Pune Residues

Pune. That was where the car nosed to. The reasons were simple and straightforward.

1. There were kind souls who offered to host. Providing us with bed, food and some love. There needn't be any other reason.

2. Add in an expressway that's smooth as silk at Rs.140/- one way, some scenic mountains and blue skies as freebies.

3. To that concoction throw in some 'huge' curiosity around Pune and it being spoken of as the 'culture capital of Maharashtra' and the like.

4. To that solution, sprinkle some details about the awesome weather.

5. If all that were not enough, look at the long weekend and spending time between fixing a broken computer and a run down body frame !

Of we went. To Pune. And loved every minute of it. And here is the first residue. Residual feelings ! More will follow.

At first look, Pune seems to be kneaded with the fingers of history and baked in the kiln of culture.

The Aga Khan palace stands in majestic stately grandeur, that almost obscures the pieces of history that it holds. Facts of it being a quasi prison for Mahatma Gandhi and the place where he lost his wife gives it a different coat.

Goosebumps pop at frequency of popcorn in a microwave oven, to stand in the very room that must have seen all these events unfold and think of those times. Kastur Ba's samadhi right there.



Shaniwarwada is the other structure. Magnificent opulence from the 17th century. A building of great magnificence has to be imagined, for whats left is just the periphery wall and and a towering gate !





Its not too difficult for the imagination though. If the 'compound wall' is this opulent, the building must sure have been something. To look down at the modern day buses and city bustle through traditional arches was something indeed. And yes. Make no mistake. Look down it is !



The sights of the living times are no less awing. This White tiger at the zoo. Majestic in the stride and magnificent in elegance. Emerging from the undergrowth and just standing there, as the pictures clicked. Imposing in the posing. Moving away with an air that will get a bollywood star give her entire nose for. Plastic surgery and all included.


The essence of our love, seems to course in the city's living. A city that is soothing yet burgeoning. Where, the divide between the yesteryears and the present day visible by the starkness of the difference. Yet, invisible by their seamless merger.

Its a city where tradition doesnt rub shoulders with modernity, but is infact the other shoulder ! Oh yes. Its a city where people are kind and the kinds that are 'people', well, very frequent !

We fell in love with the city. Chomping on what 'German Bakery' had to offer. Contrasting it only with Maharashtrian thali. Rounding it off with brun-maska, chai and Shrewsbery biscuits.

But there sure is more. Thats the feeling that permeates. Thats the flavour of the residue.

There definitely is more. A certain indescribable portion of the city that is seen, yet hidden. That seems easily describable yet remains elusive. Perhaps it is do with the understatedness in its existence. Perhaps it is do with a way of life that is free of hurried frenzy. Perhaps it is do with its people : gentle and mannered.

Or perhaps it is because of a certain beauty in its midst. The city that is ! The women are covered.


Perhaps protecting the perfect complection and their texture of their tresses, the missus avers. The helmets seem missing though.

More will be figured. Hopefully. For the car will be headed in that direction. There is much to discover. Pune is plain awesome, you see.

Pune Residues

Its that time

Yes..its that time...

Airlines, credit cards, banks, ice-cream stores all recall my existence. Sending in a note of wishes, cheer, Christmas greeting and New Year Greeting all rolled into one e-mail :" Seasons Greetings", they scream. The cynical side of skeptical folks wonder if this is just a 3-in-1 opportunity thats getting well exploited.

But hey.. ! Its that time when 'i am on leave' is as normal as the Monday morning 'its Monday' groan.

'Clients are closed' is an oft heard response. These are indeed modern times where 'customer service' is the most parroted mantra that beats all mantras and vedic hymns ever chanted. And of course, clients are indeed God.

If 'clients' are closed, ofcourse, God is not looking. You see, its time to take off. Therefore, God bless clients.

Auto-reply mails are shooting off every mail box. 'I am on holiday...' as the standard response. Sometimes, these mails are treasured, for they are the only replies that come any way !

Long lost colleagues and every half person that has exchanged business cards is keen on doing his or her bit to email traffic, with a 'seasons greetings' message !

But hey...there is a genuine festive cheer in the air. Festoons adorn office walls. From the corner office to the commode with an equanimity that would make a communist beam .

The canteen serves 'special' food that is thulped taking some comfort from looking at an obese Santa run around ! In some time though, the obese looking Santa disembarks from all his stuffing while the stuffing that went through the food pipe stays forever !

Its that time where there is festivity in the air. Literally as well. Radio Jockeys... whose world didn't go beyond the latest Hindi movies suddenly are playing carols from far away lands ! But, Introducing carols like they introduce a Salman Khan song. Panting parlance and halting sing song, an arbid competition and a phone number to call !

