Growing Up

Quite a while before the Home Alone pranks, the Shrek series, the Mr. Bean gags and the Harry Potter legacy got hold of our imagination and became the way toddlers grew up to kids; there were an altogether different ‘generation’ of children motion pictures and animation movies. Whilst all the above mentioned series’ emerged early at the turn of the century, the ‘generation’ I am talking about has been around since the mid 80’s. And I for one, with Deepu, Amrit and Ranjodh as siblings, grew up on them. That’s before Shing Chan, Ben10, Doremon, Pokemon, Dragon Ball Z and hell knows what other lousy sci-fi animated series took hold of my younger cousins’ imagination. From the days when all we had was Cartoon Network and (the then top-of-the-line) video cassettes to today’s Pogo, Hungama, Nick, Disney and (the oh-so-normal) DVD’s, our generation has really come of age. On a personal note I do loathe, and don’t make two senses of it, the ching-chang-chung animations. Period.

This here is a collection of the children motion pictures and animation movies that I have grown up with. The list is not entirely conclusive, so I’ll require you three, Deepu, Amrit and Ranjodh to add on anything I may have missed out. Some part or the other of each of some of these collections is still a vivid memory. So much for the love of growing up…!

They were indeed good ol’ days…!!!

The Jungle Book – the epic tale of Mowgli, Bagheera and Ballu as they chill out together, do some monkey business, some elephant talkies and fight off Sher Khan. The Monkey Dance Song and ‘Bare Necessities’ are forever classics and humming them brings back the nostalgia of watching the movie on a weekend as mom or chachi had popcorns popping away in the kitchen. A toast!!

Ballu & Mowgli



Monkey Business ;)







 

The Best Friends - Bagheera & Mowgli

"Bare Neccessities...!!"

"Just Wanna Be Like You" - Monkey Business

Lady and the Tramp – one of the first love stories I have ever seen; had to be between dogs. The typical rich, spoilt and willing to explore ‘girl’ meets the backstreet, adventurous ‘boy’. You see, the trend has never changed since then. The happy-go-lucky tale with the romantic angle (yes, a romantic song and a kiss as well!!) followed by the almost tragic end before the savior of the day comes to fore and unites the two love birds, I mean dogs. It had been good.

 

The first love story I happened to see on the telly had to be between dogs. ;) 

Beauty and the Beast – epic! One word that describes this animation movie is Epic. The tale starts off in a small village, a crazy scientist and his young (beauty-ful) daughter on a visit to the city, wild dogs, the magical enchanted castle and the beast; has all the ingredients a modern day masala movie would want. The more than friendly and welcoming ‘automatic’ pots and pans, wardrobes and pianos and what-not enchant the entire epic animation. The entire castle comes alive as they gear up as the villagers come to attack the beast. In a fierce battle the beast dies; and beauty confesses her love to the beast just before the last petal of the enchanted rose falls off, thus overcoming the curse placed on the beast, as he transformed into what he had originally been – a prince charming. The great grand daddy of all ‘Transformers’, this has always been one of my favorite.

 

One of the more magical and enchanting fairy tales I grew up on - The Grand Daddy of All Transformers

Bambi – this I’d have to admit had not been one of my favorite cartoon movies, more-so because of the rather sad tone of the entire movie. The tale of how a mother and baby deer are separated in a snow storm and how the foal grows up and ‘finds who he really is’ has not been one of my to-be-watched-again animations. Yet the movie resurfaced in memory many years after the toddler times, when I had been nicknamed Bambi, for a reason I have, up till now, been in the dark of.

 

The Lion King – this epic animation movie would always be in the top 5 of the best all time animations I have come across. Although there have been sequels to the original animation in ‘Lion King 2’ and ‘Simba’s Pride’, nothing beats the truly African Savanna touch of the first movie. Rafiki’s hailing to the gathered herds and the skies above, of the birth of the new cub prince of Mufasa is one of the more awe-inspiring scenes captured in mind. The music and the lyrics are African in nature, hip, jolly and hummable. Simba’s fun and frolic number with Zazu and Nala, ‘Oh I just can’t wait to be king’ or Uncle Scar’s intimidating ‘Be Prepared’; the music is what made the movie an epic. Then of course, Timon and Pumba groove on the ‘Hakuma Matata’. This phrase has been a part of the folklore around me in college. Simba’s awakening, his rekindled friendship with Nala and Rafiki’s, ‘It Is Time!’ make this movie a super-must watch. So much so, the more I type the more I want to get its print and relive those moments. This has been arguably the best of the lot. Having lived a good portion of my life near the African Savanna, the Lion King was always going to be an all time favorite.

