The steps i take are the same, yet the journeys i take are different.
i still breathe air, but the scent of earth is different.
My legs pain,
the backpack heavier with every step,
more memories stuffed at every fair i stop at,
I am a traveller and nothing can change that.

cycling in amsterdam,
counter culture in berlin,
castles in prague,
music of salzburg,
beer in rhine valley,
the walks in konigsee,
the beauties of konstance,
the lakes of interlaken,
the domes of milan!

i have seen and i will see more!

Short Story : No it cannot be love

Inspired by true events.

M was born in jhunjunu. His father, son of the local temple priest, had been the first to go to a college in near by Lucknow, and then secure a government job in the Railways. Having grown up in a traditional Indian family, his parents wanted M to settle down and get a good government job. M was a simple boy, brought up under the close supervision of his grand parents, as his father would travel often due to his job with the railways.  He could recite the Bhagwat Geeta orally and was a practicing Hindu. There was nothing about M, which was out of the ordinary. Infact, M was a model of the ordinary, with no exceptional talent, looks, physical features whatsoever.

A quiet guy whom you would otherwise ignore, he dint have many friends back in Jhunjunu, which had been recently swept by the cable television and its associated diseases. Girls from small homes wore spaghetti tops and thongs under their salwar - kameez and the boys used more gel on their head, than soap on their face. M considered himself of a higher pedigree than the youth around him, and worked hard with a dream to fulfill the expectations of the Sharma household. He sometimes felt lonely, and yearned for company different from what his close family could provide. He knew once he clears his exams, Jhunjunu would be behind him and he would have a social group similar to himself.

M got into the IAS. The Sharma household's joy knew no bound. M was now set for life. M's parents started getting offers for his wedding, and soon, M's alliance was promised to Jhunjunu's richest businessman's only daughter, for a dowry of 10 acre land. M dint even know about the tough negotiations in the background, driven by M's parents and relatives, to get the perfect dowry deal for him, or the fact that the girl in question was only 16 and had not even finished school yet.

Finishing the busy induction program, M left for his first posting in Kashmir. M's parents were nervous but reassured by the fact that M would be posted in Gulmarg, a relatively peaceful place, with little history of any disturbance and would have adequate security.

M arrived at Gulmarg expecting a salute from a dozen or staff. Reporting on duty the first day he realized that Indian babudom is like a world in itself, and he was actually the junior-most Babu in the long chain with limited if any responsibility. Life was different now. There wasnt much to do in Gulmarg. Young officers like him would hang out at the Army officers club, play some sports or go and watch movies in the officers club. After trying unsuccessfully to blend in, M lost interest in playing the typical babu. He would spend more time talking to his caretaker staff and go for long walks, in the picture-perfect valleys of Gulmarg. His chief butler, whom he called Baba, was a muslim and would stay with him in the big house. M often chuckled, if his grand father knew that a Muslim cooks food for his Brahmin grand son, he would probably ex-communicate him from the house.

Baba would tell him stories about Gulmarg before the 1990s, a place where several Hindi movies were shot, and the biggest of Bollywood celebrities had their holiday homes. What Baba did not tell him was the fact that they were still living in clear and present danger. Humans have this tendency to believe that whatever happened in the past will not happen in future, and somehow things are better now when the evidence is to the contrary.

to be continued....

Dear Gandhis,we know your Game

india is not a democracy. It is an imperialist state, ruled by the Gandhi family with an iron fist.

the whole tamasha around having elections, election commission, police and judicial system is a fucking eyewash.

Gandhis have never been dislodged from power in India and their money and their power will ensure that even in future, they will continue to call the shots. History proves that even in the ruling party whenever any leader with a popular base has threatened the position of Gandhis he has had to pay dearly with his death. The Gandhi family's chosen method of execution is accidents. They get it arranged in air and on road as well. It seems like they get consulting services from the Italian Mafia, who are also the defacto banker and political advisor to the Italian head of Gandhi family.

The recent cases against all and sundry who have dared to raise a voice against the massive corruption in public services prove that Gandhis are a vengeful lot. I am writing this blog. So if i am fucking arrested by a CBI tomorrow for whatever bullshit excuse they come up with, you know who fucked me.

You can own newspapers, live TV, news, movies, radios, everything. You cannot own our brains and our ability to think independently. Unless you kill us in an accident. 

Samsung Phones Suck: What no expert will ever tell you

I have a Samsung Galaxy Flip

Its the last time i have bought a Samsung phone. 

The best battery backup time it has ever given me is 1 hour of non usage. Or make it 30 minutes of talk time. 

This, after i bought this phone after reading the reviews in atleast a dozen online forums. I did my research, but then realized, that even i have worked in a research firm and published research is essentially crap.

