Since, the word Pedda Rowdy is a phrase used and made popular by a friend and which I’ve adopted as a pseudonym, it didn’t seem quite right anymore for me to continue doing so.
Even though the friend has no problem with me using the pseudonym, it’d be inappropriate for me to continue using a phrase, made so popular by him, as my own.
In order to have a clear conscience, I’ve decided to move my blog to the new site address.
Kaage haaristhini, neev keli
Filed under About Anoop
I was very uncool in high school. Sure, I had a lot of friends, I was decent in academics, I knew stuff..
But, I wasn’t cool.
Conform-ism : Phase 1 – Follow the leader
The cool people had the latest gadgets, the latest Bikes. They had it going.
Back in 2003 it was the Nokia 6600. Now, its whatever was released last month
Quite obviously, there was a template for cool-ness. Only if I follow the template, assiduously follow the unwritten rules, I’d be Cool.
Cool people tended to have nice rides. OK, Car I won’t get, so the pursuit of buying a new bike started.
Asking, then pleading.. finally, begging Appa to get me a new ride
When he says ‘No’..
When your Dad refuses to buy you the thing you wanted all your life, about which you found out few days ago, after your friend’s dad gifted it to him
When the pursuit of attaining Cool-vana started, it was all about what the coolest kid on the block had.
I entered many years of my life without getting the new bike, or the latest Cellphone.
Conform-ism : Phase 2 – Actions speak louder than words
Then, the realisation dawned that having things are not cool; Simultaneously, another realisation began to take shape that the way one acts, the way we behave is what defined cool-ness.
So, I started doing things what cool people did.
I used the latest slangs.
I updated my Facebook status every single day.
Thou shall update every single act.. Except when doing kakka
If people don’t know what I am doing, whats the whole fucking point of being cool?
You can’t be cool in a bloody vacuum.
I have to share my cool-ness. It’s the only logical thing to do.
The high lasted for a while. People actually thought the carefully calibrated social media image is the real me.
Then, the cool people disappeared. Vanished!
The people were still there, they still behaved the way they did, their vacation pictures of a year ago were still commented upon – especially of the hot chicks.
You are hot.. We get it.
Almost overnight, the cool-people started appearing uncool. Every act was so predictable; every status update seemed so passé.
Everyone you knew were on their quest to be cool..
EVERYONE!
Not everyone can be cool
Cool-vana, you realised, was still eluding you.
You realise that what you realised earlier was a mistake and you start to realise something else.
Nobody gives a shit.. You don’t give a shit about anyone and vice-versa.
You start asking some serious questions about yourself.
So other people are going to dictate what is cool and what is not?
I gotta get out of here!
Rebellion
Looking around, most of the people who appear cool now are, to put it simply – different. I can vaguely recollect an incident 10 years ago of a guy I saw who looked so cool on his new Bullet. This guys knows what he is doing, understands what he wants, finds out what drives him and goes for it.
People react differently at this point.
Some go out to buy their proverbial Bullet.
Rebellion starts.. NOW!
Some start looking for some other cool thing that is supposed to (re)define them and their rebellion. Blogs are created, Cameras bought, Facebook profile pictures changed, sometimes entire accounts deleted; trips are planned, poems are written, books are bought, breaks from jobs are taken.
Rebels are pretty cool. Granted. But, sadly the entire Human Race is engineered so well that a lot of people around you start doing the same things.
Because, like you, they are going through the same shit in life. As much as we all hate to admit it, a lot of people that we know are in the very same boat as us.
We are NOT different. People who think they are so damn different, are in denial… or, just idiots.
You only think you are
Everybody can’t be a Rebel, or at least not so many people!
Digging deep down ones realizes this act of Rebellion is a charade. More embarrassingly, it was an act, to be witnessed by people around us.
Exploring further, this was yet another pathetic attempt to prove to others how cool I was.
The quest to appear cool has suddenly become uncool. What was cool is uncool, what is cool might not necessarily be accepted by all to be cool.
The Rebellion has lost. The Sith have triumphed. Or, have they?
Cool-vana
After much soul-searching, the cool-ness is still elusive.
A decision is made : To give up everything. To up the illusion of control, the mind-numbing desire to be accepted, to impress. A decision is made to search. But, this time the search will be not be to be considered cool, but to be content.
Being considered by others to be cool, hip and popular is nothing, in the absence of contentment.
Once, this illumination of the mind is near, things begin to happen very rapidly. The mind relaxes, the soul becomes thirsty again. The need for contentment brings along with it, the need to be happy.(Too preachy)
If we were to decide to go do lean on a wall, at the risk of appearing uncool, we should go ahead and do it.
After all, if I appear uncouth or uncivil or downright weird, so what?
Its better to face facts : No one man can ever be accepted by all and sundry. There’ll always be some dick-head who will hate you, who will disapprove of you, who might even have dreams of stabbing you in your sleep.
All this while, here I thought there is no one single mantra for coolness. During the writing of this piece, I realised(a lot of realisations for one blog piece).. I realised, there could be one simple phrase which will capture the mood perfectly, which will convey the essence of this post in 3 simple words, arranged in a preordained manner, which appears intelligible, yet so simple that it appeals to the most dumbest of beings.
Most importantly, it makes a lot of sense.
Say it after Yoda
Say it again..
One more time
One last time..
I realise compromises have to be made. Life is not so simple as to allow 3 simple words to define it.
I digress badly.
I am forced to conclude the pursuit is not worth it. Cool-ness is subjective. One man’s Cool is another man’s “Oh, that’s disgusting”!
We all can’t be cool; In fact nobody can be cool, all the time.
Pursuit of being cool and accepted, is a need to be happy. Recognise that and everything will fall into place.
Being happy is cool, being content is ultra-cool..
Filed under About Anoop, Happy, Life
Ever since I was a kid, I’ve seen a 25-year-old Pakistani Cricketer.
As an Indian, a Pakistani Cricketer is the thing of hate. But, not Lala.
