The inglorious basterds

To pinch a line from Dickens 'Those were the best of times and the worst of times'

Its been a while since we stepped out the gates at VESIT for good. Some of us excited to explore the world outside while the other reflected on the memories-past. VESIT had taught us singularity and psychophancy in equal measure. While I'm not sure if we ever did leave behind a legacy but we sure as hell did leave behind unaccounted expenses. I should know. But that was that... School was out

For four months we worked, or at least pretended to. Signing letters, addressing teams, motivating juniors, restraining Jeenal. We did it all. And boy was it hard! But none of us needed any motivation to get up in the morning, wear your praxis hats and run with the ball. It was all hardwired into the VESIT fabric. For four months, the little corner room on the first floor was our classroom. That is where we learnt. That is where we taught.

With a core committee like ours, things were bound to be difficult. Ten driven kids. Ten bloated egos. Ten people who could have run the show themselves. at least they believed they could. Those ten and a unbeknown bespectacled elder statesman too tall for the plastic chairs and too unVESIT for the inane core meetings outside the library.

Yes we did have fights and yes we'd bleed each other dry at times but look at the bright side. We didnt screw up! We may all reveled in our collective hatred for the management, our penchant for signing meaningless letters and cheap thrills from walking into the Vice-Principal's room and making straight-faced jokes without her not getting it. But our lowest common denominator was Praxis. That and schezwan fried rice. Praxis is why we wrote those letters, printed those brochures, set up those desks and ran those contests. Praxis was ubiquitous.

We may not have had the best of starts. No funding, no attendance (there I said it... ATTENDANCE!), no guidance, no support and no motivation. We could've had it easier. But we could've had it worse too. I remember the time we had gathered around and almost quit. Somewhere deep inside we loved it all too much to even reconsider stepping away from it. But we all liked to bluff, didn't we? I know I did.

We all had a legacy to protect. An ex-core member, a former GS or past pass out to make proud of our achievements. And when the day finally came most of us were too exhausted to react. Though i recall most of the pre Praxis innuendo, i remember nothing from Praxis. We had nothing to do. No papers to sign. No forms to fill. And the registrations were full, so we couldn't do shit.

What I do remember is standing atop that creaking bench in the quad delivering the CORE address to a tired yet excited bunch of people, who hopefully wanted our jobs as badly as we wanted them exactly a year ago. People cheering us on. Shouting out our names. Expecting us to say something smart or funny or controversial as the senior management looked on uncomfortably. That's why we put up with all those issues and hassles. Everything about the fest was bigger and better than they had left it to us. Save for the bank account and the Praxis T shirt.

Two years down, we have all moved on in our separate ways. But Praxis still remains our lowest common denominator. For a person like myself, who went from doing nothing in my first year to over engaging in my next three years, Praxis was a big watershed. Nothing excited me anymore. I was done with VESIT and the management for good as we all idled in the last few months of our college life. Praxis gave me closure.

Now comes the reason why i decided to wake up in the middle of a mid-winters night in Taiwan and type this out. No, I don't miss Praxis/VESIT and no I'm not suicidal and reaching out for attention. Earlier today I was sitting in a bar explaining to a drunk English colleague about what i remember from college days. This is what I remembered. This is what i wanted to share with you folks.

Its been well over two years. VESIT may have shifted. Societies may have died. Praxis may have mutated. Frankly, I dont give a damn. For me the idea of Praxis lived and died in those four months only. I guess as a team we did OK. But I'm sure we'd all have our two cents on this topic. So I guess we should save it for the next time we meet. If fate has that in store for us.
Like someone said, its never about how you start but always about how you finish. And did we finish well or what?
Give me a V... Give me an E... Common I'm getting to old for this shit.
Godbless and good night. Here's a toast to four months that will never come back.

Taipei times: It hits the fans...

The thing about arguing with idiots is that they drag you down to their level... and then beat you with experience. Something I realized very quickly on my 630 am sojourns from home to office. I don't claim to posses a sailor's sense of direction but after after living in a city for over two months and taking a cab to work everyday, you kind of figure out the routes. More so, if it were as simple as straight, second left, third right and into the roundabout. The rides got to be a breeze right. Wrong. Each day, a different cab driver takes me to work on different routes. More pertinently, the routes seem to get progressively longer and the cab costs rising ever so slightly each week. If you point it out to the cab driver,in your broken Chinese, that he could have taken the plain vanilla route, most likely he will say one of two things :
a) " Sorry ( or solly) sorry sorry sorry... next time OK?"
b) " This route better sir... more better
I don't know much about much... but hey the cabbies are taking me for a ride... while...er.. taking me for a ride.
Two months down in Taiwan. Feels good to dig my heels and grind it out. Feels good to be working hard... or long. In Taiwan, much to my surprise, both working hard and working long are synonymous. I am physically exhausted by lunchtime on Wednesdays and start counting down to the weekend. I eat enough cold dinners to show that i am working hard... or long.

