Doctors have a tough life. They are constantly surrounded by real pain and suffering. They have to grow immune to all the pain and suffering along with the diseases they encounter. Scrubs does show us that deep inside them they also crumble like the rest of us.

Here’s another of my out of the box solutions for the world. Translate this tv serial in all the languages of the world and show it to each and everyone. Especially show them to people who think killing is a solution.

I am glad, I don’t have TV. (I watch Scrubs on my Laptop.) When I do have access to TV, I stumble on documentaries and News that is extremely disturbing. Last weekend I saw a show on the Australian Network, where a journalist goes to both Israel and Palestine and talks to people there. One footage shows a woman who is proud of her dead son who committed suicide bombing. She even encouraged him towards it. Another was an Israeli woman, who is living in her apparent “Zion”, and doesn’t really mind the attacks on Gaza. Why is it deeply disturbing to me…? It is for many reasons.

Not till long ago, I used to think that I didn’t understand these conflicts. I used to think that there is some deep emotional pain attached to it. Also there was no way I could relate to the pain. I haven’t gone through any such thing myself. But now I realize, there isn’t any real depth to it. And we human beings are such fools that we can fight for the flimsiest of reasons.

There don’t seem to be any reasonable people around. People who don’t have a ego. Even the smart, intelligent ones have an ego. It’s more than fuel to the fire.

Frankly, I don’t have much hope on Obama. I so wish Martin Luther King was around instead. But in these times his voice too would have been muffled. Obama seems like a nice guy but only time will tell if he is amongst those who listens to the voice of reason.

Also on the obnoxious tv channel – India TV, I saw a news broadcast where young children were trained to kill. 10-14 yr olds with AK 47s, rocket launchers etc. My grand ma was also watching along with me. She, who is a very religious person, could not get what was happening. I strangely felt very close to my grandmother that day. I didn’t know if the things that she was saying, came from a place where one has lived ones life and looks back at with some kind of secret knowledge or from a place where she was just being sensible.

I am in the middle of the 5th season of Scrubs. Everytime a patient dies, they feel like they have lost a war. I compare this fiction to the stark realities of life and in some vague way connect to the people who are writing these episodes. In reality we are out their killing ourselves on our own volition.

I realize how fragile life is, and yet we try to find our Zions and Pakistans. We fight for lands and not people. We have concepts like “our people”, “our nation”, “our religion”… and whatever that does not fall in this “our” category, we learn to hate it.

I would have been better off being fictional than real. At least that way I would belong to some “our” category.

I chose not to write anything about what happened in Bombay. It hurt badly. A whole lot of people lost their lives and sizable number lost their sanity. Psycho-terrorism seems like the latest trend. I don’t see any cause or intention behind it anymore, apart from the morbid fascination of hunting and killing real people. I really have no mollifying words for them who were deeply affected by it. It was tough shit. Hopefully you will move on.

Whenever I am so deeply affected, I try to recount the beautiful moments. If you remember the end of the movie – American Beauty, you will know what I mean. The beauty (for the want of a better word) visits us everyday, it is whether we choose to look at it or turn our faces and look away. You sometimes want to look away as beauty seems too out of place to our eyes at times.

A lot of my friends care a lot for this world. In fact most of you who would be reading this, do. And you are all trying, some in small ways some in big. I admire you all. But do no lose yourself in this change. Stop and look around you. Sometimes we just go numb and fail to see that the world we are trying to make is in some way already there. Don’t wait to enjoy it till everyone becomes the person you want them to be.

For those who are entangled in your daily struggles, I know you guys will sooner or later make it through. You think that when you make it through, you will find happiness. But life can be full of shit. Sorry, if my words are discouraging, but what I am trying to say is that in retrospect you will always cherish these struggles, may be you can add happiness to these memories by looking around and finding this “beauty” that i am talking about.

Sorry, if I am being preachy. Or talking to you like some +ve mental health guru. The Bombay thing spurred me on. I won’t delete it, for what it is worth. You can always ignore it, ignoring anything is not very difficult.

But yes 2008 was about trying to find this “beauty”. Sheesh! am back at it again. I think I should try to tell you more about this beauty and what it means. Or rather where I found it.

