In and around Raigarh

Today, I am going to tell you about my journey from Mumbai to Raigarh and back. Raigarh is small town in the state of Chhattisgarh. With not more than 2, 00,000 residents, this semi urban settlement is about 280 kilometers from Chhattisgarh’s capital, Raipur. My relationship with Raigarh is very old, almost as old as I am. It is home to my maternal aunt and her family. My travelogue describes my experiences of visiting Raigarh and places close to it in a period of 10 days.

Day one:
My Kolkata bound Howrah Mail set off on 8th December from Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus, Mumbai. The station looked as intimidating and magnificent as always. You’d see thousands of travelers among red uniformed coolies, khaki clad policemen and the railway ‘protection’ force. With my family, I found my way through the sea of people to reach the right platform. The train like a huge snake was resting on the 15th platform waiting to embark on a tiring yet exciting hunting trail. My train left CST at about 8.45 pm.

Day two:
Hoards of people tried to board the train illegally but thankfully their attempts were not very successful. I sipped hot tea and ate on Indian railways blue sleeper berths. The view outside the train window was intriguing. Arid yet green landscape of Indian heartland unfolded as the train made its way through several villages, towns and cities. The hinterland looked seamless and untouched. The farms stretched till your eyes could see. The cattle grazed lazily while women in bright coloured sarees and men in white dhotis worked tirelessly on their beloved land. The village men, women and children looked close and yet so far. Their lives and their stories are unheard. For us they are just statistics, but what lies in rustic lands and hopeful eyes is yet to be told. It is something the ‘indifferent’ India ought to know about the majority of its fellow Indian citizens.

We detrained on Raigarh station at 8.15 pm on the 9th December. Although I was expecting the weather to be biting cold, it was anything close to that. I remember as a child when I came to this sleepy town in Decembers, it used to hailstone. My cousins and I found the act of holding ice in our small fists exciting and thrilling. But the change wasn’t only in the weather. It was in everything I saw and felt. The station with electric poles and cement flooring looked quite impressive to what used to be a humble platform. I asked my cousin who had come to pick me up, “What’s with the change?” He just said one thing, “Jindal.” I knew Jindal had set up steel and a power factory a decade ago in Raigarh but I didn’t comprehend his answer completely until he took me through Raigarh lanes the next day.

Day three:
Next morning, my cousin and I explored the town on his bike. The sun was high and the roads were dusty. The men were in loose shirts and the women wore printed sarees. The stores on both sides of the narrow lane looked similar. The shop names were painted in Hindi and most of the stops marketed one Telecom Company or the other. Docomo, Aircel, Airtel, Idea and Vodafone were plastered on most of the shop boards. But apart from this branding, there was other parallel branding also taking place. Political symbols of BJP and Congress were painted on almost every alternate house and shop. The town is not too big. It took us not more than an hour to glimpse through the town. During this one hour ride, he rode me on Kelo Bridge which is over the Kelo River. My cousin informed me that two lanes were added to the bridge by Jindal Steel and Power Plant in 2006 to enable better flow of heavy vehicular traffic. After coming back home, I got down to unearth information on Jindal Steel and Power Plant and its relation with a small town like Raigarh. And I managed to dig out quite a lot of information.

Jindal Steel and Power Plant entered Raigarh in the late 90s. Today, after almost 10 years of its existence in Raigarh, it has done a lot more than just produce metal and power. It has changed the way Raigarh looks and to an extent the direction its heading. As Jindal set up one of India’s biggest steel and power plant, it got with itself human capital. The Jindal colony which has been built on the outskirts of the main town, houses thousands of its employees. To attract talent and also to provide good social infrastructure to its employees, Jindal built a school and an engineering college. O.P. Jindal School is Raigarh’s first 10 + 2 English medium School. It also started Raigarh’s first Engineering College in 2008. The pass outs from this college are expected to be absorbed by the company itself. Apart from these educational institutes, Jindal has built a hospital, several roads and also helped in maintaining Raigarh’s Kamla Nehru Park. But there is one more thing, Raigarh’s population attributes to the Jindals. And that is town’s pollution and the tremendous rise in temperature. Although, Jindal Steel and Power Plant boasts of Golden Peacock Environment Management Award, the rise in temperature over the last 10 years seems to be telling a different tale.

Day four:
On the following day, spontaneous visits to relative’s relatives’ places started! One must learn Atithi Devo Bhava from small town people. They’ll make you truly feel like Gods. From the second you have entered their house till you leave. Though the visit to my aunt’s in-laws house wasn’t the first, it was truly nostalgic. I had spent several of my school summer vacations playing in that huge house with my cousins and their cousins. We used jump into the well to hide during our hide and seek games, we used slide down the staircase’s, and we use to wet each other with the pipe on the ‘chat’ (as we called it then)just for the kicks. And not to forget endless games of UNO! Sigh, how things change as years go by.

After the entire ‘kitne bade ho gaye hai!’ 'ritual' at the relative’s place, we left for Chandrapur in a hired car. Not more than 40 kilometers away from Raigarh, the hamlet is known for its centuries old Goddess Durga’s Chandrahasini Devi temple. It lies on the banks of river, Mahanadi. Our car took not more than 60 minutes to reach the destination. A narrow lane, which is flanked by a glittering market leads to the temple. Though, I didn’t get a chance to explore the town but visit to the temple wasn’t less interesting. As a series of steps takes you to the top of the temple where the idol is placed, you can witness several scenes from Mahabharat in form of stone structures on both sides of the steps. And if you ever plan to visit this tiny hamlet, please do not miss the delicious pakodas being sold outside the temple. You’ll surely be craving for more, that’s my guarantee!

Day five and six:
Champaran, a small village on the outskirts of Raipur was my next destination. It’s believed to the birthplace of Shri Vallabhacharya, the founder of Vaishnav sect. According to mythology, he was born under a tree nearly 525 years ago in Champaran. A temple has been built around that tree. People say that one can still hear the celebratory sounds of the drums from the tree truck. Shri Vallabhacharya is said to be the incarnation of Lord Krishna which has made this place a major tourist attraction for Hindus. However, gujaratis and marwadis dominate the crowd.

