Saturday, 14 June 2014

My Bundle of Joy is 25!

(On Pragya's Birthday, June 13, 2014)

Yes, it was just the other day I held you in my arms as my own little doll, a baby girl in a family of men and boys. O! How I wished to have a daughter, who my own mother had already named, years before you were born - Pragya. When you took your first tottering steps round that small table, when you bit my fingers with your first tiny teeth,when you steadied yourself clutching my trousers and when you snuggled in for the silly stories that I had to create every night, the delight was unbound. From the first day in the school, when you would keep looking back beseeching us to rescue you to the most mature member of the family looks like a leap in time. It looks as if it was yesterday when you spoke your first words and then again it looks so far away.

Then your going away to a boarding school. You may have cried aloud, but our hearts bled every day. But, what a blossom we plucked from your school after those years! Supremely confident and a sight to behold, how proud you made us! A guide to your parents beyond your age. We are becoming dependent on you and we didn't even notice the roles change.

Betu, even though it may have been an easy sail, you must prepare for the unseen and the unknown that may come your way. Twenty five years is a quarter of a century, but it is only a few years into adulthood. As the shade of your own parents slowly retreats, you will grow into one who must become that shade to others. So, live your life to the full, enjoy the zest of success as I know you will and yet keep your feet firmly planted and your moorings firm. It takes little to go adrift. All setbacks and heartaches must be allowed to fade and all successes and triumphs savoured. Share your joys with your friends and the sorrows with us. But, be the light that shows the path to all.

It is hard to imagine you will fly away one day to build your own nest. But, such a day must come and we will gladly see you go away. I will grieve not in your absence, but relive the moments of your life in my rocking chair with coffee in one hand a photo album in the other.

Happy Birthday, Betu!
 
Photo: My Bundle of Joy is 25!

Yes, it was just the other day I held you in my arms as my own little doll, a baby girl in a family of men and boys. O! How I wished to have a daughter, who my own mother had already named, years before you were born - Pragya. When you took your first tottering steps round that small table, when you bit my fingers with your first tiny teeth,when you steadied yourself clutching my trousers and when you snuggled in for the silly stories that I had to create every night, the delight was unbound. From the first day in the school, when you would keep looking back beseeching us to rescue you to the most mature member of the family looks like a leap in time. It looks as if it was yesterday when you spoke your first words and then again it looks so far away.

Then your going away to a boarding school. You may have cried aloud, but our hearts bled every day. But, what a blossom we plucked from your school after those years! Supremely confident and a sight to behold, how proud you made us! A guide to your parents beyond your age. We are becoming dependent on you and we didn't even notice the roles change.

Betu, even though it may have been an easy sail, you must prepare for the unseen and the unknown that may come your way. Twenty five years is a quarter of a century, but it is only a few years into adulthood. As the shade of your own parents slowly retreats, you will grow into one who must become that shade to others. So, live your life to the full, enjoy the zest of success as I know you will and yet keep your feet firmly planted and your moorings firm. It takes little to go adrift. All setbacks and heartaches must be allowed to fade and all successes and triumphs savoured. Share your joys with your friends and the sorrows with us. But, be the light that shows the path to all.

It is hard to imagine you will fly away one day to build your own nest. But, such a day must come and we will gladly see you go away. I will grieve not in your absence, but relive the moments of your life in my rocking chair with coffee in one hand a photo album in the other.

Happy Birthday, Betu!

Saturday, 10 May 2014

बॉस की शिकायत

(सच्ची घटना पर आधारित)

एक बार मेरे एक बॉस ने मुझसे पूछा, "सुना है तुम पीठ पीछे मेरी शिकायत करते हो।"

मैंने तपाक से उत्तर दिया, "जी सर, करता हूँ।"

बॉस अवाक रह गये। सोचा होगा, मैं ना नुकुर करूँगा, बचाव में कुछ बोलूँगा, फिर वे मुझे हड़काएँगे और मैं दुम दबाकर माफ़ी मांगूगा, अहा कितना मज़ा आएगा!