The Lion King Pride 

 

 

Hakuna Matata - Timon, Pumba and Simba

  

 

 The Fight - Uncle Scar and Simba

Mufasa and Rafiki

"The Circle of Life" - at its best, illustrated by the African Savanna 

"Hakuna Matata; It means No Worries, for the rest of your days....."

"Be prepared; for the Coup of the Century" - intensity song!!

Hercules – the name says it all. Unarguably one of the more iconic heroes in historical based animated movies, Hercules has not lost its imagination grasping power, even now when it occasionally flashes over HBO or Pogo. Hercules, the Greek demigod, who is made a mortal, sent to earth, makes some loyal friends as he fights his way against his dad’s Zeus’ brother (don’t recall the name). There is also his love interest who with his bunch of friends and, if I correctly recall, a horse help him fighting the ‘bad guy’ and return to Olympus to be united with the Gods. Phew, this is what fairy tales had been made of.

  

 

The entire cast of Hercules'

Bob the builder – the name makes me ROFL. Mainly because of the lousy song my younger cousins hum, the one Pogo has had drilled into them; ‘Bob the Builder, kar ke dikhayenge’. Shukks. ROFL stuff. Don’t recall how the original movie was plotted but it had been fun throughout!

Cinderella – probably more of a metaphor now-a-day, the original Cinderella for me is just a random memory among the collection of animation movies and children motion pictures. Primarily girlie in approach, the tale of the young ‘real’ princess, tormented by her step mother and step sisters, who, with the assistance of a bunch of helpful rats, fights the adversity in life and with the charm of her Fairy-God-Mother (Harry Potter fans read: Patronus) attends a dinner ball where she finds her prince charming. And the story goes on as we all know. It’s a happily ever after tale.

Snow White – again, like Cinderella, this tale of a young beautiful girl who is saved from the clutches of her assassin and takes refuge in the adobe of 7 dwarfs in the middle of the jungle. The epitomized, ‘Mirror Mirron on the Wall, Who is the Fairest of us All’ by her step mother / witch is what makes this tale last forever in memory. Another of the happily ever after tales, the name never gets out of sight (nor mind) as now we have an apparel change by the same name.

Over to the Children Motion Picture Segment

Bedknobs and Broomsticks – have seen this movie plenty of times to recall it pretty vividly. These 3 (or were they 4?) siblings who are made to be adopted by a cranky witch, have this magical bed, which would go to anyplace you tell it to only of you screw the bed knob in a particular direction for a particular number of rotations, tap it a particular number of times and mumble some ‘humma dumm dumm’. This young disaster of a witch with the help of the siblings, go flying across London to find an ancient spell that would save England and themselves in the impeding war. Yes! Pretty much, that is the crux of the tale. It does have some animated parts. Have to so very bloody watch it again!

The Magical Bed - with the main cast

Rustic London music @ the Chor Bazaar equivalent - Portebello Road

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang – I still remember chichi jaan humming the song of the movie. It was one of the awe inspiring movies of ‘those’ times about a car that will fly in the air and float on water. There is this family (or do they just get together by chance?) who go flying for some reason or the other. Somehow they get into the clutches of the bad people who keep them imprisoned. They do something to make their escape possible. Damn! I have lost track of so much. Delhi is due this vacation. Have to bloody catch up again. (No! I’d rather not Google up the plot)

The Sound of Music – revolutionary for its age, this movie was about this nun who wanted to break free. Not from the sanctity of the church, but more generally to explore the world and travel. She moves around and comes to the house of some rich guy where she’s appointed the caretaker of these kids. A musical in the truest for, the everlasting song has to be “Doe a deer, a female deer; Ray, a drop of golden sun; Me, a name, I call myself; Far, a longer way to run”. The ‘saregama’ should have something like this. There must have been some sort of story involving some tragedy, or challenge, or a love angle; I don’t recall. But have always remembered watching this movie had been fun.

