That ‘Tiffin ka Dabba’

I have to admit, I have even surprised myself this time with the topic that I have chosen to write here, but nevertheless I shall try and do justice to it. The idea actually took birth a few days back when I was editing an English course book for kids at my workplace which had a chapter on a kid and his exploits in school. He went on to talk about many things he does in school and out of that the Tiffin box makes a tiny entry. That very mention somehow transported me back in time and hence came this idea. I had actually always wanted to write something on the experience of my school days, which I will one day, but for now I want to explore another really not-so-important aspect of my growing up days in school: the Tiffin box.

During my kindergarten days, going to school, I remember used to be a pain. I do not have vivid memories of those times, but I do remember my Tiffin box and its contents. I had s small green coloured lunch box with a spoon in the front, back then and the contents would generally be limited to a couple of ‘sandesh’ and a few pieces of bread and butter or biscuits. Not much of a diet you would say, but for a four year old it was more than enough. I relished munching the sandesh though, it was blissful. The soft and tasty sweet would be wrapped up in a thin sheet of paper as I would take it out during lunch time and gobble it up sitting on the floor of my classroom as the others would look on greedily.

As I grew up, my Tiffin box and its contents too changed with me. However it is my primary days that I consider the golden period of my Tiffin eating days for many reasons. Primarily because of the varied memories it gave me. I think it was during my second standard that I had gotten a new Tiffin box then. I was thrilled then as it was the first time I was getting to use a ‘real’ Tiffin box. My father had bought shiny new lunch boxes for both me and my brother. It was a big moment for me then; exploring my white coloured, two cased lunch box and thinking of showing it off to my classmates. I remember it had a brown coloured bear drawn on its front, but as the years went by the bear too faded away. I would always envy my brother who would preserve his Tiffin box without a scratch for years at end, and mine would just be wilting away. I preserved that lunch box of mine for quite some time even after I stopped using it. I had my sentiments and whole lot of memories attached to it. It’s no longer existent but the box did not just provide me with food, it gave me a lifetime of memories.

Moving on to the content of the Tiffin box in my primary days. Those days, as I had just entered my teens, I needed more nourishment. Alu ki sabzi and roti would make for my staple menu for most of the days (It still continues though. Being a vegetarian does puncture your options a bit. Sigh!). Those were the days when we would eat our lunch as quietly as mice. All of us students would be seated on our benches quietly and without uttering a word would munch our lunch. However, the third standard gave us some liberty. It was during this time, that I discovered a new dish with my close friend. My friend would be very fond of the sabzi that I used to bring and he bought along a small box of bhujia with himself. So what we would do is to take his bhujia and mix it with my alu ki sabzi. My friend would prepare the mixture quite efficiently I admit and despite people giving us strange looks in the beginning, it tasted quite tasty I tell you. It was our special preparation and slowly it became quite a hit in my classroom. However, the greedy wolves that we were, me and my friend would never ever share ‘our’ special dish with anyone. In fact I had become so fond of the dish, that it would be the reason I would look forward to my lunch breaks. No sooner would the bell ring; me and my friend would get up, eat some of our staple lunch and then go on to prepare ‘the dish’. There would be one ball of mixture in my hand and one in his. We would smile at each and other and say a loud ‘Cheers’ before gobbling it up. It was foolish, but fun.

Apart from these there would be the occasional time when I would get to bring some other ‘special’ dish’ to school. They would be generally limited to paav bhaji or maggi noodles. Inconsequential as it may seem now, it would be a big thing for me to eat the cold paav bhaji or the yellow and sticky maggi noodles on occasional days. I would wait excitedly for lunch time on these occasions and would gobble up the remains of my lunch box in no time; showing off my spick and empty Tiffin box with pride to my mom at the end of the day.

I have another fond memory of my lunch days during my fifth standard. This was the time that my lunch breaks would be like that of being in an army school. Our horrendous P.T. (Physical education) teacher would make us eat without even uttering a word and wouldn’t even let us look at another fellow’s box. But me and a fellow mate of mine decided to be rebels. I do not know if this is how everyone else feels, but somehow in those days, we always used to like the contents of our other classmate’s boxes more than ours. And I used to just love my fellow mate’s lunch and he mine. He used to bring simple alu and sabzi too, but the taste would be different from mine and I would eye it greedily. We then decided to formulate a way out, without letting anyone know. I would quietly take one morsel from my box and putting my hand under the desk would pass it on to my mate. He would then do the same. It would take time to finish our lunch then, but it was cool. Doing something right under the nose of our ‘Hitler’ teacher, without anyone getting any inkling of it made us feel thrilled.  I used to like that guy; he was very simple and nice. After that I never really got the chance to meet him. I don’t know where he might be today, but I do hope that he does remember our little adventures. I know if ever he gets the chance to read this post, he will smile. Thank you mate; I still remember the taste of your alu bhindi. It was sumptuous.

As I grew up further the Tiffin box and its contents slowly started taking a backseat and were replaced by other more ‘important’ matters. As the shorts were replaced by full length trousers, the Tiffin box did not matter anymore and in fact it started becoming an embarrassment to carry. As hormones took control of your emotions, it suddenly seemed ‘cool’ to not have a Tiffin box to carry around every day to school and eat from the school canteen. In fact, even the days I would bring my lunch box; I would hardly give it any credence and eat hungrily from other people’s boxes. In these days, the contents of the Tiffin box would hardly last for minutes and would be devoured by us like hungry hyenas. The thrill of the lunch box had unfortunately been replaced now; it lay insignificant in my life.