Friday evenings are spent at 'Carnegies'... much to my disappointment. I am not a big fan of the bar. Given that crazed white-guys looking for coogers and easy pick ups and reckless parents getting their screaming 6yr olds into the bar doesn't make it any endearing either. But hey, after 4 glasses of whiskey and coke and the pints of vodka-soda for the rest of the night, you stop caring about frivolous details like underage admissions into the bar or even potential fire hazards for that matter. If it is a quiet night, then we drink till midnight and head home... if not then we move to a club and hit it hard till the acid in your stomach tells you 'enough's enough mate'...

Saturday mornings are spent recovering from the Friday brutality and catching up on lost sleep in the week. Saturday also means laundry day and grocery shopping day. for those who know me, please do not be alarmed. i am not domesticated, yet. Grocery shopping as per my definition is biscuits, beer, shaving blades and deodorant. None of those is 'grocery' is it? Should call it justshopping then.

Sunday mornings are another lazy affair. Afternoon brunches or left over pizza are the only variables in otherwise what is a pretty boring and mundane Sunday itinerary. You can catch a couple of movies on the telly though. Did i tell you all movies on show here are action movies. And then they keep re-running the same movie over and over. Much like they keep running CSI over and over on AXN. Steven Segal is the Tom Cruise of Taiwan. They love him here. He has a cult following with teenagers wearingwigs and American Indian signage to try and be as cool as him. Did I happen to mention, Taiwan is a weird place? I rest my case.

Taipei tmes- month# 1

When I found myself googling 'Taiwan' four months ago, i could picture myself writing this blog. Honestly I am yet to read this place well but this post was long due. So here it goes...

I moved to Taipei a month ago and my take on this city has been erratic and opinionated. In a city where English is alien, getting around can be irritating/exhausting/perplexing/amusing all in the space of Taipei minute. As a brown guy, I seem to confuse the locals. To their defense, they have seen very few of 'us'. The only brown person I had met was this guy wearing fake Ray-bans at the airport who happened to ask me if I was Bangladeshi. I have nothing against Bangladeshis. I think they have remarkable fashion sense in waterproof clothing given all that rain and constant floods. I took that in my stride like the many other things over the course of my stay here.

So how is Taipei?

It is clean, the roads are big, the cabbies are nuts, every street has a 7-11 and everyone seems to carry an i-pod around. So essentially, its like any other big city right? Wrong. Taipei, at first glance, seems to be a city stuck in an identity crisis. However, we will keep this topic for another day and another post...

Back to Taipei SWOT analysis. As i look at the city through the window, I do not see a city that i would like to spend my life in. Its not the Chinese,(zhongohua) that can be learnt. Its not the vegetarian food, that can be bought. Its not the shrill girls, not surprisingly they can be bought too. I do not see a 'go-get-it' spirit in this city. I see garish night clubs, fever pitched-rush hours and malls full of window shoppers but no feel pulse in Taipei. I don't know much about much, but hey... even though this looks and feels (and even smells) like New York... this ain't New York.

But to its credit, Taipei has its own 'charm' be it the quaint Chinese breakfast places or its sit out cafes among trees. Its got a healthy arboreal cover and pollution levels are among the lowest in Asia. This in a country that manufactures more semicon-chips in a day than there are people in this country.

As i look back at Taipei, quite literally as the window is right behind me, i can see good beer-but bad bars, loose women-but independent all the same, vegetarian fried rice-but stir fried in pork fat, helpful cabbies- but playing annoying music in the cabs, no nonsense colleagues in the day- best drinking buddies at night...smoking,tai-chi, hookers, soccer moms, rickshaws, skyscrapers, glitzy clubs, neon lights,Taipei 101, pool parties, hills, mountain bikers, bbqs, temples, brothels...
Taipei has got it all... My times here will oscillate between the good and the bad but I'm sure it will settle somewhere in middle.
The more I think about Taiwan, the more it intrigues and even frustrates me. But like they say, This is Asia.. so either you're in or you're out . And by the looks of it, I think I want it!
-Best,
Srini

blah

Stormy winds mark the end of the season
they all look up to the lightning to find a reason
and she walks through the door
your patient no... no more

you think about it once; your mind says wait
but then again the heart says don't hesitate
She sits besides; the world around races by
blurring out all but her eyes

Look into my eyes and there will be
a picture of us, which I believe
painted in color; on glass
we must have met in the past

Wake up from this dream and then she's gone
rubbing out your eyes, you look around
should've gone up to her by then
but you wait for lightning to strike a-gain...