The most endearing image of ‘Boom Boom’ Afridi, is do precisely his nickname suggests.
Boom! He is gone..
Afridi is a man one Army alright. But, we all are left to wonder if he is fighting the opposing team or is he being a double agent.
Self explanatory
His Batting record suggests something even a trained Monkey can attain.
Afridi’s batting average is so low that even Dinesh Mongia has a better batting average!
Shahid Afridi’s overall Batting Record:
Wah mera Lala!
Dinesh Mongia’s overall batting record:
Even Dinesh Mongia’s Batting Record is better than Afridi’s!
But, Dinesh Mongia did not get to play even 1/4th of the matches that Afridi has. Nobody even remembers his name!
What is the mystery here? Why is this great Cricketer liked and loved in Pakistan? Why is he allowed to play, time after time, failure after repeated failure?
All hell breaks loose in Pakistan when Afridi is mocked
It must be his bowling.
Dis..Appoint..Ment
On the spin friendly tracks of the Sub-Continent, the great spinner of the ball, the wannabe spinster ought to have great records, I thought.
Aaaa.. What?
No, I must be wrong.. but can’t figure out where I am wrong.
Surely, something must be off. How can one man not bat, not bowl on tracks that suit his style of bowling; and still be around for 15 years? Or, is it been 20? 25? One can never tell..
Sure as hell, Pakistan and Pakistanis have thought it best to allow him to play for 372 (Exclamation.. Double Exclamation.. Triple) ODIs.
What is the big secret?
Afridi is a master strategist! When the going gets tough, the Afridis start eating the ball.
Most people bite the dust, Afridi, being a Cricketer, bites the ball
I always give benefit out the doubt to Shahid Afridi. Not because I like him like him, but because, come on, how can a guy who blatantly cheats and still be in the team, not be liked? I support Afridi.. because I am jealous!
I give him the benefit of the doubt. Hey! If in dim light, after a LOT of Al-ca-gal has gone in, after putting tapanguchi for 2 hours, when I’m hungry as hell, I am bound to mistake a white Cricket ball, to a red juicy Apple.
Do you see an Apple in the picture? That is why you are no Shahid Afridi..
Have I eaten a Cricket ball before? Sadly, no. That’s because I’m not a professional Cricketer. I’m sure most of the people who play Cricket on a regular basis have.
Are you telling having a Cricket ball around you all the time, in the sun and in the scorching heat, a professional Cricketer is not tempted a least bit to eat it?
Puh.. leeez! Lolz..
Lols are so passé. Lulz, also spelled – Lolz, is the bling-ed up version of the now defunct LOL.
Afridi never cheats! Even after going for so many runs, after Pakistan is on the verge of defeat, snatched from the claws of win, by none other than (most frequently), by Afridi himself, Afridi never ever cheats.
Afridi being blasted all over the park by virtually everybody
But, this incidents casts serious shadow over my hero Shahid Afridi.
Most people battle drugs, alcohol, nicotine addiction, but Shahid Afridi is different to other mortals. He battles the..
..Pitch.
OK, I’m going to straight away ignore that and claim that never happened. I’m going into denial mode. Starting NOW!
Some guy who looks like Afridi is destroying the pitch. And, some guy who looks eerily like Kevin Peterson is mocking the great Lala. How can this be true? Unpossible.
All I remember and know is : people aim to emulate Afridi, especially English Cricketers!
Britishers trying to follow in the footsteps of Boom Boom and attempt to eat the ball
See, even the great All-Rounder, who bowls as fast as Afridi, who bats as explosively as Afridi, is trying to Ape(pun unintended) the great man.
I digress badly.
What makes Afridi click? His Batting? Unfortunately no. Bowling? Close, but.. No.. He is known as Boom Boom, not Bomb Bomb!
If he were called ‘Bomb Bomb’, he would have become the poster-boy for the Taliban. The Taliban spokesperson, nevertheless, tried to use his Boom Boom image to their benefit, but reports suggest he was not that successful. But, I think that’s untrue.
The Taliban did try to use this particular image of Afridi; and, Shahid Afridi’s nickname of ‘Boom Boom’ to claim him as their own.
Afiridi killing Kafirs(Infidels). His routine is to kill an Infidel every time he scores a Century. Not many Kafirs have been killed in the past 2 decades.
Did they succeed?
Ask yourself – Are Taliban popular in Pakistan? Are Pakistani Politicians like Imran Khan, a great Cricketer himself(A nothing compared to the Lala of course), bending over backwards to appease them?
Imran Khan is a great fan of Afiridi and hence, a great fan of Taliban, who are in turn great fans of Afridi.
Surprise surprise, Imran Khan’s party won a LOT of seats and a majority in a Pakistani province.
Talking about Imran Khan, there are may similarities between Shahid Afridi and him. Both are very handsome, very popular cricketers in Pakistan, I hear. They both are loved; and women(and men) go gaga over them both in Pakistan, I’m sure.
But, when it comes to Cricket, the starting point of their fame, they both have contrasting records. Khan has excellent Batting and Bowling records. He has won Pakistan the World Cup as Captain, nurtured terrifying fast bowlers and has a reputation of being a never-say-die Captain.
Afridi is none of that. Not even close.
But, he has one thing in common with Mr. Imran Khan.
I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my..
I am beginning to now think Pakistanis love Shahid Afridi for being, well.. good looking?
“..when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains,however improbable, must be the truth?”
– Sherlock Holmes
Even men? Not many women watch Cricket in Pakistan, like in India, I’m sure. You don’t see women do this when Shahid Afridi is batting!
Pakistani Fans of Boom Boom praying he doesn’t play an idiotic shot
And, it is men who make movies on the phenomena named Shahid Afridi.
Has there ever been a movie on Tendulkar in India? But, there has been one in Pakistan about Shahid Afridi. Pakistan produced like 3 movies this year. One was about, surprise, surprise – Shahid ‘Boom Boom’ ‘Lala’ Afridi, the all rounder.
