Nasties Beware!

They’ve found a peculiar life form in some obscure, murky lake in California that lives on Arsenic. Yes, people the most definitely fatal Arsenic. We can boast of this trivium since we’ve all watched the movies and read the trashy spy novels. So what, most people would ask – it’s no big deal. We discover new life forms all the time, because life is constantly evolving. So why the headlines? That's coz no life form so far was known to be As-friendly. Why do certain broad spectrum antibiotics that were earlier highly effective on pathogens over time lose their punch? That’s because the pathogens themselves are evolving and undergoing rapid mutations to become stronger and more immune. Earlier toothpastes used to contain Triclosan, a popular cleansing agent. But over the years Triclosan has lost its potency since it was so widely used in all cleansers (face washes, disinfectants, and wait for it.. even toilet cleaners) that the “nasties” are now immune to it. So we look for other substances.

Now do we realise that Cancer is basically mutated cells. And the worst of cancers are after all treated with the deadliest of poisons – more advance the stage, stronger the dosage of chemotherapy. They are killing the cancer with controlled quantities of poison and obviously the patient’s body takes a heavy toll too. People like Lance Armstrong survive deadly cancer because they are inherently very strong mentally and physically and their bodies can sustain the toxicity. Others, sadly, can’t.

With this build up, here’s the point I’m trying to make – aren’t we making nasties deadlier ourselves? We are poisoning ourselves, our environment, the entire food chain. Today a certain bacterium is compatible with Arsenic. If this bacterium turns into a pathogen, what do we kill it with? DDT? No – too much off it running through our veins already. Triclosan? Ineffective and useless. Chemotherapy? Oh wait, this pathogen actually likes chemotherapy. It feeds on it.
I’m not panicking nor do I intend to create panic. We have enough crises to worry about already – global warming slowly getting into the clichéd line now. I’m just trying to say that we can reduce the toxicity in our systems as much as possible today. Don’t drug yourself every time you have fever with antibiotics. Don’t use ultra strong disinfectants. Don’t drain all the soapy water in one go. Think of ways to conserve soap/detergents/disinfectants while you keep yourself aptly clean. The water you’ve washed clothes with can be used to flush your toilet and spare your toilet cleaner. Grow a kitchen garden. You spare yourself truckloads of pesticides that you get free with your groceries along with a good hobby/exercise. Grow plants all the time. Anytime. Anywhere. Tend to them. Green is good. Go organic, but also account for the huge carbon footprint of the air miles on that product. I remember talking to a ‘green’ person once and she proudly said – “We’ve got rid of the geysers in our house!” When I asked her how her family manages during winters, she stumped me with this – “We heat the water on the stove” So it’s important to realise which option is greener – is it 3 disposable paper cups in a day or a mug that someone is going to wash with “Pril” or “Vim” and pollute the water. We have to go down to the minutest of details when we make a green decision. Otherwise the nasties are going to get us soon!

Saying something stupid..

You know that feeling when your alter ego takes over? The feeling when you do the exact opposite of what you’re known to be? Well, sometimes, it’s just plain impossible to behave the way you always do or act the way you are supposed to. Sometimes, the outspoken resort to silence. Sometimes, the most expressive keep it to themselves. Sometimes, the timid stand up and stand out. Sometimes, the stoics slip up. Sometimes, the righteous draw grey. You find that you are not the person you are known to be. You find yourself not speaking up when you would have raved and ranted for hours. You think tons inside but draw a blank on the outside. You know when that happens – when the world is at war, and when you are hopelessly, desperately, irrevocably in love.

A crisis sees the best of men and the worst of men. Love just makes one become a better person.

Redefining.. or trying to..

Thoughts defy me. They've been evading me for quite a few weeks now. Every second day, I have been hitting my own blog like one of those Howard Wolowitz loser geeks and have been wondering what to come up with this time. I have been trying to look for something that's bugging me this time, or something I'm strongly feeling for, or even something that I found funny. But nothing seems to pop put.

So have I after all run out of things to write about or for that matter, think about and feel for? Or is that too many thoughts are crowding my preoccupied brain and indifferent heart that it is difficult to choose what to pen down? I would like to pretend it's the latter coz that makes me look quite profound.