To reach Champaran, we had to catch a train from Raigarh to Raipur. From Raipur, we took an auto riksha to the village. It’s around 45 kilometers from the main city of Raipur. We reached the place at about 10.00 am. The town was brown, dusty and half asleep. The sun was up and shining in the sky. I couldn’t get a chance to take a look expect a quick glance around. We had to rush to the temple as my mum wanted to fill the jhariji. This is supposed to a privilege only few are granted. Everyday from 10 am to 12 noon, few people are allowed to get close with Lord Krishna’s child avatar’s idol. They get to bathe him dress him up and play with him. The idol is in the temple premises. However, everyone is not allowed to do so. You’d need to be bhramsaman taken vaishnav and to be that, you need to fast for one whole day followed by other vidhi. I have been trying to schedule that fast for years now, but alas!

I had a good time recording the whole vidhi. The group comprised mainly of senior citizens and women. They were all so thrilled about the ritual that their faces shone with excitement. They sang hymns for baby Krishna and pulled his swing enthusiastically. But the best part of it all was they gave their sweet and shy smiles as my camera rolled clicking their pictures.

If you ever get a chance to visit Champaran, you must stay back for the evening arati on the banks of river Yamuna that flows through the village. It is supposed to an enchanting experience as hundreds of devotees gather at the banks as the priests’ lights the banks up with arati. Though, I couldn’t stay back for the arati, I cooled my heels in the river. Before leaving Champaran, I also visited one of the many gaushalas of the village. It is a place which shelters hundreds of cows. As the village boasts of being the birthplace of Lord Krishna’s incarnation, cows had to be given a special status. The most interesting of the whole housing scheme for the cows was that each cow had a name plate attached to her ‘home’ which stated the cow’s name, her home town and her caste!

Last few days:
The last few days in Raigarh were spent playing cards, taking late night walks, watching movies on pirated dvds and my attempt at photography. I learned a lot about what majority of India thinks and functions. It has many layers to it. The ones which I could observe were economical, political and social. The town was attractive, repulsive, loving, offensive, colourful and dark, all at the same time. All the adjectives mentioned above are so true for India as well. Not one adjective can ever hold true for our Swades. It contradicts itself at every juncture.

Jindal Steel and Power Plant changed the fate of the citizens of Raigarh. It not only brought in money but also physical and social infrastructure. Jindals gave Raigarh as identity. Though, very few know of Raigarh as a princely state before independence, many more know of Raigarh as home to India’s one of the biggest steel producing factory.

The other thing I noticed about Raigarh was that it is very politically charged. I had the fortune of visiting Raigarh during its municipal election phase. Today, I know how politics is viewed in Indian hinterlands. It is viewed as business. Everyone should know it and more importantly know about it. From a ten year old to an 80 year old would know the ABC of local politics. Who is contesting from where, how many seats are up for grabs, how much money can be made by buying and selling votes, which politician made the maximum use of his seat to make money are some questions whose answers would be known by a school kid too. No exaggerations here.

Socially, Raigarh has changed! There was a time when every woman in Raigarh used to wear a ghunghat in her home and while travelling outside. There was a time when education was given minimal importance, less for boys and lesser for girls. Today, almost every student in Raigarh, be it a girl or a boy studies is attaining education outside Raigarh or aspires to do in future. They are ambitious and they want it all. I am not saying this just to fill up lines. During my conversations with students in Raigarh, I felt that the students there don’t take anything for granted like most in city do. They know they lack opportunity but they certainly don’t lack the will. And the most amazing part is that they know they’ll get there. No questions about that.

The whole journey in pictures:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=141083&id=520501894&l=1e1b44f111

That's Chemistry!

A pure bond that ties them together. When one chirps with happiness, the other follows with giggles. When one speaks up her mind, the other echoes the very same thought. One takes up for the other if she feels her mirror image is under attack. The visible umbilical chord that once bound them together is long gone, but the invisible one still stays.

They are two little six year old twins whose lives revolve around each other and their treasured toys. As the ‘complicated and convoluted’ things are yet not on their minds, the source of happiness for these twins is the pink Barbie doll and to my pleasant surprise, photography!

First a little hesitant about facing the camera, they soon gave in to the glam quotient. They gave the most bizarre and wacky expressions. The chemistry between the sisters guaranteed the cutest and the funniest pictures. The mother, who for the longest time was trying her best to convince her daughters to keep a straight face for the photograph also couldn’t help smiling at her crazy daughters. :)

Marriage made in hell

Your cell phone buzzes again and you not too enthusiastically answer it. It is an everyday story. The relationship between your cell phone and you has gone sour. Sparks flew when you first took your cell phone in your hand from the shop display window. And then marriage followed. But now there is no fire left in the relationship.

There is nothing that you can do about this marriage with this gadget. It shares every moment of your life, whether you like it or not. It eats with you, works with you and sleeps with you. Sometimes you even have to take it along with you to the loo. Sigh! How you wish for a life partner, who’d give you more space.

The match was made in hell and mind you, divorce is not even an option. Don’t forget when the cell phone entered your life few years back; it brought with itself business, ‘social’ life and seamless connectivity. So if you decide to call the quits, just keep in mind what you might lose.

On the other hand let’s make a list what you’ll gain. Hmm… to start off, you’ll gain freedom; freedom from always being ‘in touch’, freedom to breathe free and roam around without being worried about something vibrating in your pocket. Freedom to be just left alone. Let me know if you ever get the nerve to do it and break free!

The ‘Mock’ CAT!

Five days after the CAT was let out of the bag, the situation seems be going back to normal. The first few days of CAT, an entrance test conducted by the Indian Institute of Management which is being conducted at about 140 centres across India, were plagued with technical glitches. This left more than 8,000 students affected. The aspirants either couldn’t take the test successfully or were unable to do justice to it.