Even thought India produces hundreds of movies per year, it hasn’t sought fit to make one on the life of Tendulkar. Tendulkars may come and go Afridis persist. Heck! They don’t age, don’t get dropped, don’t score runs, don’t take wickets.
Pakistanis have already immortalised the great Shahid Afridi, even before he has retired. Oh, wait.. He has retired from Cricket many times.. But, has always managed to make a come back. A great lesson indeed to all the English Cricketers who are retiring at the drop of a hat nowadays.
They should strive to be more like Shahid Afridi.
Shahid Afridi. Also known as – The Beast!
Enough said – Pakistanis, mostly men, love Shahid Afridi. They love his long locks, they love his beard, they love the way he walks, they love the way he runs in to bowl, the way he gets out(silly him, giving a catch to silly point), the way he calls us Indians “small hearted”. All is forgiven by the Men of Pakistan – they forgive his abysmal cricketing record, his ball-eating antics, his blatant pitch tampering, his constant shooting off his mouth.
For a nation which hates Homosexuality, considers it a Sin – an act so unforgivable, that even God will not forgive; which is punishable by death; its pretty ironic that they have a collective, strong crush on a Man.
The average Pakistani jerks off at the sight of the bare-chested Afridi. No wonder cricket is popular in Pakistan. Imran Khan, now Afridi?
Since, Homosexuality is a taboo in Pakistan; legally, socially and religiously condemned, cricket appears to a convenient excuse for the secret fantasies of an extremely homophobic nation.
While Pakistanis asks the Homosexuals to do this..
Religious pious Muslim Pakistanis convincing Homosexuals to convert to Heterosexuality
..but secretly, they are seeing this.
This is how Pakistan imagines Shahid Afridi every time they see him walk onto the park. They don’t care he doesn’t bat nor bowl, the mere sight of him is money’s worth.
For Pakistanis, the very embodiment of male sexuality and good looks is Shahid Afridi.
Forget Ashton Kutcher, Afridi is handsomer.. Plus, he can bite a Cricket ball right through.
Forget that he is dumb as a dodo Monkey.
Oops, they caught me eating ball in front of 23 cameras. How did they do this!
All Pakistanis care about are looks. At least with Imran Khan, they had the excuse of his brilliance. He was an able all-rounder, who spoke well, was a great captain. The homophobic tendencies of the entire nation was masked behind the facade of Imran Khan’s good cricketing skills.
Shahid Afridi is none of that.
The Homosexual Crush of the entire Homophobic Pakistani Islamic Republic nation now stands terribly exposed..
Oops, I am caught jerking off to a.. Man!
Filed under Cricket, Geo-Politics, Human Rights, Love, Sports
Oceania is a dystopian society. A society ruled by a Party. The all-powerful Big Brother is constantly watching over everyone’s shoulder. Telescreens are installed in every room of the House, every corner of an office building, they cannot be turned off, there is only one option – to hear what it says, to watch what it shows. Telescreens, unlike, TVs of today, can hear and see. The Party can see you, hear you, they watch over you. They even admonish you for not feigning happiness.
The leader of The Party, the Big Brother, is all around, his words are lauded, his forecasts are always the truth, even if it is not the truth, they turn out to be the truth.
And when memory failed and written records were falsified—when that happened, the claim of the Party to have improved the conditions of human life had got to be accepted, because there did not exist, and never again could exist, any standard against which it could be tested.
In Oceania, the truth is fallible, it can be bent. Isn’t the truth what is inside the mind of Man? Truth, if one bends the mind of Man, be bent as well?
In the end the Party would announce that two and two made five, and you would have to believe it. It was inevitable that they should make that claim sooner or later: the logic of their position demanded it. Not merely the validity of experience, but the very existence of external reality was tacitly denied by their philosophy.
1984, by George Orwell
In this literary masterpiece, there is no Colour, there is no Love, there is no freedom. “Freedom is slavery”, it screams at you in the very beginning. What you thought was absurd at the start of the book, will seem plausible.
Winston Smith, a 40 something year old, who has been cursed with the power of thought, the ability to form opinions, but unable to suppress them, to control them. Everyone in Oceania has to be happy, to hate the Enemy, to sing laurels of the Big Brother, to love him, to never speak ill of him nor The Party. In Oceania, it is mandatory to Love, even die, for The Party. It’s not enough to fake loyalty towards the party and hatred towards The Enemy, its most important for everyone to feel it. It’s an unpardonable crime to even feel sad.
He was a little boy when the Revolution happened. A Revolution, which had its roots in Socialism, very similar to the Authoritarian Communism and the merciless Nazism. But, there is one difference : Unlike other Revolutions, this one can never be reversed or defeated. Oceania is just too big, too strong and the other 2 states are just as big and strong. No one can win this war, nor lose it. The war between the 3 massive states will continue indefinitely. It is deemed imperative for the people of Oceania to constantly live in the shadow of a war. “War is peace”, is the party slogan.
It’s the year 1984 and he very vaguely remembers of the times gone by; a time when Love was not a thoughtcrime. When Winston remembers the time when he stole the chocolate his mother had meant for his little, baby sister, the face of his distraught, defeated mother haunts him. Soon his mother and sister disappear forever. He was, after all, a kid, when he denied the piece of Chocolate, distributed in rations by the Party, to his sister. He didn’t know better, then. He does now. It was inhumane to deny a sick child, one’s own sister, a piece of candy. In his mind it was criminal, a thought which should be suppressed, but he is unable to. The pain is real, so real that one is instantly taken to a dark place. A deed, so vile, once done, can never be undone.
Although the people are allowed to get married and have kids, they are strictly not allowed to fall in Love. People get married to bear children for The Party. They are doing a service to The Party, a service to society.
Doublethink. Doublethink is believing and at the same time not believing. If Oceania is at war with Eastasia, it was always at war with Eastasia, even though that few weeks ago Oceania was at Eurasia. If The Party vaporises someone, they cease to exist – not only on paper but people’s minds. There will be no reference to him in any of the official documents, his name is stricken off every piece of paper, his memory is to be deleted in everyone’s mind by an unwritten commandment. Wives are to forget their husbands; Sons their Mothers. Doublethink is the ability to contort one’s mind, actions and most importantly thought to suit the convenience of The Party.
