Still looking for the starting gun

Had gone to Delhi for a 'special' celebration of my birthday (or 'budday' as they call it in North India). Nothing really special, except that 12-13 guys showed up at midnight, sans any girlfriends/wives, so the gathering turned into more of a bachelor party :) Not that I am complaining.

So I turned 26 on 24th. Big deal. I guess I have crossed the age limit after which you avoid birthdays like the plague. I am reminded of the lyrics of Pink Floyd's Time:

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain.
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today.
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.

So you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again.
The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older,
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.

Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time.
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
...

Story of my life. I distinctly remember being a confused chap at 16. Still no closer to clarity at 26. Well, as they say, "its a phase. It will pass on...". Guess I will just have to wait and watch.

Meanwhile, a happy 56th birthday to our Indian republic!

-Asterix

A weekend less ordinary

Nothing awesome happens in my life. Ever. Atleast not something earth-shattering. But this weekend was interesting enough to warrant a mention.

With my wingmate Raghu in town for the Mumbai marathon on Sunday, I decided to pay him a visit. Now I also harboured a desire to run in the marathon but the registration date was long gone. Anyway, so Saturday was nothing special...just that it was Basant so there was a kite-flying festival in Shivaji Park. A few of us went there, led by the rumors that some small time celebrities would be there. The kites were bad, the background music loud, air thick with dust, and we couldn't spot anyone famous so we did the usual babe-gazing stuff at Barista and CCD and came back. The conventional evening ended with a conventional bottle of strong beer. However, I had decided to wake up early next morning and cheer two of my friends in the marathon.

So the next morning, I found myself at the Metro Cinema, amidst masses of runners, who were attaching bibs to their t-shirts, having a last smoke before the big race or doing general timepass. The excitement in the air was palpable and the crowd was very lively. There were 10 year old kids as well as 65 year old ladies as participants. I was really glad to be there.

In the middle of all this rush, a BMW-X5 came near me and rolled to a stop dead beside me. Now I have seen better SUVs, but I was never seen Abhishek Bachchan sitting in anyone of them :) So, a celebrity-starved Delhi boy like me was pretty thrilled on seeing a big actor from 2 feet away.

Anyway, the half-marathon had already started and after the Dream Run started around 1.5 hrs later, I decided to enjoy the breeze at the sea front for sometime. Soon, the half-marathon runners were returning from their long haul and every one on the sidewalks began cheering them on for their last 1-2 kms. For me, the feeling of having come so far and not run became too depressing, so I ran along with the runners, although on the sidewalk, drawing smiles from some runners and event-organizers. I accompanied them from Marine Lines to Victoria Terminus (a distance of around 1.5 kms).

After the marathon, killed some time in McDonalds with Raghu (who, by the way, had clocked < 2.5 hrs for 21 kms) before going home. Well, home was not to be, and we ended up seeing Wedding Crashers (so-so timepass).

The gastronomic highlight of the day was a visit to Goa-Portugesa, which is 50 metres away from Raghu's house. It is a 26 year old place, highly acclaimed by many international travellers as well as Mumbaikers. The list of visitors includes the who's who of the city. It serves authentic Goan and South Indian food, along with drinks. My first impression of the place was that it would only serve sea-food (which is excellent I am told), but the variety of vegetarian food is amazing too. Had some Goan paneer starters :), a hot spicy Chettinaad dish, and a finger-licking tasty cashew-coconut Goan Sukem, along with a helluva load of appams.

Man! the food (esp. Sukem) was so good, I was willing to work there for food. Will definitely visit the place more often. One interesting tidbit - the menu (which was beautifully designed) contained a story about the place's beginnings. The lady who is the CEO of the place, missed Goan food after moving to Bombay. So she started the restaurant with her husband. And he, by the way, is an M.D. as well as a special police officer and drives a Harley Davidson !! The lady also was a customs officer before marriage. Boy! talk about the force being with you :)

They say that a marathon is going to be held in Delhi soon. Maybe I will get a chance there (sigh).

Hungry and wanting more good food and awesome marathons,
Asterix

Mera number kab aayega ??

Thats Hindi for "When am I gonna get my chance at ... ?". The issue in this case is marriage.
In the coming few days, two of my friends are getting hitched (not to each other, atleast not until they legalize same-sex marriages in India). While for me, it means yet more free food, the most comforting feeling is that - "Hey! good things like these can surely happen to guys like us!! :)"

Thats a very comfortable thought indeed. Trying my hands at losing my single status a few times, and succeeding only partially, I have temporarily given up on any such endeavours in the near future. The motto of the day is - "let the parents do the dirty job of finding a decent girl". We are living in good times my friend. Wait, no , change that to - we are living in a good country my friend. One where arranged marriage is always a saviour of poor souls like me. I am ok with arranged marriage, heck! 80% of the marriages in India are arranged (ok ok I made that statistic up, so sue me!). My only problem with it can be summed up in one sentence that my mom said to me.

