When the big tree falls

Around this time, 25 years back, when I was a mere toddler, a big tree fell in this country. The then Prime Minister, Ms. Indira Gandhi was assassinated by two of her own security personnel. This brought about mass unrest in the capital city of New Delhi. Thousands of Sikhs were massacred in what was the largest genocide in modern day India.

Rajiv Gandhi, the 'heir' to the throne [figuratively] and the next Prime Minister had the following words to say at a Boat Club rally, "Some riots took place in the country following the murder of Indiraji. We know the people were very angry and for a few days it seemed that India had been shaken. But, when a mighty tree falls, it is only natural that the earth around it does shake a little."

A mighty tree did fall. Unfortunately, the subsequent tremors was far more devastating than a little shake, scarring Indian minds forever!

Socialism and its perils

An economics professor at a local college made a statement that he had never failed a single student before, but had once failed an entire class. That class insisted that socialism [eschewed for long by India and made famous recently by Barack Obama] worked. It said that no one would be poor and no one would be rich, a great equalizer.

The professor then said, "OK, we will have an experiment in this class on the Socialist plan". All grades were to be averaged and everyone would receive the same grade. Ergo, no one would fail and no one would receive an A. At the end of the first test, the grades were averaged and everyone received a B. The students who had studied hard were upset. The students who had hardly studied were happy.

As the second test rolled around, the students who had studied little studied even lesser. The ones who had studied hard decided that they too wanted a free ride and ergo, they too studied little. The second test average was a D. No one was happy.
When the third test rolled around, the average was an F. The scores never increased as bickering, blame and name-calling all resulted in hard feelings and no one wanted to study for the benefit of others. To their great surprise, all of them failed.

The professor told them that socialism would also ultimately fail because when the reward is great, the effort to succeed is great. However, when government takes all the reward away, no one will try or want to succeed.

-via random email fwd

A nobel joke

WSJ Article
Time Article

Fritz Henderson a more deserving candidate? This very mockery probably hits the nail on the head in trying to explain how the politically savvy, marketing guru with good sense of the pulse of the people got it horribly wrong by accepting the Nobel peace prize award for 2009.

In office for a grand total of twelve days when nominated, eight months into the presidency today, he is still working on his promises and his vision for the US and the world at large. Kudos to him for a job well done thus far, for attempting to create a new world order and for taking the US away from the cowboy diplomacy that it had come to be identified with off late.

Nevertheless, a lot needs to be done before being declared Nobel enough, or maybe not. Well at least more that rhetoric and propaganda. It would have been astute and humble to not have accepted the award, saying in effect, I will be back in three years to accept this award. Only, it may not have been there because the people who are on the committee have proved that they too are human and could have taken his 'no' as a snub and a question of their judgment.

Obama, on his part, showed he is human. He agrees that he is humbled and undeserving, that he is human [read: greedy] enough and is fallible. As for the Nobel, it lost a bit of its charm today. Just like when Sadat, Begin, Kissinger got it. Just like when Mahatma Gandhi didn't. Great guy that Obama, will probably be deserving in 3 years. Flatpacked on twitter put it aptly when he said that it would appear there is a Nobel "looks like you might do something for peace in the rest of your term in office" peace prize.

What's in a name?

Bombay or Mumbai, the bard once said "what's in a name?". The 'cool peeps' will call it only Bombay and refuse to call it anything else. The 'nationalists' will call it only Mumbai and will break the heads of those who think otherwise. Grow up folks, call it what you want. It is officially Mumbai; if you don't like that, you should have stood in line and cast in your opinion in the ballot box.

Be Yourself

'Be true, Be yourself if that doesn't work, be someone else'

Sight

"I like what I see for I see what I like"
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Two years

Two years, this very day... shizer, it has been one hell of a roller coaster of a ride

Ek aawaaz

Kya woh samaa tha
chandni raat woh thi
baal unke khule khule
chehre pe rounak unke thi

usne poochha apne aapse
kya ye sapna toh nahin
jannat ke dwaar khol
aayi ye pari toh nahin

uski saasein phool gayi
uske khone lage hosh
kadam aage usne badaaya
kaabu mein tha naa josh

issi sab ke beech mein
ek aawaaz kaanon mein padi
kaminey, dooor reh meri beti se
warna padegi pichhwaade pe chhadi