However, aspirants looked pretty much at peace at CAT centres across Mumbai on Wednesday. Sutapa Shome, an MBA aspirant who took the test on Wednesday said, “I faced no problems, it was smooth sailing.” It was the same for Benson Almeida, a mass media student who took the CAT for the first time. “It was my first time and I didn’t want to mess it up but I had no problems,” he shared happily.

Even though the technical glitches seem to have been sorted out, the interface issues remain. Navigation through the test paper is not very easy. The process of going from one question to the other is time consuming. Although there is a review button, most of the students don’t know how to use it. Sandhya Doke, a final year B.Com student admitted, “I wasted so much time in going from one question to the other. Time management went for a toss.” The other key problem with the interface is that the QUIT button which ends the test is placed right next to the NEXT button. Due to which several students who by mistake pressed the QUIT button instead of the NEXT button, quit the test prematurely.

With so many problems galore, the IIMs have a humungous task ahead. They have to decide onto whether extend the CAT online dates to accommodate the test takers affected by the mismanagement. They also will have to decide the future course of action for the aspirants who could complete the test but couldn’t do justice to it. These are the aspirants who couldn’t see a few questions in the test, who couldn’t see the graphs and diagrams which were essential to arrive at the answers, who by mistake pressed the QUIT button and also those who faced computer malfunctioning issues. ‘The CAT disaster’ is one case study which the management students at the IIMs will definitely take up in their classrooms!

Happily jobless!

Everything was in slow motion today; the rising of the sun, the waking up and the getting ready. None of it was harrowing as it used to be. There wasn’t any running from one room to the other. It was just simple lazing around the house. The action of doing nothing and feeling wasted was blissful. You should try once, the act being happily jobless.

30th November

The first stepping stone faltered. I fell down and hurt myself a little. But I am glad the step which I was holding onto was only the first one. It would have hurt a lot more if the step was somewhere in the middle of the climb. People who started with me have managed to climb ahead and I’ll have to start the climb afresh. I’ll miss my fellow climbers who were there with me. They were always there to make it easier. They were there to help me out. But no worries, I’ll find new fellow climbers and new steps. Eventually I have to leave them all and reach to the top alone, right? ;)

The Close-up man!

A small music studio on a 21st floor on a high rise building is cluttered with guitars, computers, music cds, and a couch. Tapas Relia, the music composer of kya aap close-up karte hai who uses this studio for a living is a very simple and a soft spoken man. He patiently showed my cameraman and me the studio so we could figure out the right frame to shoot his interview. As the interview unfolded, an interesting story emerged.

About six years back when Relia was approached to make the jingle, he was just a scratch melody maker. “It all started when I got a call from Ronnit Desai, a popular radio producer in our industry. And he said that there were three close up ads that had to be done,” he recalled. However on the ‘big break’ day, Tapas reached the studio almost an hour late which left him hardly anytime to work on the ads. And when he came down to the last ad which had the kya aap close-up karte hai lyrics, he was appalled. “I said this is not right, it doesn’t make sense!” Relia said. He made the jingle in just about 20 minutes before the singer arrived in the studio to practice the melody.

After the singer tried many funny styles of singing, he experimented with the K. L. Saigal’s nasal style. Relia recalled, “We turned around and said yeah that’s it. Its funny, it’s new and nobody has every attempted it.” But it didn’t go as per plan. The jingle got stuck with research and got turned down by HUL, close-up’s parent company. Only after a lot of convincing by Prasoon and Piyush Pandey, was the jingle allowed shooting.

But the lesser known secret of the jingle is that it was never re-recorded for the final advertisement. The jingle that we all heard on television and loved was the same one which was recorded on the first day of practicing. The same scratch track for which the music was made in 20 minutes. “We were so paranoid about and superstitious we became, we might not get it right if we re-record. So the sound track in the film today is scratch that we did in the first day on scratch recording,” Relia shared.

And then life changed for Tapas Relia; from being a scratch music composer to a full fledged music composer. “People started recognizing me with the jingle. They started calling me the close-up man,” he smiled. Today, Relia has several popular advertisements to his credit. Dominoes, Lays, Clinic plus are the few brand names he has produced music for. Apart from jingles, he has worked on the animation movie, Hanuman and its sequel.

Happens…

It feels strange… very strange. Maybe it was always was suppose to be like this. But seeing it happen was not the happiest thing. But can’t control and don’t even want to control every event of life. Let things shape up for itself. Life moves on and moving with it is the best that can be done. Trying to modify and change it will only bring more pain. Happens!

Sundays

It is the only day in the week when you are allowed to feel sleepy and still not open your eyes at ten in the morning. You can just lie back on your bed and look outside at the bright blue sky and the rising sun.

Lazing around in the house in your crumpled clothes and watching n number of F.R.I.E.N.D.S episodes and enjoying every bit of it. Wasting time is also a perfect Sunday activity. The day also makes the tedious task of cleaning up drawers and wardrobe quite enjoyable. Finishing unfinished books and chatting with your neighbours.

Sunday is also about catching up with long lost siblings and college friends. It is about reminiscing those old days and fondly reliving the memories. This day of the week makes you feel at peace and still feel alive…

Getting set to click away!

A whole new world is going to be formed. The way to look at the world to going to change. It will now be in frames and the people will turn into objects to be photographed. I welcome my new Sony digital camera into my life and also introduce myself to photography. Happy clicking away!

Cracking a deal with God

How are you? How have you been? Mine was crappy… I tracked a crappy story for the whole day. I dint even get time to have to have lunch. But guess what? It was dropped at the end moment. Don’t know whether to be happy, sad or frustrated! Anyways, you tell me, how was your day? How many million almost impossible sorts of requests in form of prayers did you receive today? I am sure a lot of them must have come from my end.

But what to do yaar! You know what I really want. Please come on now fulfill it this small request and I promise to be quite for one whole week. That’s a good deal. Acha okay two weeks… now that’s a deal to be grabbed! ;) Look at it this way… I’ll be happy with the gift from you and you’ll be happy with my gift... two weeks of complete silence.:)

Irony!