The time I get to myself during my long commutes these days consumes me with random thoughts - thoughts about home, work, friends, the future.. what I expect of it.. It's like my mind goes into overdrive when I'm sitting in that crowded bus or standing next to a bunch of overwhelming jasmine. I'm thinking about what I'm doing with life, where I'm headed and more. Much much more. But it's all as if someone else is thinking all this for me. It doesn't disturb me - all this pondering. It's almost as if I'm thick skinned now. All these issues are neatly stacked away in a box as soon as I'm out of these 'episodes'. But I enjoy day dreaming about anything and everything too. I gave up my iPod and the overpowering music that I listen to to just think things through. Because in a way I also believe that if you think of something long and hard enough, it may actually come true. I believe in "The Secret".

I notice that even while I'm trying to figure out stuff for myself in this post, I'm actually just wandering around like I always do in my fits of thought-trains in train-thoughts. I guess that's why this space is called 'Imbroglio'. Coz that's me.

Hearty Hyderabad

I had always heard about the city - only with reference to food and pearls. The city had already come to me in some way or the other before - a friend's mom got me pearl earrings once. Another friend got me Karachi Bakery biscuits and another still got me biryani when he flew down which turned out to be amazing.

I landed here and bunked with friends. I got the tips and pointers I needed about the city. And as each day passed I built my own opinion of everyone and everything here.

It's a city drenched with history, old monuments still stand calmly by the roads laid with stone. Cultures blend here in the most unimaginable way. Muslims celebrate Ganeshotsav. Non vegetarian non-muslims make the most of Ramzan and savour Haleem. The name of every place is as colourful as the people - Begumpet to Jagathgirigutta - I'm pretty used to the names now. But initially I would step back to actually know what is what.

The food is a good blend for all palettes. You can't get enough of the biryanis. The bakeries are ubiquitous. And so are the South Indian Restaurants. I've had Italian, Lebanese and Thai food here - not that I haven't had these cuisines in other metros - but not at THESE prices.

The people are as warm as they are fun. Either they speak Telugu and have strong political opinions about Andhra and Telangana, or they speak Hindi with an attitude that leave you gaping for the first few conversations. After a while you find yourself speaking in the same way. There is a surprising Marathi, Oriya and Bihari influence in parts of the city too. And like every other place, the Marwadis adorn the markets turning Begum Bazaar and Lingampally into Mini Rajasthan where people are sticklers for Baba Ramdev products and follow the Swadeshi cult. You run into tribals at the Paradise crossing selling toy bows and arrows that you used to buy at Dusherra from the fair. You see one of them with a capacitor turned into a earring. And you wonder - East is east and west is west - and the twain do meet at times.

I wonder why I'm falling in love with this city so much. Probably it reminds me of where I come from - a city of smiling people with huge appetites. Perhaps I just like the food. Or the winding roads where driving is always a pleasure. It could be that I am comfortable with the work and the routine and touch wood, haven't had any tough times so far. Or may be, just may be, the friends I have here make all the difference. The friends who make for me - a home away from home.

Within and Without

When we were kids, the only grooming we would be subjected to was a frequent hair cut. The frequency would be decided by our moms. We just ended up sitting in those gigantic chairs, sometimes propped on extra cushions and see ourselves frowning while the nice lady would spray us with cold water snipping away to glory. As we grew up, we decided for ourselves, when it was time for 'more than just a hair cut'. And the list has always grown. For everyone today, a monthly visit to the salon is mandatory, regardless of the skin type, hair length, time available and willingness to invest/spend in this area (choice of verb here is again relative).

And it is not as simple as it used to be. These days you have to choose your salon carefully. You always have to call in first and take an appointment, unless you want to wait up queued in for hours and be subjected to the snobbish stares of the staff. You also have to be prepared for an overdose of "You Look Ugly" comments from the staff that provides you the services you are paying through your nose for. No matter how good or bad you look, while getting that treatment, the 'nice' lady would go on and on about how badly you need a "Hair Spa", a facial, an Anti-Tanning Treatment or a Fruit Peel. With all the jargon thrown at you, and you are trying to decipher how peeling something off would make it better, you are also told how tanned and wrinkled your skin is, how rough your hair is and how unhealthy your nails are.

With all the "Must Have" Procedures thrown at you, you either dismiss getting any other torture done by saying you'll come back later for the same, or you get brainwashed and agree to what they tell you to do. Either which way, the end result is unsatisfactory. While in the former scenario, you come out of the salon feeling worthless, insignificant and just another Plain Jane, in the latter case, you just feel thoroughly robbed. Of course, if you do get all the extra add-ons done, they can't stop telling you how magnificent you look while you're paying that fat bill!