Marry Poppins – Finally, got this far. Marry Poppins, a movie that can take credit for giving the name of this blog. Another tale, somewhat similar to B&B and Sound of music (sans the magical aspect, that is), is about this wonderful witch who comes to be the caretaker of the kids of a family in urban London. How she gets them in line and takes them on a trip of a lifetime, where they enter a painting on the road, is how the movie plot gives way. There is the male lead as well. Loved the movie for Supercalifragilisticexialidocious.

Sing Along - "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" ..!!!

101 Dalmatians – pretty straight forward; a tale of an average guy and girl who fall in love and move in together (I think, they do marry). Their respective pet dogs, both Dalmatians, who got them to meet in the first place, also get ‘in a relationship’ and have pups. 101 of them. The evil boss of the girl, Cruela De’ Vill, gets fanatic about using the fur of the Dalmatians for a gown of hers, and hires two cranky burly guys to hijack the pups and bring them to her. The story is how the two burly guys do the Home Alone antics as they are tricked by the pups; and how the doggie network works in getting all the hounds of the city together for the cause of saving the 101 pups. Cruela De’ Vill also comes into the struggle to get the pups towards the end. Though, the pups are all saved and De Vill is handed over to the cops for some animal offence charge. There had been a sequel to this tale in 102 Dalmatians, though I don’t think I saw it. The 101 version had been fun watch.

Babe the Gallant Pig – wow! Nostalgia! The tale of a farmer and his wife who are debt ridden on their farm and see the option of a lottery or something in taking their baby pig to the city for something I don’t recall. It’s great fun to watch the farmer’s wife take the baby pig to the city; where, of all things there are no pet pigs! She finds a place to live where the pig makes some friends who are rather indifferent to him. They perform a song / dance sequence where a fire goes off and the old man of the place where they live dies. There is also a struggle to fight off some people who want to take over the place they are putting up in. Babe, the pig saves the day here and with the help of the animals manages to pull off the lottery thing. It is a happy ending. This too, is on the watch list this vacation!

Ranjodh, bro is has indeed been of great help searching up the old drawers and dictating me the entire collection we had. Some of the movies I don’t have registered in memory, but which, as you say, we have seen, are follows:

(a) Rugrats,

(b) Airbud – a tale of a sports dog,

(c) Beethoven – a tale of a pet dog,

(d) Polly – something about a green parrot,

(e) Homeward Bound – a tale of 2 cats and 3 dogs finding their way home when their family lose them in air transit,

(f) Hunchback of Notre Dame – (couldn’t recall it’s story, had to put it in this list) a tale that had been one of my favorite but now a memory, is about this orphaned kid who is taken into custody by the local church, where he is the guy who sounds the hourly gong. I don’t recall how this ugly looking ‘hero’ gets his way out; there must have been a ‘princess charming’; need some Google help.

And that is, atlast, that!!!
Geesh.. I'll never make any blog this long; had it not been for the sake of growing up with Deepu, Amrit and Ranjodh... Cheers, Siblings..! RoFl...!

Why Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

Well, frankly I don't recall around when was he first time I came across this word. It was definitely while watching the movie Marry Poppins back in Nairobi. I recall humming the tune of the song, though had no idea what the word was. It was, a very long, some time after that in Delhi when I got this word again. Chachiji, was amused by some of Amrit - Ranjodh's antics and began humming the tune that was registered somewhere in my head.

After some google-ing and youtube-ing I finally got to the real word and song I had been searching for since childhood. Since then, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious has been a part of my life. I had put it on trial during college. Whenever I felt that there is a need of something to say, without having any idea about the dialogue going on, this word has come to my rescue. More like my Patronus charm. The word gives the other person(s) an impression of me saying something intelligent and gets the attention of the listener(s) at an instant. It has so far had a 100% success in sending the initial conversation for a six till I have been able to conjure something more meaningful to contribute in the ongoing convo.

I can safely say that I managed to get quite some following on this word for its totally 'out-of-this-world-ness'.

Naming a blog on this word? Well, just something to keep conversations from getting blank. Some thing that spells out to catch your attention. Whether or not it manages to deliver to its name is for you to decide.

In retrospect, there are oh-so-many blogs by this name. So hardly makes a difference. And, anyway, what's in a name?

Peace!