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Scenario Analysis

Best case
Dance like people are not watching
Love like it does not hurt
Work like you do not need money

Base case
Dance like people are watching
Love like it hurts
Work like you need money

Bear case
Dance like it hurts
Love like you need money
Work like people are watching

Worst case
Dance like you need the money
love like people are watching
work like it hurts

Think

Be not the Ostrich that buries her head in the sand and thinks its cant be seen
Be rather the Giraffe, who stretches her neck out to see things beyond the blinding green

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Link Politics

So, its time to unveil an ambitious project... one that connects Bandra in the Western suburbs to Worli in the city. It is the Bandra Worli Sea Link. Great job with the conceptualization, engineering and execution [it was late, will ignore that for now].
Source:Bandra Worli Sealink Blog
So while it has been ready, we have been waiting for a while to inaugrate it. Do you wonder why? It is simple. The need for a VVIP to inaugrate it so that the common people can start using it. So, where do the authorities go looking?

First Choice [Obviously]: Ms. Sonia Gandhi, Congress Working Committee President
Second Choice [Reluctantly]: Dr. Manmohan Singh, Hon. Prime Minister of India
Third Choice [Well, we need 'someone' important]: Ms. Pratibha Patil, Hon. President of India

Such is the mockery of the Executive positions of the Republic of India. Its a pity indeed. Yes, it is upto the government to decide. Nevertheless, no person is greater than the Constitutional heads of the Country.

No escaping the Walk

"I don’t much care where... so long as I get SOMEWHERE," Alice said.
"Oh, you’re SURE to do that," said the Cat. It added "but only if you walk long enough."

Bandra Boy II

~Time of Day: just past midnight~
Friend 2: Okay, that was a long discussion. I think I need to go to sleep now.

Friend 1: What's with sleeping off at midnight? This sounds like the cindrella-esque story of Bandra Boy [BB].

~Both ponder for a while on how BB is off to bed at midnight. Friend 1, the worldly one, offers a possible solution.~

Friend 1: Do you think like you, BB too needs his beauty sleep?

Friend 2: Why would BB need beauty sleep? Do you think it will matter?

~Sounding all smart, Friend 1 replies~

Friend 1: Maybe its for his inner beauty?

~Friend 2 is now rolling on the floor laughing and holding onto the stomach~

Friend 2: Inner beauty? Are we talking about the same person?

~Both slip into deep thought again on the absurdity of the statement. Friend 1, as usual, offers a solution~

Friend 1: Yes, for his Inner beauty! Maybe he needs it to even have a nice thing to say once a day.

~Friend 2 is again rolling on the floor laughing...~

Bandra Boy I

Friend 1: I have not seen Bandra Boy [BB] online or connected with him since the day he was to leave for Canada.

Friend 2: I have not seen BB either. He seems to be incommunicado. Wonder whether he's hooked up with some chick out there.

~Both ponder for a while to realize the incredulous thought they just had. They decide to ignore the thought and act as if it never happened. Friend 1, the worldly one, offers a possible solution.~

Friend 1: Do you think that it is possible that some dudes beat him up out there?

Friend 2: Why would anyone want to hit BB?

~Sounding all smart, Friend 1 replies~

Friend 1: Maybe some Indian dudes thought he was Canadian and beat him up for the racial abuse in Australia?

~Friend 2 now excited by the plot~

Friend 2: Yea, he probably kept pleading that he was Indian. But, when they asked him to speak in Hindi, all he could muster was namaste!

Distorting history

Disclaimer: I have moderate political views. Right of centre rather than left of centre. I support the BJP for their policies. I do not agree with some of their divisive political stunts. The reason I do not support the other party: the Congress, is because they merely hide behind the garb of a 'holier than thou' mask.

The BJP and its HRD minister, Murli Manohar Joshi was chided by one and all [rightly so] for attempting to distort history. A point often raised by BJP baiters. Now, the 'can do no wrong' Congress is doing just that. As a kid, we learnt about Dadoji Konddeo, the mentor and guru of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj, the greatest Maratha ruler. The Congress [and NCP] government has now 'changed history' bowing to the demands of casteist organizations, long considered 'vote banks' of these political organizations. An article on this can be read here.

For all those espousing the credentials of the Indian National Congress, I am sorry, but this is a bad slap on your face.