पर बेचारे बॉस की योजना धरी की धरी रह गयी, जब मैंने कह ही डाला कि मैं उनकी पीठ के पीछे उनकी शिकायत करता हूँ। बॉस असंतुलित हो गये। फिर अपने आप को संभाला और दहाड़े, "क्या?"

उनका अनुमान था कि मैं दुबक जाउँगा और वे अपना टूटा सपना फिर से जोड़ पायेंगे। पर ऐसा कुछ नहीं हुआ।

मैंने कृत्रिम भोलेपन से कहा, "लेकिन सर, ऐसा तो आप भी करते होंगे न, अपने बॉस की बुराई, उनकी पीठ के पीछे?"

इससे पहले कि निरुत्तर बॉस फिर अपने आप को संभालें, मैंने वहाँ से खिसकने में ही अपनी भलाई समझी।

Wednesday, 16 April 2014

More on Coalgate


(On the eve of General Elections, 2014)
 
My toothpaste doesn't work anymore. Do you think I need to change the brand?

My favorite brand has doubled the adspend, but has been losing its old appeal. Gone are the claims of pearly white teeth, when what comes out of the tube is rather blackish. Somehow its name now resonates with something having to do with governance in India. A mere toothpaste brand and governance? I would think it was a good marketing boost.

Some friends tell me it is the other smaller brands that have got together to tarnish the leader of the pack. Some even claim that there is a foreign hand in it. Then some thought that you could squeeze and squeeze the tube and it would oblige endlessly. Even the family pack finally gave in. They say that the family now keeps its toothpaste in buckets. Me and my poor toothpaste!
They assure me a new branding exercise is round the corner and I could select another one if the old one has lost it.
 

Saturday, 29 March 2014

Ain't I blessed!

I got a Friend request from one Sanjay Kumar with a photo of his toddler. Now I know a million Sanjay Kumars and then a few. The photo does not give me any idea who the gentleman is. Is he a childhood friend of mine? Or a colleague from Timbuktoo? Is this the photo of his daughter or his grand daughter? That could have given some clue to his age. Then again, was the photo taken in the Kumbh Mela or the Disney World? That could have told me something about his geographical location, for an ice cream cone and a popsicle are available equally easily in Allahabad and Florida, thanks to globalisation.

Maybe he wants me to look at his profile and find out who he is. Or, possibly find some common friends from his friends-list of over a thousand privileged humans and ask each one of them who the gentleman is and why I should become his friend. But, then there are over a hundred such "generic" requests pending and I have only three scores and ten years on the planet. And, of course, I have miles to go before I sleep.

But, I am genuinely interested in befriending him. I am sure his thousand strong friends community is a blessed lot. So, please help me, O God! And, please deliver me from this agony, My Dear Friends!

Please take a hard look at the photo of the cute little child and let me know if it strikes a chord. Do please tell me who the lucky father or grandfather of this cuddly little tot is. I shall, without any ado, accept the friend request of the great soul and enjoy the same heady feeling that his other friends revel in.

Photo: Mobile Phone Art (in colour)

Ain't I blessed!

I got a Friend request from one Sanjay Kumar with a photo of his toddler. Now I know a million Sanjay Kumars and then a few. The photo does not give me any idea who the gentleman is. Is he a childhood friend of mine? Or a colleague from Timbuktoo? Is this the photo of his daughter or his grand daughter? That could have given some clue to his age. Then again, was the photo taken in the Kumbh Mela or the Disney World? That could have told me something about his geographical location, for an ice cream cone and a popsicle are available equally easily in Allahabad and Florida, thanks to globalisation. 

Maybe he wants me to look at his profile and find out who he is. Or, possibly find some common friends from his friends-list of over a thousand privileged humans and ask each one of them who the gentleman is and why I should become his friend. But, then there are over a hundred such "generic" requests pending and I have only three scores and ten years on the planet. And, of course, I have miles to go before I sleep.