There are few companies who invest in usability research when they design consumer electronics, samsung and other korean firms are the last ones to do so. Add to it all Indian firms as well.  Phones from Nokia, Apple, Blackberry and even Sony are very well designed, with solid usability cues. Like how easily you can switch between two or three applications. If you think that you dont need this feature, think again. 

My advice, if you are buying a phone, dont buy Samsung, HTC, LG and the ilk. You will only regret it.

Short Story: Dead in My Car

This is a true story.

This happened three months back. It was supposed to be a road trip to Jaipur. It was peak winter, and winters in North India can be nasty. Thick fog reduces visibility to near zero and the winter chill can paralyze you to staying wrapped in a warm quilt all day. Life was boring and drudgery. Finally there was something exciting to look forward to.

It was supposed to be a road trip to Jaipur. A+ had relocated to Bangalore a few months back and A-, his better half was still in Delhi. Three of us had loads of fun the previous night. My frustrated job hunt finally was showing good traction and i had an offer from a global media giant. I decided to bunk office, borrowed my dad car, picked A+ and A- from their pad in Vasant kunj and hit the NH8. We explored a haunted city, went to Jaipur and explored the charms of the old palaces there. Soon it was night and we decided to drive back to Delhi, spend the night at Vasant Kunj and go home in the morning, as A+ had to leave for Delhi the following day.

It was around 12:15 am, we were some 90 km from Jaipur and A+ had taken over the wheels from me. We passed by a mangled heap of metal, with a dozen men standing by it, staring at a woman crying loudly, looking for help. There were some trucks parked before and after the mangled vehicle. Almost all vehicles were slowing down, looking at the scene, and passing on. We decided to stop and see whats wrong. A+ braked, i got off and rushed to her. She was newly married, still wearing her choora that the newly married women wear.  As soon as she saw me, she came and clung to me, shouting please save me, please save my husband, he is still trapped inside, but he is breathing, please take him to the hospital. She was sobbing, she was clueless, her helplessness was palpable. I realised, being from Delhi, she had seen a protector in me, and it was upto me to stay there, help her or just leave from there, like 99.9% people passing the highway did that night.

We took her husbands body out, then this lady, A+, A- with the body in my car drove to the nearest hospital, 26 km away. The guy died within minutes of us reaching the hospital. Next few hours were difficult, as we called her relatives through my phone, and waited for them to reach us here in this village. Police came, senior medical officer came, but they appreciated our help, no one gave us any kind of trouble. People served us tea, police people stood by us the whole night, talking to us. We couldnt save the guy. We couldnt keep our word to the lady. She had become a widow in the last few hours, it was a shock for her, and she was in a daze. When she spoke to her father in law, the words wouldnt come. We stepped out and cried, but we dint cry in front of her.

Three of us drove back to delhi at around 5 am again. Shaken, with blood on our backseat and memories of a night, we will never forget a lifetime. We often think about her. How her life would have been different if we had not gone to jaipur that day, may be none of this would have happened.

Short Story: Was Death the Only Answer ?

They found him dead a week back, in his fathers new house. He was 22, he had final year engineering and had secured admission in Germany for an advanced course. His parents had separated an year back and his mother lived in a different city with his brother, and her parents. He was happy the night before, and cooked his dad his favorite meal. They had chatted about life in Germany where he was looking forward to go.

It all started six years back, when his little brother was only 5. His parents would fight a lot, over small things, like who will drop the younger one to school, who will make breakfast, who will get the groceries etc. He could think of times when home was a happy place to come back to. When his father would play with him and his brother, while his mom sang in the living room. He dint remember the last time he had seen her smile, or sing. She was living in a different city now, along with the little one. He had left home when he started his engineering. Leaving the town, the house, dad, cousins everyone behind, to a new city over 100 km away. This was when things had gone from bad to worse. Instead of working out their differences, his parents had decided that their parental duty was now over, and they could move on. They filed for a divorce the week he landed in college and started his classes.