Dance of democracy

India’s democracy at the ripe old age of 69 has finally come of age as a ‘matured polity’ with a new electorate and the largest number of first time voters in history. These elections were different from the earlier ones in many ways. Firstly, there was no burning issue to stir up the masses. There was no effigies being burnt and no party riding the ‘sympathy’ wave. Though Jagdish Tytler, Varun Gandhi and a shoe-tossing Sikh Delhi journalist did try their best to correct this. Alas! Not everyone is successful in inciting strong emotions/reactions in other. Not everyone can do a ‘Sreesanth’ shall we say. (What was his new nickname again?)

That being said, these general elections were also different in the sense that never before have psephologists and amateur political ‘analysts’ (like yours truly) been so utterly wrong in tapping the pulse of the public. During my travels across Indian hinterland prior to the elections there were signs that a surprise was on the cards. But we only realised it when the numbers jumped out of the television screen and slapped us right across the face. This was probably because these ‘experts’ like most stock-market analysts looked to past instead of looking at the present. Trend-lines, historical data, statistical relevance, standard deviation, mean movement and what not? A case was made (and which was more than evident from previous election data) that this was the watershed of two-party politics. Regionalist politics was peaking and now, more than ever, will be when India goes from a Federal union to a union of feudal federations. Reams of paper were spent on analysing how will coalition politics work out? Who will win the race to 272? India had braced herself for a socio-politico-economic khichdi of sorts with confused agendas and perplexing CMPs.

But that did not happen. We did not need Superman to save the day for us. We just relied on our right to franchise. And it was all there; summed up in a couple of hours. Faster than a game of IPL T20, we had the results in front of us before noon on that Saturday morning. I realised something that day. There are only two jobs of the ‘thankless variety’ in India. That of a teacher and of an election volunteers. The EC pulled off elections with an continental-size electorate and did it mostly without incident. Thousands of election volunteers running up and down dusty roads under the blazing noon-sun trying to answer questions of the new ‘Jaago re’ brand of voter who generally would have little regard for the process had it not been made to look cool to vote by the MTV, VH1s and Levis’ of our times.

Such voters (me included) do not realise that one must at least appreciate if not have to earn one’s right to vote. Few millions had died so that you could have your finger inked and escape those judgmental eyes at your workplace the next day. The ‘Jaago Re’ voter sometimes fails to appreciate the work put in by these guys who volunteer at the booths. They could have as well switched on the AC and tuned into ‘ We the people’ and cursed the fate of this country. ‘ This country has gone to the dogs’ would be an oft quoted line in that monologue. Wake up and smell the rotting lack of faith. We are those dogs.

Like I said, these elections would go down in the annals of history as one heralding the (at least as of now) death of regional powers. Though there is no turning back from coalition politics but a non-fractured mandate is something that was an unexpected yet pleasant surprise. Do not get me wrong. I am not a Congress man. Hell, I did not even vote for them. Like any party they have their flaws and their fortes. In an increasingly old north and south blocks, it was refreshing to see young, seemingly intelligent, articulate and mostly likeable faces of Rahul and Priyanka.

Rahul for me is more hype than substance. Though well spoken and well mannered, I believe he is a victim of the quintessential romanticizing of the Indian media’s notorious hero worshipping. No man can win a ‘state’ alone. Yet the media cant help itself from catapulting RG to super-stardom. Just like his reluctant father was once pushed into national limelight. Sure, Rahul, like Rajiv might be a very likeable and sharp guy. But he is not THE and is only ONE OF THE messiahs the Congress should turn to at least till he has enough political acumen to warrant credence to his view. Not because he is a Gandhi… but in spite of it.

Priyanka, on the other hand, has been the Congress trump card in these elections. A young(-ish) confident woman who knows (and mostly) believes what she is talking. Her biggest strength is her ability to connect to the common rural voter in a way that her mother never could. The more I see her speak, the more she seems to have the mettle of her grandmother. Quaint mannerisms, measured articulation and tempered vigour make her seem approachable and larger than life almost simultaneously. And it is not that she is living a lie. She is like any other Delhi mom jogging down the street to buy fresh brown bread and stressing about her kids’ exams the next day. Now that is refreshing. We will need more women (and even some men) like Priyanka. People who can call it as they see it. People who can connect with others and do so with dignity and fervour. People who are not afraid to ruffle a few feathers. Perhaps, she was Congress’ most successful candidate and she did not even contest!