But, I am genuinely interested in befriending him. I am sure his thousand strong friends community is a blessed lot. So, please help me, O God! And, please deliver me from this agony, My Dear Friends!

Please take a hard look at the photo of the cute little child and let me know if it strikes a chord. Do please tell me who the lucky father or grandfather of this cuddly little tot is. I shall, without any ado, accept the friend request of the great soul and enjoy the same heady feeling that his other friends revel in.
Mobile Phone Art

Monday, 24 February 2014

Americans - Their Cars and Their Cities


Americans are fond of naming their cars after cities. Some of the well-known ones are the Chevrolet Colorado, Chevrolet Malibu, Chevrolet Tahoe, Pontiac Montana, Hyundai Tucsan, Hyundai Santa Fe, Dodge Dakota, Dodge Daytona, Ford Gran Torino, Mercury Milan, Mercury Montego and so on. Not surprisingly they ran out of city names. So they borrowed city names from Europe. Actually they had done it well in advance anticipating the automobile revolution that was to come.

So, now they have a Leeds and a Birmingham in Alabama, Kensington and Manchester in California, Derby and Avon in Connecticut. There are thousands of such examples. I am told the European settlers and explorers, who came from various parts of Europe, to settle down in the land of opportunities brought the names of their cities along and named their settlements nostalgically. In fact there are at least ten Birminghams and twenty five Manchesters. Quite clearly, the postal department had a great lot of difficulty delivering letters when such confusion abounded. So, they started prefixing “New” before naming cities. Now we had New Jersey, New Castle, New Britain and New England, New Kent and of course New York , the Big Apple.

The Americans did not leave even Indian Cities alone. So, they had a Delhi each in New York and Louisiana. But before they could create a “New” version of that, we named our capital “New Delhi”. And, lo and behold, soon enough the Americans had a New Delhi in Illinois. But we had beaten them for sure this time. They cannot have a “NEW NEW DELHI”! I wonder why they did not name their cities Jalandhar or Ulhasnagar. Maybe the Canadians had laid an early claim to these names. But, what about A New Telugu Desam? Oops, we have brand new names now – New Telangana and New Seemandhra. I am told software companies in the Bay Area, SFO are infested with Indians from Andhra. In fact, they say that as soon as you enter their buildings you are accosted by the aroma of fresh sāmbhar wafting from their canteens, company canteens that serve the best South Indian cuisine in the world. Move aside Sarvana Bhavans and Udipi Eateries!

And now, the biggest blasphemy and most sacrilegious show of unforgivable irreverence of all. They now have a Salem of their own. A Salem in the state of Massachusetts! In fact they have nearly thirty Salems located in states from Alabama to Indiana and Iowa to Wisconsin. Well, I do not blame them for following the footsteps of a great man.

Now, coming back to the naming of cars after cities for that is how this tread started. Any self-respecting Indian would rather buy a car named after Indian cities than a Hyundai Tucson or a Ford Gran Torino, both now available in India. So how about

Ambassador Allahabad

Nano Naini

Maruti Mokama

Suzuki Singur

Hyundai Hogenakkal

Renault Ranchi

or .. .. .. a

Tata Tata

Thursday, 6 June 2013

गेट यानी घोटाला

देख कर न्यूज़ चैनलों की बकबक
श्रीमती जी थीं स्तब्ध हकबक
देखते-देखते एक न्यूज़ शो
अचानक ही बोल पड़ीं वो
अजी ये क्या होता है कोल गेट
क्या कोई नया टूथपेस्ट आया है
या किसी पुराने ब्रांड में ही कोयला मिलाया है
नमक वाला टूथपेस्ट तो सुना था
क्या अब कोयले से दाँत माँजने का समय आया है
और ये क्या है रेल गेट
क्या स्टेशन पर खुला नया कोई फाटक है
या जनता को फुसलाने का नया कोई नाटक है
अभी-अभी जो सुना था टू जी का स्पेक्ट्रम गेट
क्या भौतिकी का कोई नया पाठ है
या सतरंगी किरणों की कोई नई बंदर बाँट है
और ये कौन है फणीश मूर्ति उसका भी आई-गेट है
लगता है सबकुछ हो रहा मटियामेट  है