Remember Pasqual? We were in Goa earlier this year. it was the last day, some of us had already left for Bombay. Pasqual is a crooner at the Stone House Grill and he says almost all the songs that I love. While this was happening there was small tiff happening and it could have ruined the evening, but it didn’t. At least not for me. The following morning we sat atop chapora fort talking about seinfeld and friends. Lived beauty is very underrated.

Then later in the year when I moved to pune. I was new to the city, and I wasn’t quite enjoying it. I thought to myself, I have to run away from here soon. It was mid summer and yet the city felt cold. But I had consciously selected the life, so I had no one to blame. I was fascinated by small things. Once a girl came and sat on my table in a crowded McDonlads. We sat opposite each other and ate our meals quietly. I don’t think either of us looked at each other. But there was something comforting about it.

I also had great times drinking beer and watching the twenty 20 world cup at a friend’s place. Someone who helped me more than he realizes. Who took me around and helped me select a house. Who gave me homemade food. And whom I piled on for many a evening. Sometimes we can’t see the inherent good in people. And it is this inherent good that takes them from people you know and makes them your friends.

Shashi and me have been friends since Webaroo, and now he is working on a matrimonial search engine – www.bandhan.com. it is a fantastic search engine. And if you are looking to get married or looking to get someone else hitched, this is an almost perfect site to start. Please do spread the word on this.

Sorry! if that seemed like an ad. But that too was a part of this year. It’s beginnings are rooted in 2008 and I hope it rides the storm.

Work seemed to get better with time. At least I wasn’t dying to run away. There are people from various countries working in the same department as I am. The Japanese and Chinese have their influences on me and I enjoy having conversations with them. It’s like the world came knocking on my door. I usually have a Van Gogh painting on my desktop. One day this German translator comes and tells me, it’s nice to know that you like van gogh. That’s the time, I think i made peace with this company.

I visit bombay every other weekend. i usually get to drive the car when i am there. one particular night when i was driving back from bandra to powai. i realized how much i loved the city. and while the hustle-bustle had driven me out, how a calmer sunday bombay is so fascinating. it reminded me of the times i drove around the city with G. Those were happier moments driving around with someone you love. But the realization that came being alone in a relatively inanimate vehicle and driving around an extremely animated city was something worth treasuring. Though I don’t think you will get it, you will need my eyes to see what i see.

Also being away from home made me more appreciative of my mom. Sometimes you need distance to see how amazing people are. I think she has lived a great life and she continues to, and she will continue to. All my thoughts and philosophies are inherited from her (some of them come from my dad too). Of course, I have made some up myself. She is a little bit like the Oracle from Matrix. Says what you need to hear. She takes tutions too. Teaches hindi and marathi to children from 5-15, but i think it is just a pretext and there is something remarkable going on in the backdrop. When these kids are 30, i hope they come back and meet her and show her what they have become, i think it will please her immensely even if she shows she is not bothered. And I am sure most of these kids will, in fact they show their appreciation even now. Both me and my bro have not been probably as appreciative.

I also realize that I am in the midst of people who will eventually save the world. ‘What am I doing amongst them?’ is a question i keep asking myself. May be they are all trying to save me. I don’t think you know whom I am talking about. I don’t think you should know either, even if you are one amongst them. You shouldn’t see things clearly. Clarity blurs vision.

Nano was born this year . She who will drive us all crazy. Imagine to be born in the family of 7 brothers, to be a girl, and to be the youngest. Like Ani says, “someone has already written a poem for her, and someone has already sang for her, she is going to have high expectations from her boyfriend.” I hope life pans out well for her. 2009 will be all about teething, walking, and trying to talk. Sounds like fun.

Sometimes you don’t know, what you want from life. So for life to come and give it to you when you are lost between trying to buy furniture, figure out whether you like your job or not, trying to get a foothold in a new city, hoping to move on, trying to make sense — it’s a little tough to accept the gift. But I am glad I accepted the gift. I am glad I could still catch the beauty. Beauty is elusive most times. Also it is fleeting most times. It is abstract and you can almost never express it. Sometimes though it manifests in forms that are easier to understand and recognize. Also when you point out this beauty to people, they also see it. They don’t believe you when you talk about it, but when they see it, their faith in you is restored. Gifts like these are rare. But there are times when they look at you from across a room of crowded people. Times when they pass you by on streets. Times when they pull your leg and you would gladly not retort.