Five start hotels are turning on all the decorations with so much lights that could light up neighbourhoods. Next door ofcourse there are entire neighbourhoods with one proud star to show ! Christmas trees adorn houses blessed either with belief or wailing children !

Its Christmas time people. The world is taking it easy. The doubt however stays on my mind. The question that i am supposed to have asked my junior school teacher. "If it is supposed to be Jesus's birthday, how come we dont sing the 'happy birthday to you' ?!? "

On other another note, Just now a mail hit the inbox. 'Marry Christmas' screams the subject line. Could have been written in a long weekend hurry ! But, it sure caught the attention. Marry Christmas ! Sure thing. Marry Christmas people. Embrace the spirit. Beget progeny . it sure will help the world.

Merry Christmas people ! May peace prevail. And love resurface. And may you all pray for the for more Christmases to provide for a long weekend !

Stay safe. Embrace the spirit ! Share some love !

Its that time

Loose Stuff

The Indian economy and success.

Viewpoints vary, depending on who you ask. The pinstripe types will speak with elan. Of 'value'. 'Intellectual capital'. 'Knowledge Economy'. 'Cost Arbitrage.' 'Burgeoning middle class.' 'Consumption'. 'GDP'. Etc !

These are words that rings well from a TV . Quite obviously, beyond the common man. For the common man, is usually listening to all of this, taking a break from all the TV ads. Those TV ads, asking him to buy cars and computers. Through service fee free bank loans. Recommended by actors who don't age and cricketers who are 'old' at 30 !

No. What churns the Indian economy is not all that English. The engine of success resides in its bottles. PET bottles...

Dont you think so ? Walk around India. Anywhere. Any part. East. North. South. West. People living in small cities tucked away in quiet corners where the Prime Minister flies over when there is a cyclone and the big cities that make much noise about small things. Walk anywhere. Ubiquitous by their presence are the PET bottles !




The small stores and the big stores. Brisk business is enabled by PET bottles. Usually holding toffees. buiscuits. Assorted eats. Chewing gums. Pencils. Stationary. All stored in PET bottles.

'Loose' items. Sold in ones and twos. Satiating a penchant for buying 'loose' stuff. Perhaps we are loose people. You know, people that prefer to buy in loose. In ones and twos. With the population that is growing at a pace that outpaces everything from condom manufacturing to computer chip obsolecence, with delectably embarrasing ease, 'loose' is a way of life, for us !

Think of this too. We are indeed loose people that can operate in the grey, and be as comfortable. The great Indian head shake that goes in all directions has been mocked loosely enough. But 'Loose' has many meanings. In excess of 20 variations. That must make it comfortable for the average Indian mind !

So, here is the grand treatise. The ability to break anything down into smaller pieces yet, see the pieces as part of a larger whole. To divide yet integrate. That comes principally from the PET bottle ! What say ?

PET bottles are indeed a part of mainstream living. An indelible mark of our households too. Storing everything from sugar to salt. And spices in all sizes. Loose chocolates. Loose biscuits. Loose bread. Loose butter. And so on. Everything loosely stored with a tight lid.

But 'Loose Petrol' was something that spun the mind silly, at the Petrol station.



In the morning today! The cops don't want 'loose petrol' to be sold. Well. They must know. They deal with a whole lot of loose characters and have some loose canons in their ranks as well.

In recent times whenever 'big' English waffles through the air, on the Indian economy and its resilience etc, the PET bottle has stayed tightly in context !

Loose Stuff

Malware !

"I want this job". How many times has that feeling visited your gut ? In recent times.

Ok. Lets keep out Sean Connery or Pierce Brosnan emerging out of water with.... hmm hmm... guns. No, thats not part of this brief.

That feeling hit me. Recently.

In the middle of a swank mall, a group moves about. Carrying advertisements on their back. For a brand of chewing gum. The product is inconsequential, for they could have been promoting toilet cleaners or dry cleaners. The important element was a certain rhythm in their motion !

When i saw them move, i thought I would like that job. You may wonder why.

It was simple ! I would get to see SOME sights. Mall sights !

Of uninterested husbands digging into their blackberry as though it were a device that was stopping planet Earth from imploding. The eager boyfriend variety who buy ( & carry ) the basket to the bread.

The wailing kid who rolls on the ground for everything from the sun to the shoe rack, and test the sound proofing of the Bose showroom.

Sights of eager diners. Chomping on a mix of Mexican curry and malai kofta with etiquette sounding like a bad word in a foreign language. The girls with looks that would kill and the boys with hairstyles that tantamount to murder.

How wonderful will it be. To walk around the mall and NOT BUY !!! No guilt at all. A clear bonus with some exercise for the legs ! That would be a clear bonus. Hmm. I want that job. Really !