मैं चुप हो सुन रहा था
श्रीमती जी के सामान्य ज्ञान को गुन रहा था
ज़्यादा देर तक बोलीं तो न्यूज़ निकल जाएगा
इसी बीच कोई नया गेट खुल जाएगा
सोचा अनसुना करूँगा तो चुप हो जाएँगी
अपने मुँह का गेट बंद कर रसोई जाएँगी
थोड़ी खुश हुईं तो चाय भी पिलाएँगी

पर वो टलने वाली नहीं थी
बिना समझे हिलने वाली नहीं थी
बोलीं, चुप क्यों हो कुछ तो बताओ
इतने सारे गेट खोल रखे हैं
चोर घुसे जा रहे हैं, कुछ बंद भी कराओ
रात को दरवाजे बंद करके जाँचते हो
सुरक्षा की पोथी जो घर में बाँचते हो
इन गेटों से जो लूट मची है
क्यों नहीं बंद कराते
एक बंद नहीं होता कि दूसरा खुल जाता है
मोटी सांकल या सिटकनी क्यों नहीं लगाते

मैं बोला, भागवान, अब क्या-क्या गिनाऊँ
किस-किस गेट, किस घोटाले की कथा सुनाऊँ
कैसे-कैसे कांड प्रकरण कैसे तुम्हें बताऊँ
सब कुछ सड़ गया है देश में
डाकू घूम रहे हैं साधुओं के वेश में
ये गेटों का मायाजाल तुम क्या समझोगी
इन छोटे-छोटे गेटों को देख कर क्या करोगी
चलो एक बार इंडिया गेट ही दिखा लाऊँ
           ---ooo---

Monday, 27 May 2013

Match Fixing or Shenanigans of a Private Club


Whoever said that IPL T20 was cricket was deluding himself. It is a private club run by quasi-businessmen, part-criminal bunch of cronies who call themselves the Board of Control for Cricket in India. After all didn’t the BCCI say in the Supreme Court on September 29, 2004, "If India plays England, it is a match played by the official team of BCCI and not the official team of India." It even said that players like Sachin Tendulkar, Sourav Ganguly and Rahul Dravid played for the official team of the Board and were not the official team of India and that "We do not even fly the national flag nor do we use any national emblem in the activities of the Board". And like fools drunk on patriotism and national spirit, we had been hailing these players and indeed the entire Indian team as national heroes and role models for our children. We must thank the BCCI for this deposition in the Supreme Court, since we can now rest easy and say that what has been shamed is not the nation but the BCCI. Thank you BCCI, I am greatly relieved. You and you alone are answerable for the ignominy that you have brought to Indians. The rest of the world, however, still thinks that you administer the Indian Cricket and not merely a private club.

IPL T20 was never about cricket. It was a grand business plan for the rich middle-aged businessmen and sidelined corporate houses, who having got bored with fake board room deliberations that stamped family decisions as corporate ones, shareholder-funded family holidays in the Alps, motion sickness in private yacht cruises, extended tours of the beaches and jungles in company of young beauties in the name of printing calendars were looking for something new and stimulating. Here comes the IPL T20, which with its artificially created yet superficial city loyalities to teams filled with foreign players, attempted to stir up new emotions that was not commercial, not sexual, not show-biz and not routine business rivalry. Yet it was all of these.

What goes up must come down. And, what goes up fast falls like a meteorite, all burnt up, causing destruction all round. In just six to seven years, the IPL, in spite of having earned previously unheard of sums for the players, team owners and organisers has shown the murkiest faces of all these and has disappointed the innocent fans no end. All those breath-taking finishes, twenty five runs an over, three wickets in five minutes, unbelievable athletic dive yet missing that catch – were they all fake and fixed?