Sometimes, you make your own gifts and give them to yourself. Sometimes you make it all up. Like calvin gifted himself hobbes. Hope you guys have a fun 2009.

Of course I have not said it all here. But I realize I have said too much.

Godspeed!

For those who don’t know: Sawai Gandharva is a music festival started by Pt. Bhimsen Joshi as a dedication to his guru – Sawai Gandharva. It’s now a 56 year old tradition. The greatest of musicians perform here. The genre is purely Indian classical. About 15000 people attend the festival every year, but it could be much more. The festival has grown to be larger than life. It’s also interesting to hear the conversations of people around you, they know their artists and talk about their idiosyncracies, they also know their music. It’s an experience worth taking and revisiting.

————-

Thank you A & H for introducing me to this.

————-

While there, i wrote a few music scapes. Haven’t edited them much. So execuse the mistakes.

Here they are:

During the performance of the brothers Rajan & Sajan Mishra (vocals)

The casual droning of the tanpura muffles the voices of a soulless melody that emanates from the heart and reaches the Fingertips.
God lets man supersede him at times. Reluctance of being a man falls apart. Bit by bit it becomes the beats of a tabla. Accompanying the tanpura they leave the man they occupy. They become what lesser mortals will never be.
Ants – They Crawl over what remains, releasing a sigh that grows into a moan. A moan that slowly grows wings and flies. And in its flight it meets another bird, another bird that’s emanated from dead skin, a hint of desperation and a rhetoric gone mad.
Together they fliy over a sea, a sea that has been thirsty for years. They are the bashirs of a never ending rain. But it is still far – the droplets will take their own time to come. For now there is only hope. But unlike before, this hope comes with a promise. The birds Slowly land on to the parched land. And wait in peace.
For only when war is over, will man see who he really is.
The rain will come.

During the performance of the brothers Rajan & Sajan Mishra (vocals)

The dust gathers dust
It’s been a while since someone has even been here
Centuries may be
Seth was last seen here
May be this is what he saw
And decided to be the progenitor of mankind
He too had seen hatred
brother killing brother
He Foresaw The bleakness
he also foresaw the beauty
A Beauty that
Even Methusaleh couldn’t have managed to see in all his llfetime
A beauty that would need at least a billion lives
And yet
The eyes would be hungry
The ears unsatiated
He would have to risk a hundred  Kanes
Killing a billion Ables
For the few SethS
Who would assimilate this beauty
And use it
To recreate paradise
The few Seths who would die a billion times
And a hundred More…
And Survive..

During the performance of Ronu Muzumdar (flautist)

The bird soars high
Slowly but surely
Sure of  What it’s doing
Sure of the eventuality
Sure of its proximity to the sun
Sure of its descent
Sure Of its eXtraordinary fate
UnKnowing of the outcome
the higher it flies
The lonelier the illusion
The emptier the arena
What it seeks?
A desert  in the sKY
For its death is foretold
But its life still a mystery

During the performance of Pandit Jasraj (vocals)

An opening in the sky
A ray of light passes through
Banished from the Kingdom
It seeks to find a meaning
A meaning so ordinary
So simple
That
The puzzle is solved
But what mystifies the man whose eye it enters is the need for demystification
Thus the puzzle is passed on
Only its form changes
an incessant cooing of the cuckoo catches the man’s ear
In an attempt  to find the beholder
The ray of light leaves his eyes.
It travels thru the branches of a tree
Who embraces its very being and breaks it into a million pieces
Thus the puzzle prospers
It blooms and bears pollen
Travels on the back of a bee
And discovers honey
For what it thinks is sweet death
Is but humiliation
A theft of freedom
It desires to break free once again
It counts a million moments
And then jumps into a cup reluctantly
Trying to enjoy its freedom between two cages
The last it remembers is hot water flowing over it and the gentle aroma of camomille
Which picks its burnt soul
And rises
And resuscitates it
The awakening-
The cloud opens up…
An angry demeanor hides the wisdom
And lets A ray escape
Another puzzle bears wings
A potter awaits,
the clay is wet …

Heard another news that made me extremely sad but I won’t talk about that here. But it added to the low feeling.