The Thought Police ensure all thoughtcriminals are caught and punished. They track everyone, every word and every action; they are relentless; they will ultimately win. Public confessions followed by executions are common place.
If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.
There are no individuals in Oceania, there is only The Party and The Enemy(War for Oceania is oscillating between Eastasia and Eurasia. But, officially, Oceania is at war with Eastasia, was always at war with Eastasia).
1984 takes one to a somber place. If it were a movie, it would be over in 2 hours. One can get on with their lives. George Orwell takes you, over many hours of reading, to a place very dark, surrounded by lies, by men who are slaves, who have no perspective.
All of a sudden, out of the dulness of his daily existence, appears Julia. Julia is what Winston needed – a crutch, a hope of more hope. Somebody to make Love to, to talk to, to speak his mind to; somebody who will also love him back. Winston is us, he is me, one is tempted to feel. His loneliness reverberates with yours, his aching for Love mirrors your, his need to be loved will remind us of our need.
The Thought Police catch up to them in their love-pad. It was a ruse all along, to catch them red-handed making Love, to speak ill of the Big Brother and the Party. The result : Both are tortured. They are humiliated. They are starved. They are stripped. They are reminded of their own ugliness, within and without.
Winston, in Room 101, faces his worst fear – of Rats; the fear of his face bitten by the scoundrels, his eyes gauged out of its socket and eaten mercilessly by the rodents. No demands are made by the interrogator – O’Brien. When Winston asks O’Brien what they want him to do. And assures them he will comply. O’Brien reminds him that he already knows what to do, deep down.
Winston begs O’Brien to tell him what should be done to stop the Rats. He has already verbally betrayed Julia, has told them of all their love-pads, where they used to meet, how they communicated, what they talked of, how he betrayed The Party. Everything!
Winston being interrogated by The Party
When the distance separating him from the Rats are about to be closed, he utters the words, the one thing which goes against his very soul : “Do it to Julia! Do it to Julia! Not me! Julia! I don’t care what you do to her. Tear her face off, strip her to the bones. Not me! Julia! Not me!”
The mask was closing on his face. The wire brushed his cheek. And then–no, if was not relief, only hope, a tiny fragment of hope. Too late, perhaps too late. But he had suddenly understood that in the whole world there was just one person to whom he could transfer his punishment – one body that he could thrust between himself and the rats. And he was shouting frantically, over and over :
“Do it to Julia! Do it to Julia! Not me! Julia! I don’t care what you do to her. Tear her face off, strip her to the bones. Not me! Julia! Not me!”
The Party always wins.
Confession is not betrayal. What you say or do doesn’t matter; only feelings matter. If they could make me stop loving you-that would be the real betrayal.
Winston is released. When he runs into Julia, he is dead, not physically.. but inside.
And perhaps you might pretend, afterwards, that it was only a trick and that you just said it to make them stop and didn’t really mean it. But that isn’t true. At the time when it happens you do mean it. You think there’s no other way of saving yourself and you’re quite ready to save yourself that way. You want it to happen to the other person. You don’t give a damn what they suffer. All you care about is yourself.
In the end, the inevitable happened. Winston finally falls in love with Big Brother. The Party succeed in turning a thoughtcriminal to a model citizen. His struggles come to an end.
Filed under Books and other Interests, Life, Love
There she was.. Amidst hungry people, who were gobbling up whatever the ‘Chat Street’ in Basavangudi was throwing at them. “She looks gorgeous”, you realise. “She is perfect for me”, you tell yourself. You have spoken to her before. In fact, it was one of the greatest conversations you have ever had with another woman.
Dose, Idly, Bhel Puri, Pav Bhaji, Bajji and what not!
Every guy has met a woman.. The woman.
The number doesn’t necessarily have to be restricted to one. After all, if people were allowed to fall in Love only once, the species would have died off long back or the world would be filled with Devdasses. Do not believe Bollywood propaganda..
One meets her either in a Party, or in College, or a place you had been for an interview. She is either your colleague, or classmate, or neighbour, or met her at the Gym. The world is full of possibilities.
You have seen her before, much before you actually spoke to her – in BMS Engineering College fest years ago; after that in a friend’s Birthday Party; after that in some Engagement party your parents managed to drag you into. Every time the reaction was the same – you froze and were mesmerized.
Brain stops working, you are dumfounded as to what to do next
Each time the urge to go talk to her was immense, which was only overwhelmed by the fear of saying something stupid and losing the battle of the nerves and.. the chance to make a decent impression.
Natural Selection
The thing is: she is not the prettiest woman you were attracted to. But, a certain indescribable quality sets her apart, something which even you can’t explain to yourself. Its like Nature is crying out : She is the perfect mate for you, Human Being!
Love is all Science, you see. Do you think you chose your mate because of Love? How naive..
Nature probably knows more about you than yourself. It knows, for instance, that you are not the most attractive guy out there and is hinting that you should settle down with someone who is more suited to your ugliness.
Nature: Perfect for each other!
You are 6 (on the scale of 1 to 10) and you expect an 8? Aase olledu, duraase kettaddu(due to lack of proper knowledge of either English and/or Kannada, I am unable to translate.. Hoping to get some help soon).
Karma is a bitch!
As luck would have it, it would not be long before you meet her, this time at a friend’s wedding. As always, she looked radiant. This time it was different. This time a friend manages to drag you and introduce you to all her friends and ‘she’ happens to be one of them.
Yaay!
Life is colourful again!
You quickly get working. You are charming(after years of mental practice, you are finally ready.. You have trained for this and now its time to put it into practice), have managed to make her laugh. Her natural charm is making you comfortable and the conversation is enthralling. Her smile is so disarming, but you keep at it.