So it's up to you. Either you brave that well lit mirror and sit up strong willed saying to yourself that you DO NOT need that Hair Power Dose which claims to transform your hair, or you go in there ready to empty your bank account to feel oh-so-pretty for a few hours.

Anyhow - you would always be beautiful. Being pretty is just ephemeral.

The box of nuts

The insignificance in life is sometimes most important. The moments we ignore to run after what we see at the end of the tunnel are the ones that might bring us that rare smile. I remember walking with my grandfather to the shop around the corner for petty things like curds and stationery. He was a slow, cautious walker. He used to stop once in a while to pick up a screw or a nut or a bolt lying in the way. I used to find it very funny as a child. It was a little game for me. I would hunt the road as we walked to find my own treasures and show them proudly to him. He would just smile - that soothing smile of his. When we would come back home, he would keep these random nuts and bolts in a little tin box. We had a full fledged tool box and whatever appliance would need to be fixed in the house, he would get to work - using these nuts and bolts as spares. The entire set of spanners, screw drivers, files, etc were neatly stacked in one place for these odd Sunday jobs. Whether it was oiling the rattling fan, or priming the motor, we were his enthusiastic and officious assistants. At the end of the operation we would be assigned marks on 100, but none of us every aced that score. He always saved a mark or two. And that kept us going.

When we grew up, he gave us his coin collection and his stamp collection, which is the best inheritance I could get. Both are rich, old and varied. I guess I get my fetish for collecting bus tickets, movie tickets, dinner bills and the works from him :) I remember saving wrappers of chocolate that I used to share with a friend. I collect all the junk in the world. But I've learnt that most often than not - all isn't junk after all.

So coming back to the small things in life - an auto wala chatting you up, or the song that you are humming that automatically starts playing in the mall you are at, the friend you are thinking about who's thinking about calling you the very same moment, or even the one scoop of strawberry ice cream that you treat yourself to - these are the insignificant things that make your life significant - make it worth living.

So while going down that road - look for your treasures. By the end of it, you'll have a box full of shiny and rusty nuts and bolts!

I keep walking

Another day, another mile

And more.

I smile and meet someone new

At every turn

And I keep walking.

I do not shy away

From what's around the corner

I face the music

The repercussions too

And I keep walking.

I sing along

With every tread

With every hop,

Skip and Jump

I just keep walking.

I fumble and fall

At times, of course

I get laughed at

How would they let go?

Yet, I get up,

Shake it off.. and keep walking.

The Last Summer

The only reason I would manage to bear the brunt of Final Exams back in school was that I knew that the summe holidays were around the corner. I would look forward to Nimbodi, Mangoes and guava at home, the Paratha - Jam/Sauce combos for an 11 o'clock breakfast, the innumerable carrom, ludo, cards sessions with kids in the neighbourhood in the afternoons and the heated and fiery "Sitoliyan", Cricket, Badminton and "Gadha Maar" in the evenings. Summers was a time to read good books, learn different arts and spend hours on the bicycle and in the locality swimming pool. I couldn't care less about how much I was tanning or where my hair was going. Those were the days of abandon.

As I grew up, the concept of a vacation changed drastically. A two week sabbatical is now a long vacation. Curling up with a book and coffee is all one needs. Partying at night thrown in makes my life happening. Shopping more of a chore for me, so that's off the list.

Graduating out of B-school in March brought in a pleasant surprise of 2 months for me before I started work. Time was the gift I got. The time that I would never get again - lazying around at home, catching up with school friends - dinners at the usual restaurants, late nights at Sarafa and Johnny Hot Dogs with Maaza, spending productive time in the kitchen, pretending to be useful at home and fighting with my parents over mundane things - just for the heck of it. I even ended up playing Nursery Rhymes on my guitar for toddlers at a friend's playschool :) These two months have been a blessing - a reward for staying away for so long. I got to spend time in the beautiful house my father created for us - the cosy nooks and crannies in my sunshine flooded room - the new house that we call home.

I don't know for sure when I will get to go back and do all of this ever again. But I'm glad that I made the most of it now and I'm thankful for this Indori Summer.

Political Incorrection

Everyone has had their share of cringy moments. Even if it is the US Chief of Protocol. How ironical is this - The Chief of Protocol slipping in front of the First Families of the US AND Mexico as she took a tentative step to welcome the latter. But then, she is after all a woman with slender black legs balancing herself on an impossible pair of shoes. Then why the hue and cry about the mishap. Well, coz we are all insecure. We are too scared of our own slips and misses that we nab every chance we get to ridicule the others. Coz the day we slip, they would definitely jeer at us.

