An Uncommon Man

As a kid,I used to love  R.K Laxman's common man.His beginnings were in an era when India was grappling between communist and republican philosophies,when it was barely beginning to realise itself.Many things did change but not the common man.He is still clad in his checked khadi coat and white cotton dhoti,adorning thick rimmed spectacles and a muzzled expression,reminiscent of a conservative and leftist India.As our nation opened its gates to the world,dhoti kurta gave way to Levi's jeans,a solitary landline in the locality gave way to multiple cellphones and pre-marital sex and onscreen intimacy no longer raises eyebrows.But,the essence of Laxman's common man is still the same.He is still the mute spectator to the Great Indian Circus.

Coming back to the eccentric genius that Laxman was,I havent ever seen a more complete cartoonist.

Wit,irony,satire,mockery,slapstick,you name it,he was proficient in all the above genres.But never did he get crass or vulgar.Being clean,tragically true and yet funny was his forte.It is said that the grand old daddy of them all,"The Times of India"rested entirely on Laxman's shoulders in those days.Khushwant Singh had famously proclaimed that if "God forbid,a day comes when there is no Laxman on TOI'S front pages,Indians who start their day with a smile would have nothing to smile about".

An interesting albeit well known factoid is that R.K Laxman's common man in all these years,has never SPOKEN EVER.Check out his strips and you'll know.

If you are as nostalgic as I am,or perhaps just curious,check this link out for a datewise archive of his cartoons in TOI.

http://photogallery.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/cms.dll/articlelist?msid=15546979

You'll need an Indiatimes ID,I guess.

The Nice Guy Paradigm

This rant was written for the

Wharton Undergraduate Journal 

and I thought I'd share it!!

This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.

This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you. 

This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that. 

The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single. 

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.

Aapko Hui Asuvidha Ke Liye............

Just for the record , I love travelling. Especially in trains . Somehow, the long, arduous journey, the dusty platforms, the overcrowded crowd and the not so hygienic train itself, fails to irritate me. The green fields, the grazing cows, the brick walls adorning banners like “ Shanivaar Mile, Hakim Javed” and “ Trinity Coaching-Guaranteed Admission in IIT” , the children playing cricket , the women carrying fodder ,the lashing rains splattering your face across the window railings , the crowds hovering around a railway crossing in their scooters and lunas , the distant humdrum  of city life and the chaiwalaas at hustling busy stations-How I love looking out of a train window.

Despite all fallacies , there are many reasons for my rather irrational and unconditional love for these crimson carriages. First and foremost is the obvious reason of the abstract location of my dwelling place. For the uninitiated   , I live in a  VILLAGE/TOWN called Haldwani in Uttarakhand. To reach there from any place and when I say any, I MEAN ANY, I invariably and unfailingly have to change AT LEAST two trains to reach there. Except from Delhi . Be it from college , a holiday , an intern or any other place as such. EXCEPT  DELHI.  So, you see, I can’t really hate trains as it would leave  me with a forlorn grumpy face while going home. So as habit and circumstances dictated, I entered into a convenient wedlock with trains. Agreeing to the terms of our arranged marriage, slowly but surely ,I have learnt to love them.

Secondly, I enjoy meeting new people. Different kinds of people from varied backgrounds use the grand old Indian railways on a daily basis and interacting with them is definitely an enriching experience ( You do know I am bullshitting right. Of course, it’s the girls whom I like to ogle. But I like being  a fake and politically correct guy on my blog).

Thirdly  , let’s face it , planes and buses are hopeless. They leave you with stiff backs and cramped up legs, buses being additionally guilty of unrelieved and burning bladders. Also planes make you feel sorry for yourself as you, poor soul, cannot see the glorious air hostesses daily. AND BUSES, well, I feel sorry for them.