You discuss all the right things: Your common friend who just introduced you, other friends you realise both have in common, the latest Aamir Khan movie (She turns out to be Shahrukh Khan fan and you realise he is not that bad after all.. After all Swades – She laughs at your pronunciation of ‘Swades’ – was pretty awesome!), how you and her both miss college life (Oh shit! Another commonality!), where she works, where you work, where she lives, where you live.. “Did you go to the Soul Sante? Wasn’t it amazing!”
“OMG! She is the cousin of a cousin of my friend, whom I know since ages. This is so meant to be!”
You are in love. You are bowled over and the bowler is a 5 foot something, female, looking stunning in a Red Saree and getting her fill of Mosaranna (Curd Rice) right now. The bowler’s secret weapon : No freaking idea!
She is everything you aspire to be like and more – She ignites in you to be a better version of yourself!
“Our kids will have her looks and my brains, hopefully”. “Ok, what should I do next?”.
“Should I tell my friend whose marriage it is, that I have a thing for her friend? Naah, she will be busy with, I don’t know, with the wedding?”
Sketch haaku
“Lets ask her out for a movie!”. The heart is running a race, you look at your male friend who smells something is fishy, who asks, “Yen maam? Yen vishya?(Whats up?)”
You nod your head as to indicate nothing is up and start working on your master plan.
Clubbing? Unsure if she likes it. Lets go to the beach! Too bad, its very far. “Why the hell doesn’t Bangalore have beaches?”. Dinner? Too Hollywood-ey. Bowling? No, there is a good chance I might suck; Can’t risk it. Paint ball! Need too many people. Invite her home for lunch to meet my parents? Not appropriate, too soon. Take her to the secret nature get-away! Might sound creepy. Need a public place for the first date.
Coffee? Good option, but need more than that..
Movie? No, no good Hindi movie in the theatres. Krrrrrish 3, you have promised yourself, you will never ever ever watch in your lifetime and you just know she feels the same.
“Kannada movie? Hmm.. Beda, level hog bidathe.”.
“OK ok.. English movie, then”. Its settled.
“So.. What plans for the weekend?”, you ask hopefully.
“Umm.. I don’t know, shop for a while and maybe catch Gravity with my Fiancé?”.
Trying not to look sad, after hearing some shocking news
Your heart sinks..
Back from flashback
“Yen sakkathagiddale, sisya!(Dude, she is so pretty!)”, you tell your cousin, who is happily married and is currently munching on some delicious Idlies. He gives her a glance and quickly realises his plate is empty and goes for a refill. Clearly, she didn’t make much of an impression on him, or that he indeed is happily married.
You wonder “Are recently married and happily married the same things?”
“Look at her.. Laughing without a care in the world. Man, isn’t she perfect for me!”. You remind yourself of an unmodifiable fact and snap back to reality.
As always, nothing happens, you finish hogging and get in the Car after having one last look at her. “Yella nan Karma“.
Filed under About Anoop, Happy, India, Life, Love
A saying goes, “Throw a stone in the streets of Bangalore, it will most probably land on a Software Engineer”. As a 20-something, South Bangalorean, who has other 20-something Bangalorean friends, there are many behavioural patterns which I have observed(many of it applicable to your’s truly and some completely fictional).
Fresh from college, we join some IT-major, hoping of earning big bucks, give it our everything the first 2 years and then(THEN!) things start to change.
A rebel needs a nice ride
After toiling for many months, the quarter life crises kicks in. Many people are at crossroads. Some would have sacrificed their teenage years and shunned anything fun in the hopes of becoming a success. Then!
Then, everything seems meaningless and confusing, all of a sudden. The guy who used to come to college drunk goes on to get a better job than you, while you, who kissed hairy asses of lecturers in college, end up in a boring, seemingly dead-end job.
Some who had fun in college, who had a wild time in college, start remising about the good old days. Your old girlfriends are getting married.. Its time for a change, its time for the old rebel to come back!
Buy a fucking-bullet(hell yeah!).
Frontiers never explored become a destination all of a sudden. Every rebel aches to be unique and The Bullet is the perfect cure. Its so illogical, its logical!
Only a madman will buy a Bullet!
“I have bought The Ultimate Machine!”, you convince yourself.
Three years later, it turns out 6 out of your 10 friends have bought their Bullets and suddenly, yours seems heavy, fuel guzzling and, mostly importantly, no longer unique. You have been to 2 far-away places on your bike, last one being Ooty, 13 months ago, where the monsoon fury made sure your ride was not only dangerous, but wet and utterly uncomfortable.
A car seems a better option now. “Even the butt ugly Nano will do”, you think for a brief moment when the rain is pounding on your helmet, making it difficult for you to see even 10 metres ahead.
Get-a-digi-cam
Big bucks, easy EMI options and a sudden craving for the Arts makes most of us fantasise about owning a killer Cam. You have unexplored creative energy bubbling within you and the boring humdrum of office life seems colourless.. and Eureka! You have an idea..
For a weeks and months you log into sites which review cameras and consult the many photographers, you happen to meet almost everywhere you go. Then you settle on your baby.
Its got a long lens, xyz mm, its black and it takes great photos of the clouds hovering above. You take those pictures and post them on Facebook with the tag line, “My first Photos with my brand new xxx Camera!”. You abuse FB the first few months and spam everyone in your friends list. Your friends who used to like most of your photos taken in a rickety old Nokia, start ignoring them.
As with The Bullet, this particular experimentation with quarter life crises peters out.
Al-ca-gal!
Some of us discover(rediscover) something spectacular – Alcohol. The dusky beauty adds meaning to life, purpose to weekends. Weekends become exciting. Pub-hopping starts!
The combination of rising prices combined with rising monthly EMI payments on your costly nothings combined with near stagnant salary, eat into your Pub-Hopping budgets.
Lakshmi Bar near BDA Complex, Banashankari, seems more alluring; and, monetarily makes much more sense. 🙂
You are one-step away from being a counter-kudka(Counter as in bar counter. Kudka a drunk). But, for you its time for fun. Its also time to make up for lost time you have spent not drinking! When drunk you fear the time when a creature comes and taketh awayth the bottle of Kingfisher Premium Beer; you shudder to think of getting married and losing all this freedom.