The series of faux pas for me has been exceptionally elaborate. I have suffered from Foot in Mouth Disease ever since I remember. I have always been butter fingered. I have managed to drop glassware only when the most revered guest is gracing us with his presence. I have managed to spill food only when I’m supposed to be graceful. I have managed to enter a room without knocking the door only when I was supposed to keep away. I have had fits of blabbering only when I was expected to be quiet and impressive. I’ve been there, done that and I know how it is to think about something in the past, knit your eyebrows, gulp it down and get a weird feeling in your tummy.

But then you think to yourself, I bet everyone has their share of ‘faux pas’. Everyone regrets what they once said or did. At least you hope they did. Coz that makes you feel less stupid.

And what is life if you’re too cautious, if you’re too scared to live it out.. if you’re too scared to try going the extra mile.. Coz, if you calculate and weigh every moment.. the moment has already passed you by…

Shoed In

I am really not a good shopper. I don't have the patience to try on ten different things and then shortlist them or browse every shop in a mall before deciding what to buy. I'm one of those people who would just roam around aimlessly in the aisles and if my eyes fall upon something I like, I would pick it up. As simple as that. Also, I cannot shop for more than 2 hours. After a while I either get bored or tired or hungry, whichever sooner. But some of my friends have amazing stamina and a huge appetite for shopping. Of course a huge wallet along with that is a given. They hit the mall and shop as if they're on a mission to save the world. They start with one store, comb it down till they are satisfied and then move to the next display. They leave their house with a mental check list of sorts. They always know what exactly they want and seem to find everything all the time. I have found myself having a vague idea of what I'd like in my wardrobe next. Something as uncomplicated as a "white shirt" or "a pair of jeans". But these mall 'chicks' of prey know exactly what they're looking for - "a sequined black tank top to go with my blue skirt". What's incredible is that they find that tank top. And along with that, they buy 3 more shirts, 2 pairs of jeans that seem to be 'essentials', 3 pairs of shoes 'cause i just ADORE them!!' and earrings - that the shop assistant 'just threw in'.

I love this shopping pattern but one thing is still hard to digest. Why do they buy those 3 pairs of shoes? In their rooms I notice that there is a special place for the 50 pairs of shoes that they already own and we're still counting. They don't wear them down. They always have at least 4 pairs that can go with their outfit at a time. So why do women have this 'fetish' of owning bags, shoes, watches, belts, bangles and earrings?? Well, I have a nasty, yet simple theory behind that. And here it goes.

Clothes can go out of style. You can outgrow a pair of jeans. You may not be able to get into that LBD anymore. You may have tanned little too much to carry off a certain colour. But no matter what your weight or waistline, you can always wear those pretty shoes and strut around feeling special. You can always carry that zany tote that you picked up at some season sale and still be "en vogue". It's best to collect items and accessories that transcend boundaries built by age, weight, colour and 'fashion' as labelled by the Elle's and the Vogue's of the world that could write off the brand new pair of skinny jeans I bought weeks ago.

Thus, follow the smart ones people - the likes of Oprah Winfrey, Carrie in SATC and many many more. Invest in shoes, bags, belts and more. Because you will never grow out of them. The more the merrier. Coz I get to borrow them - a size 6 anyone???

The power to be heard

We always have so much to say but think it's futile coz we know that we won't be heard. What's the point of crying yourself hoarse when there's no one listening to you. Why make a point when it won't be appreciated. But then, what if, one fine day, you get that audience, the spotlight that you need - what point will you make then?

Amitabh Bachchan has enjoyed the spotlight for so many decades now. He and his family are always making front page news regardless of the significance of the issue. He blogs everyday. And every post of his enjoys atleast 200 comments. We can only imagine how many people follow him - coz most readers don't comment. And all these people are his die-hard fans - who hang on to every word that he writes (does he write everyday or has he hired someone to do it?) He is well read man. He can motivate, orient and raise awareness about so may pertinent issues.

Anyway, if by some stroke of luck, if I ever get the platform to be heard - what opinion would I voice? Would it be petty scoops about my son and daughter-in-law, or subliminal marketing of my movies and products that I endorse? Or would it be something bigger, something that concerns everybody, something more profound and something that enlightens, inspires and gets the people who follow my thoughts to pause and ponder on issues that really matter? Would I be too pre-occcupied by myself and my PR that I forget that the power to be heard is rare and must be used prudently? Would I spread hope and positivity or delve over controversies and create a negative influence with my words? Would I praise the goodness around me or malign the wrong deeds?