Little Deeds of Kindness

I do not know why I am calling this entry by this name. I mean, there is so much more about this episode than the act of kindness. In defense though, to come to think of it, this entire episode would not have been possible without the little deed of kindness. Dad and Mom, if you ever read this, I dedicate this to you. Or yeah, whatever, either way, this goes out to you two. Secondly; Arjit, Vipul and Jagpreet, brothers, apologies for what I had to do to you guys for this.

What was the date? Err… 30th March 2011, I think.

That morning, when I got up, little did I know what surprise I had in store waiting. A normal weekday morning, had everything normal about it, except that this Wednesday would go a long way in history. The morning pleasantries, breakfast etcetera. Mom and Deepu were at home. I asked mom where papa was. She said that he had to get to the bank for some urgent work. He’d better be back fast before the roads become inaccessible.

I went to the roof top. It was 9 in the morning and you could see there was a crowd filling in attendance. Already? Any other day I would have cussed the crowds for having nothing else to do. But not today. This was unarguably going to be a very big day in many peoples’ lives. It was the 2011 Cricket World Cup semifinal, the host, we the Indians, pitted against arch rivals, Pakistan, playing on the very land that divides the two republics, the same land that witnessed many a bloody battle between two of the more stubborn nations over their 60 year history, the land that shares the same name on either side of the border, the land of proportional measure either side of the border, Punjab. You couldn’t blame anyone for the emotions that ran high. This was epic material. This was as if a flash of the wand of destiny made everything fall into place. If there ever was to be an “it” moment, for a cricket crazy fan, for a cricket nation, this had to be it.

I didn’t try to get a ticket for the match. No, I mean, I did try but I knew I could have done better. Whatever! Hardly makes any difference. We had a plan of our own. The new Panasonic Plasma was to don the roof top when the sun went down that evening. The mehfil was to begin then. Lit by the stadium flood lights nearby, back ground score by the forty thousand strong choruses in the cauldron, brought straight to us with an 8 second delay by DishTV (I can’t believe it, I should be paid for naming those lousy morons in this entry), food and drinks, on the house. This was to be a special way of making optimal use of our proximity to the PCA, the Punjab Cricket Association Stadium, Mohali, Punjab. In special attendance were to be Arjit, Vipul and Jagpreet.

Sigh! It was 9.30 and from the roof it was visible that the lines from the gates had reached already our street. That’s like almost 200m. And by 10.00 they had blocked direct access to our main gates. Mom summoned me down around then and told me to head to Chandigarh to pick up dad who had caught up on a puncture on Dubeyji’s bike. I took off and got dad back. It was difficult meandering through the masses that had now been standing in the line for almost four hours. I knew the gates were to open at 1 in the afternoon for a 3pm match start. Another better part of three hours to go. Golly! This is indeed a cricket crazy nation; an understatement.

I asked dad about the trip to the bank, early in the morning. I was told that that some loan taken against the place we were staying had been neutralized, (use any financial term you’d like, for me it’s neutralized) which meant that a major tension was over and done with. (Read this between the lines – normally mom gets tenser about such things, but, well you would not blame her for it). Anyway, this was really good news. I mean really good news.

Just soon as the info regarding the loan thing being sorted settled down, dad suggested we do something for the crowd assembling outside our house to get in the stadium. Douh! He suggested we put up sweetened drinking water, chhabeel, on a table within our premises for the fans to have. It goes with a Punjabi tradition and in the Sikh culture, of offering a refreshing drink on the roads to travelers during the peak summer months of April to July, as a commemoration to the 5th Sikh Guru’s sacrifice.

To come to think of it, this was indeed the ‘optimal use of our proximity’ to the PCA, and with the loan thing sorted out, it made all the more sense. But! It would be excruciatingly killing to serve those freaking lucky few who had managed to get their hands on tickets to witness this saga. Damn. The pangs of jealousy. But yeah, when dad says so to do it, and mom agrees, there’s almost nothing that you can do or say without sounding senseless. So, we got to it. Deepu and I set up the table just inside the gate got the water supplies as mom and papa were preparing the sweetener to be added on. I opened the gates and announced that water is being served for everyone who needs it. And we were on.