Fourthly, The eternal optimist , bollywood buff and hopeless romantic that I am, I believe there could be a “JAB WE MET” waiting to happen. I would sit all grumpy and aloof and a girl would come and sit next to me. My serious demeanour and mystery would entice her and she’d fall right from top of the Burj towers in Dubai ,straight into love with me. We would perform Bhangra at our pompous wedding and living happily after that. Let’s face it.THIS WAS ACTUALLY LAME AND RIDICULOUS but imagination knows no bounds, sadly. Not that I am desperate. It’s just that I am a little girly in these matters. The magic of love, and all that crap, I believe in it and do want to be touched by it someday. Pitiably so.

Unfortunately , my super shyness and  dumbfoundedness (I call it deliberately ignoring) has not really worked yet and girls haven’t as much as sniggered at me .It’s the kids ,whom I get to talk with ,play ludo with n sometimes,LOSE TO.

Still , I am full of hope and unfailingly check for F-17 to 22 on the reservation chart in vicinity of my own seat. I jump with joy if I  find one , only to find daddy dearest glaring at me , or the girls and her supposed brother( It feels good to think of other guys as brothers) canoodling away.

Still I have lived on in innate optimism and one fine day, it did happen. Definitely not as I had expected though.I was going back TO DELHI after my internship in Baroda had finished WHEN....... 

Of Friends and Forgiveness

Friendship isn't always easily described. The Eskimos, they say, have a hundred different words for snow. Unfortunately, the English language isn't quite as innovative, though it has vast opportunities to differentiate meaning. Certainly, Love is one of those opportunities. And so, too, is Friendship. Instead of different words, however, we're stuck with simple adjectives. Close friend. Best friend. Childhood friend. Intimate friend.Trusted friend.Beloved friend. But whether you use adjectives or different words, few could deny the nearly infinite meaning in such a simple word.

Friends are special people. We can't pick our family, and we're sorely limited in the number of them at any rate. Society and mores (and often our own conscience) dictate we select a single mate. But our friends can be as diverse and infinite as the adjectives we choose. Our friends, in a very real sense, reflect the choices we make in life.

This is dedicated to one of my closest and best friends over the years.Even  though,we still are the best of mates,but there are inevitable changes bound to happen which I really haven't been able to accept.This is just my way of letting her know I'm sorry and that in our case"Forever ain't just a word".Sadly,I know not of a better way to tell you.

"The Special ONE"

Within my book of memories,

Are special thoughts of you.

And all the many nice things

You often say and do.

As I turn the pages,

And recall each single thought,

I realize the happiness

That knowing you has brought.

There are memories of the times we've shared

Both bright and sunny days.

There are memories of your kindness

And your friendly thoughtful ways.

There are memories of all those notes,

we would write back and forth,

When we would just get together,

And talk of this or that.

And when I recall these memories

As I go along life's way,

I find they grow more precious still

With every passing day.

I reached out for your hand

But you didn't seem to care;

You can only reach so far

When no one else is there.

I wish I could reach further

But I'm only so strong;

I hoped your eyes would open

So that you'd see you're wrong.

It hurts to have to reach far

When you once were so near;

It's hard shouting out for you

With voices you don't hear.

I wish you'd extend your hand

And sense the friendship there;

Knowing what our memories mean

Showing us you still care.

I realize you don't reach back

Instead his hand's with yours;

You can't handle both the worlds

So you close common doors.

We shared sunshine and rainbows;

Sometimes, the rain and the snow;

We stood together through it,

While the cold winds blew.

Inevitably a moment awaits

When we would glide through different gates

When the time is right,

I won't stop to ask "Why?"

Our friendship will take flight

On the wings of a butterfly.

The 5 stages of Anger

Stage 1: The "Brewing Bitterness"

"Temperamental" me has moodswings all the time.There are times when I wouldn't really take notice or mind what happened and there are other times,when small incidents just stay,right there at the back of the mind.These pricky little afterthoughts and debatable questions,keep on building up and get cramped for space,in my cranium and churn up thoughts like"It can't really continue this way","Something needs to be done about this","The Next time it happens................"The inevitable is just lurking around.A disaster waiting to happen........

