The Journey into Awesomeness

With bag and baggage, I landed in God's Own Campus, the gates welcoming one and all with open arms. As soon as I entered the campus the air was filled with an exuberance that was a refreshing change from the humid warm weather outside. They said that come the monsoons the more panoramic the campus looks. This transformation was lurking around, may be waiting to happen.

The thing I was looking forward to most was finding a new room-mate which I did, quick enough to be cited as a record of sorts in the Guinness book. As soon as my feet touched the NITIE mess 1/2 ground, I chanced upon my friend from an interview earlier. It was an instant connection. I pray the bond stays for the next two years and more. The room allocation process was a dream crasher as I found myself cornered in a room filled with innumerous room-aspirants like me. Some painful blows later my buddy laid his hands on THE KEY to THE ROOM 414 and that was the moment our journey began together, the journey of the realisation of my dream (which is quite over-rated as every such journey has been known to turn into self-realisation rather than realisation of dreams).

The walk to the room was interspersed with celebrity (the famous seniors) spotting, the first being a chance rendezvous with Mr.X. My buddy, who pretends to be a dedicated student even to this day, and Mr.X, the celeb, got absorbed in a random question and answer session while i was 'checking out' the rest of His Campus. The session lasted long enough to fill my head with ideas for the rest of my life.

However the hopes were shattered when we entered the room. The room must have been used as a set on the show 'The Haunted House', my inner voice said. But the optimism in my buddy took over and he proclaimed that we can make it 'student-friendly'. Some hours (of sweeping dusting and coughing) later we made it look swanky clean. Mission accomplished.

The next day was the day of the registration which was a smooth and uneventful process. I was more interested in the fun that was waiting to be unleashed in Groove later that evening. But all good things keep us waiting and so did this one. The postponing of the event blessed us all with three days to have fun with random strangers which over time would turn, maybe who knows, into cherished friendship.



Be it the strolls near the pond to check out whose busy with whom or the roaring laughter shared over food in the canteen, all promise to make this journey magical.




Later that week I stood near the legendary 96 steps to the world of opportunities, introspecting.

 Meanwhile, the transformation that was waiting to happen did eventually. The rains lashed the campus, soaking one and all in an unprecedented natural charm.





A few weeks later....


One thing that gives you a high in NITIE, after senior-spotting of course, is snake-spotting. Once you spot one the next thing you do is tell everyone about your chance encounter. Posting on FB walls is easy and immediate comments means that your adventure has been taken note of. I wonder whether this 'crossing of paths' generates as much sensation in the reptile world as it does in ours. 


Now we are getting used to the life where things are changing by the second. It's like Alice in Wonderland. Classes are two hours of blah blah followed by 5 golden minutes of break. Professors are more than happy to give assignments as if they are going to get a national award for it. The more the merrier is their philosophy. So every student worth his dime who wishes to stay in the good books of the teachers has to fall in line with the their whims. Sacrificing sleep is the need of the hour as more activities are expected with Groove - 'the induction' coming on. Groove brings with it countless hours of discussing, debating, googling, pulling your hair apart, pulling your teammates' hair apart and doing whatever that goes into submitting a case-study before the 4 am deadline. This pattern repeats itself for the 2-3 nights together which makes you dare to sleep under the professor's nose in the class the next day. The randomness of the group selection for Groove was a blessing in disguise for me as i was in the same team as a hottie of the college. 

After you have had more than a fair share of sleep deprivation in Groove, you find yourself facing the committee selection process. The committees, ten in all, canvas before you portraying their good Samaritan nature before the crowd. Day ends and the chaos follows. Prioritizing between the committees is a trap as the one you give less importance to is bound to sting you like a scorpion later. Since during day-time the teachers are busy murdering our creativity the night-time is the auspicious time the interviews are scheduled for committee selections. Senior hostels are the slaughter houses where innocent free minded future managers are brought to ground. Placecom, Co-ordCom, AlumCom etc.- different names and different hunting styles, but in the end they all just tend to devour the meat thrown before them. Behind selected doors sits the pack of hunters (read the panels)waiting for its prey (the interviewee). Every one goes in as the king of the world only to find that the picture is not as rosy as he/she had imagined it to be. The world seems to regain its sanity when you come out of the interview. You have to sing, shout, sell, think, convince, negotiate, bargain your way out of the place. Survivors live to tell another day. 