I also read that Ganguly would hang up his boots post this series. I don’t usually read blogs the first thing in the morning. In fact at times I don’t read them for days. But I had a feeling Greatbong would write something about it. I wasn’t disappointed. It was an unusual post – not taking digs at anyone, it didn’t bring out any guffaws, but it resonated with me. It’s a very well written blog post and houses the feelings of a generation who grew up on the cricket of Azhar-Sachin-Ganguly. Do read.

If you have read the foundation series by Asimov – then Dada reminds me of the Mule. An anomaly of sorts in the system, who challenged it and showed us that cricketers could be daredevils and not just gentlemen. He also showed that you can be a cricketer in an Indian team, if you have nothing but a beautiful square drive and a lot of will. Ganguly played cricket like I did. He was left handed, bowled slow medium pacers with his right hand and ran slowly between the wickets. He wasn’t a very good fielder either. Watching him play cricket, I would at times get angry that if he could be there, I could be there too. But since I am an Indian, I will be forgiven for thinking so. Everyone does. (Not forgives but thinks so.)

It was his captaincy that made him. Or rather his will and grit. The Australian series has now become all the more interesting. The tiger would come out with his bat and grit to play for sure. I am not a big fan of Ganguly but he has given a lot to Indian cricket, a lot of which is ingrained in the team even today. And that’s an exemplary contribution.

As a tribute we must all watch the last test – shirtless.

The movie fails for me because it is a piece of fiction. I wish it had touches of an Indian rock band. Say a Parikrama or an Indian Ocean, even if it was loosely based on them. But it wasn’t and then it became more a hindi movie than a movie based on rock music.

The music itself was disappointing. Making a hindi rock song is probably as difficult as writing a ghazal in english. So I feel for the crew. To expect Shankar – Ehsaan – Loy, Farhaan Akhtar and the likes to aspire to be Pink Floyd, Deep Purple, or Led Zepp and to even come remotely close to them is probably harsh. I did that and I was disappointed. I was also disappointed with Javed uncle’s poetry. (Javed uncle has heard me read at Oxford bookstore and I have high regard for him. My usage of the term uncle is a mark of respect and I don’t attempt to make fun of him. He has written great poetry and will continue to do so.) My disappointment ofcourse was the music and the lyrics weren’t going well together. I actually liked everything that other bands were singing than Magic themselves.

Also the name Magic for a band is exceptionally lame. And it’s reasoning is a very hindi movie reasoning. What the director forgot is probably the meaning of a ROCK Musician. Rockstars have auras about them, the only person who manages that faintly in the movie is Arjun Rampal. A hindi movie on a rock band is a disconcerting thought. By Hindi movie, I mean the mainstream movie makers like the Chopras and the Johars. They know it as well as me that they are not making movies, they are doing business.

And yet I liked the movie. I am a weird person. There are reasons for it. The intentions were good. Debbie played by Shahana Goswami stole my heart. She was the true rockstar in the movie. The rest of it didn’t quite come together. We need to take lessons on making movies on music having influences like rock and rock and roll – That thing you do, Almost Famous, Across the Universe are good movies to start with.

This movie was half baked but probably served with love.

Pune is a charming city and it has much better weather than Bombay but I will never fall in love with this city. My heart lies in Bombay. I realized it this weekend.

I went for the Strand book sale on Friday to Juhu. It was a weekday and there were hardly any people there. It was a hall filled with books and without the hustle bustle of too many people. Perfect. I spent a couple of hours browsing through the titles. I had to stretch myself at times to prevent my back and body from getting stiff. I bought a lot of books too. I am extremely excited about them. Books are the best company. I may not travel too far away from the place I was born and books are my only source of reaching worlds that I have never seen, will never see, and those that don’t even exist.  As usual I have veered.

Towards the end of the book buying session, I met a friend who is recently back from studying in the US. She gifted me the book – The Film Club, which has a very interesting premise. So you see, I was feeling very rich.

