world would be at their feet in no time, the balcony acts as the holy spot where they can think of productive strategies, spend some time in solitude and attain nirvana, invisible to the outer world behind dozens of impeccably washed clothes, neatly placed over the twine to be dried. At least the balcony is way better than some sort of sleeping gas induced bedrooms or tear gas induced kitchen or toilets which more often that not are subjected to gases owing to some major gastronomical complexities. With the emergence of cell phones and importantly telephones etiquettes (we got to thank BPOs for that), the number of people paying their balconies a visit have increased phenomenally. The balcony has also undergone a major face lift. It is like being directly proportional to the rise in stock markets. Earlier balconies meant gas cylinders, a couple of money plants and a bulb. But now, balconies are kept as tidy as the living room. Gas cylinders have been replaced by cane chairs, tulips and roses now give company to banyan tree sized money plants and the bulb resides within designer glass. Even the trademark chimtiyan have started vanishing.
But what still remains in almost all balconies is a picture or a wall hanging depicting some deity. One might say it is because of vaastu but I say this the way Mathur balconies are.
February 26, 2006
But the point I want to make here is that such moments can be experienced at the most unexpected places. For me my balcony is one such place. This is primarily because my balcony opens up right into what you call the heart of SGA. With a perfect view of all the residential blocks, badminton courts, car parks, jhulle wala park and health club, I witness the very spirit of SGA whenever I step into it. Every Sunday, with sarson ka tel all over my body and nimbu ka ras on my hair, I just sit in my balcony and observe life from close quarters (apart from enjoying the smells of parisnde and aloo - bedween from neighboring kitchens), I often wonder if I have learned so much by just sitting here, is it the same with everyone else?
Arguably then, balconies in Shree Ganesh Apartments are the most socially productive piece of land. For house wives, which sums upto30% of SGA’s population, it acts as a modern day equivalent to a chajja from where they can have a keen look at who’s visiting whom, who’s wearing what and who’s going where. And importantly who’s hanging out of this coveted architectural wonder to have a friendly talk with, about the daily chores, which usually consists of how busy they have been and how its time that Tulsi Virani should start believing an eye for an eye policy. This conversation often takes place at decibels which can put the latest innovation in sound technology by Bose to shame. Moreover, balconies assure them a virtual invitation card to every mehendi, shaadi and mundan. Not that I am complaining. Because these Mathur functions are the hunting ground for eligible bachelors. And I am 23 and in a bit of a hurry.
For uncles, both paternal and maternal, the balconies act as the platform which empowers them with freedom of expression which I believe they can’t practice at home because of some very obvious reasons which every married man faces. Thus, the balcony acts as a place from where they can preach everyone and anyone who cares to listen; from newspaper wallah to security guards to car washmen each of them is told how to improve their quality of service along with every possible advice one can give under the sun. The balcony probably makes them feel like the Pope standing majestically over the famous verandah at the Papal Palace, giving his followers an audience. Other than that, uncles are seen in balconies only on diwali, lighting diyas and candles.
And for people like me, who very strongly believe that the world would be at their feet in no time, the balcony acts as the holy spot where they can think of productive strategies, spend some time in solitude and attain nirvana, invisible to the outer world behind dozens of impeccably washed clothes, neatly placed over the twine to be dried. At least the balcony is way better than some sort of sleeping gas induced bedrooms or tear gas induced kitchen or toilets which more often that not are subjected to gases owing to some major gastronomical complexities. With the emergence of cell phones and importantly telephones etiquettes (we got to thank BPOs for that), the number of people paying their balconies a visit have increased phenomenally. The balcony has also undergone a major face lift. It is like being directly proportional to the rise in stock markets. Earlier balconies meant gas cylinders, a couple of money plants and a bulb. But now, balconies are kept as tidy as the living room. Gas cylinders have been replaced by cane chairs, tulips and roses now give company to banyan tree sized money plants and the bulb resides within designer glass. Even the trademark chimtiyan have started vanishing.
But what still remains in almost all balconies is a picture or a wall hanging depicting some deity. One might say it is because of vaastu but I say this the way Mathur balconies are.
February 26, 2006
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