So if your voice reaches millions - use it for the greater good. Not to demand apologies and justifiy your deeds. It's not a confession box!

Step Up!

Life is so ephemeral. Yet we waste hours of the day planning, scheming, holding back and shying away. We put things off for some other day. We postpone calling the long lost friend. We ignore the small voice that asks us to say sorry to the people we've wronged. We cross people around us only to regret it when it's too late - too late to mend things, only to live with the guilt forever. We don't go that extra mile to tell our family how much we love them and care for them only to end up alone one day.

We take up the important business opportunity and leave our parents only to come back only when they're not in good shape. We laze around in calling people up, in mailing them a simple "Hi! How are you?". We don't mind losing touch with people who don't matter anymore but will, some day. We leave loose threads while we spin the webs of our lives and we end up with broken stories.

So finish your stories today. Make that call. Write to your friend. Say sorry. Go the extra mile. Go home and spend time with family. Coz Time doesn't wait for you to finish your stories. Make sure that if you don't have to loom around thanks to some unfinished business.

"Ever Thine, Ever Mine, Ever Ours..."

Beethoven wrote this for his love in a letter some centuries ago. The word 'ever' is used so liberally and confidently by these people. A 'Happily ever after' and 'forever and ever' are words we seldom use. Or at least quite scared of. We are more of the ephemeral sorts. We like to keep things for now. For today. We don't plan ahead. Our minds are fickle. We don't know what we'd want two years from now and hence, we expect the same from others around us. Since we are so unsure of ourselves, we tend to be unsure of others. Words like 'till death do us apart' are now nice in chick flicks where the girl always gets her dream guy and her perfect dream wedding in her perfect wedding dress. The end of the movie makes you believe that she's gonna have the perfect marriage and the perfect kids with the perfect life. Just because she looked gorgeous on her wedding day. But the cynic in me now knows that a 'happily ever after' isn't for everyone. I mean, I don't want to negate any possibility. Some part of me still wants that fairy tale to realize. But just so if it doesn't, I want to take the safe shelter of being a 'grown up' and never having to be ashamed of living in my dreams.

The ads, sitcoms, videos and movies propagate the concept of 'there's no tomorrow'. Whether it's Barney in HIMYIM or the people on Emotional Atyachaar or even the protagonists of a Fast Track ad, everyone believes in instant gratification. And then I saw Veer Zaara yet again - a movie oozing with selfless love - overflowing with romance in every scene, that left me bewildered and conflicted in more ways than one.

So where are we headed? Can true love exist in the age of instant coffee and instant protection? Or is it just something we like to read about and watch? Does a couple always have to break up the moment one moves out of town? Or can love transcend boundaries, communities and more? Can love stand up for itself or do we ignore it just because it's too cumbersome? In all these questions we all want to ask ourselves - are we strong enough to love, and be loved? Not the convenient kind, but the one that demands more - much more.

In the meanwhile we can enjoy Barney's escapades, Samantha's whims and be smug in the misery (or is it?) of people who put their loved ones to the loyalty test because they don't trust them and then wail and whine the moment the 'suspect' gets cozy with a complete stranger in this sex,attention and drama starved nation.

Let's play Doctor

A friend (for more on him, refer his blog) pointed out that if you listen to me yap for an hour, you will hear at least one reference to medical science. That's when the glass broke. I realised it's true. But I really can't help it. I have grown up hearing passively conversations revolving around Medicine. My Pathologist father would discuss all sorts of tissues with my mom - carcinomas, malignancy, benign, CA - these were terms that we are used to and are quite indifferent to at home. My Anesthetist mother would tell him in return about her surgeries all day - hypertensive patient, obese, difficult to intubate. So, every evening we have had our dose of medicine. We are even used to my father explaining to the physician on the phone as they discuss a patient, the consistency of the tissue - he always compares it to food - curd like consistency, ghee like appearance, mango colour. We never found it gross although we complain about it endlessly. We are at home with this jargon.