Perhaps i will befriend a nice store sales girl who could let me in on intricacies of managing a large store and attendant problems. Of discounts and devious customers. Serious fraud committed with a straight face. Am talking of the discounts here ! The schemes and the scheming !

Wouldn't it be plain wonderful. To just walk around a mall. Floor by floor. In a formation, that's befits a fighter pilot squadron. A squadron with no intention of bombing territory or even planning very valorous actions, like piloting the President.

Wouldn't it be fun to gloriously walk around. Aimlessly soaking up the sights. Following the chap ahead. With whole world as the audience ! The world inside the mall that is ! .

Perhaps in a corner, i might even spot a wistful nitwit. Clicking snaps of cauliflowers and the corner store on a mobile phone.

Bemused look, balding head and bulging middle not withstanding, pontificating on garbage and trophies with an air of a Somali pirate, holding a Saudi oil tanker hostage !!

One look at us walking the floor with the ads on our back would perhaps cause him to wonder about state of the human kind. Able men doing an aimless job. A job that was relegated to the realms of steel, vinyl and lighting of the advertising billboard !

Such types cant get a clue of the fun. Or the pocket money that it gets us. Walking the mall. Selling some ware. The sights, sounds and smells of mall-ware !

Malware !

From Above. From Below.

On Mumbai's marine drive, theres an exhibition thats on. Awesome. Is the word. Its titled ' Earth from Above'. A series of stunning photographs. A collage from up above.

The setting is perfect too. With the Arabian sea on one side and a bustling army of cars, bikes and people to provide the contrast, on the other.

Perfect time to look at the big picture. The pictures are work of a creative mind at its best.

Talking of creative human minds, there is more to be done. Whatever are those scientist folks doing ? With all those gadgets and goatees that, whatever are they doing ?

Especially, for cases like this one. Read on.

An apartment complex that is home to a myriad set of people. Like...Hmm.. educated from the best of universities the world can offer. The best of designations the corporate world can conjure.

Cars that can swallow the economy and bank accounts that seem perpetually overflowing. Computers that run the household and household helps who pay obeisance to the family dog.

All in all, if this set of people were reduced to a single drop of petrol, they could keep an empty fuel tank power a world trip. Twice. That kind of power. You get the drift... ?

That type of an apartment complex. And this was the announcement on the notice board !



Hope the scientist folks are still listening. They need to come up with several things for this apartment.

But where do they start ? What work can science do, when common sense and basic sensitivity go on exile.

Perhaps these are the signs of our times. A time for extremes. New frontiers get broken as new inventions hit the market at speeds that only the sun tries to compete with.

New markets get created, as existing land disappears. A time when the Internet brings us all closer even as we as people get divided further.

A time, when those that coast in luxury are epitomes of 'uncivil' and the actions of the 'educated' take us back a few hundred years.

A time where the beauty of the Earth from the sky is only contrasted by our actions on the ground ! Actions, that which we inflict on one another and on ourselves too.

The opportunity to keep our Earth pristine is omnipresent. The choices are ours to make. And in this apartment's case, the choice starts with the dustbin !

From Above. From Below.

Trophies

Those medals. They hang from his chest. A chest that seems swollen from a distance. Medals that were won in the military. Many years of serving the nation. If these medals had a mouth of a TV newscaster, they would narrate battle tales. Perhaps.

Perhaps. Of war cries and hospital walks. Of wins of territory, and loss of limb. Maybe life. Of bravery amidst blood.

Retirement. An able body. A need for family sustenance. And a clutch of medals. These form a neat concoction that provides him employment as a security supervisor at the apartment complex. On special occasions, he wears those medals. And walks with a swollen chest.

Proud as he is. Of his past. For, every time he wears those medals, the second-grade son of the Vice-President who lives in Flat No : 202, insults him lesser.

These medals, awe.

In a distant small town, an array of medals, trophies, certificates, and plaques adorn an entire cupboard. They keep a lonely mother and father company. They were brought home with great joy by sons, long gone.

When these trophies were first brought home, they were brought with tremendous happiness.

Awarded for many reasons. Ranging from elocution to essay writing. From quizzing to tennis. From topping school to writing complex code. And other prolific stuff including 'attending school without a days leave' to 'blood donation' !

Each trophy was treasured. Polished. Shined. And till date, enjoys the attention of visitors. 'These were brought by our sons'. They say, to people who care to ask, amongst the few that care to drop in.

Trophies, tell tales.

On another note. Big city living has trophies that are in vogue. From the air conditioner to the amplifier. From branded shirts to premium underwear. From the luxury car to Luxembourg holidays. From the digital thermostat to hand wound watches. From cat salons to the digital mouse !

The excitement of the acquisition always compensating the emptiness on usage. For, material trophies atrophy.

Simple living. Good health. Shared love. And building a collective future.

