Monday, December 25, 2006


A week in Galley!!! That may sound as an exotic place to be holidaying into. As kismet would have it galley translates to kitchen. Well the week past saw me in kitchen rummaging through all possible nooks in my tryst with date. Now that Mom’s back from a bout I feel life had always not been prosaic. Reflecting back on the new assignment as Chef I guess life is not fair on everyone.

Day one saw me rolling into kitchen after a long lapse and head in jitters. The matter that I had become completely alien to the set up of the dabbas did not make choices easier either. Cruising on safe mode I decided to go on with ‘Khichdi’. Well the choice made began the Herculean task of being sure as to what box contained what. The awful grudging of boxes along with the whistle of cooker signalled the conclusion of noon. Though to my dismay found that the curry needed a tinge more of salt. Pooris in night made up for the eventful day. Well the beginning seemed all auspicious, but as days waned the work seemed to tax a lot. Realising that Mom’s carrying over this work over and out for so many days without loss of precision (McGrath will find himself rated less on this account of precision) made for a thoughtful pondering. Well the week saw me trying my hand at almost all the things some not so well and some decent.

Well the point I wanted to raise is we all have been taxing in our own little way. The work seemingly so easy to unfold gets monotonous after few days and to be drawn into it for days together needs real patience. I do feel blessed to be gorging on things made with such intricate details without twirling my head a bit. Is this not enough to make Moms the best thing to have happened to anyone’s life???


Sense of humour!! ‘A gripping pack of people who make light of a seemingly monotonous and flat tone’- is a telling commentary in taking delight in the mirthful. The other day when Mr Bush (Senior) joked about his son to the Prime Minister, I could not help myself from a quiet smile. The musings are not quite unwarranted. The company I find myself in never finds itself short on cheerfulness and the happy countenance masks the unmistakable differences. Every matter has an anti matter up and over in some other part of the universe and their chancing upon guarantees explosion, I perhaps can reconcile to the fact after being to DAIICT. Take a stroll through C wing, 1st floor and let me hear the echo.

It’s like an oasis of hope in the midst of desert of worldly woes and difficulties. Glass is never half empty it is always half full and meeting these people I couldn’t agree more. Its not like hilarious stuff for everyone, invariably someone bears the wrath. If someone claimed “My love is redder than Rose” it’s not highly unlikely that you find an arrow shot across phrased as “Mine is plastic rose eluding the worldly fusty musty rusty conditions”. Puncturing vanity and restoring sanity with aplomb is what these people are born with. Even the ordeals are worth the squeeze.

As this has been meant to be a memorabilia let me commemorate the protagonists of the plot. Central characters are portrayed by Professor and Pakoda. It gets tardy difficult to name a single person in main role. Let’s focus the reel to Pakoda, if you ever doubt the dictum that there’s a calm before the storm be sure to meet this guy. Just a single one liner suffices to cut anyone into shreds. Professor- blind follower of ‘Divide and Rule’ (When he is on mood) else if he is on song then hardly time can stand a testimony as it tickles by without a clue. Now the turn of Bouncer Bhai and John g. Even with the memento-mori hanging from his chin he will be exclaiming Abhi tho bahut time hai. John g! Perhaps no one can soak more, born with jocular vein he becomes the butt of most of the jokes. Not to forget the tag load of names he carries with him. Chubbi and Gol wind up the team with the inclusion of non regular Gulu. Chubbi to his credit finds a lethal weapon in form of his roommate, even though that doesn’t make him quite a PJ master. Gol will always be remembered for his encounters with Pakoda. The powder fight, the bottle crush will long be etched in memory. Gulu Ghalib the included non insider makes up for one of the best things to have happened to me. Well to think of it THE JUICE WAS REALLY WORTH THE SQUEEZE!!!

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Etched Memories!!!!!!