As a kid, I would sit in my dad's chair in his lab and see myself there 20 years down the line. In my heart of hearts, I guess I wanted to be Dr. Apoorva Raje. The perks of belonging to a doctor family were taken for granted by us. Whenever we would fall sick, we would get VIP treatment. Of course the downside for having a Pathologist at home is that he takes your blood sample every single time you have fever. But some part of me always liked all the paraphernalia. Especially the little blue gadget that pricks the tip of your finger to test your sugar. My dad's briefcase is one of the most sacred things at home. It has a special place in the house. It is what we carry as we see him off every morning and run to collect as we hear his car park at the gate every evening. It has always had the same arrangement of all basic instruments.. a box for slides, cuvettes, syringes neatly lined up, flaps for cheques, a diary, two pens and a pencil. But my favourite item in this cornucopia is the spirit swab. I still steal a bit to remove my nail enamel even though it makes my nails brittle and is less effective than my nail paint remover.

Whether it was circumstances, or practical choices or objective ruling out, but I ended up being an Engineer, and now an MBA. Not that I have any regrets, but I guess the kid still wants to have some association with Medicine. I guess that's why I gloat with my half-ass understanding of medical terms, the 'Compounder' in me always has some advice to give my friends when they fall sick, I always have a ready supply of basic medicines with me whether I'm travelling or not and yes, anything related remotely to the profession engrosses me.

So the next time I rant out that I'm "Hypoglycemic", it just means I'm hungry, or if I call someone "alopecic" it means that that someone is bald. Kindly ignore. I'm not trying to show off, I'm just talking like they talk at home :)

Dreaded Feb

It started off with a small spark somewhere. They must've just thought of it as a brand new line extension. It worked for them. But it also led to increased suicide rates at this time of the year. A decade ago, no one knew about the dire necessity to go to a shop flooding with trinkets, teddy bears, giant tigers, cute pandas stuffed scarily, cards for every occasion from constipation to diarrhea, and buying some useless 'item' worth 10 bucks for 80 and doling it out for someone special as they call it, with more sap drooling from the corners of their mouths. But now it's quite ubiquitous. Rather, it's more like a ritual. Now it's tradition. It's as historical as Christmas.

Well, historical it certainly is. When I was a teenager and this fad was just kicking in, an elite group of the erudite were bestowing us with their presence at home for dinner. They laughed about it and told us the real story of St. Valentine. (I'm not gonna tell you, research on your own - Wiki/Google). It had nothing to do with what it has been made to mean today by the gift shops and the greeting card companies. But little did they know, that the bug was for the masses. The bug to feel wanted, to feel special, to feel worth spending money for.

So now that almost everyone except the fanatics and the extremists have warmed up to the idea, it is high time we acknowledge it whether we like it or not. It's not just cynics who happen to be single at this fateful time of the year criticize the concept. Even when one is in a relationship, it's more of an obligation to 'show' your LOWE. Some times, you may even think that it's just another day and not do anything at all just so you are the cooler lot and above the 'lame' crowd. Face it, you just wanna save money :).

The tumour's getting bigger though and pressing on the optic nerve. It has stretched to a week now, with Rose Day and Propose Day and Sneeze Day and what not. I mean, get a life people. Only because you get spam from a multi-million dollar greeting/gift churning company compelling you to do something on that 'day' else all hell breaks loose on you, you don't have to comply.

It's a good industry though. Flowers, roses to be precise, sold at double the usual price, cards, teddy bears, goldfish, pets, diamond jewellry, watches, movie tickets, dinners at restaurants, parties and bashes, hotels and B&Bs, resorts, spas.. are all milking out of this one notion. The notion of being with someone.

What's on YOUR mind????

These social networking sites always ask you what's on your mind. They want you to tell the world how you're feeling at all times. Better still, they want to add that spice in your friends' lives - whenever they log in, they get to know, who's being dumped, who's chasing who, who is elated at some mundane event in his life that doesn't matter to the rest of the world, but now, it suddenly makes all the difference.

We all use those spaces to speak our mind. Observing and participating myself in these trivialities, i have drawn a few mental patterns about this queer activity. Let's see if I can map all the categories successfully:-

1. The Currents: They post links to their favourite game that happened recently, or some speech delivered by some controversial public figure. They like to keep themselves updated and want to enlighten everyone around them. Fake Alert: Watch out for the show offs who merely wanna let everyone know what they've been reading and how vigilant they are.

2. The Weepers: They are always whining about their lives. They won't tell their best friend what's eating them but they are okay with letting the whole world know how deep they are. My full sympathies go out to these 'piners'. Nothing wrong with being honest about what's on your mind, as long as it doesn't trouble people who look out for you. Keep them in the loop. Otherwise, you are actually providing the rest of the people who don't care and who don't matter with something to look forward to and laugh about every single day. So keep going. If you collate all your status messages you could create a best-selling journal or even, a hit movie that belongs to parallel cinema.