“Why don’t you come meet my parents? My dad is looking for a rishta for me.”
She was hot in college, ever so pretty… She loved me and I her. Yes, she has gained a few kgs, so what? So have I. Now,I barely make enough to sustain myself and she wants us to get married and have kids! Her biological clock is ticking, mine just started..
What about my beer!
I am still a kid. So what I have a stable job and my dad has built for me a 60-40 house in JP Nagar.. ITS NOT TIME TO GET MARRIED!
Either, its your Girlfriend on your case or, in some cases, your parents. “Yaavaga thamma maduve?(When are you getting married?)”, asks your aunt mischievously(everybody is either an aunt or an uncle) in one of the weddings your parents manage to drag you into. “Yaarannardru hudkondidiya?(Have you found someone?)”, is a double edged sword. Those who have girlfriends can’t answer honestly, those who don’t, feel pathetic that they don’t have one. Strange conundrum..
You make her wait for an year, thinking, “She loves me too much to not wait for me”. One day you are hanging out at your adda and a friend of a friend tells you that your girlfriend is getting married. You stand there for a few seconds.. stunned.
She was not picking up for the past 3 days and you never had thought twice about it. Your tiny world is coming crashing down now. The love of your life has succumbed to her parents wishes and whims.
She has blocked you on FB, changed her number, cuts off all lines of communication. Your common friends inform you that the engagement is next week. You are shattered.
“She told me she loves me!”.
The Bullet, The Digi-Cam, the brand new Car seems pointless. You are 24 and lost.
Lets study!
College was fun. Bunk classes, goto your adda near college, conveniently located to smoke-up, where none of your lecturers can see you. Plan trips and actually manage to go! Its been ages since you have been to any new place now. The last one was Gokarna for the new year, 9 months ago.
You are 26 now, your girlfriend has either left you or you never had one(better to have loved and lost, than not loved at all?). You have been working in the same project for the past 3 years. Nothing excites you anymore. Digi-Cam is safely locked up in the cupboard, turns out you are not that great an artist or just realised “Every other fucker out there thinks he is a photographer!”. Subconsciously, you don’t want a reminder how normal your life is. Nothing is hatke if everyone starts doing it. Why did so many of my friends turn to Photography? Bastards..
Time for something new – Time to do Masters in US! (Hell yeah!)
When it hits you, it really hits you.. The monotony of life is unbearable. You dream of dating white chicks, clubbing in Germany.. basically, getting away from everything you are. You want something new in your life. The current routine just doesn’t work anymore.
Masters is a perfect choice. Not only get a degree out of it, but a chance to settle in the country you studied in, should you choose to later.
Start studying for GRE, learn by-heart the meaning of every single word in the English language. Either Masters or you threaten quitting if your project doesn’t initiates H1B. “Onsite, here I come!”
You arrive to seek your version of Shangri-La. Finally!
6 months later you start missing home-made filter coffee, your friends talking shit after getting piss drunk in the local bar, the beautiful weather of Bangalore… The list starts expanding as long as you stay in Faarin.
Everything has changed!
You come home after 2 years of Faarin. Your anaemic friend is fat; your fat friend is thin. “Did he have a beard before I left Bangalore?… Huh.”
Some of your friends are married. In some extreme cases, have had kids! “How can a guy who behaved like a kid, when I left, have one?”
You get ready and text message everyone to come to adda, just like old times (Ah, the old times).. When you finally get there in an Auto(You had sold your bike, your first bike, just before you went to do your Masters), after cursing how Auto rates have increased, look left to find a spanking new Restaurant standing in the place where your adda used to be.
The one last remaining link to your old life has disappeared forever.
“Ok, I’ve tried to accomplish everything what I wanted. I’ve succeeded in some, failed in some. I am running out of ideas. Lets just say yes to Mom… Lets get married”
You do have fun with your masters. Meet new people, experience new things, see new places. You are at a good place.
Like any other night, you are skyping with Appa and Amma. They suggest marriage. You say no and that ends there. You get up and head for work, they go back to sleep. Next day, the insistence is a little more stronger. This time ‘No’ drags on to some 10 minutes. The day after that..
You finally succumb to parental pressure and say, ‘yes’.
But, you have seen the world. Have met new people and have become pessimistic about Arranged marriage. But, there is no option. You are in America, you can’t find a decent Indian Girl in the US(well, you can, but chances are low) of your same Caste and who meets your long list of parameter of a perfect woman.
Life has taught you some hard lessons. “How can I get engaged to someone whom I’ve met only 2 months ago?”.
“She is nice”, you admit, “but she is no..”, you zone out thinking about your ex. Besides, what if she is putting on a facade and after marriage is seems completely different to what she managed to projected as herself to be?
Haunting questions.
A little bit of you died the day you found out about ‘her’ engagement. After years, you have progressed to a point that you think about ‘her’ only once in a day. “Am I really being fair to the girl with whom I am going to get married to?”, you ponder. “Shouldn’t marriages happen out of love? Sure she is nice, but she is no..”.
“Its been so many years, I’ve not fallen for anyone, I’ve never even fancied anyone. Am I incapable of falling in Love? Has she broken me, perhaps, forever? Does she think of me, like I think of ‘her’?”
You actually get married, to someone who was a complete stranger only 6 months ago. Your life changes forever..
The 20s come to an end.
Filed under About Anoop, Happy, Life, Love, S
Why does Islamic Terror exist in India?
Is it an unfortunate expression of oppression of the Muslim minority?
Lets assume for now that is the reason.. Indian Muslims are oppressed, hence, resorting to Terror.
But, the perpetrators of 7/7 London Bombings were not oppressed. They were living in a society which their parents or themselves opted to live in. Why did they kill so many people of their own country? Poverty?
So, what about 9/11? The perpetrators were from a US-ally Saudi Arabia, one of the richest countries in the world and highly educated.