And now, as I have graduated to being a man from the boy that I once was, I still do carry my lunch box. But its purpose is primarily to feed my hungry tummy in times of need. The thrill of a new box or bringing some special dish to share with someone no longer exists. However, a few months back when I bought a swanky new lunch box from a super market, I felt that thrill again, albeit feebly. Yes, I can be pretty childish at times. The next day however that thrill went away as I noticed my office colleagues eating somberly in the lunch room, without so much as a look at my new box. I opened it and ate quietly, perhaps a little disappointed as well. As I finished and was about to get up though, a female colleague exclaimed, “Hey, that’s a new Tiffin box isn’t it? It’s nice.”  I looked at her to see if she was kidding me. She wasn’t. I don’t know why I felt happy and perhaps a little relieved. I smiled and just said, “Thanks.”

                                                          

                                                                                                                                *****

It was lunch time at my work place. I waited for everyone to finish as I usually like to eat alone with my own peace of mind. The school story that I had read in the morning was still ringing in my head as I opened my Tiffin box. It was the same old alu ki sabzi and roti. I sighed and started eating. Then I noticed I had been given bhujia too that day. As I opened it I abruptly stopped; suddenly feeling a pang of nostalgia. I don’t know why, but I took out the bhujia, poured it on the sabzi and made a mixture with it. I made it into a small mixture and looked at it happily. The image of my school friend and me suddenly swam before my eyes. My friend of my school days would have been proud of me. I suddenly felt a strange pain in my heart, my eyes became a little wet and the throat went a little dry. I thought, “Me, the Editor of a book publishing house, making a stupid ball of alu-bhujia and feeling emotional about it; what was wrong with me?”  I just closed my eyes, and could now clearly see my school, the corridor, my class, me and my friend, and the mad cacophony of other kids. Everything else then became blurry, but just the picture of me and my friend making our famous dish was crystal clear. I opened my eyes again, but the image of us two still remained. I smiled weakly at us, took the ball of mixture and muttered ......... 'Cheers’.  

A Step towards a dream

The last time my name
appeared on print.

Nov. 2001:  Clutching the newspaper in hand, I ran towards my mom who was seated in her prayer room. I sat beside her as she kept mumbling some prayers. As my heart beat kept thumping like mad, I opened the last page of the newspaper and placed it on her lap. It was a full-length picture of me with my name under the section: ‘The tallest boy in schools in Kolkata’. My mom smiled warmly and pinched my cheeks; I felt happy. Then my father saw it and he too was seemingly very happy. However my brother saw it next and soon commented, “What’s the big deal in this? When you get your name for some ‘real’ and good stuff then start blabbing about it. You have just flunked in math, you should be ashamed at even trying to be happy.” My uncle and cousins smirked and laughed openly at this.  I was stunned and hurt beyond belief. That comment might have been made off-handedly, but it completely shook me up; hurting me deep within the core of my heart. All my excitement and happiness went down the drain.  As hot tears rolled down my cheeks I promised myself that day, “One day you shall see my name in print again. And that time it will be for a ‘real stuff’. Everyone will see it. I promise.”

                                                                   
                                                           **

I will not specify as to why I have mentioned this extract of my life here. The ones who will read through the end of this post, and the ones who know me genuinely, would understand its significance.   

                                                            **

There is nothing that exudes as much passion in me as a game of cricket does. Absolutely nothing comes close to it. Having been following it for close to two decades now, the game it feels is a part of me, and it feels I was somehow always meant to be associated with it. But then there are millions of others who think on similar lines and very few get that chance to actually do it. Destiny however has given me the chance to live my dream.  

Now I will admit I was a very average cricket player in my growing up days. But as I started following the game a little more ardently, I grew more focused towards being better. With the blessed height that I have, many would tell me to become a fast bowler. I would try and bowl with pace in my school matches, with decent enough results and that boosted my confidence considerably. That somehow instilled the idea in my head that I should perhaps take the game professionally. Barely in my teens then, I approached my family for wanting to join a cricket academy to hone my skills. The reply from my brother was on expected lines, “What? Cricket? Tell me how much did you score in your math exams last semester? Please get these rubbish ideas off your head…” And that was the end of the story as my family agreed with his opinion that studies are of course much more important than trying to follow a ‘dream’ that you are passionate about. Demotivated, I gave in to that part of my dream despite people and friends who would keep prodding me do otherwise.

However, what I didn’t give up was on watching cricket matches. The more the matches were played, the more hungrily I would lap it up. Those days there were no T20s, and yet I would watch as many matches as I possibly could. I remember, even following Test matches throughout the day with rapt attention. Soon my cricket watching habit too became a sore in the eyes for some family people and I was regularly chided for ignoring my studies and ‘wasting’ my time watching cricket. “What would you get by watching these people play? They are earning their money and going home. But look at you. Flunking your exams and wasting your time by watching useless matches.” – this was another regular rebuke that would come my way from my family folks. No one really cared to know that I really liked watching cricket. Instead I was made to feel astonishingly guilty for doing it.

However, I was a stubborn child, and would fight and try and catch the game without anyone’s knowledge, or by keeping the TV volume in mute. Those days with the restricted freedom that I had, it was quite a task. My cricket watching however was not just limited to India specific matches. I would also follow matches of different countries.  I remember getting up early in the morning to follow a Test Match between Australia and Pakistan, when a certain Adam Gilchrist had made his debut. I also had enjoyed watching the Test match where Brian Lara single handedly destroyed the Australians in the West Indies in 1999. These and many more would make for my staple diet of cricket viewing pleasure. I would also eagerly wait for the post-match analysis and pre-match shows of many matches and listen to the greats of the game airing their views. Listening to them really helped me a lot in building my cricketing acumen.