3. The Warm-Fussies: These are the lucky few who live in Mush Land. They don't care about what their image would be in their acquaintance circle. They pour out all their sap online. They think that the only person reading their updates is their ONE. But sadly, the whole world is exposed to the turns your love life is taking. And I speak for all of them when I say - Spare us the sugar, honey!

4. The Salesmen: This is essentially a male trait. They will give their current location and phone number along with their social security number, their address. They expect that the whole world should know their whereabouts just like we know Obama's. "Boston, this is The White House. The Eagle has landed. I repeat. The Eagle has landed." Dude! No one is going to call you. Give it up. Take your phone number off your status.

5. The Pseudo-Gloats: Their status messages always involve a piece of trivium that is totally irrelevant but is always true. It is twisted in such a way that it sounds as if the gloat is merely stating a fact, but is a self-praise in disguise. It creates an awe in the readers' minds about the gloat. But sadly, the awe is ephemeral. It's more like 'shucks and awwwwwwwwww'.

6. The Quoters: They are the most jobless people in the world. I know of people who actually spend half an hour every week digging out funny, profound or just plain weird quotes from books and the internet to post them on their profiles. They obviously expect their friends to comment on these unoriginal and banal notions. I am completely okay with the quotes, people, but the constant persuasion to comment on these impersonal messages is further adding to the under-productivity and inefficiency in this world. If you revel in your joblessness, you shouldn't need company out there now, shouldn't you?!

7. The Cubby-Holers: They are under this misconception that all their acquaintances know their current friend circle inside out. Their status messages include recent developments in their and their friends' lives without any reference to context mentioned alongside. Sometimes, this may lead to very strange inferences and yes, a stain on your reputation. So beware!

8. The Altos: They will always harp on the song they are listening to or the current favourite. Some post their entire playlists. Others merely pick up on a cool rock number and show off with it. The song usually means something - I guess, their current state of mind. But who cares. All this does is gets that particular song on the readers' minds too. If they don't like it, a choice of abuses is slewn at you via the telepathy route. Even if they like it, you don't earn any brownie points, they will still think you are showing off.

9. The Spectators: They are a few who merely watch the other eight prance about every day with a new state of mind. It's fun to do so. It's like a daily soap everyone is hooked on. So bring on the masala! No one seems to mind.

I am not saying anything is right or wrong. I am not even stereotyping anything or anybody. I am sure you have tried to find your best fit in the above few slots. I am also sure you are being judgmental about how judgmental I am :). My friends know I am the last one to be judgmental. Trust me, these are honest observations based on the many many friends I am blessed with. I am also quite confident that many will find more than one match for themselves. I certainly believe that when blogs came into existence, half the web was highly skeptical about them - about the power of expression a blog gives - about the freedom of thought and how it could affect the masses - about opinions - millions of them, being read, rebuked and appreciated. How about this now - whether it is Twitter, Gtalk, Facebook or Orkut, I can post my thoughts, my views, my opinions by the minute. A blog is still a well contemplated journal, but random thoughts are more potent, more personal, more impulsive. What do you do about these fast flying emotions that reach out to everyone around like plague?

Lalit Chacha

He used to come to our house at 11 30 in the night after my parents would've slept off. He would throw stones on the metal name plate outside to wake them up. These days he calls at 7 in the evening and lands at around 10. This is a huge improvement.

He is one of my father's best friends from medical school. He was his junior. But now he is family. And he's always been Chacha for me.

He has come a long way. As a young boy, he used to sell newspapers. One day, he was teeming with a happy secret and was bubbling to share it with someone. He told one man as he sold him a paper, "Iss mein mera naam hai.." The man shirked him off. That day, the paper contained the PMT results. He had made it.

In medical college, he was in NCC with my dad. They went on this trip to Amarkantak which was headed by my dad. At one station, my dad asked him to pack breakfast for the whole group. Lalit Chacha gladly got off on the station. There was no sight of him for a good twenty minutes. The train started to leave the station. One of the cadets went to another coach and pulled the chain. After 10 more minutes, they saw Chacha bringing in one large fruit basket full of Aloo Puri. He got an earful from my dad, but also added to his long list of interesting stories to tell.