In a purple sleeveless dress, Ms. XYZ stood feeding a stray dog on Mahalaxmi station. She must have been in her late forties. The dog however wasn’t looking very interested in the biscuits. She had to keep going back to him to coax him to finish the food on the floor. When I asked about this strange behavior of the dog she said, “Must not be in a mood… I feed him everyday, he knows me.” Seeing an amazed expression on my face, she continued her saga. She told me that she feeds almost 50 to 70 dogs daily. “I love animals, I have a dog and nine love birds at my home. They are in a big cage!” she proudly asserted. The nine love birds’ statement left me with an unsettled feeling. But she defended herself by saying, “they won’t fly away even if I free them, they love me.” Not very convinced with her defense though, I just let the conversation end there and not let it spiral into a worthless argument.

Dream on...

Dreams give you the courage to take risks when the odds are daunting
Dreams tell you to go ahead when everyone else is pulling you back
Dreams become your strength when everything else fails
Dreams give you the hope when the future looks bleak
Dreams make you look beyond the obvious
Dreams make you do the impossible
Dreams make life worth living
Dream on…

The petite teacher!

She is a short girl with long hair. There is always a twinkle in her eyes and a mischievous smile on her face. She speaks at a speed of maybe 10 words a second. It’s over before you even comprehend it. The thing that excites her the most is studies! Heaven knows why? She loves teaching and it actually doesn’t matter whether the ‘student’ wants to be taught or not. She’ll teach anyway.

More the notes she has to study and teach from, more life is beautiful for her. She’ll flip through them with concentration and mark out what can be studied and taught first. Then she’ll make a plan on how the process of ‘knowledge imparting’ can be taken forward. Five morons are staring at her clueless, not sure how they are going to pass the exam next day.

And then it all begins…Notes, formulas, accounts, shouting, screeching, and obviously lot of food! But at the end of the day, everyone is full with facts and figures to crack the exam next day. All thanks to the petite teacher who managed really difficult to manage Mithibai BMS students.

Gazab!

Comparing a film like to this to Andaaz Apna Apna is outrageous. Andaz Apna Apna had interesting characters, a story and humour to it. Ajab Prem Ki Gazab Kahani was seriously bizarre. No story line, no direction and no acting. It didn’t have any meaning or direction it. Characters were clichéd and the humour was forced. Ranbir and Katrina other than concentrating on their clothes need to do something about their acting too. The only thing worth in the movie was the songs. The movie had nothing more to it, absolutely nothing. It just went on and on and chewed my brain for some two and half hours.

The day that isn’t…

Work on Saturdays should be banned. And the arguments in the case are: The office bears a dead look. Disgruntled employees don’t make for a very productive day. Only the rundown for the weekend is prepared. Movies to watch and places to visit is the topic of brainstorming. And obviously editors and cameramen look at you with scorn if you loiter even at a distance of 10 feet from them. The day just passes away without much ado. So to sum it up, it is a waste of human resource, a waste of time, a waste of electricity and a waste of a good morning's sleep. I rest my case with this. Any counter arguments?

Step by step towards it

I have made up my mind. And I am not going to change it. It hasn’t been an easy decision but it is the only way to go. I don’t know what lies ahead but I certainly know I don’t want what I am leaving behind. Ambiguity of a destination is better than certainty of a dead end. The road ahead is full of uncertainties but it will lead to somewhere someday. I am sure it will. I am taking it.

Getting clicked!

Once the camera starts rolling, the grumpiest of faces break into a smile. The laziest of creatures with full vigor start flexing their bodies into weird poses. And the shyer ones of the lot turn red but still manage a sweet smile. Such is the power of photography.

This is what I realized on my recent visit to Khandala. No matter how much you hate your boss, you are always ready to be clicked with him/her. The fake love and affection is sudden. On the bus, in the grass, beside the lake, with the ruins… just everywhere. The moment someone says, ‘hey! I am taking a pic; you’d see people rush in front of the camera. The expressions ranges from a nervous smile to the roaring laughter; from the sane standing to the crazy pushing and pulling; from the contemplative looks to ‘dil chachta hai’ posing. Some girls couldn’t resist being clicked even while coming down the rope from top of a rock hill.

And why not? When the beautiful hills, green valleys and a clear blue sky provide for a perfect backdrop…

Peace!

Have you felt the power of silence in the last few years of your lives? Maybe this question will take you back to your school assembly days where the teacher’s scary stare made you shut your eyes and pray. That was, in a teacher's vocabulary, 'pin drop silence'. But today, a few moments of silence is rare. The noise of cars, the boss, the machines around you, the crowd on the train and of course the noise of your own voice in your head reminding you to finish off this work and that… can be quite overwhelming and over powering at times.

Try this sometimes; close your eyes to the world. Sit on a patch of green grass under the rising sun and shut yourself to the unnecessary and mostly self imposed pressures. Hear the rustle of the wind which blows past your ears; hear the cracking of the dry yellow leaves on the ground, hear the chirping of the birds, hear the laughter of kids when they board their school buses, hear your own heartbeat, and hear the sound of silence. It has a terrific calming effect. It will give you some moments of peace before you again lose yourself to the brainless chatter of the day.

Phew!

I run run and run. Nothing stopped me. The fastest 45 minutes of my life. Oh damn! I have only one hour to reach some random place to Andheri east to catch bus to Khandala and I get up in kandivali west at 5.30 am. From home to the rikshaw to station ticket window (damn! My honesty). Oh f*** the train is coming. Run run and don’t look back for the coins that have just slipped your palms. Phew! I catch the train. On the way I make a few frantic calls to jot down the address (damn! My forgetfulness). I jump off the train and run up the stairs onto the footbridge. I argue with the rikshaw wala to take me by the meter but all he says, “yeh time pe meter se koi nahi jata.” I give up (damn! My vulnerability). I reach the destination finally 15 minutes before time.