As I grew up I slowly accepted the truth that I can never be a professional cricketer.  But even then, I would somehow always feel that I still have something to contribute towards the game and I can still be a part of it in some way. I did not how; but that feeling never really went away. I refused to believe that I would just remain a cricket viewer. However, with the course of time there was another thing that I soon discovered I was passionate about: Writing.

In my school days I was an average student; especially towards the end. I had no particular goal as such, because I did not know what I could go on to become. Neither my school friends, nor my family thought that I would be good for anything. I was apparently useless and a ‘mastikhor’ who whiles away his time talking to girls on the phone. I was made to believe by many of them that I would never achieve anything in life. But then, there are certain weird ways in which life takes care of you without you realizing it. I was always a decent writer from my childhood days. In fact it was the only thing I was good at; writing good stories, essays and feature stories were my specialty in those days. But I never really considered writing to be a full time career. Fate though had other ideas, as in weird ways I got into a Journalism institute and there I somehow got the confidence to bring out the writer in me in full flow.

Months passed, and I honed my skills, worked really hard and finally ignited my passion. Writing made me feel good. It inspired me, made me get away from my troubles and also gave me confidence. Luckily at this time, I met friends who appreciated my work; in fact they were the first ones in my life that actually saw me for what I was. That is why; I really value a couple of them with my life. That gave me belief and I kept working harder, without looking back. Soon my efforts began paying off and I started tasting success from different quarters and slowly things started falling in place. I had found a passion and I wanted to submerge myself in it.  Subsequently, I got some work because of my writing skills and I now I kept developing it, and keep doing so till date.

It was during this period that I somehow got the idea to use my cricketing acumen with my passion for writing. I thought to myself that why not try and combine the two passions and see how it goes. I started slowly, writing cricket pieces in my blog and on a few different websites. Then in my last job, where I got hired as a reporter, I enhanced this passion further. Here I didn’t hold myself back and started by doing some cricket stories to build my base. In that job I didn’t even have a press card and neither was the company renowned. But I was hungry, and I wanted to try. I did my first genuine cricket story when I covered the renovation work of the Eden Gardens back in 2011. I remember that day, as if it was yesterday. I was nervous and skeptical, yet I collected my guts and approached the CAB head. Fortunately he agreed and later I went on to even build a good rapport with him. That day I also got the chance to step onto the actual field of the Eden Gardens. That feeling, I have to admit, was amazing. The feel of touching the lush grass and standing at the same place where Sachin had scorched the grass with his straight drive was something special. It was bliss.  The story came out well and it really gave me confidence to keep going further. There was no stopping me after that and I went on to do stories on people like Arun Lal, Pronoy Roy, a local umpire and even some Kashmiri cricketers who had visited our city then.  

However due to some unfortunate events, I had to leave that job and thankfully the job that I am currently in gives me the peace of mind to write my cricket  and other writings. Since then I have kept building my knowledge on cricket by reading magazines, blogs, columns, websites and similar stuff which helps me a great deal. I knew I had to prepare myself well, if I intended to be a good cricket writer.  But it was only in the later half of last year that I actually started to believe that I can seriously come into cricket writing. Thus a few months back, I stopped writing my cricket pieces on my blog and approached some genuine sports websites for it. Fortunately enough, I got the chance I was so desperately looking for and then there was no looking back. My cricket writings started getting published and they were appreciated by people I didn’t even know. Slowly but surely I was taking giant strides towards my goal. Then last month I approached a cricket website and a national cricket magazine of reputed media houses for possible freelance opportunities. I was skeptical doing so, but surprisingly things worked out well and I got on board for both of them. My time, I could feel was finally coming.

That feeling of pride. 

It was a couple of days back however that I would consider the biggest achievement of my life; bigger than anything else. I got the news that my article has finally been published in the cricket magazine I had written for. It was a sultry afternoon, and yet I literally ran to the news-stand. I picked up the magazine and ruffled through the pages excitedly, and there it was! My name right at the top of the page with my article. My name, in a full six page article for a national cricket magazine! Was this for real?  I was numb for a few seconds. Then happiness surged through me. I felt my eyes getting a little wet and I rubbed them quickly. I was so thrilled that I even showed my article to the newspaper vendor, whom I share a good rapport with. He was elated, in fact a little too over elated. He told me excitedly, “Sir, (Yeah, he calls me that for some reason) you should go to London. You should join BBC.”. I smiled and said, “Err thanks. I will see you later.”  I held the magazine tightly in my hands and kept looking at my name as I walked back to my office. Then I called my best friend, who is the only one perhaps who really knows and feels my passion for writing and what it means for me. I wanted to share my happiness with someone and his was the only name I thought of first.

For people who might be reading this; it would seem no big deal. However, only I know how I have managed to reach here. For me, seeing my name on print is a huge thing; it is EVERYTHING. The fact that my name is there in print, and can be seen by someone even in Kashmir now, howsoever insignificant it might be for them, is an uplifting feeling. I can be pretty self-critical at times, but this time I won’t. I have no qualms in admitting that I have inspired myself this time. My passion has been my inspiration. I have made myself believe that if you are really passionate about something and are honest and hard working on it, then things will eventually fall in place. You won’t even realize it, but things do happen to sort themselves out.