Stage 2:The "Explosion"

An impulse is all that is needed.A trigger,a stimulus just maddening or irksome enough so that all limits of patience are now exhausted.And then BOOM-the avalanche of venomous thoughts just pours out,unhindered and unstoppable and hits the subject of the impulse with brute force.Although an unwanted turn of events,considering the dreaded stages that follow,at that moment it does make one feel a little lighter and even a bit strong for standing upto something you disapprove of and for trying to bring about just that change in the humdrum and surrounding chaos.It may even be totally unexpected,without Stage 1 preceding it,and then it is just disruptive in nature.The confines and the invisible shackles around normal and mundane day to day life are broken and there is this feeling that Yes,something just happened.In both cases though,the explosion does leave indelible scars,and in some cases CLOSURE.

Stage 3:The"Silence"

The worst part of all.There is now a competitive angle to it.The ego battles begin.A constant tussle between the two halves of one's own mind,strategic moves made to ensue that one remains one up over the other and above all-the effort to make sure your paths don't directly cross.The waiting game,a combination of tug of war and chess,only played between egos.

There is this dark and eerie stillness in which conscience begins its shady whispering and begins an intense Q&A session."Was it really worth it","Was it really my fault","Is it always going to be me,who'll apologise and why not him".The mind begins searching for answers and when it gets tired of it,arises Stage 4.

Stage 4:"The Acceptance/Compromise"

The understanding phase.Queries finally begin to get responses.TheEgo battle though,is still on,in the background and is now subtle rather than cold.The adrenaline has now gushed back.Discoveries like"Who is this affecting the most-ME after all","Who needs them/Do they even need me","Ego skirmishes don't really have an end and there is a never a definitive victor".Normalcy begins to take over,yet again.If it is a person important enough,a compromise with the self is made."It's all right.After all.he's a friend.I/he made an honest and unknowing mistake".The Self understands and it is back to the lull after the storm.

Stage 5:"The Tomorrow"

When "Sorry" is not an option,maybe because friends are too close,or the fact that the ego of neither wants to lose in the power and mind battles and nor on the special bond,this is the fake game that people play.It is almost as if nothing unpleasant had ever taken place.Instead of a sorting out talk,this game involves a fake and icy banter between friends which is supposed to make things seem normal.Not surprisingly,Both parties play along,to avoid awkwardness and also take care not to mention "IT" in the future.Things get back to square one in minutes,but the case with this is that it gives rise to a cycle-Undercurrents of past bitterness still flow and the tension and cold air  is perennial.Stage 1 lurks around in dark corners.The cycle continues..........

A Fan's Homage:Happy Birthday Sachin

Dear Little Master,

This is the first time that I am writing to you,and what better time to do it,than on the eve of your 37th birthday and two days from an inevitable IPL championship victory,yet another feather in your now bushy cap.I have been an ardent follower of cricket since the 1996 World Cup in India,and it was there that you-The short statured demigod with the dishevelled curly hair,kid like zeal,squeaky voice and a very very endearing smile,caught my eye.You scored 523 runs in that tournament with two glittering centuries and I became your fan forever.In time,my obsession with those cover drives and square cuts would only increase exponentially and you would continue re-inventing yourself with glorious upper cuts(No one can forget the Centurion Sixer off Shoaib),paddle sweeps and shuffled flicks across the legside,delighting millions with innovative shots of your own..

Of you being the most dominant and technically sound batsman of your era,is but a unanimous opinion.People often ask me why I'm simply obsessed with the SACHIN TENDULKAR PHENOMENON.I mean yes,you are a delightful cricketer and your exploits on the field are enthralling to watch,but all that aside,you still are a source of inspiration for me.Your rise to become the Greatest ever,from the humblest of beginnings is just fairy tale stuff.The documentaries that I have been witness to,show your extreme dedication and respect for the sport that made you.The fact that,even today,after 20 years,you still practice for 6 to 8 hours daily is a testament to the true champion that you are.