Polyester Connections

Dearest Polly,

I do not know what to feel. A part of me is happy. The other is sad. As she walks on the other side of airport security, I know I will have to fight to hold back my emotions.

You always appeared from nowhere. When someone asks how we know each other, I am still not sure. I remember 'Cousin R' probing that line of thought deeply and persistently. Or Saffron Aunt giving me the third degree. It did ‘suit’ the occasion.

So, we met through some random connection. Then there was that coffee at Moxa. The bubbly you, I was impressed with your joie de vivre. Then we bumped into each other in Newport. The bubbles still there while I was grappling with life in the trenches. I wish I knew you only as that person. But alas, life is one roller coaster of a ride. And so, one fine day past summer, I received the weirdest of messages. I have no idea why I received that call for help. But, I was shocked to see the ugly joke that life had played on you. As we sat in the park, I saw you there… a little kid grappling with a coffee. Wanting to talk and yet, not knowing where life was to lead. The C story, while funny, did not take away the fact that there was a huge perceptible change.

Your journey back home and then back to the city saw you crawl towards a semblance of normalcy. It has been close to a year since then. It’s interesting to see how I have made such a great friend within just under a year. I do not believe in numbers and rankings. But, I will go out on a limb and say that you are the best friend I made in NYC. NAF came a close second. The rice-cooker: the clincher. What we have is different. [Saffron Aunty and Anna, if you are reading this, we were just good friends. :D]

We have shared some great moments: random chats, nautanki, home drops, inane fights, walks in the park, bug bites, movies and the like. Some regrettable moments: inane fights, bug bites, name-calling and the like. Some disappointing moments: Ibuprofen, First Ave visits, late night D train travels and the like. Some awkward moments: Sea, 5am noises and clatter, life decisions, hard-facts and the like.

We are quite different in more ways than one. We stand on different sides of the line. And yet, there is some common ground. There is so much to write. And yet, there is nothing that I can write. As are the ways of life: It was a good ride while it lasted. The flight is now boarding. You return to a faraway land. I may be soon to follow. Out of sight we will be; out of mind, I believe not. I can be an annoying bug.

So long Polly, it has truly been a pleasure. Keep that smile. Be the kid you truly are. Don’t let that rebel die. Be your crazy jhola kurta self. Breathe in, breathe out.

It started with that walk in the park… It’s a new journey you embark upon. Tum toh thehre pardesi…

Jai Maharashtra!

Love and Hugs,
Max

Crazy enuf for Courage

Time and again, people have encouraged me to jump off the fast track to take the road less traveled. Not to live their own dreams. Not to live their hopes for me. But for me to live up to what they believe is my potential. When I say 'what they believe', I use that reference as I believe in the testimonial of others around oneself as a barometer rather than your own.

While people may admire the limited talents that I may possess, I for one believe that its not talent that gets a person to his goals. If there is a single thing that makes a difference between a prodigy [without calling myself one] and a success: its COURAGE. The courage to jump across that crevice to traverse a seemingly deep abyss to land on the side of self fulfillment and ecstatic joy. The real question is: Do I have the courage to leap? Aah well... not right now. Tomorrow? Only time can tell. As for me, I sure hope so. Then again, the Tower Bridge was not built in a day. All I can hope for is that I am crazy enough to jump.

And just like that...

It all started much like most things do; a seemingly distant dream. The dream, while rosy, did not consider the distance that one would have to travel even to get to the starting line. A long laborious road ensued. Then, as the flowers blossomed radiantly one final time before grudgingly yielding to autumn, we made our way to the City.

The City was vibrant, as at any time of the year. Skeptical faces surveyed through the conundrum, looking for familiarity in an expansive sea of the unknown. Enthusiasm ran high, as did the tabs at every conceivable bar in the neighborhood. Ever as slowly through the mist appeared, half a pint at a time, the new kids of the block.

The unknown beat a hasty retreat to accommodate the evolving bonds. Time flew by in the blink of an eye. The first act was on and the appearances changed to suit the occasion. While the circles remained, content was conspicuous by its absence. The mission: not to kill, but rather to not be killed. The alcohol had quickly sunk, allowing the water to float above. While conversations were aplenty, interest was left at the door. The song and dance was quite elaborate, just as the wine and cheese were cheap.