And now the journey starts. I have now been accepted as a freelance cricket writer for two genuine sports websites and a national cricket magazine. And now I am hungry, I have tasted blood and I want more. I am consumed with writing more and more. Bring it on. I want to work harder, and keep flying towards my dream. It is the path that I chose now, which will decide what I eventually become. Fate has now given me opportunities, and hopefully I will keep grabbing them with both arms. But this definitely is a start. A good start. A step towards my eventual dream of being a full time professional cricket writer.  This step though wasn't easy, and today I pat myself on the back for having taken that step. I do not know where I will eventually end, but it is this very step that actually made me learn quite a few lessons of life. That the only person you should believe in is yourself; that there will always be people who will pull you down, but it is your passion that should lift you up. That there are very few people who genuinely care for you and appreciate you from heart and you got to hold them for life. And finally, that if you really have the passion for something, you should never ever stop believing.

Today I feel like yelling, “I am glad I wasted my time by watching cricket. It is because of that I found my passion.” I wish I could go to that prayer room again and show this magazine to my mom. Unfortunately though, you can't get everything you want in life. But for now all I want to do is to keep moving ahead. I have reached the station and caught the train; and now it is time to enjoy the ride. I don’t want to look back at all the people who have hurt me, made me feel small and discouraged me in different walks of life.  All I want now is to be positive about my life and focused towards my goal.

It is time for me to rise now. It is time for me to fly…!!

The ‘Facebook-Wallas’

Okay, so after writing so many hard-hitting, engaging, analytic, sarcastic pieces I wanted to take a break. As in I wanted to try my hand at a different kind of writing. Something very light and maybe funny. I wondered on the topic to take, trying to search and look for it in things around me. Then, this Sunday I went for a movie with an old school friend of mine. While we were in the theatre waiting for the movie to start, he suddenly took out his flashy cell phone with a gleam in his eye and said, “Let me update this on my Facebook profile.”  I looked at him to gauge if he was serious; and then he started typing- “With Bhavesh Bhimani at New Empire (the name of the theater).”  He looked satisfied after doing it, “There, done.” But it left me pondering; what is this new fad all about? And from therein came the idea for this piece.

Facebook or FB as they call it, is something which makes up a significant part of our lives in today’s times; there is no denying that fact. However, what I suddenly found intriguing after that incident was to notice how different people react and behave differently on FB. Immediately in my mind’s eye I tried to classify different Facebook users according to the way they behave and the way I perceive them in general. I call them the ‘Facebook-Wallas’. Please do not take anything personally though, this is just an attempt to be humorous. Let us have a closer look:

The Lover: The most prominent and the most dominated list in my view. The world is collapsing around you, there are terrorists right outside your window, India is at war, but wait a minute; they don’t give a rat's fart about it. They want to love and spread the message of love. LOVE, LOVE LOVE and some more LOVE. They share love quotes via pics or status updates. While that is fine to digest to an extent but what makes the brains go mad is when people start sharing details of their love lives on FB. Someone is in love, someone is heartbroken, someone is feeling cheated or someone is trying to woo their love. Oh hell they just want to Love…LOVE, LOVE and some more LOVE.  “I still miss her smile”, “I wish he would understand”, “You make me feel special”, “Oh God, I have butterflies in my stomach”- are some of the samples which I have to endure daily. I just yell- “PLEASE SPARE ME.. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SPARE ME.” But they don’t listen to you, all they say is- LOVE, LOVE LOVE and some more LOVE.

The VVIPs: Or I can also bracket them as the self- appointed superstars. “Ramesh was with Suresh at the Dhaba”, “Sanjay was with Aman at the Airport, “Going for dinner with my friends”, “Just bought a new pair of converse shoes”, or worse still, “Watching movie with Mahesh,” while Mahesh types, “Enjoying the film with Kamlesh”, “Now eating Chole bhature,”. Okay, now really. What is happening to people? Every single, miniscule, insignificant detail of your life is being poured out through Facebook. Someone badly needs to tell them- 'We don't give a f***'. 

I guess these days some scenes at a restaurant between friends must be like this:  X- “Ahh my dinner has arrived, boy am I hungry.” Y- “Don’t touch it, let me take a pic of this. Have to post this right now.” X- “But I am hungry, please let me eat.” Y- “F*** your hunger, this has to be posted fresh, now move aside, I want a good view”.

There is a sub-division to these VVIPs as well; people who take it upon themselves to inform the world about when the sun rises and when night falls : “Good Morning friends”, “Good night buddies.” I wish Facebook would type back, “Just go to sleep asshole.”

The ‘Liker’:  Very large in numbers I tell you, but not very harmful either. They are mostly offline, and just stay around all day to snoop and lurk into people’s posts and other updates and 'like' them without even bothering to see if it is worth it. These people must be  operating somewhat like this: Open FB, scroll down the homepage, see all the statuses and then go- Like, Like,Like, Like…. , then type “Hehehe’”, “ROFL” on certain posts and say “Ahh, job done for the day.”

The Gamer: Another class which are gigantic in numbers. While I do not have any issues with people spending entire days on playing ‘Farmville’ or whatever other ‘ville’ there is; the problem arises when people become generous and start sending game requests. I have really lost count of the umpteen number of people I have blocked from sending me these preposterously idiotic game requests, but they still somehow survive and live to send another ‘request’. I wish there was a constitutional law against this; where I can file a complaint against people who send me these requests. But then again who knows, the judge might not listen to my case properly as he might be too busy sending another game request to a friend. Lord help the world.