It felt good. Initially only the few people who were just in front of the gate came up. But as word spread, many more people from nearby also started pouring in. A true working successful example of how a good product and service can market your enterprise. Soon the sweetened water was also arranged and our house gate was thronged. A working example of the production planning tool of supply management based on the demand forecast. Also had hands on experience of the effect of the fluctuating demand on the method and mode of supply. Then we realized a very common psychology with people standing in the lines. No one would like to leave their positions for water, when they had waited for over 2 hours in the heat. So this gave way to the next brainwave, of walking down the road serving 15 glasses of the chhabeel at a time. Although each round lasted less than a few 10 meters here and there, is was the farthest reaching approach to reach the customer. A Marketing Tool again.

And when everyone you serve returns the favor with a ‘thanks’ you tend to feel good, about having done something good. About having done a little deed of kindness. And with each glass, ‘India ko jeeta ke aana’. God! This cricket crazy country!

And then… Like a bolt of lightning straight out of nowhere, a guy came up to the gate, the table on which we had the glasses placed. He wispered, “Dude, are you also watching the match?” “Yes, I am. On TV.” “We have an extra ticket of a friend who didn’t turn up. Would you want it?” Oh My God…!!! “Are you serious?” “Well, yes, we had a mind to sell it anyway and thought of asking you guys first, since you are doing a great job.” “Yes. I want the ticket. How much do I have to pay for it?” “It’s a general block ticket. For 500/-. Pay as much as you think is right.” Oh! This frikking conscious. This ticket is worth a gazillion at this hour. Barely an hour before play begins. And I have the right to pay whatever I want to for it…! Mom was nearest at hand, a wise person to have at a time like this. She asked me whether I had called the guy up or he came forward himself. She asked me whether the guy had bought the ticket in black or from the counter. Since it was him who came forward, she told me it made sense to pay the amount the guy had to pay for the ticket originally, either in black or otherwise.

When I got back to the guy at the gate, he insisted that I pay as much I deemed perfect for the ticket without disclosing how much he paid for it. Hell! This is insane. I dished out a 500/- Gandhi for the ticket in my hand, and the guy left the gate and became a part of the overflowing crowd rearing to enter the ‘Coliseum’.

Dad, refused to believe the authenticity of the ticket unless I be able to enter the stadium. I was lost for words or any expressions. Within five minutes, from doing the rounds of serving water to being a proud ticket holder, I didn’t know what made sense or what not. Vipul and Arjit would have insisted I sell the ticket for a couple of thousand bucks and watch the match in a lavish lounge.

I don’t know. I decided. It’s not normal for some random guy, whose name I don’t know, whom I don’t recognize, to come up to me of all thousands of other ticketless people and offer me the match ticket that begins in an hour or so. Forget the cost of the ticket. It comes down to the Ying-Yang concept. The do good and get good. It comes down to that little deed of kindness you do, by instinct or all the more willingly, that pays dividends. It’s a very conveniently arguable issue. It’s sometimes very clichéd. It may be ironical at times. Whatever! I don’t preach deeds of kindness, but when you happen to do some, something good would definitely happen. And for me I got to experience something un-matched probably unmatchable. Probably so much so, that no other contest would be worth watching live in the PCA ever again. On the other hand, (hysterically speaking) I don’t think I would have ever forgiven myself for not watching “this” match in the stadium next to our house after what happened later that evening, and more so, a few days later on 2nd April.

So, as it happened to be. I finished off with the water serving at the gate. Left Deepu and Papa to carry on the same for some time till most of the crowd had thinned down. Changed into something for the occasion and hared across the nearby parks to get to the entry gate my ticket directed me to. No hassle, an easy access into the stadium premises. Further into the actual playing arena. This indeed was “it”. Dad got to believe that we hadn’t been duped of 500/- bucks. The summer sun in the afternoon was at its piercing best. But nothing could have diluted the spirits. The icing on the cake was, by far, by-way-far, the feeling of 35,000 people singing the National Anthem together. Literally Goosebumps stuff.

The next eight hours would be an embedded memory for a very long time, and with this blog entry, for an even longer time. Screaming and shrieking my lungs coarse with other 40,000 or so unknown people, witnessing India gallop to victory was as befitting as it gets. I guess I would have to catch up on cricinfo.com regarding the intricate details, but the overall feeling is pretty much put-into-words by this.

I’d definitely owe this treasured experience to that little deed of kindness dad and mom got me to do. God! This really had been awesome.

It goes without saying that Arjit, Vipul and Jagpreet were left high and dry on that evening. The new Panasonic Plasma after-all didn’t get to don the roof that night. But well guys, if you read this, apologies again. And knowing your replies, fuck you again! :)

Cheers!!!