As time passed by, the race was getting clear. While the thoroughbreds pulled through to gain a lead, the also-rans watched with a sense of awe and bewilderment. Nevertheless, in true Hollywood-esque manner, the odd dark horse nudged through the crowd to make it a true photo finish. While the winners painted the town red, the mere mortals were left to clean the mess. Lessons were learnt and backs were broken. It was the inevitable truth and yet none of it was spoken. While many chose to blend into the background, a chosen few rose through the ashes, a phoenix at a time.

Elsewhere, the Trojan horses snuck through the gate, the guard opening his eyes too late. The enemy emerged from within the Trojan, attacking all in sight with toxic waste. And as they attacked the heel of Achilles, the mighty fell one at a time. The king saw the writing on the wall, change was plotting a mighty fall. The world as we knew it saw change; we doubled as unpaid targets at the shooting range.

When we thought we weathered the storm, another one rocked the boat. Life has taught us many a lesson, none as many as the time here. There was suspense; there was drama, a pinch of romance and some action. Why, there even was an elaborate Bollywood song and dance. Preached we were by the god and the soothsayer. We even learnt that greed is good. Some made us laugh, some made us weep. Some made us listen, others put us to sleep.

We look at the mirror, where we are today. We reflect on how things were two years back. And we notice the change. Change beyond just the debt and the long list of Facebook friends. Change in the attitude and the knowledge. Change in the attitude towards life. A few friends made for life. The number of bars visited in NYC. Change was the flavor of the season and that is what we saw.

Along the last mile, few moments away from walking down the river quay, we wonder whether it was a good dream, a nightmare or just another two years of life. The answer would be different for each of us. In many ways, it may be all of the above. All we know is that we spent a good time of our life here and had a great time whilst doing so. We leave with a mixed emotion of exhilaration and disappointment. Like all great journeys, this too has come to an end. It started one windy morning in August… and just like that, it will all be over.

Locus Standi

As the Sri Lankan Army closes in on the LTTE in the Jaffna Peninsula, there is a huge call for a ceasefire. This obviously makes sense on humanitarian grounds as innocent civilians may be [and probably are] killed in the melee. There has been a call for Indian intervention of some sort, especially from the Tamilians in the country.

Without trying to make ANY sort of political statement and in all my naivete, I ask the following: If Kashmir is an integral part of the Republic of India and Pakistan, UNSC and the US have no locus standi on Kashmir, an internal and sovereign issue, what locus standi does India have on the happenings in the internal matters of the Republic of Sri Lanka?

I have heard certain people say that LTTE are not terrorists. If so, the Mujaheedeen are not considered terrorists by many, nor are the Lashkar or the Jaish. We cannot apply two different yardsticks. A terrorist is a terrorist.

Kya Tha Woh Seherr

manzil pohounch humne jaana
kya haseen tha woh safarr
tha kya woh jalwa
tha kya woh seherr

mile jab hum pehlee baar
naach aata naa thaa
chhaa jo hum gaye manchh par
aangann ab tedaa naa thaa

dheere dheere haule haule
unki ungli pakad hum naache
mitti se shuru toh kiya
antt mein bane pakke dhaanche

manzil toh hai aa gayee
naa rahee koi kasar
shuruwaat thi toh tal se
jaa kar pohounche hum gadar

chehre the woh naye
dost humne jo banaaye
naacha khoob saath saath
sukhbir ke dohe gungunaaye

iss hasee gaane ke baad
ek mayusee hai ab chhayee
dil baith sa hai gaya
vidhaiee ki ghadee jo aayee

raah apni apni pakad
jo hum hai chale
aao milke ek saath
bolein balle balle

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Down to Business - I

“Promise me that you won’t become a Yankee fan” he said. As Ted Sullivan laughed at his own joke, Rohan was not sure if he was serious or whether he was joking. Ted was from Boston as he told him later. A manifestation of a deep-rooted rivalry, Ted did not want to be the recruitment officer for the rival camp. Rohan did quip guardedly, “I am a soccer fan and I am not much into baseball. So, I guess I will not be a Yankee fan.” As Ted proceeded to stamp the visa and told Rohan about the amazing times he had had in New York City, Rohan realized that he was two more stamps away from the big apple.

Rohan had never doubted the fact that he would get the visa. He had been to the US before, travelling to New York and Los Angeles for work. That was a fun trip. He work hard and partied hard. While most of his brethren thought of spending frugally in the US, Rohan had gone all out. This time it was going to different. He was in pursuit of his dreams; something he had dreamt of every night for the past two years.