Welcome to God's Own Campus. 

      

Maestro_Part One

I did not know what was ‘fan-following’ per se. Then I saw him ‘paddle-sweep’ a ball pitched close to his legs and turning into him. The next moment it was hurtling towards the periphery of the ground – the boundary. No fielder bothered to move. They all knew it would be a four the moment it left the bat. The bowler wiped off the sweat off his brow. The bowler, the keeper and the captain had one thing in common – a demurely puzzled look. The partying crowd lapped up the effort with a spirit greater than ever before. Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar – the humblest master of the game was doing what he does best – entertaining with the bat.

1998, Sharjah : India were up against the mighty Australians. Two things that evolved out of the series, assuming mythical proportions of the folklore kind later, were Sachin’s innings in the semi-final and the final.  Those present there must be boasting before their kids even today that they saw a man bring down the Aussies single-handedly. Post that tour, his resume` reads as – “Smacked the supremacy out of Aussies” under ‘achievements’. I remember the slender and tall pacer Michael Kasprowicz  (Novak Djokovic look-alike to some)  bowling his heart out. He consistently hit the best of spots with an uncanny discipline mixed with ferocity that is an Aussie trademark. But the composure with which Sachin greeted the venomous deliveries was unfathomable. When the ball was pitched slightly fuller than good length, the 3 kg willow would come down on it hard and firm. The ball would kiss its sweet spot and then dart towards the fence. Commentators would go gaga over the immaculately executed straight drive.

 If there was anything which can define elegance it is his straight drive. This shot brings a smile even on his face. Had the ball swung outwards even an inch (which, my friends, in dusty Sharjah-like conditions is akin to finding water in a desert), he would have made the subtlest of changes in his footwork and would have cover-driven it to four. The very-same game but a few overs later, Tom Moody pitched at the same spot but with lesser pace. Any ordinary person would have the same way as  earlier. However, Sachin is the keenest student of the game. That showed when he made  a little room and lofted the ball over the bowler’s head and away from all the fielders for another four – a calculated risk.  Had he played straight at Moody’s pace, it would have never been a four. Somewhere in the middle of the Indian innings, Kasprowicz was re-introduced. Now with the field spread, he just lifted the ball pitched close to his boot for a six. Minimum flamboyance. Maximum effect.  Everybody , even the Heavens, were spellbound. The magician was at work. Thanks to some excellent camera-work, the TV viewers could appreciate the landing of the ball on the sight screen better than the spectators on the ground.  Though in the semi-finals Indian team lost, yet they qualified for the finals.

Yet the opposition took the master blaster and his bravados lightly. They fielded the same players again. No bowler changed. Damien Fleming and Michael Kasprowicz were taken to the cleaners. Tom Moody was not spared either. But Sachin has reserved something special for presumably the most potent weapon in the Aussie armour – Shane Warne.  Having proved ineffective from over-the-wicket, Warne went round it to bowl on around Sachin’s legs. The plan was to make him look for singles only. He tweaked the ball and put on it as many revolutions as a human finger could. Sachin judged the flight early. He danced down the pitch and met the ball helped by an extended bat-lift. The power of the audacious attempt bore the sweetest of fruits. The ball flew off the bat. Seconds later the stadium got immersed in a roar as the ball got deposited in the stands.    

    

P.S.        This stuff that I am writing about comes straight from my head. So please do not verify it. This is just all that has impacted me. This is a mere recollection of exciting moments featuring the man that have got stuck in my head.              

THE ERA OF SPECULATION

Julius Caesar, the roman king, had once said – “I came. I saw. I conquered.” Steve Jobs went a few steps further and added to the famous quote. Now it reads as – “I Came. I Saw. iPod. iPhone. iPad. I Conquered.”

As observed recently that Jobs’ demise has sparked an outpour of tributes to his genius and innovative mind. You cannot but agree with all that is being said or posted or tweeted in his memory. Creative minds are at their best when it comes to paying their last token of respect to someone who has changed the world for good.