In this light of darkness we roam in the silence sound of heart beats lamenting our lot. The loneliness is still lingering, but its getting difficult tune to dance to. Is that not the question many of us asked ourselves at some point in time??? Nobody chose seclusion for vanity. In this modern march we meekly gave in to the society pressure. So guarded we have become that chancing upon friends induces a mono syllable. Like ships that pass in night and speak each other in crank signals we passed each other. Only a look and a voice and then the darkness and silence eclipsed. Are we so busy?? Busy even to entertain even our own thoughts!!! Or spying eyes or prying ears reduced the human content in us???I mean if it chances and fates our way to be together for few days we crib to find that he’s probably the kind of guy I wished to be friends with. All ends up well. If we are not destined to interact who is to blame for neither of us took the chance???

As it happened and perhaps a welcome chance I found myself on a rural internship with relatively strange guys. As time tickled we learnt to play cards together, laugh together and while time together. Decoded each others signals, learnt to lend shoulders in need. As if many fast travelling stars collided at the end of the universe to raise a new earth, the place of friends, and the place to lead life in. Can’t assure for sure what impact it had on me but it etched in memory. The pictures in the window of life will vividly flash around from time to time reminding of the happier pastures and the time bygone. Somewhere down in the feelings heart pitter pats as to what would have the days if this was fated otherwise. Are we to blame or the fate if it was otherwise??? Does the end result not warrants a chance???

Saturday, September 16, 2006


Mahabharata! The epic. The hymns scream out the angelic morals. But somehow, somewhere deep in the unconscious mind we have an apprehension about the Pandavas being the so called saviours and crusaders of goodliness. Ever wondered why Kauravas were left at the receiving end all these centuries? One finds himself at bay choosing upon the just side on an impartial and unprejudiced read. It has always been the Pandavas who have been heaped praises for their valour and righteousness. But beneath lays some serious misgivings which points to foul play and injustice being stamped for years. It rather sounds paradoxically absurd trying to shift an age old maxim in favour of Suyodhana. For those surprised brows, Suyodhana was the eldest son of Dhrutrastra, the hereditary king. “Suyodhana”:- A warrior par excellence; a protector of rightful war practices. A man denied of his title for centuries which was so dear to him that he lost his life safeguarding it. Ever conjectured why he had to bear the brunt of Pandavas wrath? Surely answer comes in a gasp “The evils deserve hell”. RECONSIDER. With the type of upbringing we have, our mind and heart always laments the Kauravas. But let’s take a stock of the situation and give them their due respectfully. To begin with Dhrutrastra was the legitimate heir to the throne. But as luck would have it, being blind, the state was turned over to Pandu. Now the question arises “Who legally inherits the throne?” Though a tough nut to crack, the benefit of the doubt should have been ruled in Kauravas favour. Even otherwise, it would have taken little for the Pandavas to appreciate the folly of the situation. They choose to brag instead. Now let’s move the frame to Draupadi’s “swayambara”. Many may recollect that it was Karna who should have the first legitimate shot at the fish. But he was booed out for not being a Kshatriya. No prizes for guessing the invisible hand behind this act. It was a well established fact by then that Karna could defeat Arjun offhandedly. Well its worth mentioning that Karna was proclaimed to be the king of Angh Pradesh by Suyodhana. That’s what Suyodhana was for you. And what did Pandavas do on the eve of their brother’s marriage? Divide her for all of them! Well someone forgot that they were preachers. Scene: Hastinapur. All were invited for the showcase the Pandavas put in for their palace. Shakuni and Suyodhana both were ridiculed off for humane errors. Guess who joined in the act. Draupadi and her peers almost went to the point of stripping their humility. For a Kshatriya, to gulp down his own insult takes some beating. It all culminated in the game of PASHA. Many say it was unfair that Shakuni played the game. But nobody ever tried to stop him. He never played his hand hiding. Now, Yudhistira was asked to play, not to bet all. Alas! It was rather too simple a way out from troubles. It was left to Yudhistira to play his hand and like a sober man he should have kept a sight at his limits. Yet this great man put his wife Draupadi on line. Surely, this was the height of everything else what could possibly be thought off. Let’s roll the reel to the battlefield. Whether be it Pitamah Bheesma or Dronacharya, both were asked to play a biased hand. Ultimately they bowed out failing to play a one sided affair. So was this the so called bravery and valour of the Pandavas? Memories of Eklavya resurface without saying, who sacrificed himself for Arjun. The pitfalls of foul play bubbled throughout the war. Karna was made to donate his armour; even then it required Arjun to take aim at a weaponless man. If this was the strategy, it compelled them even lower to kill Jayadratha. Spiteful act! As if banging the last nail in the coffin, Bhima himself took aim at Suyodhana’s leg whilst in a match of clubs. Suyodhana accepted the match but never indulged in foul play fully conversant with the fact that Bhima had the cutting edge over him in a battle of clubs. Thus, he died leaving behind the true fighting spirit he had. What was he rewarded with? Duryodhana? Though lost, Suyodhana never lamented his lot. He saw himself being called Duryodhana whilst seeing Pitamah Bheesma, Dronacharya, Karna die. Thus, lain is a Mahabharata from Suyodhana’s eyes. Maybe what he deserves is an impartial, unbiased and unprejudiced read. Let us give him his due.