Picture Source: NYU Webpages

The tie came off, as did the jacket. As awesome that he felt, it was a hot June afternoon in Mumbai and the sweat was slowly trickling down his forehead. Realizing that he would soon miss the small things in life back home, he stopped for a cold glass of sugarcane juice. One glass quickly turned to three as sudden pang of hunger made him realize that he had not eaten since morning. As he sauntered down the street in search of a taxi, his mind wandered again. Rohan could see a bagel with cream cheese in front of his eyes. He wondered whether it was the heat, the hunger or the call of the City.

He still had two months to go, but Rohan was already thinking as though he had to leave the following night. He decided to make the most of the next few days. The first stop was a roadside vendor where he picked a couple of wada pavs to fill himself up. The juice had left him pretty full, but he coaxed himself into gobbling them down. It was almost as if this was his last chance to appreciate the staple fast food of the city. The city that he had come to call home for three eventful years.

Picture Source: George Koshy
A few blocks further down the road, Rohan found that elusive taxi. Torn between taking the taxi all the way and hopping onto the train, he knew he had lost it when he mumbled to the driver, “Bhaiya, Mahalaxmi chalenge?” Mahalaxmi was the closest train station to the American Consulate. While the trains would not be crowded at this hour, it was not exactly wise to travel suited up. The crowds, the heat, the humidity and the ensuing sweltering feeling were not entirely conducive for the formally dressed traveler. Rohan stood at the door, half to beat the heat and half to feel the wind in his face. And as he felt the cold breeze rustle his previously well-kempt hair, he could not help but wonder whether these were the winds of change…

This is a pilot for the book: Down to Business

Unke Jaane Ki Chubhhan

saal bhar ho aaya hai
dil mein abhi bhi hai aggan
janaaza toh kab ka hai nikla
hai abhi unke jaane ki chubhhan

nazron se gire hai woh sabke
unke jaane ka phir bhi hai gamm
saal bhar ho aaya hai ab
ye dard na hua hai kuchh kamm

nakhre unhone humaare jo uthaaye
dekha unhone jo humaara bachchpana
kabhi woh unka hona gussa
kabhi humaare baalon ko sehlaana

woh toh thhe do sunehre saal
dil mein kitni yaadein hai bharee
unka woh lamba sa kadd
unki woh kameez haree

har raat dil ye hai mujhse poonchche
hai kahaan woh samaa apna
kya hai ye iss din ki haqueqatt
hai kya ye ek buraa sa sapna

saal bhar ho aaya hai
dil mein abhi hai aggan
janaaza toh kab ka hai nikla
hai abhi bhi jaane ki chubhan

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Fear

In this journey called life
feeling the fear of crash and burn
Winding down an unknown road
Feeling the fear of a wrong turn

Astray seen the charm of life
Being led into a well gone dry
Unless we choose otherwise
Giving ourselves a try

Deep down lingers the feeling
Lest it does not work out
Horrid is the walk away
before the start of the bout

Trust in thy instincts
giving self the chance
shall sand slip through fingers
shall the horse prance

when things do matter
choose not to hate
charting the course ahead
not leaving it to fate

precious water you lose
untamed deserts as you chart
elusive will be the oasis
unless you choose to start

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The Stern Dog Millionaire

So what happens when you take a bunch of creative students in a premier business school? You get the SternDog Millionaire, a parody on the highly successful movie Slumdog Millionaire by Danny Boyle.



The entire video has been worked on by NYU Stern students [and Dean Frasier]; right from the concept, the story, the screenplay, the lyrics, the vocals, the actors and the entire production.

More than 50 students worked on this project. Let us see whether any of the schools have a decent enough response. The only one that comes to mind is Rammy Babaji from Fuqua who created the 'Damn it feels good to be a Banker'.

Enjoy the III part video

Part I

Part II

Part III


A fitting memory to the two years in school.

Forgive or Forget

The Stupid neither forgive nor forget
The Naive forgive and forget
The Wise forgive but do not forget

Inquilaab Zindabad

Picture Source: Wikipedia
Homage to three of the greatest martyrs for the country.

- Shaheed Bhagat Singh


- Sukhdev Thapar


- Shivram Rajguru


Inquilaab Zindabad!