The jungle trail

There was electricity in the room. Every face was shining with determination to crack it. The room had four teams which were strategizing for the task ahead. The mission was to collect different coloured bands in the jungle at 10.00 in the night. Each team was given a map and a compass to find their way. The task was made up of four stages. In each stage, the teams had to collect bands. The first stage had white bands which were worth 100 points, second stage has orange which were worth 200 points, third stage had blue bands which were worth 300 points and last stage had black bands which were worth 500 points.

After all the strategizing, the teams ran towards the goal as the ‘thumbs up’ was signaled. And the way they ran… woho!! As if the bands were not just that but a lot more… like a trophy. And then they entered the jungle which was pitch dark. Being outside is one thing, going in and executing the plan is another. Outside, the plans are based on assumptions and expectations but when reality hits, things are not as beautiful. That changes a lot of things but actually only if you let them to. Few teams marched on with the same grit while others started losing the vision in the dark. Some plans went haywire and some didn’t.

There was one group which with the right strategy and spirit to win found their trophies. With torch or without torch, with cell light or with the lighter… they didn’t give themselves a chance to lose. All of them tried, all of them looked but the only ones who found and won was the team for whom winning was the only option! Maybe its one of those things, ‘how can someone else win when I am present!’

In the middle of everything and nothing

The valleys of Khandala were green and yellow. Through these valleys, the wind was blowing continuously. If you would close their eyes and concentrate, you’d hear the rusting of dry leaves which has fallen off the trees due to approaching winters. In this scenic beautiful landscape, there was a group of 30 people atop a hill starring at a rope which was tied up between two trees. They were imagining or maybe were not being able to imagine themselves hanging from the rope. Actually, their task wasn’t to hang on the rope but to cross from one end of the rope to the other. The only problem was that the rope was above a valley which was about 100 feet deep.

One by one people got onto the ropes. They had the experience of their lives. If you’d dare a little on that rope and look around, you could see yourself in the middle of beautiful green valleys, a waterfall on your right, bright blue sky above you and railway tracks below you. These tracks came into every few minutes when trains passed over it making a peculiar engine sound. It is an experience beyond words and you can understand it only if you do it. Trust me on that.

My riding mate

She was my riding mate. With her, every morning I cycled to my 10th std. coaching classes. She frowned at me whenever my cycle tyres went burst. But as always she waited for me to mend it. While riding our cycles, we managed to gossip even in the crazy morning traffic. She helped me with my Maths and Science, English and Marathi. As we grew up, nothing changed. We didn’t go to same school and after the results of 10th were out, our colleges were different too. But it didn’t matter and I don’t think it ever will. Today after seven years of meeting her, both of us are completely different people. But our friendship hasn’t changed. We still share the same dreams, the same profession and the same bond.

Random random random

Is it necessary to write? What if I don’t want to write? What if I don’t have anything to write? And it might just happen that what I have on my mind to pen down is nothing but of irrelevance to you. Will you then want to read about it? And but the most important question is, would I want you to read about everything that goes on in my mind? Nahh... I don’t think so. So then why am I wasting my time writing this and you reading it? Go and spend your time on something more fruitful, till then I rack my brains to write something of consequence ;)

Just...

There was a time in a girl’s life when all she wanted was to work with this advertising agency. This week, after three years she walked into the office she had always dreamt of working. The feeling it gave her was something even I am sure even she can’t explain. She just smiled and moved on to interview Kaizad Pardiwala, President of Ogilvy One.

A boy called Ramesh…

Long taxi ride can be quite alright and uneventful. Mine was quite boring too when suddenly a boy aged maybe around 14 or 15 came to my taxi which was waiting at the signal. He was carrying large stack of pirated books. He looked at me and then blurted out, “Mujhe worli naka chod doge?” Though a little taken aback, I nodded and said haan. In the next 15 minutes, I must have asked him 15 questions which answered rather matter of fact manner. Twice in the middle of me throwing questions at him, he tried to sell me Chetan Bhagat’s 2 States.

He told me his name which was Ramesh. He lived near Worli Naka with his younger brother and sister. He was studying in 8th Std. He reasoned out with me on why he can’t go to an English medium school. He said, “English medium mein toh fees hoti hai naa…” So he was happy going to a Hindi medium night school thought he had bunked school for the last five days. He was from a small village near Lucknow.

During this 15 minute journey, Ramesh gave me an interesting peace of information on how I can recognize a duplicate book from an original one. “Dekho duplicate book ka pages idhar se peela dikhta hai, original ka hamesha white hi hota hai,” he explained. Here he pitched his sale, “Chetan Bhagat aur Paulo Coelho original hai, le lo.” After a few minutes of silence, he told the driver to halt the cab at a signal. With a small thank you, he hopped off the cab…

Fascinating ads to look into

If you are ever getting bored in a train and don’t want to look want to look outside the window… then take my advice and look inside. The yellow walls around you hold enough entertainment to amuse you throughout your journey.

‘Can a coffee sip grow your business?’ asks a tiny red and white poster to every traveler who passes by it. This poster sponsored by the U & I Club is hell bent to include YOU in their club. It keeps asking the same question again and again, and is waiting for you on every side of the compartment. But if it does not appeal to you much, move on to other interesting ads put up. There is one yellow colour poster who only wants you to TALK. The Just Talk Institute comes to your rescue if you have any issues with the ABC of queen’s language. The magic of the JTI is about to work on you when a smaller blue advertisement catches your attention. It is the ‘Easy English’ tutorial.

If you are getting confused on whom to choose to improve your command over the language, then don’t worry at all. The ‘Takdeer baba’ is address is available on the yellow walls. He will help you make the right decisions in life and also solve other problems too. You just need to call him up or reach the ‘almightily’ baba’s place.

In case, all of these posters baffle you, call up the helpline number put up by the railways. But if it is just gives you a headache, then Parivar chay is smiling down at you to as an answer to the current situation. Just enjoy one sip of a chay or these bizarre ads everyday to kill your time in the train.

Just an amusing event...

He smiled at him as the young man walked out of his classroom. The bond of brotherhood was suddenly established between them. I stood there amused thinking about how strong is the Marathi manoos connection. From the bored, disinterested cameraman, he turned into a more than enthusiastic man behind the lens. ‘adi assa ubhe raha, haan he barobar’, he kept repeating.