It happened like the following. Picture this - me narrating my 'criteria' of a decent girl to my mom, and my mom going 'uh huh, ok, carry on...' and so forth. After I finished my lengthy monologue, I asked my mom - "Ma is it unreasonable to try and find a girl like this?". And my wise mom replies - "No son, it is not unreasonable to demand, but sure is impossible to get".

So until I stop freaking out from that comment, I am still gonna hold on tightly to my bachelorhood and make my fellow Aquarians proud of me :) (Saying goes that in a gang of friends, the Aquarians are typically the last ones to marry).

Riding into the sunset ?

A long long time ago, from the wild wild North, came two cowboys - Jai and Veeru. All they wanted was sanctuary, after years of oppression at the hands of the ranch-lords back home. Their aims were noble - they desired to learn gunfighting from the very best. These experts were the fastest hands in the west, who, funnily enough, were frequently and fondly called chair or vice-chair by their peers. And why did our two cowboys want to get involved in this deadly art ? Well, so that no one would ever hold them at gunpoint or take advantage of their clumsiness with the trigger, back home. So that when they go back, they would be able to defend their own land and property, instead of being a mute spectator of the doings of the ranchlords.

Little did they know the fate that was awaiting them in the west. While Veeru had had one and a half years of prior gun training and knew how to shoot ducks from 50 metres, Jai was a rookie in the game of barrels and bullets. To compensate for this, Jai's guru told him to learn and learn fast. Waking up as early as 11 o'clock day after day and shooting till 4 o clock in the a.m. became a norm for him. Since he was a baby in this big bad world, he took on not one or two but three masters - he practiced the revolver with one, the sniper-rifle with another and his true love, the semi-automatic, with the third. So obsessed did he become with this semi-automatic, that he starting reading about its internals, its mechanics, special bullets and stuff. Soon the village kids were coming to him with questions and he was more than happy to oblige.



But what the poor Jai didn't realise was that while feeling secure with a gun was one thing, being loved by a fair lass was another, and much bigger, feeling. While Jai was in the shooting ranges, his buddy Veeru had become helplessly romantically entangled with Basanti. Veeru, unlike Jai, had an experienced hand with guns. So he had all the time in the world to whisper sweet nothings into the willing ears of Basanti.

This went on for four months and a half. The training came to an end, and the time to test their skills had come. As expected, Veeru, through sheer experience, and love-charged batteries, came out with flying colors. And Jai was struggling with gruelling exams one after another. And then came the call for help from the North! The fate of the North depended on the newly learnt abilities of these two young men. Finishing their training quickly, they mounted their steeds, took off their hats in admiration of the west, and rode North.



But while Veeru had the feeling of surety, the feeling that only someone in love can experience, there was no such luck for Jai. Uncomfortably and unknowingly he nudged his horse towards his destination.



Watch this space to know more about Jai and Veeru's story.....some of the biggest mysteries will be unfolded over the next few days, like:
Did Veeru marry Basanti, or was he just fooling around?
Did Jai make it to the North alive?
Did Jai find true love (in the form of a girl, rather than a gun) ?
Was Veeru's experience mighty enough to save their village from the ravages of the ranchlords?
Was Jai's love for the semi-automatic powerful enough to pull him back to the west?

Some teasers of the coming episodes...

....
Jai (screaming): Veeru is my friend and I can't let him go away and marry..
....

....
Ranchlords firing incessantly at the dynamic duo. Veeru doing the double revolver cowboy stunt and Jai doing a Matrixesque move to dodge the bullets...
....

....
(A girl's voice, we can't see her face) : Jai....I wanted to tell you something...I love you..
....

Black diwali

You know that you are no more young when your younger brother wears three-quarters and you think it is childish. Well, atleast that's what happened to me when I met my folks for Diwali. Oh, by the way, hope all you guys and gals had a happy diwali !

Speaking of Diwali, it sure was a really black one for all of us. With the triple bomb blasts in Delhi, it was a tainted diwali for us Indians. Stuff like this has been happening for a while now. Innocent civilians have been dying every day, every week for many years now. Personally, my patience has really run out. Its really difficult to keep one's cool especially after seeing the gory scenes on the news. Its one thing to read a statistic in the newspaper and another to see victims' guts sprayed inside out on the streets and bodies of children everywhere. Its all so disgusting that its hard to feel anything but hatred. Faith in humanity seems to be lost. And then one hears about people, like the bus driver and conductor who emptied the bus and saved many lives. And some faith is restored. The driver lost one eye while disposing the bomb but many families will eternally be grateful to him.

One thing that hurts the most is the extremely low value we place on human lives. We read news of terrorist acts in the same breath as cricket scores. And we dont flinch. Not a bit. What does it take for the government to sit straight and take notice ? The parliament, the center of the democracy, was attacked not long back. And what did we do ? Move our troops to the border, made all kinds of noises. And retreated.

