Mera Chain Bain Sab Ujda ,Jaalim Nazar Hata le

Marriages are made in heaven, and to be part of them is always fun. Family and friends singing, dancing; and then there is always a “Dadi ka dance” and “Rum Rum Rum Whiskey”. Well this post is not about
marriages but the “Marriage” plays a big role. The following all happened during a marriage and it is for a marriage.
Readers who have taken the liberty to go through all my posts would remember the RADICALS. Well it’s time I introduce the first of them and perhaps the most influential one- “His Eminence (HE)”.
Back in my B-School days HE was the first man I was impressed with. An extremely confident man who knows what he wants from life- a trait I highly cherish. HE defines pragmatism and you need to be his family or a RADICAL to see his beautiful emotional side. I have seen him happy many-a times but the happiness I saw during a marriage was parallel to none. With a “bottoms-up” we set the ball rolling. Dancing
our way into the night, we ensured everyone around had the time of a lifetime.

Fortunately/ unfortunately it was the marriage of his would-a-be brother-in-law. So when sense prevailed and the cold vibes could be felt from all around, reality sunk it. What the hell did we just do and “LET’S MANAGE”. Impressions matter a lot in Indian marriages and it was time HE showed all what he really was. Next day, on the reception, lost grounds had to be won again. So HE, me and our Darling, were the first ones to reach the venue. “What if folks from the girl side reached the venue and found no one from the boy’s side.” We made the numbers (LMAO as I relive the moment and write). One by one, the guests started pouring in and the DJ played the Masala Bollywood songs. Soon, as we never existed, we got mingled in the crowd. The plan was to keep a low profile. Sometimes no attention is all that you need in life. But who could escape the hawk-eyes of would-a-be father-in-law. With one eye always fixed on his daughters, he went about greeting the guests. And in this opportune moment, theDJ plays:

"Mera Chain Bain Sab Ujda ,
Jaalim Nazar Hata le..."

The three of us looked at each other and burst out laughing. It was an honest, happy laugh, the ones that comes straight from the heart and is remembered years-to-year. The rest of the night was as planned- an
uneventful one except for the 1 km walk at a deserted road at midnight and the questioning by soldiers for being on road at that point of the day. By the time we reached back to our rooms and remembered “teachers”, HE was extremely happy with his performance. Such was his resolve that even after Darling had tried his best to impure him during the reception, HE was all NO.The result: we are categorized as extremely well disciplined and civilized.

I don’t know how the war would fare, but am sure HE won the first battle.

Precisionist: Peace Out!!!

The Birth Place of Love...

I am no Romeo. Nor am I Majnu. Neither am I some living legend of love. But like many other people in this world, the word 'love' affects me. And when I think of where and how has it originated (shows how much free time I have nowadays), I am certain of one fact. "Love might not have been invented in India, it was certainly perfected here."

I would not even make an attempt of defining “the four letter word". Fools are those who do it. Small things make the big difference, and if you feel good and happy, all is well. I take an auto every day for my work. Among many other auto drivers, an elderly man takes me to work often. In the last 3 months, I have come to know that he has a son and a daughter whom he is trying to give a life better than his own. He needs to save money for his son's higher education and for the dowry he needs to pay to ensure his daughter gets married well. There have been times when he is in a bargain with some other "want-to-be" passenger, but as soon as he sees me, I am the preferred back seat owner. I have at times tried to give him more than the usual daily fare, but he would each time refuse, saying he is just doing his job and ensuring "a son" reached office in time. Is this love, who am I to judge. But acts like this are priceless.

In a country, where everyone is cribbing about what is not good and how corrupt we are, there are people like this elderly auto driver ( to do list task 1- ask his name next time), who make me belief that Indians care for each other is an envy for most other nationals. The fact that most children in India still want to live with their parents and build their dreams around them, say a thing or two. The reality that strangers go a long way to help you at times of your misery ( I am sure we all have heard or experienced it), is a rarity in most parts of the world.

Let us be proud of what we have. Yes there are problems, and we should write and talk about them. The Baba's and Robbie's of the world will always squander with the hard earned tax payers money. But let us not forget we have the likes of Medha Patkar and Aruna Roy too who keep the Indian ‘love’ spirit alive. 