These elections were more than just a decision. It was a decisive verdict. Though I believe that it was not for the Congress but against the forces that held it back from doing what it had set out to do in 2004. The voter seems to have thought ‘The PM is a decent man and knows what he is doing. And Moditva is not something that turns me on. Hey, what the heck? Dr Singh… take another shot.’

The Indian voter seems to have put an end to the countless emerging fronts. The left front, the secular front, third front, the fourth front, the fifth front. No wonder my grandfather asked me once “ If there were so many fronts, then who is the ‘behind’ (read ass).” India has cut the opportunists to size. We must all be proud. Godspeed.

Jay Hind!

Inside India

I write today, with no agendas, no ideas, no 'aha' moments. I write today not for you, but for me. It has been quite a while since I have typed into this mundane pastel-colored dialog box. Even my browser no longer stores this page in its cache. I guess 'out of sight is out of mind' is true for our friends at Mozilla too.

A lot many things have happened since I last put pen to paper; or in this case put fingers to keyboard. Barrack became President, Satyam went kaput, 08-became-09, six colleagues got the boot, whispers of a bull-run... the list is endless.
But the last two months of my life have been the most eventful. or the most hectic. depends on how one wishes to see it. So I get this mail one day, asking me if i was interested in this research report that had to be written up. 'It is about middle-India and requires EXTENSIVE travel (on weekends)' was the simple brief.
Now as much as I love my work and am thankful to god and the wonderful people at CLSA ( we all gotta do it man !) for keeping me from being just another statistical addition to Unemployment numbers, I HATE working/travelling for work on weekends. So I thought long and hard about this. And given my diligent adherence to the tenets of motion sickness, I had to think longer and harder.

But I thought, what the hell... lets do it. And two months, 35 cities, 200-odd meetings and 21,500kms later, I fell in love with my country all over again. What this report gave me an opportunity to see was the India most people shun. It was an educating experience for me personally, i realised being a Mumbai boy, i was more Americanised than i thought. i had become the very same bunch who i have vowed to ridicule for their fake accents and love for...er Bryan Adams' Summer of 69.
I lamented at the irony of me carrying bottles of mineral water with me in villages that never had enough since independence; mineral or otherwise. But this is India, and we are Indians.

Geographically diverse, linguistically confusing, culturally educating, religiously sensitizing and mostly tiring, this journey across India simply blew my mind. I would never have been to the magnificent hillocks of Leh in the bosom of the Himalayas(and 120kms from Kargil) or to the dusty hinterlands of Jaunpur or the colourful by lanes of Varanasi or met the devout of Madurai or seen the waves lashing in Kanyakumari or sipped tea in quaint chai-houses in Kolkata or played cards with truck-drivers in Karnal or seen the hopes in the eyes of each parent for the dreams of their kids or seen the wry smiles on people who believe in no more than their own fate.

This journey was in more ways than one, a pilgrimage of a patriot replete with sights and sounds forever etched in my memories. Me and my camera saw an India one would never see on tourists websites or travel catalogues or on wikipedia. This was the real India, with no flyovers, no metro-rails, no load shedding ( no load...even), no home delivery, no atms, no Aquafina... and yet with quaint sense of contentment and a restlessness to offer whatever one can for the guest's comfort.

This is a sojourn inside the very ethos of Bharat was a journey within myself, in many ways.
This is the beauty of going where few men have gone before. This is inside India.

Al-coholic

Its freezing outside but its burning within
as I sat and chugged my fifth tonic and gin
I look around the dance-floor and there she was
so I tried getting up but downed my glass
Then she disappears, she was gone in a blink
or uh-huh I may have had too much to drink


Now it'd been an hour and then I saw her again
she danced the night away as I drank my tenth
I caught her eye and thought she smiled at me
and then I knew where I'd rather be
I tapped her on the shoulder but she wasn't the one
I fear the night will end like it had begun

I sat around alone with Mr Jack-on-the-rocks
She sat besides and I heard her talk
Asked me if I would like to dance
though I was drunk I knew this was my chance
the lights came on, saw her wedding ring
so I wrote this song, that i seldom sing

Don't get me wrong I'm not melancholic
Hi, I'm Srini and I'm an a alcoholic !
yea...... yea......yea......yea......yea......