No, I don't want war. The lives of innocent people cannot be avenged by killing more innocent people. But something should be done to construct a very effective deterrent. A country of a billion people, a wannabe superpower, if it cannot protect the lives of its own, if a few puny mercenaries can make mockery out of its border security, such a nation will never be taken seriously.
Its high time we took off our Mahatma Gandhi robe and put on the garbs of Sardar Patel and Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose.

Breakfast finally!, not at Tiffany's though.

The human mind works in funny ways. Or so it seems after pulling in a textbook all-nighter. The one where you start working post-dinner and go to bed post-breakfast. Been a while since I did that.
Just came back from the Sunday breakfast and am writing this, so it may be incoherent. What I couldn't understand about the breakfast was that what on earth were those ten other guys doing at 8 in the morning on a sunday in the mess hall !!! This is supposed to be IIT, where people are so exhausted from playing comp games on a weekend, that they develop carpal-tunnel overnight. I guess the IIT Bombay chaps are way too geeky as compared to their Delhi counterparts.

Now that some pooris are inside my stomach, I feel pretty good. The illusion of Homer Simpson guzzling a Duff has vanished and the brain seems to have come out of the twilight zone. Guess I should eat breakfast more often than once a year.

Oh one last thing though . I couldn't help recalling those 9:29 a.m. jalebi sessions on Shivalik Sundays :( . Going to bed at 7am on a sunday, waking at 9:29 and grabbing the last few pieces of jalebis from the mess hall and going back to bed - now that requires superhuman willpower.

First one bites the dust

This is reporter Asterix reporting the aftermath of the Mehta-Gupta alliance ceremony which took place on 10th October in Meerut. Needless to say, this is the first LP wedding to take place and needs special attention and description. To do that, the LP group needed plenty of eyewitnesses. And just like the three magi who came to see Jesus on his birth, there were three LP-ites to witness the magic moment - PJ, Praywin and myself.

The mysterious absence of Chummi was often talked about, and the even more mysterious "I may make it" email of Aggy was frequently laughed at. Sources close to Chummi say that he had used the pretext of going to the wedding to sneak off to his own pre-marital honeymoon. Sources close to Aggy say that his email was just his usual "I am alive" packet that he sends every three months.

Anyway, coming to the wedding now. So Praywin and I reached Meerut at 11pm on 9th October after a lot of theatrics, courtesy Air Deccan and Kingfisher Airlines. We ate the customary poori-sabji-chhole-raita and witnessed some good solo dance performances from people from both the sides. Now personally I would rather be caught dead than be caught dancing solo, atleast when I am sober. So I tried all the cheap tricks in the book to hide myself. And to my relief, the choreos soon gave way to podium, where our own groomie boy gave a Salman-esque dance performance. Then the amateurs gave way to the professionals and soon Praywin was wooing the local beauties through his sleek gyrations.

The night ended with a crack-session (here crack doesnt mean weed) between Praywin, me and Mehta (the groom) till almost 6am. We ended up recalling many instances about PC and Sardar Jasdeep Singh. PC's incidents provided most of the comic relief. The next morning was pretty reminiscient of IIT Sunday mornings, as we were woken up at 9:25am, and we ate some freshly made jalebis and promptly went back to sleep after having a stomachfull :)

PJ arrived in the evening and our number was 3 now. Getting ready as baraatis, Praywin wore a revealing paper-thin see-through kurta, all whose buttons were missing, thus leaving the previously mentioned local beauties gasping for breath. The baraat itself was pretty eventful, with the band singer sucking bigtime, but we still danced away to glory (on "yeh desh hai veer jawaano ka, albelo ka mastaano ka" etc etc). Later on it was revealed that everybody was asking the groom about the 'three musketeers' who were dancing like there was no tomorrow, and the groom had replied that the three were hired in Delhi to dance at the wedding. Till now, the three of us haven't agreed on whether to feel offended or complimented at this comment.

The ceremony was a pukka north-indian one, with all the good food, all the pretty girls, beautiful arrangments, approximately 13724 photos of the couple, 1/2 ton worth of gifts, plenty of not-so-good DJ-ing, all the relatives coo-chi-cooing the cheeks of the newlyweds and so on.

The end of the marriage ceremony was also pretty interesting, with our dear groomie managing to flirt with all his newfound lady-relatives, unmarried as well as married, thus making every bachelor and married man jealous (yeah I was jealous bigtime). There was a game where the groom was supposed to make impromptu hindi 4-liner poems in order to 'earn respect' of his in-laws. What his in-laws didn't know that he was the Hindi-Samiti representative of our hostel, so pretty soon he was earning even more respect than Don Corleone in Godfather.

Overall the ceremony was pretty cool and ended at around 5am when none of us could bat an eyelid without dozing off. Our return journey back home was made even more eventful when PJ "man-handled" Praywin in the backseat of my car (remember the zero-button kurta ? :))

-Asterix
PS: Some real and nicknames have been changed to protect the identity of the victims. All the other things took place as described.