The BCCI claims it is a sports body, yet it refuses to subject its players to WADA regulations and tests. After all when the players have all night parties after matches, dancing with starlets and models, hobnobbing with match-fixers and shady middlemen, a little bit of drug-sniffing and ingestion of performance boosters may even be essential ingredients to make the amusement complete. The players even have private fashion shows, where a little bit of frolic in the aisles provides some colour to page 3 and make for interested viewership the next day. Why spoil the fun with silly rules like the “whereabout clause”.

BCCI seeks all favours from the government – elaborate police bandobast, special public bus services to ferry ticket-buyers to the arena, uninterrupted electricity supply to the game venues even as the rest of the city swelters in unbearable heat and cheap land for its private stadia. It makes a thousand crores a year, rakes in the moolah from non-transparent awards of TV rights (remember Nimbus?), sponsorships of venues and travel and hotels. Yet, it refuses to pay income tax and claims it is a charitable organisation!

Charity begins at home. And, a happy son in law makes a happy home. The double standards of this public body called the BCCI can’t be more stark in the refusal of its President, Srinivasan to step down. Whereas, for a weaker linkage to a scandal through a nephew, Pawan Bansal had to give up his Cabinet job due to intense media pressure and a CBI onslaught on a government functionary, Mr Srinivasan obviously thinks that the post of President of the BCCI is his birthright. A Secretary level officer of the Railways was arrested and suspended on accusations of bribery (giving, not taking) just on the basis of taped phone conversations. But Mr N Srinivasan refuses to resign and the media is only fashionably irritated with him. After all, they are in the same business together – money through entertainment, sponsorship and advertisements and of course they populate same social circuits. An Ashwani Kumar had to quit his Cabinet post for a non-criminal indiscretion in spite of solid support from the Prime Minister. Such is the incessant media din that even governments yield to their rumpus. But, not Mr N. Srinivasan. Even though a close relative, his own son in law, has been arrested on charges of match fixing, the BCCI President refuses to budge and claims support of his colleagues. After all, since the Board of Control for Cricket in India a charitable organisation, minor indiscretions like match fixing must be condoned. Indeed, he must be congratulated for having constituted a committee to enquire into the matter. So what, if a country of over a billion has been cheated of their money and fun of fair game entertainment.

BCCI’s Code of Conduct and anti-corruption rules (which specifically include betting and influencing a match) applies to all players and player support personnel and provides that they would be personally liable if any acts of omissions are committed even by their coach, trainer, manager, agent, family member or guest. The Code is indeed an impressive document and compares well with the Conduct Rules applicable to government officials. But, whereas government rules apply uniformly to all levels of officials ranging from a lower division clerk to a Secretary to the government, quite obviously the BCCI mandarins think they are above the rules they themselves make. So, Mr Srinivasan has proclaimed that none in the BCCI wants him to quit. Next, we will hear from Dawood Ibrahim that he can’t quit from his perch since none in his gang wants him to go!

Sorry, Mr Srinivasan! You are neither running a private club nor a charitable organisation. You deal with public money, collected at the ticket counters, paid for by consumers every time they buy a consumer product sponsored by your organisation and your puppet players, paid through cable TV subscriptions and DTH fees and through taxes paid to the government used in facilitating the massive jamborees of cricket India. You are running an outfit that is as unabashedly commercial as any other and must play by the same rules. Please follow your own rules that lay down that indiscretions by family members will deem to have been done by an official. A government officer is suspended and a minister loses his portfolio so that impartial enquiry is carried out. You must follow the same path. Quit, so that your lackeys that pass for independent members of the BCCI, can take a view not influenced by your benign presence as the President. Yes, we assure you that once you come out squeaky clean from the enquiry, we will restore to  you the position that you think God himself has bestowed upon you.