After the ‘balasaheb barr aahe?’ finally got over, the young man was allowed to retreat to the classroom. He thankfully had given me his ‘precious’ byte, which I really didn’t need. But obviously the college students thought I would be kicked about taking a byte from a successor of a saffron party. So they made him stand in front of the camera even before I could blink.

As the grand occasion for the college students got over, the cameraman told me with a sly smile, “I have seen adi grow up; I used to visit his place when Raj was the president of the youth wing… and then he packed up everything up and moved on to the next student. But the gloating expression still lingered on his face for a while. Too much to comprehend for me. But I just let it be.

Screwed economics?

‘The kirana stores across India will shut shop and the malls will take over’. This was a prediction made a few years back. From marketing gurus to business pundits, they all said, organized retail will negatively affect the mom and pop shops. The media too went hysterical with the same debate and discussion. We saw passionate debates between capitalists and communists on television, where the anchor looked more alarmed than the kirana owners themselves. Politicians made it their polling issue and so called social activists held rallies.

Today after a few years, the kirana shops seem to be doing just fine. Take walk down any street of Mumbai today, you’ll the see those humble shops bustling with the same activity and energy. Each one of them has several customers fighting for owner’s attention. In fact, the malls don’t seem to be doing too well for themselves. The excitement surrounding the mall culture has gone down. The crowd which visited the malls just for sight seeing also has lost interest.

I think our understanding of economics is still screwed. Maybe only the media got its economics bang in place. It managed a lot of drama and good advertising revenues around it. Everyone else just wasted their time. ;)

My 15th Post!

I am writing this post with sleepy eyes. So if I make grammatical errors, please forgive me. And if you want me to recollect my day for you, give me a second to clear my mind. Yeah, so coming back, my day was quite a blur. It had its usual ingredients; office, looking for story ideas, making calls and writing mails and of course maggi. Yeah now as I am going to tell you something cool so I am totally awake. Today I am writing my 15th blog post! It is quite a feat considering before this marathon began, I hadn’t written a single article in past 6 months!

Those months just passed by, thinking how I didn’t have the time to write. But once without wasting my brain cells on cribbing, I got to it, it was all simple (actually not very simple. I have to really have to scratch my head to think about the next post). One post a day is quite a task. But once you get to do the thing you want to, without the, ifs, buts and other lot of jazz, the task gets really straightforward. I think when there are no two ways, words automatically get typed and sentences are automatically formed.

So cheers! to all those who have read the blog and to me too for writing it. I hope I improve on it everyday.

On the job

Yes, I always thought I was a journalist. To go out and report on issues that matter was and maybe still is my dream job profile. But I think the definition of journalism and a journalist has changed. How should I react when at a press conference of India’s biggest snack brands, the ‘journalists’ don’t even notice the brain behind the brand? The main focus for them was the brand ambassador, the ex-prince of some random place and now a Bollywood star. Are we of the same breed of scribes?

Some 30 news channels had arrived at the event. This number was far less than what were present at the ex-CM’s press conference during Maharashtra state election results last week. The ‘journalists’ before the event were crowding the snack counter, taking their pick! They munched on several packets till the actor arrived, which was almost after an hour!

After the speeches were made praising the greatness of the brand, the question answer session began. In the next few minutes which passed, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “aap kispe qurbaan hona chahenge, kareena pe ya lays pe?”, “kya lays aapko lazy feel karvata hai?”, “aapko apni yeh nayi hairstyle kaisi lagti hai?”, were some of the many questions thrown at the actor. The marketing head stood forgotten next to him. She just nodded and smiled on. Maybe even she didn’t know how to react.

As the round ended to my relief, the actor got down from the pedestal. He was nearly attacked by the journalist junta. However, the marketing head looked pretty happy with this event and peacefully came down to answer a few questions of some minority reporters who were waiting for her. I totally shared her feelings. The empty hall with the majority reporters and the great actor gone looked quite pleasant.

Few moments and a million observations…

As soon as the train halted at the station, some footsteps found their way towards the staircase leading to the road. Some were however not so keen on reaching home, so their hands found their way to their pocket to take out some money. That’s how some men ended up at the food stall where they slurped away their nimbu pani or the all time favorite coca cola.

In the next few minutes the crowd at the station thinned. Only then could the station be seen in full view. The people left behind on the platform were those who were waiting for the train to arrive. Most of them had found their way to pass the next few minutes till they could be see the big yellow light approaching them. One man in white was animatedly explaining the guy sitting next to him about the realty space. His ‘kasam se bolta hun’ could be heard even from quite distance. His aggression made other people around him listen in. Other men were fanning themselves newspaper and few just looked bored and disoriented.

But there were two people who were totally engrossed in their conversation. He was holding her face, looking down into her eyes. She was holding those hands but was not talking. He was trying to tell her something but her eyes didn’t look every convinced. She looked down and then away. Just then the next train arrived and the station was full of people again. And everything and everyone disappeared in front of my eyes.

Writer’s block or just sleep deprived eyes…

I seriously don’t know what to pen down today. Sometimes I feel, I should write about my life but it is so random that it will take quite a while for me to comprehend it first before I put it down in words for you. Sometimes I feel, about writing about the book I am trying to read since the last few months but it makes me realize the pace of my reading has become inversely proportional to the pace of my life, which is not a very delightful thought. So moving on, I even thought about writing on my boss but don’t you think it’s a little too risky! And I have already written down about my family and colleagues. I am still thinking about what to write tonight. So please come back tomorrow to read more. Till then good night… yawn!!

Rustles of a late night stroll...