Shame on you Sonia Aunty

They dressed up our two most famous Slumdog children in their Oscar clothes to go to Delhi last week to see the Queen. Little Azharuddin Mohammed wore his American tuxedo and Rubina Ali a black gown for their meeting with the Rajmata of India. While they waited in the sun outside 10 Janpath they entertained the media circus that trailed them by singing ‘Jai Ho’ and telling them what they would talk to ‘Sonia Aunty’ and ‘Rahul Uncle’ about. It was a sickening celebration of something that must never be celebrated—India’s grinding, hopeless, shameful poverty.

Its ugliest face has been on display in The New York Times this past week in the form of a slide show of starving Indian babies who look as if they have been through famine, war and pestilence. In fact they are just products of normal peacetime ‘shining’ India. The story that accompanies the pictures reminds us that two-thirds of India’s children are malnourished by the age of two, that 8 million are visibly starving and 60 million more manifest malnourishment in their inability to grow normally. My only objection to Slumdog Millionaire is that it depicts poverty as something that can be joyously overcome. It cannot and living with it is about the most horrible thing in the world. The children who acted in the film have returned to their hovels in Mumbai and admit that they can no longer deal with the horror of being real life slumdogs.

India’s real life billionaires love to boast in the forums of the world about India being a ‘young country’. Half of India’s population is younger than 25, they like to say, so there is no question that the 21st century will be India’s century because in an ageing world we can provide the human capital to keep the wheels turning. Really? With half of India’s children suffering from various degrees of malnourishment is this possible? Malnourishment does not just stunt the body, it stunts the brain. How many mentally stunted children do we know who grow up to become employable adults?

What makes India’s poverty such a disgraceful, dark thing is that it would not exist if the poor had not been the Congress Party’s most reliable vote bank. Indira Gandhi used this vote bank to its fullest in the ‘Gharibi Hatao’ election with that most famous of her campaign slogans. ‘Woh kehtey hain Indira hatao, main kehti hoon gharibi hatao’. The poor remained poor after she won and the vote bank remained intact until copycat Congress leaders like Mulayam Singh and Laloo Yadav lured the Muslims away and Mayawati took away the Dalits. More than 90 percent of the poor in India are either low of caste or Muslim.

They would not be poor if the crores and crores of rupees spent on poverty alleviation programmes had not been wasted on unwieldy, leaky efforts like Sonia Aunty’s favourite NREGA scheme. The National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme serves mostly to keep poor people in poverty for the rest of their lives but because it has the blessings of Sonia Gandhi it has now been spread across the country. If the money spent on it had been invested instead in an Akshaya Patra type midday meal scheme there would be no starving children in India today and our slumdogs would go willingly to school to eat that one hot meal a day. In Karnataka where Akshay Patra began studies show that school attendance went up to nearly a hundred percent and school performance improved dramatically. So if it is so easy why does nobody do it? Well, in the opinion of your humble columnist it is because when the Bharatiya Janata Party had its brief moment of ruling India it chose not to redefine governance but only to enjoy the thrills of power. If the Government of Atal Behari Vajpayee had changed only the functioning of the ministries that deal with the social sector India may really have ended up ‘shining’.

India can never shine or become an economic superpower as long as the majority of Indian children remain malnourished, illiterate and living in urban slums or villages that are worse than slums. Hollywood can be forgiven for celebrating our slumdog children and fawning over them as they enjoyed their fifteen minutes of fame on the red carpet. It is much harder to forgive our own political leaders for seeking to exploit the desperate, sickening poverty that these children have returned to. Shame on you Sonia Aunty. For this lack of basic compassion if for no other reason you deserve to lose the elections. Our problem is that on our bleak political landscape it is hard to detect one person or political party that deserves to win.

