Bang-a-lore I

Disclaimer: All references to Khali imply him to be "The Great Khali" - Great as in The Great Wall of China and not as in grated cheese. Please check the update section after reading this article for further explanation.

It's been around 2 years since I've been living in Bangalore. Bangalore - or as I fondly like to call it "Bang-a-road", ever since I started driving - is the mecca of software developers or as some of my friend's parent's call us - Kam pooter Injaan neers. Okay, I admit it - they are not my friend's parents - they are some of my relatives. All right, all right - they are not my relatives - it's that suppressed voice in my head that takes a sadistic pleasure in the dehatiaization of every possible Angrayjee word.

Bangalore is a great place - the people are friendly, the weather is pleasant and the opportunities are ample. (Turns back to his PR agent - "That's all I am supposed to say so as to insure myself against the backlash of the natives, right ?") :) Nah - seriously - this is just a collection of a few random observations that I made during my stay in the city.

Avi summarized London in "Snatch" (watch it if you haven't) as:

"You know: fish, chips, cup 'o tea, bad food, worse weather, Mary effin Poppins... LONDON."

If he were to travel to Bangalore (I'm sure he'd assume that all Indians wear turbans, do part-time snake charming, have a holy cow in their 2 BHK flats and eat nothing but Curry and Chicken tikka all the time), he'd describe it as:

"You know: bananas, coconuts, filter coffee, bad food, worse roads, Randomword effin Halli... BANGALORE."

Which brings us to the substitution of Randomword in the previous sentence. Most of the areas in the city are suffixed with the word "Halli" - Marathahalli, Kodihalli, Amruthahalli, Kammanahalli, etc. - Halli means "village" as per google translate (subtle hint - the machines are taking over - I couldn't ask the hoard of my Kannada speaking friends - I had to resort to the big daddy of search engines)

If Khali were to be honoured with an area named after him, it'd be named Khalihalli. A. R. Rehman would even do a spinoff on that and we'd see Khali dancing with Aamir, Soha Ali Khan and other midgets to the tunes of "Khalihalli hain... Khalihalli...".

Same goes for Halle Berry - Hallehalli. Sounds more like the title of a Yash Chopra movie song - something on the lines of "Holay holay..." from "Rab ne bana di Jodi (Foster?)".

"Hallehalli se Halle aati hain,
Halle Khali ke paas jaati hain,
Holay Halle, Halle Khali,
Khali Halle, Beer belly?
HalleHalli... KhaliHalli...". 

Hallilujah.

Bangalore - the place where you can buy bananas even at a paan-ki-dukan. In fact, paan-wala-uncle will cheerfully offer you a kela in lieu of the change that he posseses but doesn't want to dispose of. Kela khao beta.

Random writeup

A friend sent the following:

"What they call reality, is a pretense my friend,
You lose yourself in figuring out the trend,
You decide in the wake of emotions,
Decisions, like emotions, are never permanent!"
-- Rajni Mishra (Copy-(left, right and center))

I took the last line and came up with this:

Futile emotions are never permanent - the mind always finds better tenants to replace them.

What was otherwise a bright, peaceful day is suddenly transformed into a cold, dark night as the storm clouds of doubts swirl ferociously in the sky of the mind. Memories, silently contemplating the events that triggered them are startled by the thunderclaps of skepticism. Eyes shine out over the hill. It's time. The storm has awakened the wolves of the past. The angry wolves gnash their teeth in eager anticipation of tearing the memories apart and reconstructing them as they please. It's better to leave before the wolves sniff them out.

Their only hope is to join forces with the current thoughts. They summon the present and a bar materializes in the distance. A faint glow and a dying chimney smoke guides their way. This is their only shot.

Morning

I woke up early today and saw the sun rise. It had rained yesterday night. I could feel it in the air. Yet today, the skies were clear. Thin layers of clouds acted as colourful blinders on the window of a vast sky - a sea of blue, a strip of grey and a line of pink - they all laced the stages through which the sun broke out, preceding its arrival with magnificent shafts beaming out of the corners of stray rain clouds.

It started out as a brilliant red, morphed into a golden orange and transformed into a throbbing yellow disc, gaining intensity with the passage of time. While it underwent this transition, its rays touched falling leaves, withered branches, chimney smoke and flying birds. Nature unfolded its presence with a grace, one which man can never replicate.

A soft cool breeze wafted in, bringing with itself memories of the days gone by, and reminding me that these days too, will one day be yearned for.

Self inflicted distractions

We live our lives. We deal with personal and professional issues. Everyday.

And, we have our dreams. That thought which makes you forget everything and focus, if only for a few moments, on the future that it may bring, if you put in the efforts to achieve it. For some it may be as simple as waking up early in the morning and going for a jog. For some, as grand as striking out and making it big in their field of interest. But we all aspire to break the monotonicity (if any) and seek continuous improvement in our lives.

Stop reading if you cannot relate to what is written in the previous paragraph.

We did not choose our dreams by looking at the current state of our lives. We shouldn't expect our lives to be smooth enough to give us the time, space and opportunities we need to pursue them. In all probability, both of them will be in conflict with each other. Everyday life will bring with itself events which will urge you to defer the efforts you chalked out to live the future you wanted to.

This isn't life putting stumbling blocks on your way.