But with every passing moment the realization dawned on me as to what we have become as the ones who tread the planet earth. We are nothing but marketers, each one of the roughly four billion of us. We market everything, be it as little as a sugar cube or as gigantic as islands. Or for that matter as conventional as cereals to as uncharacteristic as death, tears etc. when someone precious (as precious as Steve Jobs) dies people have the habit of clinging onto the universal grief wagon. They express their sentiments in public. Some find a few takers (so called sympathizers), some don’t. That is the marketing of death. Companies have started to stock an inventory of products that would have never seen the light of day had Jobs been alive. From the iPhone 4S to books based on his life, everything has been designed as to cash in on the mass hysteria his demise has created. It is the moment when the time is perfect or, figuratively speaking, when the apple is ripe.

Social networking sites have given the people the option of expressing their day to day nitty-gritties on open forums. From hormone induced outbursts to subtle observations, everything gets rechristened as status updates. After you’ve put it out there for the world to see then starts the wait – ‘the wait for what someone would say or comment’. That is your wait for people to buy your update. Yes man, it is marketing at play again. The inherent law says- “The more scandalous the update, the greater the number of buyers”. Thus the idea that emerges out of everything around you is that it’s all about marketing.

We can take a look at the days that have passed and interpret the events that occurred with the wisdom that hindsight ushers with itself. As mankind evolved from pre-historic to the ancient age, the greatest invention i.e. the wheel was followed by the birth of civilization. Herein flourished the tradition of the exchange of mutually agreed upon things – the barter system. Soon, one thing led to another. Coins and then later on banks came into the picture. Then flaunting wealth to get oneself distinguished as elite became the order of the day. Society got divided into ‘haves’ and ‘have-nots’. Capitalist society was born which established the strength of marketing. It’s only when we come to the present that we realize, all the more, the effect of good marketing. Steve Jobs returns to the mind again as the one who played his cards smartly. Not only he experimented with technology, he also packaged them with aesthetic beauty (Remember there is a team of designers to be given credit for the sheer charm that an apple product brings to the eye). Jobs always built hype around his creations and made sure the product lived up to it.

2011 saw the undoing of another ‘talked about and not-so-ordinary’ person. No points for guessing. Yes it’s Osama Bin Laden. Perceived as the world’s most wanted fugitive in some circles and as the messiah in others, he rose from the ranks of a humble engineer to the chief architect of ‘Let’s bring down America’. He hurt her (America) where it hurt the most – the economy. He started his offensive at the height of symbolism quite literally. By bringing down the twin towers he brought to limelight the nether world of terrorism. He instigated Uncle Sam to dig his own grave. the hijacked planes crashing into the towers was a message clearly delivered. Terrorism was marketed well in the garb of holy Jihad. America burnt cash to avenge the suffering of its people. The costly wars pinched her dearly. Today its economy is badly bruised and its people are disoriented. The 9/11 attack design turned out to be the work of a nefarious mindset but a genius one nevertheless.

Both Jobs and Laden have one thing in common. Both have left behind an era of speculation as to who will fill in their shoes. Neither Zawahiri nor Tim Cook will find it easy to keep the trust of their so called buyers intact. But the people will definitely speculate as to whether Zawahiri will be as lethal as Laden or for that matter Cook as charismatic as Jobs.

But let me tell you that the next big thing to take the world by storm (good or bad depends on the perception) is already out there, not in the technocratic meccas of education like the MITs, the Harvards etc. or in the citadels of terrorism like Af-Pak border, but there in some ubiquitous garage (somewhere in the world) tweaking something or the other and improvising upon it just to catch your fancy. Which one amongst these tweakers will win the race is a matter of speculation. But that, my friend, will decide the future of mankind.

DOWN BUT NOT OUT

You say its not easy.

But it was never supposed to be so.

Go! Try yourself against the odds.

Don't just stand at the shore.

Go! Test the murky waters.

Understand the depth. Wet your feet.

Having doubts eh? Doubts are legitimate at this juncture.

But you have got to undo the spell they have cast.

Don't stand in your own path.

Work harder than before. 

You have tasted failure.

Now indulge in it for a while.

Pocket the lessons that it brought for you.

Move on. Don't linger.

Many have tread this path before.

Some fell prey to the demons midway.

Some conquered them.

But you have got to do it for that hope

that is born after each victory.

The legend that inspires a curious toddler

needs to be retold.

You ' re not the only one in the race.

It 's a mad scramble out there.