What does UK, US, India have in common? A Muslim minority population which has produced people with extremist tendencies, for some un-explainable reasons(for the fear of being politically incorrect).
What does it all have to do with Modi? A LOT!
Modi is no saint. His actions during the 2002 riots cannot be verified and are highly suspect, yes. Legally he is innocent and proven guilty. There is no clinching evidence of his connivance in promoting the riots. He is also a highly successful Chief Minister of a very important, incredibly successful state. Things are never black and white. Portraying people as such will leave no room for flexibility.
But, instead of saying it as-it-is, the Modi-Bashers(Group MB) are hell-bent on painting him as the devil-incarnate.
There is a good chance that Modi might end up being the Prime Minister of India. At the very least, there is a very good chance that BJP of Modi will return to power.
Most Muslims in India do not hold a favourable view of the Hindu Right. They despise it and understandably so. What Group MB has done, by demonising Modi, is that it they have set the stage for Radicals among the Muslim community to gain centre-stage.
The Muslim leadership is incredibly stupid.
They in their hatred of the Hindu Right have forgotten that Hindu conservative ideas too need a vent. Modi is that vent, whether they like it or not. By projecting him as something worse than Darth Vader, they have managed to sow seeds of Radicalisation in their own community.
We often hear how LeT camps in Pakistan show images and videos of 2002 riots to stir up their cadres, many of whom are Indian citizens. What do you think will happen to the 150 Million Muslims, if a person who is projected by Group MB as a ruthless killer of Muslims comes to power?
Alienation. Leading to Radicalisation on a very large scale. Leading to more alienation and radicalisation. A perfect vicious cycle. Only this time there are no Gandhis and Nehrus; and we cannot create another Pakistan.
9/11 happened almost without any meaningful provocation. The seeds of Islamist behaviour are not rooted neither in poverty nor illiteracy. BJP coming to power, especially with Modi at the helm, will exacerbate an already vicious mood among the Muslims of India, who are not isolated from the larger Muslim world; and, who are in greater numbers than UK and US combined!
Terror Groups like Indian Mujahideen will have absolutely no trouble getting cadres.
Group MB will have only itself to blame, if these unfortunate series of events do unfold.
Filed under Geo-Politics, India
“We die.
We die rich with lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we’ve entered and swum up like rivers. Fears we’ve hidden in – like this wretched cave. I want all this marked on my body. Where the real countries are. Not boundaries drawn on maps with the names of powerful men. I know you’ll come carry me out to the Palace of Winds. That’s what I’ve wanted: to walk in such a place with you. With friends, on an earth without maps. The lamp has gone out and I’m writing in the darkness.”
K writes to her lover Almásy, waiting in a cave for him to come back and rescue her. She has just realised he might be too late to save her. The husband, the pilot, has died in a suicidal plane crash, in which she was a part of and was the second of the three targets(The third being Almásy himself). Almásy is unhurt and takes her to a cave, which has drawings of swimming figures; and, leaves after promising to return to rescue her.
The Husband loves her. More importantly – trusts her. When he finds out about he the affair she is having with Almásy, it shatters him.
Almásy, who hates ownership plunges deep into the ravines of a woman’s Love. Unable to own her and after she ends the affair, unable to bear the pain asks her, “How can you ever smile, as if your life hadn’t capsized?”.
After the crash, Almásy, after dropping her off at the cave with swimming figures, after promising to come back, is caught by the British, who think he is a spy.
Ultimately, he betrays the British and hands over the maps, all important maps, crucial to wartime efforts, to the Germans, in exchange for a plane to fly back to the cave to rescue his darling. Is betrayal really betrayal if it means you can hold your end of the promise to the woman you love?
Katherine is still there, but only in her letters to the Count.
The English Patient is Cinema at its best. I’ve been aching to watch it ever since I heard of it in an episode in Seinfeld. I am livid with myself for delaying the watching of this magnificent picture.
It transports you to a world you had seen in movies and paintings, but had never felt. The passion of the love between Katherine and her lover, eclipses that of the husband. You would think that there’d never be a reason good enough to betray your side in a war; you’d think there’d never be a good enough reason for a wife to cheat on her loving, caring husband. This movie works because it elevates the characters from the reel to the world of you and me, without you even noticing it.
Katherine in her final moments writes to her lover:
“My darling. I’m waiting for you.
How long is the day in the dark? Or a week? The fire is gone, and I’m horribly cold. I really should drag myself outside but then there’d be the sun. I’m afraid I waste the light on the paintings, not writing these words.
We die.
We die rich with lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we’ve entered and swum up like rivers. Fears we’ve hidden in – like this wretched cave. I want all this marked on my body. Where the real countries are. Not boundaries drawn on maps with the names of powerful men. I know you’ll come carry me out to the Palace of Winds. That’s what I’ve wanted: to walk in such a place with you. With friends, on an earth without maps. The lamp has gone out and I’m writing in the darkness.”
There was an old lady across the street.
The house is all she obsessed about..
“The house is in such a nice locality”, she claimed.
“My children will sell the house, I know, if I leave one day..”, she prophesied.
Cared for it so much she did, that she chose the house over the Husband.
Fought with the neighbours she did, for the tree in their house was shedding leaves into hers!
Fought with the neighbours she did, with chest full of contempt for people who lived in rented houses.
Not that she was evil incarnate, oh no no no..
She lives among us all, obsessing about things which really don’t matter.
Driving away friends, saying mean things to the ones whom we love and need later.
Died she did in, but not in her house of bricks..
Died she did in some far away place where the elderly mix.
The fool is the one who doesn’t learn his lesson.
The fool is the one who has less love for people than his lousy mansion.
My neighbour since 2002 passed away today. She was 68. She died in an elderly home, after moving there about a fortnight ago, after her Children and Husband thought it best to move her there.
She didn’t die in the house she lived for so many years, the one thing she loved above all..