He got to know when he was in first trimester of mechanical engineering. Among strangers and rigorous academic schedule, he was often clocking 16 to 19 hour work days, leaving him no time to think, or share his feelings. It was then that he noticed her, a long dark haired girl with sharp features, confident and smart, social and outgoing. He was infatuated by her exuberance. She was attracted by his aloofness. When she wore the sexy LBD for college freshers party, he was the only guy who dint stare at her and made her feel safe around him. They often worked together for assignments late into nights, exchanged notes and exam tips. She had a different group of friends to hang out with who were more popular, more social like her. He was in college, he had friends, but people hardly noticed him. He was like a part of the classroom furniture whom no one noticed. Meanwhile,  they talked, but dint actually become friends till much later. His heart was a riot of emotions whenever he saw her, but by the time she would realise her feelings for him, it would be too late, and he would have left for a place so far, her feelings wouldnt reach him. The first time she noticed him was two years later, at a common friends birthday party. He dint know she was among the people present there. He loved to sing and he sang his hear out, belting out  one melody after the other, as she looked on mesmerised by the depth of his voice, his fingers strumming the guitar strings, like a ballerina dancing a practiced routine. Later when they sat alone on a moon light terrace, they chatted about the most insignificant little things. This was the happiest night in his life. He had recieved the news of his parents divorce coming through the next day. He dint go to college for a week. She would wait for him every day after classes, but even when he returned, his mind was elsewhere and he was distracted.

During the following summer, he went to his mothers new place. His brother was excited to see him, and his grandparents werent. For some reason, his Nana and Nani had never liked him much. His mother appeared aloof, but happy with her new life. He somehow felt unwelcome at the new place, and this feeling would not leave him when he left for college after the two week vacation.

In his gut he knew something was different. He had never scene any images of his birth, or as an infant. Their earliest family pics showed him atleast 2 year old. Sometimes, in his dreams, he could fainlty remember a house in the hills, a farm, and a woman whose face he couldnt recollect. But his city dint have any hills, and no one in his close family had been a farmer.

Back in college, in the final year of engineering, the pace of studies picked up, leaving him with no time to think again. Life was all about projects, placement tests, classes, exams, and also occasional music gigs with the college band. He had forced himself to get over his infatuation with her, because he belonged to a broken home, and there is no way he could have a successful relationship. The last thing he wanted now was leave college without a job or an offer from a reputed foreign university, because the alternative would be being a burden on his father or mother, something which wasnt an option right now.

He committed suicide three months later.

Fuck You Ram Gopal Vermas and other Low Life Scums of the world..

A young boy used to live in a sweet residential area of Bangalore. This was an area where good, honest people used to live a humble life, where everyone new everyone else and there was a sense of community among the people. Our Boy, Jerome was exceptional in sports and studies, always winning medals and accolades from uncles and aunts and a special someone. His crush was a vivacious young girl called Maria, who loved to sing and dance and wanted to be an actress like all teenage girls, do. Jerome and Maria got along well, their parents knew, and chose to portray like to they dont, and let nature take its own course.

Jerome joined the NAVY and went to NDA. He wanted to serve the country and have a quality life and the Navy promised him that. With his marks, he had all the options open. He would meet Maria when he would be back on his term breaks and spend time with her. He loved her, her innocence and her beauty. Sadly for him, little did he know that Maria was stepping into a world far removed from what she could expect, given her safe and sheltered upbringing.

Maria wanted to prove herself and went to Mumbai-  the city of dreams. The city of ugly everyday existence where people live for their dreams. Maria realized that she is naive, a nobody in a world of  star kids, politically connected, businessmen kids etc. Talent was under-rated, and in many cases not required. Every one was out to make a killing. Lambs were out there, competing to be slaughtered, hoping that the meat they become is likeable for the hungry and empty film producers. She began to detest Jerome, because she knew he loved her. It was important for Maria to forget who Maria was and become a struggler in the true sense. The person who reminded her most of who Maria was, and who needed her to be Maria was Jerome, now an officer in the Navy. Sometimes, Maria wanted to give it all up, and just be what Jerome wanted her to be, herself. But then, she had to fulfill her dream. The glamour, the appeal of being an actress in a movie was too big. She wanted to give it one last try before tying the knot with Jerome. She wanted to try and do everything it takes. Everything.

