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.