In bustling race of time we often rejoices in solitudes the scales and down rides of the time spent in the company of friends. More often than not tears roll out rather than smiles wrinkling. Dedicated to one of those one off moments.

Dripping down my helpless face,
Those million drops of heart ways,
Singing a poignant song that claims,

“Oh! My peer show me your face”
That lights the world with infinite grace.
And as they splash onto the ground,
They cry with grief profound.

‘Oh Friend! You still remain unfound’
The sobs continue to trickle down my cheek
Making me feel lost and meek
As millions of me continue to die
Prepared to mislay without a din,
Mayst a tear pray for win.

E"spy"onage (STORY)

On a quiet sunny afternoon, when the determined chins of the two young potential spies, was glistening with sweat, they had their task cut out. James and Melinda (two of the select, elite and lucky few to have received training under Captain Mike) were on the threshold of their dreams. The most intricate details of the covert world were imparted to them under the surveillance of the legendary Mike Martin.

"Melly, Remember never be precipitant in your actions." With this Captain Mike activated a bomb. "See, this bomb presents you 5 seconds of grace time. Utilize these. Never hasten. At 4th second Captain Mike, with a flick of his wrists let the dynamite go. A stream of water with a booming sound was what it resulted.

Captain Mike! Mike! This was Captain Andrassy who blurted out these words. Panting, as he was, it was impossible to make out what he was trying to reciprocate. After getting his composure back he said "Our topmost agent has been found dead today morning in his apartment and to complicate matters further up we have just now received a cipher, which he wrote presumably before his death". We are at a loss of ideas. Would you care to have a look???

Melly, James your espionage has started. Visit the place; observe every minute detail and turn over your reports to me in the evening .In the meantime let me see this cipher. Good luck.

Captain Mike was sure that these two would unravel the mystery revolving around the death. Unorthodoxy is what they adopt quite freely rather than the tedious orthodox method always. James always had a flat foot on the facts, the practical nuances associated with it whereas Melinda was amazingly quick in her uptake without taking least pains on the sundry details. It was courage and cheerfulness where they were never found wanting.
That's why they formed such a lethal combination.

On entering the room, both had a careful look of the room, searched for footprints Alas! Some criminals don't leave that. Excited as they were, both started off into their respective works.

James questioned the policeman at the beat about the exact positions of the things as first seen. He told him that all the doors and windows were locked barring one which was slightly open (not large enough for a snake to slide through). James asked him about his opinion on the case. The policeman with a cunning smile said "You don't expect a man to lock himself from outside, he himself being inside and getting killed". This is preposterous and it really beats me off. Something in his tone caught James ear. He began to brood over the problem. Finally with a triumphant ringing voice he said to himself "What villainy" "It has to be that, what else?"

Meanwhile, Melinda was feasting herself on the weird looking water spots spread throughout the walls of the room. It had been raining incessantly for last three days so such a thing was natural. But Melly's gaze was fixed on one spot. It was a dry patch in the wall. "How could the whole of the wall be soaked in water and this small part remain dry"? This was the question which she engaged herself in. By the end of the hour she also had seen the dawn of hope and intuitively assumed it to be correct.