Glimpses:

The Pavilion in the scorching summer afternoon sunshine The cheering crowds in the Grand Stands

The Pavilion, as dusk sets in. One of the better lit moments of the game

The flood lights in full blaze Cheering our team to Victory The Winning Moment at Mohali

A few days later, in Mumbai, this happened. That, totally justified this evening. (c/o www.cricinfo.com)

Seal It With A Hug

I would have to admit that this is not my original creation; at least the idea of writing about the magic of a hug is not. Though I’d take credit for what I have expressed in it and about it.

There are many times when you feel down and low. When you feel that you are the only one left to face the challenges, the uphill task, the dull monotony of life. There are times when all you want is the companionship of anyone, someone who would not say a word to you but would just sit and listen to all the crap-of-a-sense you are making.

Among all the various senses known to mankind, the sense of touch is the most comforting, relaxing, intimidating, if you may, arousing and one that gives a feeling of fulfillment. When you touch it’s not only your skin that touches, a connection between two induvidual is made acts like a live wire for the sense of belonging to flow. And the sense of belonging is by far, what I believe, one of the most necessary, vital and driving forces to keep oneself in spirits to fight through all that is thrown at one.

A hug is a touch that encompasses all sorts of tactile emotions. It is as if the giver and the receiver are pouring into one another the very sense of belongingness, the very sense of being human. The emotion of a hug is something that is way beyond the sexual arena. It is not a lustful expression, as sometimes perceived.

It’s more like a yo-yo. You send it forward and it zinggss back to you in no time. More like a boomerang. It’s a magnetic field that aligns all of one’s worries and happiness’ into a streamline that makes all situations worth living. It gives the inner strength to fight through, to live through adversity. It gives satisfaction that you too have something good in you to share with someone else and to have made his/her this moment worth living.

Different types of hugs convey different meanings with the basic crux being the same, that of belongingness. A goodbye hug means I enjoyed the time we had together, and hope to meet you soon again. A hello hug means that I am glad we have been able to meet again. An I-love-you hug means that I will always be there for you come what may. A friendly hug says, dude, don’t mind but I enjoy pulling your leg. An uncle – aunty hug means, hmph, here we go again. A chat hug means I wish you were here this moment as I miss you and want to catch up on loads of stuff. A photo hug makes the pic more uploadable in facebook. Then of course there is the gigantic Punjabi rib cage crushing hug that reregulates the air supply, all to convey that, hey, you are still alive. So live…!!!

Hug your parents, your grandparents and make them feel that you love them, that you value all that they have given you in whatever way they have. Feel blessed in their arms. Hug your lover and feel the very sense of existence flow throughout your body. It is one of the more satisfying moments worth living. Hug your friends, hug your colleague, hug anyone who has made you feel alive and make a point of returning the favor. For starters, hug yourself and feel thankful for what you have been able to do for yourself.

A word of caution!!! Not everyone is comfortable with a hug. Make sure you aren’t trespassing someone’s personal space, as some people are very protective of it. So take a measure and work towards making everyone aware about this wonderful feeling.

So, Cheers, to a wonderful life.

P.S. Thanks Pushky and Trish. I owe this entry to you two.

Sleepy Lecture

A poem by a perpetual hostelor cum classroom sleeper.
Sit Back and relive those memories...!

“Yaaaaawn...!!!”, I went for the nth time now,
The proff hasn’t yet noticed me, I dunno how,
That I am downright sleepy in class,
Drunk with sleepiness, as if on some grass.

Sleep deprived, we go for our lectures,
To face yet another hour of tortures,
All for the sake of lousy attendances,
Adhering to all Departmental nuances.

Staying up late in hostel,
Watching movies, playing TT or just having fun in total,
The body and mind gives up at 8.30am,
And slogs to reach 4.30pm.

Tears fill my eyes as I control the temptation to yawn,
In the mighty chess game of lectures, we are mere pawns,
Constant checks on my watch leave me in anxiety,
I want to get back to my bunker and be woken with some bed tea.

I wonder how the padhakoos manage to bear the onslaught of sleep,
Keeping a straight face, as if in a game of seep,
The proff must be knowing about our this state, but,
They try their best to drive the topics in our nut.