Recently watched Argo. Loved it. Especially bit about the secret agent, infiltrating into enemy territory and getting the good guys out. There was much appreciation of the methods of the CIA(Even though, in this case, most of the work was apparently done by the Canadians), especially after the Osama episode. Scarcely does anyone come to know what our own premier Intelligence Agency – RAW – has been upto.
I first found out about this couple of years ago. Lets get into details.
What happened on January 30, 1971?
1) What we know is there were two Kashmiris, Hashim Quereshi and his cousin Ashraf Butt, who went on to highjack an Indian Airlines plane named ‘Ganga’ using a Toy Pistol.
2) They take the craft to Lahore, burn it down, Pakistan was happy, they were treated as heroes, Pakistan created a mini-media spectacle thinking it would promote the Kashmiri cause. Passengers were safe, as the intention was to, apparently, promote the “cause” and advertise it to the world.
A picture of the type of aircraft in question. Ganga was an old Fokker F27 Friendship Indian Airlines aircraft.
3) On January 31, Z.A. Bhutto, Pakistani PM to be and the most prominent Politician of the then West Pakistan, visited the airport and embraced the two hijackers as true champions of the Pakistani cause. After five days, he issued a statement to the effect that the hijackers were “two brave men” and their deed demonstrated that “no power on earth can stifle the Kashmiris’ struggle for liberation.” The Pakistani authorities justified the hijacking which they described as the direct result of repressive measures taken by the Government of India in Kashmir.
4) Indian Government seethes with anger and bans overflight from West Pakistan to East Pakistan. A major blow, considering soldiers were being transported in civilian disguise in civilian planes, for the impending bloody massacre of fellow Pakistanis by Pakistani soldiers; and the war that is to follow. The crucial air link is cut off.
5) India liberates “Bangladesh” from Pakistan.
Till now facts speak for themselves. But, strange things begin to happen.
1) Pakistan jails one of the high-jackers for 19 years! Labelling them agents of India and calling one of them BSF. They realised that this Highjacking was used by Indira Gandhi to ban overhead flights between the 2 wings of Pakistan.
2) It comes to be known that the aircraft in question was the oldest of its type in the fleet of the Indian Airlines, was in a poor state of maintenance and lacked certain items of equipment usually carried on such aircraft. Basically the loss of the craft was no-big-deal. It was old and dusty.
3) Now, G.M. Sadiq, the Chief Minister of Jammu & Kashmir, calls this an Indian plan. Basically, a false flag operation by India.
Who benefits, who loses?
To put things simply. Pakistan loses, India gains tremendously.
Pakistani losses: Pakistan wanted to highlight India’s actions in Kashmir. But, ended up getting cut off from its own Eastern wing. By helping the Terrorists, Pakistan forces India’s hand to ban the overhead flights between the 2 wings.
Considering most of the troop movement used to happen using these overhead flights, under civilian disguise, this was a major blow to Pakistani war efforts and a disruption of troop movement.
Indian gains: Needless to say, India had nothing but to gain from these two idiotic youths taking their plane to Lahore. Even the Aircraft, as it turned out, was old and had no real value. No passengers were hurt(even though their lives were at risk). India gets a solid reason to ban the overhead flight privileges, stops the Pakistani troop movement, escalates the cost and time to transport the troops from West wing to the East for Pakistan.
When Pakistan jails the Terrorist accusing them of acting on behalf of India, India manages to ignite few protests against Pakistan by Kashmiris in Pakistan and outside of the Sub-Continent(Owning to pressure of overseas Kashmiris and the disquiet of Kashmiris in PoK, Pakistan had to release the Terrorist, who later gives up arms to pursue a peaceful resolution of Kashmir. I wonder why!).
Into the realm of speculation and conjecture
Now, with our bases covered, lets look at the interview of the high jacker, who now lives in India.
The interview can be found here:
“In a haircutting salon in Lal Chowk, I met a Kashmiri Border Security Force (BSF) officer. I told him I wanted to go to Pakistan. He agreed to help me cross the border provided I brought some information the BSF needed. I agreed and the BSF managed my clandestine entry into Pakistan through the Sialkot border.”
He was actually double-crossing the BSF. In Pakistan, Hashim was trained for the hijack.
“Maqbool Bhat said to highlight the Kashmir problem we must hijack an Indian plane. Javaid Mantoo, a retired pilot, helped familiarise me with a Fokker Friendship plane. He took me to Chaklala airport where I was allowed to see the plane from inside.”
After hijack training, Hashim crossed back into Kashmir from the Sialkot border.
“I boarded a bus, but the bus was stopped by police and I was caught with a pistol and a hand grenade. I was taken to a BSF interrogation centre. I told them how I had been trained along with three others for the hijack in Pakistan.
“I was asked by the BSF to keep a watch at the Srinagar airport. An advertisement appeared in a newspaper about the sale of a look-real pistol which could be used to scare away thieves. I ordered one by post. I fabricated a wooden hand grenade and painted it with metallic colour.”
Now, tell me if this isn’t better than Argo!
Indira Gandhi, whom the liberated, free citizens of Bangladesh begin to call “Maa Durga”, deserves a lot of credit, for quickly using this as a justification for banning the flights, imposing a major tactical disadvantage on the Pakistanis. Apart from the CM of J&K saying this was an Indian operation, no accounts of this have been released by India and R&AW.
You can guess why – People in the aircraft(Indian citizens) were put at risk, intentionally, by the planners. Admitting this would create a controversy within India, as to why Indian civilians were put in harm’s way. India loses face at the international level, as India had long maintained that it did nothing to precipitate the war and war was forced upon it.
R&AW might not be as glamorous, or might have the technology of a CIA, but if this indeed, seems very likely it was, a R&AW operation, full marks to it. It achieved the desired result, with zero lives lost, no damage to the infrastructure and sowing the seeds of confusion in the opposing ranks. India gets what it wants – Stop movement of troops from West Pakistan to the East, thereby escalating the cost and the time required to transport the troops.
All of this using a Toy Pistol and a wooden “grenade”. And, we think CIA’s hunt of Osama was awesome!
Filed under Geo-Politics, India
pinkkaage 