Someone may be working harder than you are.

Sweating it out just to outdo you.

Gotta to show him what competition looks like.

If you've got to rise, the time is now !

MY INCOMPLETE LOVE…………….

When you cry a thousand rivers flow,

My heart too speaks but words don’t show,

Caught in the turbulence I shed a tear.

I feel for you. Can’t you see my dear?

It seems just yesterday your lips had caressed mine,

Clocks had stopped as I had lost track of time.

The dream is shattered now and a hangover lurks in the mind,

            Only you can undo this immortal bind.

Cast in stone is my destiny without you,

No sculptor can make it untrue.

It can’t be an illusion as it is so odd,

             If this is His will, He can’t be God.

It’s only your name in my unheard prayers,

See as I see your face in the twilight glares.

No ground is beneath me nor the sky above,

            Don’t let me go. O! my love.

GLANCES

she stood there waiting in the rain. Her hand gripping the umbrella firmly as if her life depended on it. The other hand was held by a little girl in raincoat who was anxious about her teddies getting wet and then falling sick. A pinkish innocence radiated from her little face. Her eyes had prayers written in them – prayers which had gone unheard as the shower drowned the city.

Those eyes had seen her parents fight. It was a dull afternoon. The tranquility of the place was shattered by loud voices. They went on shouting at each other until her father stormed out of the home – never to return back. She had been at the door ever since. But after it had grown dark even she had lost hope.

A year had passed since then. Neither her father came nor had he called. She did not know what to think. Every night she had seen her mother snuggle into her pillow while sleeping but had always understood that it was only to hide her tears. Even now it seemed that tears had been rolling down her cheeks. But no..they were not tears but mere raindrops. her tears had gone dry after having waited for the man who had once given her the real sense of being and brought joy to her world and eventually who also had brought it down.
she had not known how to trust a man before this. having suffered her father's abuse after her mother died she had given up all hopes of meeting a man who would sweep her off her feet. But God had been kind to her though not as often as she would have wanted. On one such shower of kindness she had come across a man whose love she had craved for all along. it was as if she had come across an oasis in the desert. but it was not meant to be. it turned out to be a mirage. the feeling she thought to be love was a mere act of sympathy on her lover's part. he had eventually moved on to shower sympathy on another distressed woman.

But moving on for her had not proved so easy. she had a three year old to take care of. ......

LIFE IN WORDS

Respire.

Aspire.

Perspire.

Inspire.

GRAVEYARD

 Life is a graveyard

Where aspirations are buried alive.

Talent is guillotined

As hope betrays those who strive.

Life is a wonder

Where people run away from death.

Misguiding their conscience

Beg for mercy in every breath.

Life is a challenge

For those who dare to dream.

Flowing against the current

And pumping into their bloodstream.

Life is but a mystery

Innocence is a lost gold.

Souls are worth a guinea

In a place where love is sold.

THE UNPLEASANT TRUTH

Sense and sensibilities are numb.

To its death, let reality succumb.

Faith is lost. Emotions are hollow.

Leaders themselves are about to follow.

Wondering why the world is dark?

Humanity has perhaps lost all its spark.

Bodies breathe devoid of their souls.

For a source of light there are many black holes.

I trusted you. Oh leader! Before the hazard.

Supremacy they say is an unworthy reward.

War is over and lessons are learnt.

Nobody has gained. Only mankind is hurt.

A HUMBLE PRAYER

Running towards destination I noticed,

That destination has its own legs.

The closer you get, the farther it seems.

Now nowhere to go, nothing to believe.

I am lost in the folds of time.

No footsteps to retrace.

Enchanted I stand.

Before you O Lord.

Guide me to innocence.

Away from this cacophony of silence.

And ahead of the powers that bog me down.

Undo the chains of aimlessness.

Lend me the vigour to pull apart consciousness.

Allow me to take a dip in the pool of innocence.

Dunk my soul in ignorance.

Imbibe in my spirit the art of forgiveness.

Let me dissolve in its water – cares and concerns of this pompous delusion – the urban chaos.

Lead me in to a life where clocks don’t tick.

Where there are no reminders.

Where cause is buried deep in the chasms of oblivion.

Where mankind prospers well within its restraints.

Lead me thus into the shores of my heaven.