He decided to take his bicycle out for a ride. For a long ride. So he set off. He set out for an All India trip. He travelled from city to city. He used to go to every police station and get them to sign his little book. He used to eat once daily - at night. And he used to drink milk.

He got into government service. He was posted at Omkareshwar. For the uninitiated, Omkareshwar is at the banks of a winding Narmada. A beautiful temple, a dainty bridge and the placid, meandering Narmada. Lalit Chacha used to go on frequent swims into the river. One fine day, he got inside and thought to himself, "How long can one stay in water" So he decided to check. he kept swimming. People started noticing. Some acquaintances were concerned. They said, "Daaksaab, ab bahut ho gaya.. chaliye" Lalit Chacha asked them to go fly a kite. After a while, a reporter from somewhere came along on a boat and asked him, "Aap jo yeh kar rahein hain, aap kis maksad se kar rahein hain.. aap kya message dena chahenge bharat ke naujawano ko?" Chacha asked him to row a boat. Figuratively. After a while, Chacha heard some band playing on the banks. Someone came to him again and said, "Daaksaab, ab chaliye, 12 ghante ho gayein hain.. yeh band aap ke liye baj raha hai" He was dragged out. They didn't let him wear his clothes. They carried out a procession to his house, playing "Yeh desh hai veer jawano ka" on the way. For months later on, his skin peeled off like that of a boiled potato.

Today, he is one of the Padma Shree hopefuls in the country. He pioneered Family Planning Operations in villages all over Madhya Pradesh. He conducts camps in one village or the other almost every day. He gets some sleep in his rickety jeep on the way. He reaches the camp where some 500 people are already in queue, waiting for "Doorbeen Wale Baba". That's the rural name for a Laparoscope, with which he carries out his surgeries in less than a minute each. These surgeries are performed usually in community halls with makeshift OTs. Painless, foolproof surgeries that end only with a convenient band-aid. It's a revolutionary concept. It's a mundane area that he has turned around into a strong tool for woman empowerment, familly welfare and overall economic development.

He is used to the numerous felicitations. But he is as grounded as he was thirty years ago. He is humble, simple and lovable. He is a confused father to two lovely girls. He seeks my father's help in understanding them. My dad uses his experience with me to advise him. I don't think it helps much. He is one of those people in my life, who I will always look up to. If today I am proud to be a frank, straight forward person who can easily demarcate right from wrong, it is due to Chacha's presence in my life. So here's to you Lalit Chacha, Cheers!!

I am an Idiot :)

I didn’t know anything about the movie. I hadn’t seen any trailers. I hadn’t even heard the music. And thank heavens for that. Because I guess I wouldn’t have been as moved as I was when I watched the movie.

In my previous blogs, I have mentioned how much I detest the Education System of India. Some of my career plans surround this very notion. I am just more than glad that someone thought of bringing this up and that too, so powerfully. Yet, they didn’t make it offensive. They didn’t blame anyone.

The movie begins with an innocuous Madhavan in the seat of a flight about to take off. You think to yourself that he will be the bystander in the movie. Till you see him stop the plane by faking a medical emergency. For those who haven’t watched the movie, this is the last bit I am divulging. There won’t be any more spoilers.

The movie shows how things are. You are smug when you see all the intricacies of typical college life. The ragging sessions, the daaru sessions on the remote Tanki, the nerds who are always royally jacked, the dreamers who sit at the balcony strumming their guitar and the profs who carry the names bestowed upon them by the students and attempt to get every quirky student in line.

The movie carries with it an energy that is so contagious, you don’t stop smiling. You are on a roller coaster ride, shocked one moment, in splits the next, crying the other and laughing again at the hopelessness of it all. The guys are awesome. I saw myself in the movie at so many points. I saw my friends in many scenes. I saw my parents, my siblings, my teachers, and even Millimetre reminded me of the Chhotus that have in some way touched my life as a student.

The climax makes you wonder whether they’ve gone overboard. But it all fits in the end.

Amir is adorable as a 19 year old. The way he walks, the way he scratches his head, the way he says to himself, “Aal eez well” and the innocent yet intelligent sparkle in his eyes passes him off as a teenager in Engineer college brilliantly.

I am watching the movie again. J J

PS: Am posting this after I saw the movie again last night. You can see only a glimpse here and there of Five Point Someone. So I'd like to ask Mr. Bhagat to step back and not try to milk any attention out of the accolades the movie is receiving. The script doesn't belong to him. Neither does the limelight.