All the same, I wont surrender to the sleep attack.
Writing poems keeps my mind from going shack,
Now that I’m awake and the poem at an end,
Let’s get back to the lecture and try to comprehend.

WTF...!! There goes the hour bell...!!!

A Walk to Remember

"Oh crap...!” I exclaimed. Having not been able to complete the assignment Gaurav Sir set for me, I was disgusted with myself. Over the past two hours I hadn't solved a single programming. Those were the days; After completing senior school and waiting for the admissions in colleges to begin. I took up some programming classes in 'downtown' Chandigarh. Sigh. What days were they.

Whatever had gone wrong...???

The entire day had been monotonously dull, and to top it up, this profoundly boring and non-happening class! I wanted it all to end fast. I wanted to go home, avoid any awkward situations and curl up having a warm cup of coffee watching TV on this monsoony September evening.

At 6pm, I was allowed me to leave, or should I put it as, having had enjoyed juicing me, Gaurav dumped the pulpy part of me out of the class. (Just for the personification)

As I reached the landing at the 1st floor, I heard a roar of thunder. And as I reached the parking lot, it was, well, spitting rain drops.

Oh please! Not the rain at least. I hate the rain. Period. No discussions on this. I, all the same, reared Basanti up and took off for home, about 10 kms away.

The rain was increasing all the time and as I approached a red light coming to a halt, a cute hottie parked her scooter beside me, waiting for the lights to go green. Oh! These Chandigarh girls have something about them that none other can match. The spitting rain was making the moment more erotic. Hell, sex drive after such a monotonous day. Overdose of testosterone, maybe.

All this while the rain increased from spitting, to puking (metaphorically of course!) and in no time I was thoroughly puked upon.

As I approached another red light at 'Manhattan', Chandigarh I slowed down Basanti, reduced the throttle and to my disgust, and utter frustration, I stalled her. In a lay man's words, water had splashed into the little 2S engine and it wont 'on', until it dries up. Wow! What a fitting way to add on my 'monotonously' dull day!!!

There come some times whena you just wished to be the only person alive on the face of the earth and shout your lungs hoarse cursing. "Oh #$&*#$*%@...!” I exclaimed again.

All soaked, I dragged the 60-odd-kg scooter plus myself to a place I could leave it to dry off. And all of a sudden just as unknowingly as I began hating the day, I actually started finding something good about it. For no explainable reason, I was enjoying the rain. You know, like in those situations when you have no choice, and actually end up enjoying it.

Having being forced to waddle in the rain, I enjoyed the wet drops gorging down, and soaking me head to toe... this was like a shower...!!!

And I was enjoying it...!!!

I parked Basanti in a nearby 'scooter market', with the hope that it would be safe there till that evening, and started my journey home on foot, about 6 kms from there.

The side berms of the road was already flooded. The much talked about drainage system was visibly having a tough time coping with this downpour. (Sigh, something for the newspaers front page tomorrow). The pavements were muddy, and the vehicles were splashing water all over like a hose pipe gone out of control. I wadded my way, feeling the firm road under my feet, and the gushing flow around the ankles. There was a place where an oil spill from a car joined the flow from the next crossing. The long rainbow like flow was fascinating. Had I not known it was car grease, I would have definitely splashed it all around.

Chandigarh being a 'parky' city, is lined with small parks along the road. And at one such place, an elderly pair of ladies doing their evening walk, in the rain, that really made for a picture perfect sight. There were also a group of school kids running, most likely back to their homes, as their mom's seemed to be summoning them.

The road was under decent traffic, the office going people were heading home fast. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry. The swanky cars, with AC's turned on swished by, the scooterists (so far lucky ones) drove with speedy caution as the cycle bourn laborers were making a mess at the crossings.

Guys on their flashy sports bikes speeding down the street (possibly showoff-ing).

Girls on their chic scooties, uhmm, what ever they would have been doing.

Everyone was in a state of urgency and no one seemed to be enjoying the heavens ablaze, I mean anti-ablaze; Or maybe they were, but I doubt as much as I was...!!!

Up along the road was a 'butta wali', roasted maize seller...!!! My mouth watered, possibly as much as the skies were. I dished out a five rupee and bartered it for half a butta, smeared with sumptuous amounts of lemon and salt.... viola..!