A late night stroll on the suburban streets of Mumbai made me see and notice things that I usually overlook in the crazy mornings of the city. As I took my path back home, I saw streets littered with dry golden colour leaves. The street lights were making these leaves glow in the darkness. The trees above these fallen orphans, were casting long shadows on the street. The sound of the passing autorikshaws was echoing through the night. Shops on both sides of the road were shutting down for the day. The sleepy shopkeepers pulled the shutter down to come back again tomorrow for another long day. Most of the windows of the houses above these shops were dark; the only light that was present was of the dancing Diwali toran lights which were still hanging from the windows. And at this time, a couple was taking a walk, enjoying a peaceful and calmed down city street and the golden light shining above…

Some faces in my office…

Biblical beauty: she strides into the features bay at 11 am in the morning, smiling and waving at anyone who acknowledges her presence. This biblical beauty of the features team is a one man army of a personal finance show. And with handling this immense responsibility (which includes dealing with two other difficult people), she manages to also counsel two ‘juvenile’ boys of the neighboring news features desk everyday. Sometimes you see her talking to strange men who have sent her several emails from different email addresses but is actually the same person who desperately wants to come on television. And sometimes you see her sipping the nth number of tea cup in anna’s canteen. This always cheerful and happy girl brings a smile on the faces of the distressed souls of the features team.

The rural journo to be: A person, who was destined to be reporting on the poor and the helpless of India’s rural heartland, ends up on a career show. This, pretty much sums up this Bengali girl’s story. But hopefully she’ll crack it someday. Till that moment of glory arrives, she will stay our very own extendable hand. The name comes from her uncanny ability to sense food around her. From nowhere she’ll come right next to you if she sees something remotely edible with you. This girl’s story is full of contradictions but will talk about that later on.

A Buddha that can scare you: a fragile girl comes up to you seeking help. She looks helpless, unsure and even confused. You would think of her as a sweet, docile and a soft spoken girl. But the facet that is relatively unknown is that she can be quite a tigress if she wants her work to be done. She not only cracks the show every week but also cracks a whip on her team mates if everything is not under control. Even without slightly raising her volume, the sternness in her voice will make her team mate scurry away to finish the pending script or an unfinished edit. But I would like to end it by saying she is an angel at heart who will always lend a ear to your daily whining. But there is one condition, finish your work first!

The book of life...

It is something that we write everyday. Word by word and page by page the chapters of the book called life are filled up. But unlike the author of the book, we most of the times don’t have control on the next word that’s printed or the next sentence that’s drafted. Sometimes, the sentence construction just turns out to be perfect but there are times you’d rather wish to erase what is already inked. But every uncertainty is worth living and every mistake adds to the experience of life. The beauty of penning down this book down lies in imperfectness and unpredictability. Each crossroad of life may be the turning point of the plot of the book but it is still worth standing there and wondering about the direction… it is still worth all of it... trust me it is…

Counting the pulse of the state…

One of the counting booth of the Mahashtra state elections looked like a rugged maidan from a distance with just a tent like structure in the middle… but once you approach it, you could see men in khakhi doing their duty. The tent was guarded like a fortress with policemen protecting it from all sides. People passing by saw it with some curiosity and some reluctant respect.

Some kids tried to jump the bandobast to take their everyday short cut to the school till the security shooed them away… most children scurried away at the threat but one thin dark girl showed a little bit of courage… she didn’t find the vote counting more important than her Maths test and she made that clear to the policemen… Making a dirty face at the policemen, she grumbled along her way back about her test after she was caught sneaking in.

The policemen found the kids amusing but then went back to their intense debating session… anticipating result was maybe their way past time. You would hear excited whispers about the possibility of the outcome of the election. And ‘Engine challi ahhe’ (Engine being MNS symbol) was one thing that was coming out of the discussion…

But then a sudden, unexpected call from a senior reporter to reach the ex-CM’s home brought this fascinating visit to the counting booth to an abrupt end.

Life along the tracks...

Slowly after a few jerks, my Mumbai local started moving towards its destination. The train took the same route like everyday, winding through the slender metal tracks. During the one hour of my journey, the life along the tracks came to life…


Small hutments, some made of metal sheets and some of bricks were waking up to the morning sun. Children had started trotting outside their homes, ready and excited for the new sunny day. However, some citizens of the world close to the tracks were still fast asleep on the rickety beds outside their homes. The clothes hung on the wire close by provided for a good sun protection. The shadows of the clothes fell on their faces, letting them snore peacefully.

The life along the tracks was interesting. One of the interesting people I saw was a small girl in a maroon frock. She was standing near the wall which separated the tracks from the road. With a huge brown stick, she was trying to remove or recover something from the tall tree which had grown close to the wall. But by the time I could figure out what the object of fascination was, the train had already moved on.

And as the train moved ahead, the sun was moving further up too. I could see women already engrossed in morning chores, their hands busy with washing clothes and cleaning their habitat premise. The construction workers in their fluorescent orange uniforms were hammering away making new tracks for the squeezed Mumbai local traveler.

But slowly the life along the tracks started disappearing as the train approached downtown. Strong concrete structures replaced wobbly huts. As the train ultimately reached its destination, the huts, the children and the small girl in her maroon frock were far left behind in their own world while I moved towards mine.

'Balwadis' go the branded way!

Step into a neighborhood pre-school and you wouldn’t be able to relate any of what you see to your childhood memories. The swanky school office, the air-conditioned classrooms, and the expert teachers will amaze you. It will intimidate you but also welcome to the world of branded pre-schooling.

The pre-school market in India currently stands at around a whopping Rs. 394 crore. The last few years has seen a growth of almost 28.3% per annum. The new generation of pre-schools like Kangaroo kids, Euro kids and Globetrotters boast of a splendid infrastructure, well trained teachers and a fixed child teacher ratio. These professionally run pre-schools are replacing the humble balwadis in the urban towns.

Lina Ashar, Chairperson, Kangaroo Kids says, “When I first started out in 1993, there was no market for pre-schooling but today parents understand the importance of pre-schools.” Ashar feels that this change has been due the social and economic changes India has witnessed in the last decade. “Both the parents are working but they don’t want the child to be with maid, they prefer the kid to be at a pre-school with other kids,” believes Ashar.

The child is supposed to develop by 80% in the first five years of his life. The pre-schools in through their syllabus concentrate on developing the gross motor and fine motor skills of the child. The gross motor skills mean coordination of the limbs which developed by jumping and hopping while the fine motor skills are about finger eye coordination, hand to mouth coordination and so on.