They returned back to report to Captain Mike .After listening to them he asked James "how do you think that guy would have the key in his pocket?" James obligingly ventured to answer. "Sir, it is obvious that it was not he who locked himself from outside .So it has to be the murderer. I think by some means the key was put back in his pocket. I guess it has been done through the thread because I found many frayed string ends scattered on the floor. Presumably he might have fixed a small load to the string and put it into the dead man's pocket, keeping the other end at the window. After locking the door from outside he might have slipped the key from the string into his pocket.

Melinda: - I think I can picturise the whole scenario. The dry place there can mean only one thing, that the other part of the wall had not received rain which in turn points to a drainpipe or sorts. I think the murderer suspected this man, so he waited there while he was outside. He killed him and went off no one being wiser about his identity.

Captain Mike: - I think you both have hit the truth. Now I suppose it's my turn to tell you something about the formidable protagonist you are up to. I don't expect you to work without the full possession of the facts. "This man was our main informer from Wayne's office." He had helped us to prevent many crimes. Reverting to Wayne; he is the lynch pin on which the crime world hangs. He is like a spider, who webs his net slowly around the victim's neck. Assaults, murders, kidnaps everything is done by him. Just a word is passed to him and he arranges for the results. It is this antagonist we are after.

By the way, let me see if you can crack this cipher, which was causing problems in the office:--

Captain Mike:


"This cipher is quite a departure from his usual doubly encrypted ones. I can read this as easily as I read my palms. Luck is what we spies always envy. But it seems for once, we are on the vantage. Fortunately, we are now aware of the identity of the person whom they are targeting. This is one the most elementary ways to decode a cipher - just shift each letter right or left keeping certain rules in mind. At least here he had the sagacity to progressively increase the common difference of the two consecutive letters. V had been obtained on two right shifts so S was what he intended to convey. Similarly E was the outcome of transferring three letters so A must have been the original alphabet." Deciphering the cipher in the light of the above rubric the cipher spells out -


"It is Rachel, the great actress they are after. But what beats me is how such a dainty figure is associated with crime. I didn't expect Wayne's escapades to stretch to this part of the world. Oh God! Save the world from his clutches.

"Melie, you have to undertake the job of a governess there. It is the one position that will suit you admirably. A character-certifying letter will be arranged for you from the Countess of Poffosky. It will pertain to your work experience with her as a caretaker of her children.

"James you need not drop in there as an outsider. Utilize your acquaintance with Rachel's brother to secure a place as a friend. This Saturday is when I expect matters to come to a head. Until then try to secure your places and keep a strict vigil on the place. We can't launch this in the official format because of Rachel's strong dislike for the regular police force. Once upon a time she had to lose her parents forever due to the negligence of a cruel hearted officer. So you are on our own now. I can't help you in public; you have to remain clear of prying ears and spying eyes."

Rachel. The word had become a synonym for beauty. Her exquisite slimness was what other damsels envied. The well proportioned body to carry with that would have made any poet go crazy over the foolscap. Once you see the eyes, so feminine, so expressive, you get mesmerized and sense a new world forgetting everything else.

Captain Mike had predicted that the mystery would unfold on the Saturday, a day on which Rachel had thrown a party at her grand house. Everything till the weekend passed awfully well for both Melie and James. They won over the confidence of the household with their cheery attitude. The guests for the party consisted of Rachel's lawyer, financier of the movie, her pen pal and a few distinguished personalities of the city. Saturday was no exception to any other; it was only Captain Mike and co. who sensed the looming air heavy with expectancy.

The party unfolded quite well. But all of a sudden, at about midnight, a bullet sprang out from nowhere and just missed Rachel. At this sudden shock, she fainted. Everybody gathered around Rachel and helped her to her bedroom.

The only matter worth pondering on was that the whole room was inaccessible from outside but still a bullet managed to infiltrate in!!

Next day Melinda and James report it to Mike. Mike's expressionless face, his farsighted looks made both the young detectives stand in awe. Mike advised them, "Soak in everything letting the minimum possible out. Never show your course of action for you never know who your adversary is." Mike introduces them to a man sitting in the taxi. "He is monsieur Fabien. The greatest ever detective the French Surete had. They never desist in talking about his achievements. We are lucky to have him as our companion in this case."