Sunday, 19 May 2013

If You Can't Change the Man, Change the Man


With the invasion of the semi-idiot box, the PC, all communication between parents and children and often between husband and wife is routed through the Internet. This ensures authenticity and provides a definite irrepudiability to the statement, just like an affidavit typed on a Remington typewriter by a semi-literate Notary Public and stamped “under oath before me”.

The speaker may claim later, "But, I didn’t say that! Do you think I would say such a thing ever to you?”

“No, Dear! You didn’t say that. Your IP address did.” 


In one such moment, my daughter advised my wife on the latter's timeline, “If you can’t change the man, change the man!” Wife was thrilled. Her daughter had voiced what lay suppressed in her heart all these years. She promptly shared it on my timeline. I like this sharing thing between the online avatars of real people. You don’t have to share anything substantial, nor move any of your possessions from your ownership to another person’s. Yet you have shared. New definitions of virtues and good behaviour, indeed!

Well, here was my on-line answer to “If you can’t change the man, change the man!”


Too late!
Now regret at leisure 
And think of the treasure
That you bagged
When you tagged
The man, Dear Wife!
Who for his life
Wields the knife
That'll cut your sorrow
And all the strife.
The daughter thinks skew
But there are few
Men like her dad
Who won't get mad
At her ways
And for endless days
Will love her still
Even when the bills
Of her shopping
And style hopping
Go beyond his means
And she but preens
So, Dear Wife!
And Daughter Dear!
You can't get a better one
Neither far nor near.

Thursday, 4 April 2013

दोस्त दी गड्डी - A New Car for My Friend

एक मेरे मित्र हैं, शौकीन और मिलनसार| हाल ही में उन्होंने एक नई मोटर गाड़ी खरीदी| अब गाड़ी क्या खरीदी, जान का जंजाल मोल ले लिया| आस पड़ोस वाले जल भुन गये उनकी बड़ी सी चमकदार सवारी को देख कर| मित्र परेशान, कैसे सुंदर गाड़ी को बुरी नज़रों से बचाएँ, कैसे शैतान छोकरों से रक्षा करें| इसी कश्मकश में पड़े रहते हैं, डरते-डरते मोटर को बाहर निकालते हैं, धीरे-धीरे चलाते हैं, तिरपाल से ढँक कर रखते हैं| उन्हीं की मनोदशा पर प्रस्तुत है एक छोटी सी कविता:
----------------------------------

एक हमारे मित्र हैं हुनरमंद होशियार
लाए खरीद बाज़ार से एक बड़ी सी कार
एक बड़ी सी कार नाम अर्टिगा राख्या
आस पड़ोस के सीने नागा लोटन लाग्या

नयी चमकती कार नवेली दुल्हन लागे
फीकी पड़ी पुरानी टाटा इसके आगे
दो गाड़ी की फेमिली बड़ी बात है
भारत के संभ्रांत वर्ग से लग गये आके

एम आइ चुकाएँगे रोज़ घूमने जाएँगे
अपने रथ में बैठ प्रात निश
पिकनिक मंदिर इंडिया गेट
होटल शॉपिंग और आखेट
हमको खूब जलाएँगे

दोस्त बंधु सब बगल खड़े हैं मुँह को बाये
सुंदर गाड़ी में भाई जी सैर कराएँ
जबसे गाड़ी द्वार लगी है शान बढ़ी
मन ही मन मियाँ बीबी फूले समाएँ

पर नयी गाड़ी साबोटाज ना हो जाए
अभी अभी जो लिया ताज ना खो जाए
कोई नटखट कौआ चिड़िया चोंच ना मारे
और गुज़रता छोरा कोई खरोंच ना मारे

ऐसे हैं भयभीत हमारे मित्र बहादुर
जैसे होली में घिर गयी सुंदरी नारी हो
बुरी नज़र ना लग जाए इस प्यारी को
कंबल से ढँक कर रखते हैं गाड़ी को

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