Optimist: Peace out!!!

There can be only one "ROB"!

Indolence, apathy, laziness, pressure, whatever you may call it, but a three month absence is a long time. Reasons are plenty but this post is not about all that. This post is about a brother, a great human being and the love for him that is bringing me back to blogging. Thanks ROB!!!

Well ROB aka FINISHH (remember The Ice Planet) has been an integral part of my life for the last year and a half. Before we discover more, let us go back during my early days in MHROD.

15 days in the course, I am still testing waters. I am aware that there are few folks, who though enrolled in the course, have never obliged us with their presence. The attendance calls are being done for VOHRA Sir's (It’s a "V") class and all of sudden I hear a "Yes Sir" from one of the regular absentee roll number. A bald smart guy has raised his hand. I say to myself "Arre wah! Better late than never". The class breaks and I walk-up to him to introduce myself. His accent gives it away that he is from the land of Gorkhas and then I say the dreaded:

"Hi I am Arijit. But call me Jeet"...:)

This was my first interaction with Rob, and there has been no looking back. With few people in life you strike such a magical chord that you are yourself surprised. Through the ice plant to the 2am hostel returns, to the warm hard drink behind Gandhi's back to the evening jogs, Rob has always been there.

Dude your "cart wheels" will be missed, your "Anaconda" speeches will be too,
Your "Razia's" will be missed; your "CHOPRA" too...

I know Nepal is happier place with you being there now, but India isn't the same anymore.

Mr. Ravi Thakur, we all miss you a lot and soon will be days when we can have the ANACONDA alive again. I often repeat this to myself:

"The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again."

Till next time...

Love,
"Call me Jeet" :p

P.S.: Am sorry I wasn’t there to see you off and only I know how much I regret it now!

Premier, Paisa, Problem...

Let me start by apologizing for my near 3 month absence. Last 3 months have seen, to put it in a word, “eventful”.  End of a lovely chapter, preparations for a new one; lots of partying and tears; two weeks break in City of Joy; old pals, movies, shopping and IPL.

“She was all over me..”, “..didn’t behave like a future wife”, parts of junior Mallya’s tweets that has created ruckus in the country. A country of billions with million problems and the amount of coverage such tweets get surprises me. The scandal relates to the assault charges on an IPL player. IPL once called the Indian Premier League is going through an entity crisis. The biggest entertainment commodity in the world today, IPL is the perfect marriage of entertainment and cricket. The glitter and glamour associated with the event at times outweighs the serious game of cricket involved. Dubbed as the Indian Paisa or Indian Problem League by the media, there are calls in the parliament to discontinue with the games from the next year on accounts of money laundering, culture misfit,etc, etc.

It’s very interesting to hear Indian politicians talk about black money and their usage. The EC limits the maximum expenditure by a candidate to 16 lakhs. However successful candidates in states like UP and Punjab spends as much as Rs 5 Crore on elections. I wonder from where they get the rest of money! And not far are days when all Hollywood movies would be banned in India. If a lady ant in a sari, then its anti-Indian culture by politician standards.

What these “clever” men who try to run cricket, without even holding a cricket bat once in their life, fail to understand that IPL provides an opportunity to young cricketers to showcase their talent and for old maestros to relive their glory days. Ask a cricket fanatic like me, and you shall be enlightened. Or ask  Yousuf Pathan  or Shane Watson whose life transformed post IPL 1. Ask the great Rahul Dravid who has again got a call for India probable’s for the Nov’ 12 Champions trophy. 

Yes there are a few issues and there always will be. But as a consultant would say,” If the pros significantly outbalance the cons, deal accepted!”

Once a sportsman, always a sportsman.

"Once a sportsman, always a sportsman."  Sounds really good na! Fact, it only sounds goods, in reality: "Ghanta!"