It was ecstasy...!! The rain, the romanticism, the splashing cars, the oily-ly beautiful flow, the skies, the parks, the oldies, the kiddies, the distant memories of how dull the day had been the everything... and now the butta...!!!

Wow...!!! This sure would classify as one of the best evenings ever...!!!

Having walked wadded and wallowed (not actually, just to get the alliteration) the entire width of two sectors, the rain was finally giving way.

Well all good things have to come to an end... and so did this evening's romanticism.

I hitched a lift from a biker going towards my place. (A definite advantage of being a Punjabi)

An hour and half after I first cursed myself in the class, I reached home, soaked inside out, head to toe.

And, just as I crossed the portals, it happened...!!!

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I sneezed my lungs out . . . . ! ! ! ! . . . . . Thrice...!!!

I had caught up with a cold.

"Oh crap...!” I exclaimed again for the third time.

for all the romanticism of the past hour and half, I still hate the rain.......!!!!

Cricket Fervour

India vs. Sri Lanka, 28th October 2006, Punjab Cricket Stadium, Mohali.

An experiance that I cherish...

It was the 28th of October 2006, we had a cricket match here at the Punjab Cricket Stadium, the PCA, Mohali between India and Sri Lanka. No no, this is not a cricket journal entry, nothing near the actual game, but more or a game of sorts that prevailed outside the stadium; That made this experiance all the more cherishable.

My school and tuition pals, Abhinav and Kartik being diehard cricket fanatics with me, made plans to see the said match in the stadium. The gilch was that we had just two tickets and the three of us. Our modus operandi was to smuggle the third of us inside the gates in the mayhem, that can be taken for granted to be prevelant, at the entrance.

We stood in the line at 2pm, in the wintery heat of the season. The Lank's were to be batting first at about 3 in the. When we joined in the 'line' we were at max 200m from the entrance gates. By 4pm, we seemed to have covered about the first 50 meters althought the number of people infront of us had swelled manifold. No. They did actually swell.

(Gosh, talk about over population)

And the 'icing on the cake' was the declaration by the PP (Punjab Police) at the gates, that the stadium was brim ful and no more spectators could enter.

Helllooo... WTF...!?!?!

We still have valid tickets here...???!!

It was time for us to rely on the world famous Punjabi technique of dhhaka. The three of us hatched a plan to get into the stadium either way it would have us to take it. We went to my place nearby to do a SWOT analysis. Come to think of it, we had been banged all over (no, not that) for two hours and hadn't yet seen a bowl being bowled.

We combined our cash resources to a total of Rs359 that could have been 'invested' in bribing come the need.

Before the start of the Indian batting innings we took to scaling the PCA walls. 10 feet tall with glass sharts embedded on the top. Moreover, not easy due to the omnipresence of the ruddy Punjab Police on horseback, with their, errrr, bludgers.

So we hid behind a tree and anticipated the oppertune moment to make the stealth move.

Kartik went up first, being light and agile he got up easily but carelessly got his index finger split by the glass chrades on the top of the wall. Remedial plan. Rush back home get some antiseptic stuff to reduce the damage on the other side of the wall, and hope it isn't all that bad.

Next, it was my turn. Being bulky and coarse I somehow got to the top of the wall, jumped down sans any cuts or scratches. Lucky me.

Last it was Abhinav. Light but careless he managed to scratch his way down with a good amout of scratched and bruises. Some of the antiseptic meant for Kartik was used for him.

Bottom line, we made it...!

Hey hang on. Not yet. The PP this side of the gate witnessed our drama, and in typical true to their nature types, thay witness all of us making the jump and them came running towards us. I guess what we has done was enough for them to realize that that was not their idea of how the spectators were to enter 'their zone'.

Two bull-dozers like bouncers rushed towards us with their bludgers aloft.

We dived away in three different directions and missed getting bludgeoned.

And finally we were in the stadium. Jam packed as it was described across the gates. But there's something about Indian Cricket Stadiums; there is always enought space for you if you have made it that far.

Well, we were settled down before the Indian innings started, at 7pm, and witnessed a spectacular display of batting led by none other than The Legend Tendulkar himself, as we steamrolled the Lankans.

After shouting our throats hoarse and jumping like wild, we finally made our way out of the PCA. Truely one of the experiances I'd always treasure; Not as much as for the sporting treat I witnessed than the resolute we had to watch the match come what may.

So much for the madness for the game.