The Promoter:  These people are what I call shameless. ‘Events’ are created and then shamelessly sent to everybody on the ‘Friends list’. And then if you unfortunately, out of courtesy, accept the event then you are done for. They will keep notifying you about the event and bombard you with its details in the hope that you are forced to attend it out of sheer frustration. Then there are others who create ‘pages’ and ask you to share and promote it. “Pls pls. Like my page”, “Pls promote my page,” and some other such comments will keep pricking you until you actually do it. It gets downright embarrassing sometimes when people keep messaging you even in your inbox: “Bro, Don’t forget to like my page”. I say to myself, “Where are the terrorists when you need them.”

The Tagger:  Ahem. This one includes myself. But then again, I always tag people with my write-ups; in the hope that it reaches them. (I also request you today through this post, that after you have read my posts kindly do ‘untag' yourselves). However, what is horribly irritating is when people keep tagging at the drop of the hat on any picture or post they feel like. I find it bizarre when people even take pictures of themselves and then tag people; and these are embarrassing I tell you. People who look almost in a drunken state go on to tag people and then ask, “Guys, how do I look?” There is a bloke in my list who keeps doing this every day and once I found him displaying a picture of his slashed wrists to everyone with pride! The levels some people stoop to nowadays to grab some eyeballs!  Sometimes I really feel I should have taken a licensed gun, if you know what I mean.

Mr. /Mrs. Emotional:  “Feeling sad,”

 “Why dear, what’s wrong?”

“Can’t tell you here”

Hmmm..

“I am fed up of my life.”

“Kyu, kya hua dear?”

“Can’t tell you here,”

Okay, so why the f!@# did you write this in any case? Closely related to ‘The Lover', this breed is dangerously large in proportions. See the above pic for a perfect example of these psychos. They think that they are the saddest and the most aggrieved people in the world. And even if you do not care, you will have to read their drivel in front of your eyes. They even go the extent of typing sad songs on their wall or of course copy-pasting sad love quotes which are massive in number or  keep posting emotional love songs and pictures. There is just no end to these people’s barrage of emotional downpour. “Oh look I am sad, please give me some attention and pamper me,” is what they actually mean. I keep my temper in check every time I see these posts; but they still somehow get to me. As I write this I see another such post: 

“I still miss the look of your eyes,” 

I look for my gun. 

“Love is blind, love is life. I am unlucky in life.”

I load the bullets in my gun.

“I wish the pain would go away,”

BANG…!!!

The Social-activist:  This is a brand new breed and are really spreading like a virus. Apparently they think they are making the world a better place by constantly sharing some ‘thought-provoking’ pictures. A picture of a handicapped child whose face is grotesque and is hardly visible is posted and then it is written: “Please share this pic, one like might save her life”. Okay, but how? “Errr.. That is not my job to know. I just did what any good citizen would do for their society” is the prompt answer. So in today’s times if you love your mother, or sister or your army then you have got to ‘like’ these pictures you see. The above picture is an apt summary of what I feel about these impudent posts. 

And then there is a barrage of endless garble like “If you want to fight the cause against cancer, then like this pic”, “If you think that animals should not be dealt cruelly, then like this pic. One like means a thousand animals saved,”, “If you think this poor man deserves food, then click like,” Hmm.. I wonder what it must it must be like to be a real activist, like many I know who are on the ground, fighting to make our society better. They do not even have the time to open a Facebook account. Tsk. Tsk. 

However, I have a vivid imagination and thus I tried to visualize how these 'Facebook Social-activists' might actually be like, here is a sample:

“Ahh. This picture looks good. The child looks pretty malnutrition-ed and the picture of this beaten up cat is a cinch to get me a hundred likes,” he smiles to himself. As the last morsel of the potato chips drops out from his lips, he farts, then goes on to post these pictures and awaits the feedback. “5 likes and 3 comments in 10 minutes!!.. coooool”. My good deed for the day is done, he thinks to himself and farts some more in sheer pleasure of his success.  “Now where is that porn site I had bookmarked? Time for some real action.”  Ta-dah… !!

                                                                        ******

I agree I might have sounded a little too harsh or maybe even over the top, but then that is what I intended to do, for I feel we take Facebook a little too seriously at times. We let it consume our lives by making us ignore the simpler and genuine pleasures of life like actually enjoying the movie or food before trying to 'share' it with the world. Tender emotions are supposed to be felt and not talked about every time; a dear friend of mine had taught me that albeit indirectly. Enjoy your life, but not at the cost of making it a news bulletin.

Now I will take your leave and ponder over a new topic to write on. Meanwhile you may also add some more titles to the above classifications I have made. It shall be appreciated. 

And before you close this page, err.. don’t forget to ‘like’ and ‘share’ this post on your Facebook wall will you? 

In celebration of my ‘Half-century’

50, that number might have different meanings for different people from different fields. For me, it currently is evoking a feeling of pride. Why you ask? Oh well you see last week I completed 50 posts in this blog of mine. So what is the big deal then? Well not for you obviously, but it is a big deal for me. And a very massive one at that when I sit and ponder over it.