The nose bleed incident in just your 2nd test,would have shattered an ordinary 16 year old's confidence,but you just took stance and straight drove Waqar for a boundary the very next ball.Gritty stuff.Throughout the 90's it was Sachin and 10 others versus another team,and somehow you would come up trumps every time.The burden of enormous expectations that you've shouldered in your career,from proving that you are not just a young flash in the pan prodigy in your early years,to guiding India to victories almost single-handedly,requires humongous effort,mental strength and courage and being the superhuman that you are,you just seem to possess all these qualities in an ample amount.

Though we now have an excellent team,I still live in the era bygone,and like millions did in those days,I switch the TV off once you get out.From the Kapils and Imrans to the Pontings and Lara's and now the fresh young crop comprising of the Sehwags,Gambhirs,Smiths and Clarkes,all who have played with you,swear by you and have utmost respect,not only for your prodigial talent,but also for the human being that you are.

Your humility and the ability of staying grounded despite accolades at every step,of not getting carried away by your achievements,your love and passion for the game,the extremely professional handling of the Media frenzy,the patriotism that you and your helmet with the India sticker stand for,are probably the embodiments of your simple and middle class upbringing and we all love you for staying that way.A boundary from your bat induces cheers even in funerals and hospitals and the joy that your batting brings into their gloomy and strife filled lives,and gives them just that inspiration to move on and keep fighting.You know what difference a few runs from your bat may make in a match situation,but I doubt that you know how it affects millions of lives.And Trust me,it does.

Not many batsmen have the ability of totally revamping their batting and giving their career a complete overhaul,but when the need for the team arose,you managed to accomplish even that with minimum of fuss.From an explosive run making siesta who gave Shane Warne nightmares in the sandstorm game at Sharjah to an accumulator of runs,scoring a measured 241 unbeaten runs against a searing Aussie pace attack in Sydney without a single off drive in the entire innings and not to forget the 193 against England at Headingley when you just took blow after blow on your body but never once hooked or pulled to a packed legside field,just because the team needed you there,again is a speaking statement of your commitment,team spirit and ability of change gears smoothly.

After the heartbreaking exit of India from the 2007 World Cup,There were detractors trying to pull you down,but you stood your ground.Your sadness and pain wasn't hidden in the emotional press conference that you gave and I daresay,you have just been unstoppable after that.Critics have always said stupid stuff about you not winning India enough matches or not being the same run machine that you were,but you have always taken it in your stride.As is evident,you have always let your bat do the talking.No team would dare to sledge you because the wrath that you would incur,the controlled aggression and fury of yours,is too scary a thought even for the most brash of Aussie suckers.Most recently the Chennai test hundred chasing 387 which you dedicated to the Mumbai victims,infused that glimmer of life into the darkness and from then on,Mumbai has moved on.There have been countless memorable innings and profiling each one would be an arduous task but who in living memory can forget the 200 that you so effortlessly made just a month ago.At this age,your fitness and zeal is all the more amazing and unmatched and it was befitting that the man who crossed this seemingly impossible Everest was you-The greatest ever.

The adulation,the cheers,the happiness and the sheer love that is reserved for you,makes you a darling of cricket fans wherever you go.Mumbai Indians have a home advantage in every match they play,because no player in India,commands the sheer unbiased worship and fan-giri bordering on crazy,that you do.Everytime you used to get injured,India learns a new medical term.Tennis elbow and back spasms are just examples.

Thousands of greats and few not so greats have paid a glorious tribute to the 20 year old story book career of yours and mine are words,too small,like a droplet in the ocean.If 30,000 runs,93 centuries and countless golden chapters that you have written in the annals of Indian cricketing history do not suffice in speaking for themselves,then no amount of words will ever be enough.

As I end,I just wish what millions do and you do,more than anyone else.Sachin,please wield that magic with the Willow and get us the World Cup.Come February,we all will cheer for you at the D.Y Patil stadium and in the twilight of your career,applaud when you finally get the trophy,that you have so cherished and that has eluded you for so long.

This quote by yourself just sums up your career aptly:-

                      "People throw stones at you,and you keep converting them into milestones".

Happy Birthday Sachin.We all love you to bits..

Yours Truly

A mere mortal

But a Great Fan .