Vikram grew up in a village near Patna. He would run 6km to the nearest school every morning where classes were held in the open, under a tree, and where teachers never got a salary, only a satisfaction of helping children of poor farmers from the region. Vikram got a scholarship to a college in Mumbai. He worked part time to pay through his college, and managed to learn alot about Mumbai in the three years he spent there. He worked in a production house, where young beautiful girls, would do anything to get an appointment with the director or producer. He knew their types. None of these girls would even look at him or talk to him in his college, because he wasnt cool enough, he wasnt rich, and frankly, he dint have the luxury to 'chill'. He would see and notice many Marias come in and go, he was an office assistance, and they dint even acknowledge his existence, but Vikram knew one day they would have to. He would make his parents proud, but first he would prove to these girls that he is a man. Vikram did well in his studies, made right contacts in his office, and rose to join the production office. Sure enough, in a few years, he was living his dream. Young beautiful girls, from good families, daughters of bureacrats, defence officials, diplomats, were flitting in and out of his bedroom, eager to please him, a humble son of a landless farmer in Bihar, with the hope that they will get casted in a good role. He wasnt sad about what he did. He considered him better than his peers and seniors. Atleast he exercised some quality control over who he slept with. He never slept with boys, never made the girls do drugs or drink. He never drank, because his parents would be upset if they came to know. He justified his new 'lifestyle' by ensuring he did something useful for the girls he slept with. He had a reputation soon. The girls felt that if they can manage to bed Vikram, they would become something. He met Maria and called her for an audition to his home. This was a chance Maria was waiting for.  Maria met Vikram and there was a connection. Vikram had slept with many girls, but Maria was different. She still had respect for herself, despite agreeing to sleep with him. He saw her as Jerome would see her and as no other man would. As a human with a heart.Vikram proposed to Maria. Maria told him about Jerome. Vikram deleted her number and made it a point to ensure her failure. Vikram was hurt, for the first time by a woman he considered available. Maria called to apologize, for another chance and called him home. Vikram went. Jerome called Maria and realized she is with Vikram. They fought, Vikram laughed over Jerome's obsession about her being childish. She made love to Vikram and thought about Jerome. She hated him, because he loved her. She hated herself. She now loved Vikram.

Jerome was angry. Jerome wasnt an ordinary guy. He was an alpha male.Smart, suave and strong. He wasnt willing to lose his love to a semi-literate, paan-chewing Bihari. He wanted to go there and prove to him who is the man for Maria, in front of her. He had loved Maria for more than 15 years. He had loved her before she had tits, when she wore braces, put oil in her hair and tied them with ribbons in two tails. He had loved her through seasons, through ages and she had proven her love to him in so many countless ways. He wanted to go and prove to Vikram what a low-life scum he was. Jerome left the naval station that night, with nothing.  He just wanted to reach Mumbai and punch Vikram in the face.

Maria opened the door-slit and saw Jerome. Events of last nights phone call came to her mind. She was shivering. Jerome was banging the door. Neighbours would wake up. She opened the door. She wore nothing but a negligee. Jerome was surprised, but dint bother much. He hugged her and told her he would fix this guy Vikram once and for all. Maria tried to reason. Jerome looked at her carefully. She looked like she was 'well-fucked', her hair was in a mess, she had bite marks on the neck and she smelled like sex. Jerome's sixth sense was telling him there was someone in the house. Maria tried to block him, she kissed him, with the same mouth that had just minutes ago made love to Vikram's manhood. She felt sick. Jerome was clueless but welcomed the gesture.  For a moment he forgot Vikram and kissed her back. Then he saw it. Used condom, on the bedroom floor, visible from the open bedroom door, as they stood in the living room. Jerome pushed her aside and went in. Vikram was sprawled naked on the bed, as naked as he was born. Jerome looked at Maria. She was ashen white.  Without wasting another moment, Jerome starting kicking and punching Vikram. Vikram woke up with a start. He opened his eyes, only to lose consciousness in a second, as Jerome smashed consecutive blows on his face and head. Jerome stopped and challenged Vikram. Vikram was unconscious. Jerome kept hitting him, with bare hands. Maria looked on dispassionately. It was her fault, this was her punishment, she dint come in his way. Vikram was now a pulped mass of bones and blood. He died within the first couple of blows, only. His last thougths were probably "what the hell" and he could have only guessed what is happening with him.
Jerome was a national level boxer in the Navy.  Jerome dint realize till a long time that his puches were now producing a squishing and cracking sound, rather than loud thumps. He then realized, he had probably punctured Vikram's skull, face and rib cage. Maria was standing right behind him when he stopped. She brought him a glass of water, cleaned Vikram's blood off him with a towel and told him "i love you". Jerome made love to her right there, next to Vikram's pulped body. They made love the whole day. Vikram stayed there, smashed to pieces, while his parents in Bihar went about their morning routine assuming their son was in office, having just another day with his files on his desk.

This is the real story of Maria and Jerome and Vikram. Maria is free today, and RGV is casting her as a heroine in his venture.

Who is the criminal?

Vikram - because he slept with and destroyed personal lives of countless Maria's
Vikram  - because he fought with Jerome and provoked him to come to Mumbai and challenge his authority
Vikram - for spending the night at Maria's place

Maria - for sleeping with Vikram while being committed to Maria

Jerome - Love is Blind, but as an officer, he should have known when to stop. Clearly,  it was Maria's decision to sleep with him. Even if she was his wife, he dint have the right to kill Vikram.

Why is the media so biased?

Why doesnt any media channel focus on Jerome's fate. Vikram is dead, Maria is free and on her way to stardom. Jerome is behind the bars. An educated, qualified young officer of the Indian Navy is wasting his youth behind the bars.