When I started this blog two and a half years ago, I had absolutely no inkling that I will even get close to reaching this number. Those days I used to pen my writings in a simple ruled copy and it was a huge deal for me to get into this MS Word mode. I wasn’t very tech-savvy then and to even start this blog was a monumental achievement for me. I was all at sea then; “What shall I write about?”, “Who will read my stuff? Why will they read it? “What if they make fun of my writings?”. These and many more such doubts used to plague my mind. But the initial response I got boosted my confidence and pumped me up to keep writing and it has remained such to date.

I wrote and wrote, sometimes I would take a self-imposed sabbatical, but would be back again sooner rather than later. In fact, the time I would not write for my blog I would feel uneasy; almost like I am cheating on my spouse. Yes, it indeed is a strange  connection I have with it. But never have I written for the sake of writing; I always wrote when I felt like it. Over these years I have written on varied topics here; cricket, human –interest, my opinions, wildlife etc. Each post, without sounding pompous, required a considerable amount of toil from my side. I cannot say that I love all of them equally, but I definitely cherish each one of them, some more than the others, for their own reasons.  

Life is all about celebrating small moments and memories. This is a small yet very significant achievement for me in many ways that I shall never be able to explain. Hence, today I go back and select the Top 5 writings, from the overall 50, of this blog. Yes it might sound excruciatingly stupid to many of you, but hell I am in a mood for self-indulgence and shall go ahead with it and do some self-celebration. So here goes:

(If you wish to read any of the below mentioned articles, just click on its title, which is a link, and it will open up the respective  post.)

While we were sleeping:   The first ‘real’ post in this blog. This one is by no means even close to my best writing but it would remain in my top spot forever purely because of the way it came about. I did not have any idea then on how to begin writing for my blog, or what to start with. I did not want it to be something ordinary. As it turned out this post was inspired by a true incident that happened to me and my friend. The incident left a strong impact on me and by a good stroke of luck I got the inspiration of penning it down. I remember thinking about it while travelling in an auto and then excitedly going back home and writing it down that very night. The response I got for it was quite overwhelming and it still remains the second most ‘liked’ post of mine. As things turned out, my friend (who was involved in the incident) loved the post and egged me on to make a docu-feature on the same subject. I did so and amazingly it went on to win the ‘Best Docu’ award at my college function. Imagine how just a small incident can inspire you to do so many things. This incident taught me that inspiration always lurks right around you; we just have to find it. If I want I can make the many changes that are required in this post; the grammatical errors, sentence framing etc. But I don’t’. I like it this way. It shows me of how much I have progressed. Like they say, ‘some good things are better left untouched’.

We the people:I consider this as one of my best writings. It was Independence Day and when I woke up in the morning I somehow had the urge to write something. More so when I opened my Facebook account and saw the usual I-Day ‘tags’ and ‘Proud to be an Indian’ posts. It irked me and I just sat down and wrote this post. I had not planned it at all; it was one of those ‘spur of the moment’ acts. After I had written it down I felt good about myself, having siphoned off a considerable amount of my uneasiness that I had felt.I wrote down almost everything that I felt is wrong with our society’s mindset. If today I sit and think of trying to better this post for another I- Day article I won’t be able to do so.  I seriously do think I shall not be able to better it.

Love thy neighbour...Only if he lets you to!! : I had written many cricket related write-ups before this one on my blog but this one is my favourite primarily for the topic concerned. It came about again after getting peeved with an incident that had happened before the Indo-Pak match in the 2011 World Cup. Pakistan obviously never lets an opportunity amiss to make me hate them; there have been incidents prior and later to this one which evoked similar and more hatred in me against them. But since this one was related to cricket I decided to pen it down. After I write any of my writing, I asses it on the basis of the satisfaction it provides me. And this one scores highly in that regard. I successfully managed to vent out my bottled up rage against their scumbag cricketers and also touched upon the larger issue concerning Indo-Pak relations. Though it did not really make me happy, it definitely made me feel cooled down a bit. Like my best friend commented on this post- ‘this is one of your best articles’. I second him on that.

Those ‘really’ were the days: This one again is not one of my best writings but will remain special for different reasons. I wrote it at a time when I was going through a transitional and emotional phase in my life. It made me feel increasingly nostalgic and made me crave for my yester-years desperately. So like I do most times when I go through a varying range of emotions; I wrote. Nostalgia is a massive word and includes a wide vista of memories and emotions. It is exceedingly difficult to put all those down in a 2000 word article. But I managed it somehow, and felt good about it in the end. It made me happy and made me forget over my inner troubles for a while. I covered the most significant parts of my nostalgia quite well I believe. I liked the way I began and loved the way I ended it, especially because I had got the idea for this one while travelling (again in an auto; well I do think a lot while I travel and it has inspired me for many of my write-ups). I had initially thought that people will get bored reading it and wouldn't really relate to it. But the response I got was simply amazing. It seemed like I had made everyone go back in time and relive their nostalgia. People wanted me to write more on this and some even suggested to come out with a part-2! It pleased me immensely. I kept re-reading it many times over and still do sometimes.

Ek tha ‘so-called star’:  The most ‘liked’ of all my posts, this one is indeed a special one. I had been intending to write on this fellow for quite some time. I had had debates on this issue with many of my friends and many had urged me to write on this. It took me some time but when I finally wrote it down I found it hilarious. For once I shunned out the journalist in me and wrote down with a kind of sadistic madness. It was ‘mad’ writing but a thoroughly refreshing one. The response again was quite fantastic, leaving out the ‘Salu’ fans of course. And even when I read it now I find it quite surprising on how I managed to write like this. I had written one more ‘filmy’ post prior to this but this one wins hands down purely because of its significance and the unique satisfaction it brought about. I carried out all my years of feelings towards this imbecile and channeled it into one article, and did it quite well I might add.  After reading this I got a call from an ex-friend of mine whom I hadn't talked to in ages. He told me, “I have become your fan. What a writer you are! Simply amazing.” This was like the icing on the cake; a cake which was really sumptuous.