We then headed for coffee at Prithvi. Sooner or later am going to take a sabbatical and spend my time sitting at the Prithvi cafe writing. Unlike other cafes it doesn’t have artificial noise and there is a constant colour about the place. At the cafe we spoke about a particular idea that I had for project10tothe100.com. I may never end up putting it on Google but interesting perspectives were shared and questions raised.

Post coffee I dropped my friend home, and after dropping her as I was returning home in the car, I realized how much Bombay is ingrained in me. How familiar the roads are, how in spite of sitting in an airconditioned car, I could feel the air of the city. How the radio made me feel with the vibe of the city. There was nothing foreign about it.

The car I was driving – the black wagon R – the family car, it was beautifully responding to my touch. I have driven it extensively and have fond memories of it. That drive back took me back to the numerous times I have been in the car on the Bombay roads. Driving on the western express highway, or through the sahar airport, or in the lanes of juhu or crossing the dreaded saki naka – it all seemed so much fun. And everything outside seemed so picture perfect, especially after I had muffled the outside sound with the airconditioning. I was in a happy bubble.

The rest of the weekend was as good, catching up with friends, spending time with folks. Saturday lunch was had at a place called Banana Leaf at 4 bungalows, good south indian food. The best part of it was the dessert called Gadbad. Nice restaurant but be warned that the quantity is huge and is tough for one person to finish it.

Am back in Pune now. Like I said it has its charms, but this city has no reason to love me.

Mom if you are reading this – then watch this. Find me a girl from the yip yip family and i will marry her. Yip yip yip yip yip yip. Any other girl, nope nope nope nope nope.

I have seen them through countless broken relationships and innumerable failures in life and work. I have seen them be nasty to each other, pull each other down, be sarcastic. There is no love between them. No seeming love at the least. But they can’t live without each other. They are very conscious about showing it though. That’s how they choose to be.

So me dedicating a blog entry to them and telling them how much i loved it, will totally not go down well with the gang. Too sentimental it would be.

There’s a scene where all four of them get down from the train and move in different directions. Elaine is the last remaining person and she says, “Bye?”

If you see Seinfeld  like I did, watch it alone. All by yourself. Be the 5th person amongst them. You will realize they will feel real.

Thank you guys, thank you for at least a thousand laughs.

This world makes a lot about faith, religion, spirituality and things like that. It’s all nice and makes you feel hopeful about life and all. But if you analyze it, it all is very artificial. Faith does not liberate you, it makes you dependent. But if there is a God, I am sure he is a funny fellow and I think he enjoys a good joke more than your servility.

Something I learnt over the last few months – ‘keep the humor’ (and not the faith)

Now get on with your life.

I have been using Google Reader a lot frequently. though I must say that I hate how blogging has become performance oriented. It’s like everyone is playing some kind of role. Of course that’s how you get more hits. But so much for hits.

More later. Hopefully I shouldn’t have problem signing in again.

Chaitra is based on Tagore’s lyrical play and has sufi touches to it. Needless to say I thoroughly enjoyed it.

It was performed in two acts. One act was in the lobby and the second was in the theatre. The play was being shown inside Pune University at an auditorium called Namdeo Sabhagriha. The theatre was packed on both days and it just tells how beautiful an audience Pune has. Pune is probably culturally at par with Calcutta. Both the cities have an intellectual audience and love art. I am glad to be in this city.

In the first act I particularly liked the character of Kavi Rakhshasi Bhushan, played by a girl, playing man in a moustache, who for her dimunitive frame had a great throw of voice. In fact most of the students showed talent and the play was entertaining as well as thought provoking – like theatre of the absurd should be. Great team effort and it’s an absolute must watch.

Earlier in the day, I woke up from my afternoon siesta because of a loud bang. It almost felt like a bomb had exploded. But it was probably a cloud burst. Pune had heavy rainfall in the evening. I had bicycled to the auditorium. Oh! yes I have bought a bicycle . On the way back, I had to bicycle back in the rain.

As I was bicycling down a gentle slope of the university campus on a dark road with lots of rain splashin on my face, I wondered if that was what happiness in its purest form was. I was smiling and breathing through my mouth. Chaitra, which means Spring seemed to have paid a personal visit to me in another form.