"Hello, Mademoiselle, I'm quite delighted to meet you. I always held the opinion that it takes an amateur's bubbly enthusiasm and energy and a professional's tact to bulldoze a formidable foe. I am on the trail of my life now. I fervently hope that all my past glory will be outshone by the glow of success I will receive in this case." He enumerates some of his close encounters with Wayne. Once, he had every passenger in a plane checked up twice, all luggage thoroughly searched but still Wayne evaded his clutches, in the disguise of the pilot of the plane. This was the closest he had ever come in terms of catching him. "This incident pricked me as if he had spat on my face. Take my word for it that we French hold these as a blot on our souls. I am here because I am on sure grounds that he his here in desire of the world famous carbuncles her parents had. This was the place which her parents had as their last abode. Probably, they were killed for the diamonds too. Mike, don't be so surprised. You will receive the full facts tomorrow. Till then, let me have a look at the little mystery revolving around that shot."

When Melie and James were within few paces of Rachel's house they saw a suitcase being flung out of a taxi. Fabien with a triumphant look in his face was coming over towards them. "Hey guys, see this is Monsieur Fritz's attache (lawyer)." With his deft fingers he began to work his way through the suitcase. Therein lay the revolver, which had caused the hullabaloo the previous night. Fabien argued it was only Fritz who had the knowledge of the diamonds. Probably he wanted to get rid of her to claim them legally. And it may not be a far-fetched assumption to believe that he is in close hands with Wayne. Melie got swayed by his talks but somehow James picked up a strong dislike towards this French detective. Suddenly he realized that somebody was trying to hold a sneeze. Tip-toed he went behind the bushes and discovered that it was Bob (pen pal).

This had channelised his brain in a different direction. Bob left them with a tame excuse. This swept James mind to a different direction, more monstrous than the first one.

Unanimously they conjectured to rummage the whole place through in look out for the diamonds. Melie took off for the servant's quarter. James asked for the secret panels, cellars to Rachel's brother. In one of the closed cellars he found a soiled paper with an address on it. While emerging out of the cellar he met Rachel; who with a careless air put forth. "What's the matter? It seems there has been a positive boom for the secret places today. Just now I had been through this place with Bob. Are you thinking that the gun or for that matter the murderer to be found here???"

James went off on his lonely vigil towards that place pointed by the address. It was one of the dilapidated outhouses in an obscure place. With a delighted heart longing for some action he entered the room. Alas! Wayne's comrades were a bit weak in that part. Having Wayne's mates in his mercy he decided to ransack the place. On the top floor he saw a man gagged and lying down. At the moment he heard a grin from his back. Feeling the cold muzzle of the automatic in his temple James ventured to look back. It was Bob!

The day next, to everyone's surprise, they got an invitation for another party at Rachel's house. Rachel's brother on James's express demand had thrown a party, with an instruction that all who attended the last one were invited.

James and Melinda took the centre stage and explained their real purport of being there. Melie went on that eventful day when a murder was averted it was none present here who discharged the bullet. It is this watch; see it sideways it has the provision for the cuckoo to spring out every hour to twitter. But that night it was loaded with a pistol and at midnight it fired off and the vociferous twittering of this cuckoo negated the sound.

James who until now assumed an innocent look began with his usual suave fashion. "Once I had recognized Bob as a Scotland Yardie, the sailing was smooth. Now let me introduce you to the real Monsieur Fabien from Surete". Lo and Behold! It was the same person who was lying in that dilapidated house. The whole story became crystal clear to everybody.

James discreetly avoided further questions. Finally he held a card which, he was sure, would confound Captain Mike himself. "Sir, we presume that you had never seen your agent in Wayne's office due to his extracting confidence from you for that extent." Mike with a stunned look said "No, why? What's the matter?"

James dryly said "Sir, this is the notebook we found in Wayne's pocket when we arrested him. Care to take a look." "THERE WAS NEVER ANY AGENT. IT WAS HE WHO WROTE THE MESSAGES."

"These policemen believe their job is just to crack ciphers and some minor crimes. It is really saddening to know that they are ignorant of such huge crimes taking place when their mind is focused on petty things".