                                                                            ****

Without sounding arrogant I have to say it was indeed a mightily difficult task to choose these five from the overall 50. There are many which I would have liked to see here, Esther Friede’s article, an article I had written on my best friend who is a film-maker (but these two weren't exactly written for my blog so that is the reason I didn't pick them), some cricket writings, some personal opinions, and a few others; but then it is simply impossible to choose all. Hence this is it then; my selected top 5.

This blog of mine holds a pivotal place in my life. It is like that link which connects me to my readers and helps me grow in confidence as a writer. I do not know how far will I eventually reach but I will always hold this blog special for it was the first step I took to present my only skill to the real world. It has given me many good memories and emotions. After every post I would eagerly await the feedback in those initial days (I still do) and would be pleased to get good responses from my friends. Sometimes even strangers have sent me messages telling me how they appreciate my writings, and how they get inspired by it. That really is the biggest thing that keeps me motivated to write more and more; my readers and their love. And now, unbelievably, I can also see that this blog is read by people in the USA, Germany and even Russia.   (See pic)                                                          

I have crossed 50 after a lot of hard-work and patience and by God’s grace would maybe even touch a 100 someday. Eventually I want to be a good and established writer one day and this blog has helped me immensely in achieving that goal to some extent. With each writing I have grown as a writer, and this journey is obviously never-ending, and I wish to continue like this till my last breath. My cricket writings would now perhaps not be found here as I have discovered a different platform for it, but I shall always continue penning my varied thoughts here. It helps me feel normal; it helps in making me happy. I will keep writing no matter what, I will write when I am happy, when I am angry and when I am emotional. But the writing shall never stop.

Lastly, I thank each and every one of you who has read any of my posts in my blog. Many have praised me many have not, but I still thank all of you; even those whom I do not know personally and yet who have contributed in making this blog grow. A really big THANK YOU to each one of you. Without you readers I would be nothing. I would just be an insignificant blob in this world. Please do keep reading my writings the way you always have. It is the only skill I posses and with you people around I find a reason to write. I will die one day like everyone else, but my writings and my readers would hopefully be around to keep me alive forever. That is what I wish to attain in life. And this blog will hopefully be around to see me through my tough and happy times; helping me in scoring centuries and double centuries. Hopefully you will all be around to see me through that dream. This is the reason I celebrate this 'tiny' achievement with you all today; as you all too are very much a part of this feat of mine.

So see you readers; until next time. Or shall I say, until my next post. Like I said, the writing shall never stop. Adios. 

‘Aman Ki Aasha’ …ka Full stop!

This is a useless post. I do not say this to grab your eyeballs. This is indeed one of the most inconsequential posts I have written. It will have no significance in your life after you have read it. And neither will it reach close to affect the change that it intends to. Yet I write it. Why you ask? I have been on a self-imposed exile from this blog of mine for a few weeks, concentrating more towards my cricket writings for a sports website. So, what forces me to come out of my sabbatical and write this post?

Oh it’s the usual anger and helplessness that most of us Indians feel every now and then you see. It came from the Hyderabad bomb blasts a few days back which ripped through the city and took more than a dozen lives with it. As an Indian it disturbed me again, made me feel helpless and made me want to do something. Sadly, with my usual limitations, I can only write to express my views and hence I do that once again.

I don’t know how many times I have seen this similar kind of news in my short life span and how many more will I live to see. I guess that day is not far when we get up in the morning and our father asks us, “What’s new on the news today son?”, and we casually reply, “Oh another bomb blast in Mumbai father, taking 50 lives with it. Can you please pass me the toast?” Yes, that day is not far I presume, given the weak-kneed way our Government deals with the situation and the way our society’s mindset is.  Oh yes, our society too is equally to blame. How? Ahh...Good question.

Anger is good, but remember war is the last discourse. That would come later; first let us start by changing small little things about ourselves. We all know pretty well which country is behind these blasts. We all know who plans it, who lives to see us die a thousand deaths every day and yet each one us ignores it in a way. Today I shall not talk about our impotent government and the way we should go about tackling the terror outfits in our country. I want to discuss something way smaller, but something whose ramifications are equally damaging. I want to bring a full stop to this fake bonhomie we have with our neighbour, bring an end to this despicable ‘Aman ki Aasha’. Before we even progress on this war on terror; we have to understand one thing. Friendship with Pakistan is NOT HAPPINING. It will NEVER happen. No matter how hard our pseudo-intellectuals like Barkha Dutts yell it, it will never transpire.

The usual argument against my point is the same; “friendship is the only way forward”, “we should not let entertainment and sports get affected by all this” and other similar arguments. Hmm...Interesting. I wonder what these people would say if the head of their son would have been ripped off in one of these blasts. I doubt they would be clamouring for friendship then. All they would want is blood; that of the enemy. And Pakistan is our enemy. PERIOD. It is foolish to live in a delusional world and deny this fact. Their raison d’être is to see India bleed profusely, and they are succeeding mightily at this. And what do we do? Welcome pests from their country in our land, let them earn their bread here and feel happy from within that we are participating in this ‘Aman’ and ‘shaanti’. How nice. Fuck you. Yes, fuck you. I will not ask for any pardon on the language that I used; this deserves it.