This isn't life doing what it can to make you give up on your aspirations.

This is life asking you - how badly do you want it?

And it feeds on your answer.

Somewhere, someone who scripts the day while you sleep, smiles and shakes his head gently and wisely as he sees you zooming into what doesn't matter and pushing yourself away from the things that do.  Life will keep on upping the ante, throwing things your way till you learn to differentiate. And when you do, the trials and tribulations won't stop. They will always be there. It's just that you will know what to focus-fix-and-move-on and understand what to ignore.

As I write this, I am reminded of something I read on The Onion quite some time ago. O is known for its satirical take on life. But this article is nothing short of a thinly disguised wake-up call:

Open minded man grimly realizes how much time he has wasted listening to bullshit

“Time is all you have and you may find one day that you have less than you think.”
-- Randy Pausch, The last lecture

By The Window

Saw a facebook profile pic of someone sitting by the window. Thought if I could come up with a piece to describe it without brooding over it for a long time. It's sad that the one for whom this was written will never come to know about it.

But then, my work borrowed a moment from someone's life. Maybe someday, life too will borrow a piece of my work without telling me.

Here's to mutual imitation:

Sitting by the window,
Staring at the street.
Letting others know,
Yet staying discreet.

Gazing through the grill,
Guarding her thoughts.
I see her by the sill,
More often than not.

You ask

You ask what good is this life.

Aimless days embraced with open arms,
A piece of paper decides a life's plan.

Blinders preferred, mediocrity sought,
Creativity dictated, clamping thoughts.

You ask what good is this life.

The suffocated smile and pretend to breathe,
Warriors retreat and swords are sheathed.

Social acceptance - the primary concern,
A moment's hesitation - a lifetime to yearn.

You ask what good is this life.

What good is this life?

You hide from yourself,
This question is your mask.
You feed it upon itself,
When all you do is ask.

Influenced by Dinah Washington's "Bitter Earth": Youtube - Bitter Earth

Started tech blog

Was pending since a long time. Now the challenge is to be consistent at it:

Curiosity heals the cat

Different opinions, similar thoughts.

Just when he thought it was all over, the fat lady hit the highest pitch of her voice and smiled as the bearded guy joined her. They started all over again. He looked towards her with pitiful eyes. But she was still immersed in the Opera, her eyes fixated on the two singers. It's not going to get over soon - he should have stayed behind faking a stomach ache like he did last time.

She watched him from the corner of her eye and smiled slightly. She patted his hand, as if telling him - you'll survive this one. If I could get through Die Hard 4.0 last Sunday, you surely can muster enough courage to live through an infinitely more civilized display of human emotions.

He drummed on the arm rest remembering how Bruce Willis killed a chopper with a car in the tunnel scene - now that was something worth watching. Shaking his head in disagreement, he looked up to her but she didn't respond.

He saw her eyes moistening and her mouth slightly opened - the way it was when she used to be in deep sleep or concentrating on her studies. They were enacting a death scene on stage. He reached for her hand and let his fingers slip amongst hers. He saw a tear roll down her right eye.

झूठा सच, सच्चे ख्वाब |

सोचा था समय उन यादो को कभी न मिटा पाएगा,
सोचा था वो एक पल ज़िन्दगी भर साथ निभाएगा |

उनकी वापसी की उम्मीद ने एक अधुरा ख्वाब जगाया था,
जान कर भी अनजान बन कर उन सपनो को पास बुलाया था |

ज़िन्दगी फिर मासूमियत में घुल जाएगी,
हर सुबह फिर बिन वजेह चेहरे पे मुस्कान लाएगी |

उनकी ख़ुशी में फिर अपनी ख़ुशी ढूँढेगे हम,
अरसो के बाद फिर वही आँखों से जियेंगे हम |

मगर मिलने पर अजनबियों की तरह मिले हम दो,
जिस पल का इंतज़ार था, उसके ख़त्म होने के राह देख रहे हैं वोह |

न जाने क्यूँ वोह लम्हे इत्ने मामूली से लगे,
एक अजीब सुकून के साथ हम वोह ख्वाब से जगे |

एक सुकून - ज़िन्दगी की भाग दौड़ में फिरसे जुट जाने का,
ख्वाबो का नाम देकर उस सच को फिरसे भुलाने का |

खोक्लेपन का एहसास - हर चीज़ और भी बेजान हो गयी,
सुबह बेवजह इतनी खुश और शाम और भी अनजान हो गयी |

घर तोह वही था, शायद मोहल्ला बदल चूका था,
आँखों से बातें करने वालो का जरिया बदल चूका था |
शीशे के टुकडो में जीस चेहरे को ढून्ढ रहे थे हम,
चेहरा तोह वही था, हमारा नजरिया बदल चूका था |

Strangers

"It's okay if you didn't like the script. I have fixed an appointment with another banner today evening. Its not too much of a role but it's about time..."

He stopped half way through. He knew that look. His words were hitting nothing. She looked at him, rolled her eyes, picked the cigarette from between his fingers, took a long drag and exhaled the smoke, spreading it gently over his calm yet questionable face, trying to make him see the fog he was blinded by.

She smiled a lazy crooked smile as she did that. Her each move was perfectly executed, as if she was still on stage, in the middle of a screenplay, wanting to give the writer exact words to describe her.