Trinity Of Soccer....


Within the span of three world cup games in 1986, one Diego Maradonna of Argentina booked his place at the summit alongside the legendary Pele. As the 18th edition of the world cup finals heads for a thrilling finish, football’s hallowed duo could become a trinity. The prodigious Zizou surely can claim a spot at the league which treaded a line between good and great.

Glimpses of what Zidane can do with the ball were on show against Brazil. The exit of Brazil for once was unworthy of tears. It was Zizou and his men who played more Brazilian soccer than his counterparts. The music the menace was all there which baffled the Brazilian matadors. Hidden behind the lean face of the Mohican of this decade was the catalyst for the buoyant French team, even when his final bells were tended to be over hit. He mustered the sublime touch, game vision, and creative imagination which was feared lost to orchestrate the systematic throttle of Spain. His show was not all about showboating individualistic; rather it was a kick on for players like terrific Henry to shed their indifferent form. The aging artist raised his game, his youthful peers could dream of, to lead from the front setting examples.

His skills are not alien to us but every time he conjures magic we are left spellbound, for he makes us believe how absurd playing football can be. With a ballerina’s shift he ensures the ball lands gently kissing his feet. As if on a spinning top he ruses gracefully evading the tackles. His pirouettes leaves opponents confronting thin air in awed appreciation filled with jealousy. One can imagine the pressure his strolls put on the defenders. Even walking on water he makes light of the situation making mockery of the opponent’s strategy with consummate ease as he manages a great ball for the on rushers.

A sort of collective amnesia strikes mankind and even though trying to hate Zidane they end up praising the sheer genius of his even at the sub conscious level. Zidane is a connoisseur’s delight since style of performance has counted something. Football is all about the flair, the invention, the beauty and the aesthetic appeal and Zidane’s game screams out loud these virtues. With every twist and shimmy, every duck of the shoulder and cleverly chipped pass, he orchestrated the magical moment in Euro Cup 2000. These were the all too rare moments when sport relegates above the normal earthly pastures to the realm of celestial.

Though this world cup boasted of so many superstars the real stars could surely be counted in the fingers of a hand excluding the goalkeepers. This world cup had flattened the globe for once as day or night seemed to be of little consequence. The finals cried for a star like Zidane to adorn the cup. How incredible has been this resurrection, for aging athletes do not abruptly reassume their powers. To top it the entire feat was conjured after he had hung up his boots propounding the fading skills. How ironic, for like an aging culture restorer he revitalized himself to stage football as the greatest game ever. The virtuoso performance by him will be long etched in the memory as the stage is being set to adieu the game’s one of the most celebrated player.

Surely, many will agree with me that the celebrated duo of the football fraternity awaits a worthy campaigner. Let Zizou wreck havoc in last of his few matches; let Zizou get a farewell befitting his work. Infallibly, Zizou can be put at the top of the pedestal alongside the likes of Pele and Maradonna.

P.S. This article was written before the semifinals.

Days of Adoloscence......

Buried deep in life’s saunter,

The sweet age of toys barter,

Lost forever in a strange ferver,

As in an ocean loseth a river.

Left though the Midas touch forever.

Ah, the days of adolescence!

As noiselessly as a lingering thought,

Recollecting many a fights fought,

Tantrums of ousted at nought,

Unnoticed cropped a smile wrought.

Ease from melancholy it brought.

Ah, the days of adolescence!

Lending ears to tales of incredible essence,

Off I went to gross with patience,

Fellows of Milky Way in innocence.

Consigned a tree climbing offence,

Remorse though was lost on pretence.

Ah, the days of adolescence!

Swooping paper rockets leaked mirth borrow,

As jolly ships skimmed through the sorrow,

Seldom had I envisaged a life so narrow,

As bliss betided, eclipsed barrow.

Ah, the days of adolescence!

The rain strew love a thousand mote,

Cherishing a split never did I note,

Boyhood not for eternity I realised rote.

Is this the future for which we ever vote?

This feeling kinda ogled out from veins after refreshing through a old photo album..Really fun filled were the days of sunshine.