Saturday, November 29, 2008

Terror Attacks and Spirit of the Nation

Ahmadabad, Bangalore, Hyderabad, Delhi and now back to Amchi Mumbai. I don’t know when this terror is going to stop. The sorry state of affairs in the country is taking its toll, not only in the form of thousands of lives which we are losing every year but also in the form of fear which is creeping deep inside us.  And to top all, it has exposed the shameless greed of various stakeholders of the nation.

Our country has become a pimpless brothel where anyone can walk in at any time, spurt some shots and then walk away as per their wish.

The home minister, to fight back the serious allegation about his incapability in handling the home affairs, announces in the public before the national media about the minute details of the program of dispatch of NSG team from Delhi which is aired live by our breaking news obsessed media so that the terrorists holed up in Mumbai may get the information to plan their move. The channels beaming live telecast of commandos being air dropped, which is being seen by the terrorists in the Nariman House. I am sure they must have laughed loudly on our country and the way it is functioning.

For politicians it is more important to prove (that too falsely) that they are not cleaning the Italian toilets in Janpath, even if it means putting the lives of few more commandos at stake.  For news channels it is more important to give the ‘first news’ or ‘breaking news’ or blah blah news even if it means there would be no one left to hear those shit.

What more? After ‘performing’ their duties, our journos and politicians will dig out 3-4 words like resilience, tenacity, spirit from dictionary and then they will be overused till a new terror attack occurs, a new place is destroyed, few more men have died and a new ‘spirit’ comes to limelight. They don’t know that we don’t have any spirit left. it is just we have to choose between certainty and probability, livelihood and bomb blasts which is not a choice at all and that is why we are forced to display this spirit.

For sure we are heading in a dark tunnel that too at high speed, just hope that there is no dead end in it. 

Sunday, November 09, 2008

The Greatest Irony of Life

Iris is over and classes are going to start, there will be n number of quizzes starting from tomorrow and I am in no mood to study. God has given me a, what I call, gold class mood. It always behaves opposite to requirement. And so here I was, trying to write a poem (my 1st attempt) when what I really needed to do was immerse myself into the world of finance and quant. thankfully my maiden attempt failed, and so you are spared the task of reading some piece of garbage dump, which I was going to call poem.

You are spared the poem, but not the contents, which I am going to write in the form of prose anyway. It is all about the great equation between dream and reality. Call it the dreamy reality or real dream, or anything else. It is like a gentle brush with the soft innocence of romance which disappears after a head on collision with reality so hard and harsh. A beautiful glassy world, you are so pleased to live in, breaking down another moment in to pieces of shards. The glass once so fragile and lovely to look at, now sharp enough to make you bleed.

When it comes to pure dreams you don’t stop to collect those sharp pieces, to save as a souvenir. The moment one world collapses there is another one, ready to move in, just like a rented apartment, you move in and move out, without much sorrow or joy. This is the beauty of dream; this is the baseness of dream.

Pure reality, by definition, is just opposite of what a dream is. Your heart is the garbage dump, which collects all the broken pieces, bleeding itself in the process and dropping some salty drops in response.

I don’t know which one is better. But yes one thing I am sure of. What if all the dreams come true in reality? Won’t it be playing two roles for the same part? Trying to forget something by keeping a memorabilia of it. 

Doesn’t it sound ironical? 

Yes it is. But so is our life. Ironical by basic definition.

Born to be dead. 

The greatest irony of life- Life itself.

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

The Five Alphabets of Life

I am really bored up. The excitement which was there when I entered this B-School has lost its shine in the unending effort to save myself from a D. This is what our life has become; oscillating between the five alphabets. A, B, C, D, F- the five elements of life and death at an IIM. Out of these F is the deadliest, an instant poison, the Cyanide, the one you should always avoid. D is like a Hindu god, who forgives you three times, but if you commit the same mistake for the fourth time, you are out. Dead.

The irony is it’s the letter D which always maintains a close relationship with me. And why not D? After all it’s the letter which starts my name, and also my home town and not to mention the name of all the schools I studied at. Those were pleasant days and so were those Ds. But this is the untouchable D, the untouchable D & F of IIM, from which you have to keep a safe distance always, just like an explosive laden lorry on highway.

First term was kool. I came here with minimum expectation, just to pass in every subject and miraculously I managed to do that (MWC grades are still to come). I enjoyed the campus, the classes, the nocturnal routine, all of which I had left at ISM two years ago. It was very exciting to discover back those treasures in an entirely different place with entirely different people (with the exception of Nitin). I relished those treasures and am relishing them. The maggi at night canteen, the BC on LAN, the biking at the curvaceous roads of planet-I, the Saturday evenings at TI, the attention of girls on orkut, gmail, Indore city or even in the train while going back home. I enjoyed these things, every moment of it.

This is how life is here, exciting at some time, boring to the hilt at some another time. There are some really good lectures but the very next can be so soporific that you can’t help but sleep (there by losing your CP grades). Though there is an enforced ‘dryness’, there are wet spots which oozes out the ‘spirit’ of IIM. You can smell it on Saturday nights while passing through Manand’s or Vinay’s wing. That is the life at planet-I, a microcosm of the life outside, composed of five elements, evenly balanced against each other. Balanced, because every Mr. Green Eyes is counter-balanced by a friend like Mittal Saab, every dull fuddu is outshined by ‘ever sparkling’ Sharmaji. Yes I know that everybody is not fortunate enough to get neighbours like I have got, but again here is a balance. Every unfortunate soul having those Mr.Green Eyes type neighbours is counterbalanced by fortunate fella like me. 

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