It makes my blood boil in rage to see scum from their country coming here and participating in shows and events, smiling and talking about friendship. I do not care how talented they are. We have enough talent in our country to take care of our entertainment. I find it an insult to the memory of the dead soldiers and the innumerable innocent lives we have lost all these years when we embrace such vermin from across the border. Agreed that these people might not be directly involved in conspiring against us, but I DO NOT CARE. We cannot let them come to our land and enjoy the luxuries from our country when ‘their’ people are constantly making us bleed. If they care so much about ‘Aman’ and ‘shaanti’, ask ‘your’ ISI and other politicians to change first.

Let me talk about two of the most pivotal points which is linked with this bullshit called ‘Aman ki Aasha- sports and entertainment.

Sports:  Since it is my favourite subject let me explore this a little first. Aamir Sohail, Wasim Akram, Shahid Afridi, Abdul Razzaq, Waqar Younis and many of their clan come to mind first. What is common in all these? They have all been known to make anti-India statements back in the safe confines of their country regularly. Yet we so dearly love to invite them in our land and play against them or provide them their livelihood through other means. Because sports after all ‘should not come in between politics' isn’t it? It bridges boundaries and blah blah blah. Fuck you again. I don’t care how talented a Wasim Akram is; he is a scumbag who merrily earns his bread from India and then goes back to his hiding place to enjoy with the ones who make us bleed. While at one place bombs rip through our cities and at the other place we enjoy seeing the Akrams and the Shoaib Akhtars participating in chat shows and even dance programmes! I have not even started on this sly and shrewd Javed Miandad. This piece of parasite is actually a relative of the terrorist Dawood Ibrahim and yet he receives a red-carpet welcome in our country from our media folks and the Govt. without him willing to disclose the whereabouts of his 'bhaaijaan'. Tell me just how spineless are we? I would rather prefer playing against a team like Zimbabwe than see the faces of these Pakistanis playing here with us on our soil.

Entertainment: Ahh. The one that affects us the most isn’t it? Atif Aslam, Rahat Fateh Ali Khan, Adnan Sami, Ali Zafar, Veena Malik and many more like them are regulars in our country. “Such talent these people have!” many of you will exclaim. Many of us will scream in agony if we even ‘think’ to halt their entry to our soil. Fuck you again and again and again. It is because of vermin like Mahesh Bhatt, the Barkha Dutts and the likes that we get to see so much praise and acclaim for these ‘artists’ from our neighbouring land. Many top stars from Bollywood, whose name I wouldn’t take here, are also equally responsible in promoting this so-called ‘Friendship with Pakistan’ message. Understand one thing; these artists will NEVER EVER consider us as their own. They earn their bread from here, go back to their country and laugh at our stupidity. Oh yes, I am certain they do. We have more than enough artists in our country to suffice our entertainment needs; we do not need insects from Pakistan to erode our country further.

I am not even starting on politics as blaming the politicians in this situation is the easiest thing to do. But the issue of ‘Aman ki Aasha’ has to be resolved.  The other day, I went through my mobile phone’s playlist and deleted all the songs that had Pakistani singer’s names in it. It is a very small and inconsequential thing to do but I have started this war from within. What purpose would it solve you ask? Like I had said in my earlier lines, war is the last discourse. It is not the question of who wins it. War will hurt us too in many ways. But the least that we, the citizens of this country, can do is start the war within each of us. It is true that dialogue is the ideal way out. But you cannot engage Pakistan in dialogue. They only know one language and that is of blood. Friendship with Pakistan as I said will NEVER HAPPEN. It is not happening in this lifetime. We have to accept that fact and learn to live and tackle it.

All of us cannot take AK-47 s on our shoulders and stand at the border to fight with the ISI and the terrorists. But we can contribute in this war too if we are smart. We can hurt Pakistan economically. They are dependent on us in more ways than one. Shun them all out. Boycott their sportspersons and artists forever. Stop watching any programmes that has any Pakistani in it. Raise your voice against this issue, take out candle light vigils, share Facebook upates and let everyone know about this. It might not make a huge difference but it will affect them, it will hurt them, and it might make them suffer. And that is what I want to do. I WANT TO HURT THEM BAD.

Remember the families that have been ripped apart in all these terror attacks; all because of the country that lives to dream for our downfall. By preaching ‘aman’ with them we are insulting those families. The least we can do is stop singing this delusional friendship song with Pakistan. They teach their children that India is your enemy; and that is a FACT. The chapters of their history textbooks scream out loud that India is their number one foe; this too is a FACT. Yet we live in our own pseudo-intellectual world and keep repeating the ‘friendship with Pakistan is the only way out’ statement. Agreed that not all in their country might think like that, (especially their artists and sports-persons you might say) but I don’t care about the others. I know them as one and it shall remain the truth. Either you ask your country to change or stop coming to ours. You represent them and we shall not entertain you. Simple. True that we cannot be like them; no one is asking you to be. But extending the hand of friendship with someone who hates you from the core of their hearts day in and day out is sheer stupidity. Pakistan and its ‘avaam’ are laughing at us today; laughing at our impotency and foolishness.

Come out of your deep slumber people and wake up to the reality facing us with glaring eyes. I implore you. It might be a useless exercise in the end, but I shall try in the way I can. We have to be responsible and united as a society now. We have to take a stand. Raise your voice people. The time has come for all us to make a choice between what is RIGHT and what is EASY.