- Tavleen Singh
Source: This article appeared in the Indian Express and can be found here

Us Indians will all cry

The UPA is in disarray
The allies are parting away
The Congress has lost the plot
All set to give the treasury spot

Manmohan Singh, have you no spine
Your command is Madam's whine
Rahul Gandhi, what is the big deal
A nobody, without the Gandhi seal

The NDA has problems of its own
Jaitley and Rajnath fight for the bone
Discipline gives way to whining
A bleak future for India Shining

In the name of secularism
The NDA becomes the untouchable
With no other alternative
The future becomes unwatchable

The future seems in a quandary
As Third Front, the goons get together
Nothing in common between them
Brothers from a different mother

Deve Gowda, could it possibly be?
Or Mayawati as the Queen Bee
I foresee a botched up marriage
The country with a sad miscarriage

It is this scary thought
That makes me want to say
BJP and Congress, do something
Keep Mayawati at bay

She will shoot the bird down
From up high in the clear blue sky
The world will laugh
While us Indians will, all cry

-Max

For the bookworms

The BBC list of books to read

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6 The Bible
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 1984 - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulk
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meany - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Inferno - Dante
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

Upto you

There are no magical fixes. It is ALL upto you. Get up off your ass, get out and start doing your work. And if you are scared of it being hard, realize that nothing in this world that is worth having comes easy.

New Beginnings

Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending

Here is to yet another new beginning with hope for a great ending!

Fooled by Randomness

25 random things about me...

1. My name means ‘without boundaries’ in Sanskrit. It means ‘friend’ in Hebrew.

2. My name is often misspelled, something that irritates the hell out of me.

3. My brother gifted me a box of pencils at the hospital when I was born.

4. I wanted to be a pilot, eyesight killed that dream. I wanted to be a doctor, my aunt [a doc] knocked sense into me. I want to be a banker, is that dream killed already?

5. I once sported a haircut like the Brazilian soccer player Dida

6. My friends call me MAX

7. I hate jewelry. Unlikely to wear an ‘engaged’ ring

8. As a kid, I was an avid philatelist and had over 7000 stamps from 60 odd countries

9. I often street raced on my Kawasaki in India. Top speeds, weaving through traffic and straight-lining curves were not uncommon. I have had 5 accidents.

10. I write poems and short stories. I tend to dramatize a mountain out of a molehill when I write

11. My friends and I once watched ‘Friends’ for 18 straight hours.

12. I have never puked due to alcohol consumption. I feel nauseated in the back seat of a car though.

13. To celebrate India’s famous victory over Australia in cricket, I lit firecrackers on the college campus, causing a huge commotion.

14. I am allergic to tea. I have had tea four times in my life.

15. I almost drowned in a white water rafting expedition in the Ganges when our raft overturned in a grade 4 and I was stuck underneath the raft

16. I have gone through three days without any sleep. I sleep 4 hours on average

17. The love of my life is Rex, my German Shepherd in India

18. I have two blogs, but never had the discipline to update them regularly

19. I have never read a Harry Potter or watched any of the movies. Something about it just does not appeal to me.

20. my poison is Jameson’s 12 aged Irish Whiskey when had neat. For a cocktail, I love a vodka with lime cordial, tonic water, pepper, tinge of Tabasco sauce and lots of ice.

21. The head trader at work once asked me if I was British because of my accent.

22. As a dare, I once had 12 raw green chilies.

23. I was to swim across a river in India, but my dad never gave me the permission

24. I broke my leg as a kid jumping off the 2nd floor of my house, attempting to be superman

25. I am attempting to live my dream of writing a book

- max

Flip Over

What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title:--Romeo, doff thy name;
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.
Juliet in Romeo & Juliet - William Shakespeare

What's in a name is something people ask me when I correct them on the pronounciation of my name. Maybe not much. But then again, maybe a lot. The point is, what do you have to lose? Nothing I would reckon. My given name has a very similar sounding and more common twin. More often that not, it leads to people choosing the mundane over the exotic. One then has to correct people in the hope that they would get it right. Sometimes it is right. Sometimes it is not. Only time will ever tell.

The year has changed. What's in a number dare you ask? You may most certainly NOT. The world flipped when the century was about to turn into a new leaf. As did the fortunes of any and probably every Indian in the space of Information Technology. The time you missed your train because someone read out the time to you wrong. And most importantly because I like those numbers when I see them.

The flip is important. The year has changed. A year will soon add in my life. A challenge will soon appear. The one that I currently have, will refuse to go away. That bend in the road will look ever too closer. That shining star in the sky will look just as far away out of reach.

And yet, nothing will have changed. Resolutions will have come. Some would have briefly lasted. Some not at all. Some a lot longer. New people will have come and others will have left. And yet, the world will mostly be the same. What will have changed is merely the version. It would now show 2009. Lets see what it has in store.