All of this doesn’t come cheap. The average fees charged by these branded school is about Rs. 50, 000 per annum. But the parents don’t seem to be complaining too much. It is because maybe with both the parents working, the household income is almost double too. Kamal D’Mello who sends both her children to pre-school feels the fees is worth the expenditure. She says, “The teachers are very accessible and I can go and monitor my children anytime of the day.” However there are parents who feel that the fees is too high but they are still ready to spend that extra buck. “It is expensive, but then the syllabus is well researched and the kids get to do a lot of extra curricular activities too,” feels Karyn Felsinger whose two year old son goes to a branded pre-school.

And it is not only about educated upper middle class. The aspiration level of Indians is rising across the board. The business houses are eager to cater to every segment of the society that is ready to spend extra for his/her child’s education. Shri Krishna, CEO of Birla Edutech which also runs a pre-school chain called Globetrotters feels the want for a better future has percolated to lower levels of the society too. “Today, I don’t have a pre-school chain for the lower segment of the society but I would love to have it one day because now they have the ability to spend too,” he elaborates. Rajesh Bhatia, MD and CEO, Treehouse Education too feels, “Education has an aspiration value to it. Families in smaller towns also want the best for their kids.”

Maybe twenty years back, at two years a child would be just learning to walk and talk in the confines of his home but today this tiny toddler is not only on the way to realize a million dreams for his parents but also carries a burden of being a consumer of a multi-crore industry.

The Big, Fat, New Year Feast!

Frenzied assignment of duty, repeated supply checks, urgent instructions flying all over the place and a dedicated workforce in action. One would imagine a setting like this at a factory but it is actually a Gujarati household bracing itself for a huge new year’s feast planned in the evening. The commander in action is the 45 year old Gujarati housewife. In her synthetic printed salwar kameez, she was ordering her family members, the house help and the disgruntled cook to get her work done. The mission was not only to feed 40 people with a delicious meal (which was not good enough for her) but also to make the occasion memorable. So the responsibility to achieve the target was on the paid help and the unpaid one (which in this case were the poor souls called the family).

The daughter was made to go out to shop for ingredients and then the husband was send behind her to check whether the task was getting done correctly. She was also made to climb the ladder to put up the toran on the door and then after five minutes was told to remove it. The son did the climbing up to the old attic to take out old, rusted, cob webbed utensils. The continuous bickering of the cook and the arguments about the food and table arrangements made for the background music. Excessive cleaning was taking place simultaneously. Bed sheets were changed, mattresses were replaced, and the furniture was polished with a wet cloth. Corners of the house which the inhabitants don’t see or even bother to visit were cleaned up. Sigh! So much for the right impression on the guests… Truly Atithi Devo Bhava.

The door bell finally rang at 8 pm which began the welcoming of the first of many guests to arrive. With a little bit of apprehension, the door was thrown open to them. They walked in with a beaming smile, wishing the family, Saal Mubarak. Mr. M was wearing a silver shirt with grey stripes and Mrs. M was wearing a green silk sari. She had neatly tied up her hair to draw the junta’s attention to her new diamond studded earrings. Slowly after them, the door bell kept ringing and guests kept streaming in. Strangely every sari looked similar as if they all had bought it in bulk from a wholesale market. The ladies met each other with enthusiasm and the men too looked pretty pleased with themselves. The first half an hour of the gathering was exclusively devoted to the feet touching ceremony. One could see a few people massaging their backs after the ritual was over.

Discussions and arguments about who is the tallest cousin or which is the most affordable housing destination could be heard from the living room, while the kitchen was heating up with the debate over the number of puris required for dinner. By the time dinner was served, the tiny toddlers were half asleep in the last bedroom of the house. Everyone took at least two servings of everything which made the woman of the house beam with happiness and satisfaction. Slowly the guests started taking leave, thanking the host family for the good time and the appetizing food. The lights of the house finally went off at 12 midnight after the lady of the house retired to the bed with a smile.

Diwali’s temple visit

The street leading to the temple of a faraway suburb of Mumbai was glittering with the light and activity of Diwali. The hawkers on the street were all frantically trying to make a sale. The yellow bulb hanging on each of these stalls, made the puja articles shine like yellow and red mirrors. Agarbattis, garlands, flowers, religious books and many more small and big things were scattered over these stalls.

Middle aged women were thronging these stalls trying to make their pick. Some of them who had their children along were busy multi-tasking between scrutinising the items on one hand and pulling the disinterested children from running away on the other. The shopkeepers eager to convince the customers were explaining each item’s ‘USP’. One could hear aggressive sounds of bargaining even from a distance. Some women just glanced through the articles with some curiosity and then moved on to the next hawker. Eventually, everyone headed to the temple at the end of the street.

The temple premise was as full of activity as the busy street outside. The temple, decorated with colorful bulbs and flowers made the atmosphere truly festival like. Small children were scurrying around in their new clothes; women were praying, chattering and gossiping. The temple priests were busy preparing for the arati. They hurriedly moved in and out of the small backdoor of the temple which was restricted to the aam junta. In the corner of the temple, was a tiny old woman in a light blue saree. She with eager eyes was constantly wishing everyone who passed her; Jai Shri Krishna. One wouldn’t know why she was doing that till someone dropped a few coins in her hands. She would then carefully put the money in her pouch and continue with the routine again.

People entered the temple barefoot, closed their eyes for a few seconds praying to the closed doors (as the doors were still not open for the arati). They would then look for the known faces the crowd and suddenly start talking about their Diwali dinner plans and the shopping done. One could even overhear them talking about the recipe about the secret chatni recipe. But once the temple doors opened for the arati, everything was forgotten. Women pulled their children from the courtyard towards the temple and forcibly put their palms together for the prayer. Though the children looked rather unhappy and confused, they followed the instructions. The chattering of the crowd and the tiny old woman’s Jai Shri Krishna drowned as the high pitched arati and the ringing of the bells begun.