These perhaps are the trophies that count. These perhaps are the trophies that secretly awe lead runners and podium finishers of the rat race. These are the trophies that will spawn a million memories. Worth more than all the gold with the RBI.

And these perhaps are the only trophies that come, atrophy proof !

Trophies

Enthu public

We met. Again. Us bloggers. Its been a year since we first met. So. We met. Again. Actually, we needed an excuse.

Two new people joined.

We spoke. About cows. Mumbai. Blogging. Twitter. Bloggers. Comments. Indiblog nominations. Food. Running. British Psychology. 140 word posts.

Blog posts getting hotel discounts. Hotels that charge 1700/- for a buffet. And the self help groups that provide food for others ! Of course, you know which ones survive.

About countries. Cricket. Family involvement. Writing style. And a whole lot more. Of course, the missus is happy again. For these are the 'gifts' that came along.

Gappa bowled me over with a IIT Bombay bag, with appropriate customised art for each of us that met. Harekrishnaji came with a lovely hand crafted photo frame. Cabbages and Kings with a delicacy made of jack fruit !

Gunjaiish came with a mango sweet, which isn't part of the picture. For it is now part of the inner recesses of my hip. Nu was the newest member. Maybe i should write her name 'first' ! Catching up with Vivek-Uvaach is a delight. As ever.

Often times i am awed by the medium of blogs and such other social networking platforms. Connecting & transcending age groups, educational backgrounds, distance and cultures is plain awesome. And if that were not enough, getting people to take the time to do something for one another catapults it to a different league !

But then, the essence is not in the technology. Its in the people that use it. 'Enthu public' was a comment that escaped G ! An interesting phrase. I thought !

Of course, you will hear from them too. About the meet. On their blogs.

Interesting times we live in. With so much that divides us all, technology helps unite us and break bread. ( Of which we had two full baskets ). I haven't been as delighted in a long time !

Oh, by the way, the missus has been invited to the next meeting. Perhaps she is getting too much attention on this blog ! In any case, i have let others know that this is a 'bloggers meeting' and not a 'blog subject' meeting !

That is that. Let us know if any of you are interested in being a part of a small group of bloggers who meet. And talk. Till the cows come home. Which is when the waiters hover around the table with dirty looks.

What a whale of a time ! Enthu public. Indeed. Thank you !

Enthu public

Journeys

The roads of Mumbai offer strange sights. Sights, that sometimes are difficult to swallow. And others that take a permanent long term lease in your heart.

The seamless merger of the world can be confounding yet be a thing of amusement. Wonderment. Inspiration. Or even, activism. And a countless other things, depending on what pervades the mind at that time.

Here is one such seamless existence. On the road. Wearing seat belts in a car is mandatory here. Cops get mentioned as 'zealots' or 'duty conscious' depending on who you talked to and how much they have had to pay for not wearing seat belts.

All this for travelling without seat belts. In a car which has crash bars. Side bars. Air bags. And of course, which has been crash tested. Built to X sigma quality. Marketed by God. Or Shah Rukh Khan. ( Now that the film celebs think of themselves as God, God can well be having a befuddling identity crisis)

Here are the other passengers. Without seat belts. Taking on life daily. With smiles as cushions. Daily living as crash tests. Built over many years to exacting requirements that life throws that can beat the best simulation game, hands down !

Battling an inflation. In prices. In population. In difficulty of life. And of course, in aspirations and dreams ! Life needs to be met. And lived. Happily so. Too.

This was clicked on JJ flyover. Sunday morning. Vegetable retailers. After picking up their stuff. All set to sell it to different markets. Perhaps in the suburbs. Holding on to carefully dangled ropes. Perhaps, with life and living as the carrot !

This on the Western Express Highway. Early in the morning. Young men, who perhaps have been up since the middle of the night, catching a quick wink. Atop, vegetables that they perhaps helped load. And will unload in sometime.

A milk van and its attenders. The crates that held milk packets support their backs, as they catch a quick wink. They sure have been up and awake. Supplying milk. And running about.

Fish vendors. Driving back from the wholesale market. Boys. Women. Men. Chatting. Smiling. Sleeping. Holding on. And of course, there is a mezzanine floor over there. The floor beneath has, yes, fish !

An empty minivan. With ropes hanging all over. The gent putting some pink on a circus gymnasts face, by just adroitly holding on. As the tyres find new potholes and the non-existent shock absorbers get tested !

Wonder if you notice the human element here. two legs popping out of the window ! Here is a man ( i think ) who is lying down on the hard surface of this van, his legs atop the open window.

Piped natural gas. Emergency Van ! hmm.

So, people buckle up. Its law. And if you would care, look around. At life and people. There is an amorphous beauty in life and living. In getting by. And getting ahead.

Oh yes, buckling down, is not an option.

Journeys