This daunting realization is courtesy a football tournament in Hansraj. A street football competition, 15 mins a half, 5 a side, two rolling substitutions. All charged up like college kids, at venue site 10 mins before schedule time (A miracle by my standards:D). The tournament starts after an hour and a half, kudos to the organizers keeping in mind we follow IST. First game of the tournament, 10 mins in first half, and am already finding it difficult to breathe ( Once a sportsman, always a sportsman). With rolling substitutions we SURVIVE the match and end up winning it 2-1.

Now the fun starts. As soon as we sit down to CONTEMPLATE, I hear everyone moaning about how difficult it is. The person who makes the most hue and cry, who else but ME (Once a sportsman, always a sportsman). Cramps all over, I can hardly move my legs. A cry of pain as Finishh spreads his magic, rubbing the muscle. Next 30 mins, a promise to myself to restart jogging everyday. Three and half hours later, we are out in the quarterfinals. Cant wait to go back, freshen up and sleep.As I write , I can hardly move my left leg. And this are times am reminded of 80 over per day, two day cricket match.

The conclusion: Am ready to enter the corporate world! 

The Ice Planet

 The last hour of what has been a great Saturday finally gives me the time to write about something which gives me immense joy. To start with let me put forward a simple question, "How many of us get a chance to live our dreams?" Well I DID. The best trips are those which ant preplanned. A exotic thought crosses your mind, you talk about it, "here you go" and you have memories for lifetime.

Shimla on a bus seems exciting, Shimla on an old faithful esteem, "Dude, plz bring it on!" Half my trip was made as I saw Lala and Ricky ( sorry guys am gona be using such love names, @ Ricky: Am immortalizing you bro:D) standing outside my hotel in our Rampyari. Finishh next to me, and we head off to the trip of our lifetime. Bags in the dicky, belts strapped, bottles intact, we are ready to go. The trip starts with Mehbooba o mehbboba, Sholay on offer from some radio station and already am high on fun.

Lala had decided to bring along Rampyari and not travel on a bus, as the fog asura had given us a miss. 50 mins in the journey, somewhere close to Sonepat, the asura smiles at us with all His might. One can hardly see anything 6 feet in front of the car. I see a look of concern on Lala's face ( after all he is the captain). We sail through it and an hour and a half in the ride, the radio ditches us. Well this leads us to my second secret revelation of the month. I am made aware of the "Secrets of Ricky Sagar" (@Ricky: I told you mate..love :D). Happy and gay we move ahead to have tea at Karnal, heavy downpour close to Ambala and at 4:45am we see the first glimpses of mountains.70 kms from Shima, we decide to rest for an hour and end up sleeping in the car itself!!!

Two pair of eyes staring at me! As I open my eyes, am greeted with eyes full of questions, the most prominent amongst them being, are you guys mad! An hour in the morning journey we take a halt at Kandhaghat for the brunch. 8 kms from Shimla we see landscape covered with what seems cotton. Loud shriek, I see Finishh going mad with joy. It is 12 pm and we finally reach Shimla. What follows next is a dream come true!

Snow covers everything you can lay your eyes to. Pure joy and happiness on everyone's face. The stroll through the mall road, the photo session, the movie discussion, the hot drink behind Gandhi's back, the trek to Jakhoo mandir,  Ricky collapsing every third step, the monkey attack, burger and soup at Beekays, the identification of asli DON who loves junli and gharelu billi; time flies!


At dusk we set back for the plains. Chandigarh greets us with a cool breeze and the local guide Lala takes us on a tour of the city. The amount Lala loves the city can be easily understood by his enthusiastic commentary. We have Yograj Singh's park in Sec 17, followed by Tehal Singh and the Aroma with two CCDs within 100 m of each other in Sec 22. Sec 44 has all the offices while Sec 35 plays home to Kapil Dev's Captain's 11. In dinner there is yummy bun chicken followed by great food at NFS.



Early morning 8:43, we are out of Chandigarh. Thanx to Sumesh whose house we had crashed in for the night. On our way back we stop for a moment of solace and finally at Havelli. As I bite the last piece of makke ki roti with sarso ka saag and drink whatever is left of the lassi, my wish list is over!


A promise is made that there will be many more such trips in the near future. 4 months to go, India awaits us.

Bangali: Peace out!!!